May 6

Until three years ago, it was any other day.  And then the unthinkable happened.  Maren Kataleena DeVries was gone...through her own doing.  She was a wonderful girl and she left the world all too soon.  I wrote a letter to Maren as a form of closure after she died and I wanted to share some of it because her life was just so important to me.  

It's sometimes hard not to see how amazing someone is until they're gone...Yes, Maren, you were wonderful and it is so hard to believe that you're really gone...You were amazing, do you know that?  You made life so much more fun, more exciting, and you always provided so many reasons to live life to its fullest...You made a difference in so many lives.  I'll never forget you Maren, please know that.  I don't know where you are or if I'll ever see you again, but I could never forget you and your shining personality.  You had a strong and courageous spirit and I admired it and it inspired me to develop that kind of spirit in my everyday life.  I think of you constantly and I have no doubt that your memory will be in my heart forever.  

She was a beautiful girl who I met on the first day of high school when I was scared and felt alone.  I remember the day I wondered through the lunchroom wondering where to sit.  She saw my terrified face and invited me to sit at her table and from that point on, we were friends.  Four years ago, the two of us were sitting on the grassy slope outside Ballard High School eating our sack lunches and laughing about the dumbest things.  It's just not right that three years ago, I was sitting with the sophomore class at the memorial service of a fifteen year old.  I miss her, I really do and it kills me to think of all she's missing.

She missed graduation...something she probably would have done with six medals around her neck and four extra chords.  She missed the whole composting fad, which I know she would have been an avid fan of.  We could have mocked Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" together.  She missed Barack Obama!  The world is changing so fast, but she is standing as still as can be and I hate that she has to miss it all.  She would have loved college and she would have changed the world, but she can't.  She taught everyone in her life to live differently, though.  She taught us a love that we would not otherwise know.  She taught us that everyone has a different story and we have no right to judge anyone when we know very well that our own story is full of its own flaws.

So, here I sit, three years later: Remembering May 6 like it was yesterday and thinking of what I can do to honor her beautiful life.  I think the most anyone can do is show the same kind of love and passion for the world that she did.  She's not here to show it, so we need to do our part and love just a little more. 

  

The Familiar Fall of Rain

It's been a little while since I've seen you, Rain.  I'd be lying if I said I haven't missed you...I have.  There's something about your presence in the air on this particular Saturday night that has brought so much peace to my heart.  Perhaps it's not just you.  I think it's many things that have brought peace to me today, but right now, you are the one that makes it all complete.  I'm sitting quietly in a room with two friends and the only noises heard are the soft music coming from Anna's computer, our fingers tapping the keys on our keyboards and the rain dropping onto the bright green leaves of the trees.  

For a week, life has been going non-stop.  It's mid-terms, applications, interviews, deadlines, decisions and worst of all: It's been sunny.  When the sun is out, nothing is accomplished.  All we want is to bask in all its glory and forget the load of work we still have to do.  After we have spent a day forgetting, we are forced to spend an entire night cramming.  We try to relax through four cups of tea, comfortable chairs and our slow indie music playing in the background.  Nothing seems to work and we simply must settle with the fact that we will not sleep as much as is healthy and our shoulders will be tense for a few days.  Five days this goes on and by Saturday, it's all over.

I was hoping to be woken this morning by the sun's familiar brightness, but I wasn't.  I instead flinched when my roommate's alarm went off and I thought in my mind that I had to get up and go to school today.  Then I remember it's Saturday and I don't need to worry.  Already, peace.  I look out the window and the clouds are the regular Seattle palette of grey.  I watch from my bunk as a few students slowly mosey away from the dorms, putting their hoods and hats on.  Rain has returned to our campus and life has slowed down.  Today, we will be able to stay inside and be still.  But first things first: TO WORK! TO WORK! TO WORK!

I hop on my bicycle grudgingly head towards Fremont.  The area is not bustling with people and excitement, just a few people standing under the cover of Peet's as they wait for their bus to arrive.  I look through the big window of Starbucks and I see Chris Hanson gesture for me to come inside.  I give him a hug and see the table in front of him piled with books...he's got a busy day ahead of him, too.  Sometimes it seems like the busyness will never end, but a pause to see a friend is what helps us all get through.  I must go on, though, the flower shop can't wait.  I open the door and free Rani from her position behind the cash register.  She smiles and explains to me that today is the slowest day in flower shop history.  Oh well, I guess I'm not the only one who wishes she were home right now.

The flower shop was quiet, but it was nice to talk to the people who ventured out today.  Most of them came in to be warm and dry for two minutes, but they are friendly and I enjoy the company.  When they walk out the door, I turn into Cinderella: cleaning and singing along to the music.  Time doesn't go by so slow, the rain is beautiful to watch as it falls against the shop windows.  Before I know it, 6:00 hits and it's time to close up.  I bring in the plants that sit outside and they get me all wet.  A man helps me take down the hanging pots as he sees I'm too short.  The soaking flowers splash all over my face, but I don't mind...the rain is lovely.

I lock the doors of the shop and grab a slice of hot pizza.   I ride my bicycle along the canal on the way home, I'm in no hurry and I like to watch the rain fall into the water.  After I park my bike, I walk up the stairs to Hill Hall that sometimes feel so long.  I change into some dry clothes and find my place on the couch.  The boys leave after a few minutes to go to a concert, but Anna, Megan and I chose to stay right where we were.  It's warm and we can smell the rain through the open window.  We are quiet, but sometimes words don't need to be said.  We are in each other's company and that is enough for me.  How I love these girls and how thankful I am that the rain has convinced us to stay in tonight.  It's quiet and that is what we need.  Thank you, Rain.

An End to Confusion...Think Again

My oh my, what an exhausting day today has been.  For the past two weeks, I have been waiting for Monday April 20 to come.  This was supposed to be the day when everything became clear to me.  I would be assigned the position of "Student Ministry Coordinator" or I wouldn't and that would dictate the rest of my decisions.  If only it were as easy in reality as it is written on this page.

I ran to check my email after my first class and the stretch between Otto Miller 127 and Hill Hall 463 never felt longer.  There were a hundred different scenarios in my head: I got it in Hill, I didn't get it at all, I got it in Ashton, I got it on the same floor as one of my friends...so many options.  Only one would be true, though, and it was the one I didn't want to be true.  The email simply said: Close, but not close enough.  Not those words exactly, but that's what I translated them to as soon as my eyes hit the screen.  Tears welled up in my eyes, even though I had prepared myself for this possibility.  I didn't realize until I didn't have the position how much I really wanted it.

The rest of the day felt so very long, but it was filled with so many blessings.  I felt this way a year ago when I didn't get the lead role in Guys and Dolls.  It's a feeling I never wanted to feel again, but here I am with the same sickening turning in my stomach.  My friends were surprised, my mother was more upset than me and I ran to the canal with my best friend to watch the ducks.  That's what we do when we're sad or confused...we just sit and watch them.  Watch their happy little lives and wonder what it would be like to be a duck.  She cheered me up and I was able to lay my head on her shoulder as my tears rolled onto her sweater.  A friend is one who knows exactly what you're thinking when you can't find the words to express them.  And she knew, yes she knew what I was feeling.  What a beautiful friend she is to me; I love her so much.

Of course, though tears were constantly in my eyes, the day did get much better.  So much love and support surrounded me at moments when I so desperately needed it.  Through big bear hugs, encouraging words and Becky Jo's message of "God has a bigger plan...a BETTER plan", my heart was uplifted so very much.  The worst part of the day was my two hours of solitude at work.  Normally there are three of us in the office, but I was all alone today.  Alone with my thoughts was the last place I wanted to be, but it was where I needed to be.  I could, much to my dismay, hear myself think and that is what helped me to pull through.  I left work and stepped into the beautiful sunshine that would be in the sky for another three precious hours.

So there I lay, among my friends, with my thoughts apart from the disappointment and fully focused on the beauty of these relationships.  I thank God for these friends daily, they are the ones who help me through my days, build me up and help me become the woman I am meant to be.  He has provided me so much and in those hours at the end of my day, I realized that all will be well.  Becky Jo was right, God does have a bigger and better plan for me.  

Frustration arose later this evening when I realized that I thought being an SMC was the plan and now I just feel lost.  I was heading down one path, and now God has told me to turn around and find a different path.  But what is that path?  I have been asking for so long and waiting for an answer for so long, yet nothing becomes clear.  Then I opened my Bible and the words of Psalm 13 were glaring at me from the page:

"How long, O Lord?  Will you forget me forever?  How long will you hide your face from me?  How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?  How long will my enemy triumph over me?  Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.  Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.  But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.  I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me." 

Those were the words in my heart (put much more diplomatically, though) and then there was an answer.  "I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me."  I will wait once more for the path of my life to become more clear.  I am at peace.

Your Will

I have been struggling to the point of madness over the past two weeks trying to figure out what on earth to do with my life.  To be a student ministry coordinator, to play on the Wednesday night worship team, to be in the plays, who to live with, what classes to take, what major to be, on and on and on.  This is what college is to me right now: an institution where we sit in classes to learn, yet our minds travel elsewhere.  Our minds travel to questions unanswered and a desperate search for the correct answers.  Relationships are muddled by the confusion in our own lives.  Tolerance levels for the people and actions around us are at an all time low.  It has been much too much to handle.

On Sunday, though, my wonderful father gave a sermon that was exactly what I needed to hear, perhaps even what I wanted to hear (So often, what we need to hear is not at all what we want to hear, I'm sure everyone has felt that way at one point or another).  So many questions were buzzing around in my mind and I wanted to find the answers.  No, I didn't want God to present them to me, I wanted to find them myself.  I wanted CONTROL, who doesn't want control of their own life?  The sermon was about us living the will of the father, rather than the will of ourselves.  Exactly what I needed to hear.

If I am to call myself a Christian, I cannot go about doing whatever I please.  There are things in my life that I love and have passions for, but I need to make room for new passions.  I need to do the things that Christ is calling me to do, but the struggle has been in hearing that calling.  It shouldn't have been such a groundbreaking realization to me as to why I couldn't hear that calling.  I was too busy and caught up in my own world to listen to His voice.  We all get caught up in our own thoughts, struggles and feelings, leaving no room for what is truly important: His voice in our lives.  One thing that stood out to me most was when he told us that one of the reasons we stop listening to God is that we're afraid of being called where we don't want to go.

After this statement, I realized that the Christian life is not meant to be a burden, it is meant to be an adventure.  I read a verse in Luke (in the Message translation) Chapter 6, vs. 24 that showed me this.  

"But it's trouble ahead if you think you have it made.  What you have is all you'll ever get."

If we don't take any risks or leaps of faith, we'll never get anywhere.  We will stay in the same comfortable place all our lives and never see the world that has been set out before us.  Faith is meant to take us places where we would never otherwise go.  It is meant to spread our capacity to love all over the world and live a Christlike life here on earth.  I have to give up my life to God, give up everything I have, drop it all and follow Him.

On Wednesday night, I came to the realization that no matter what I do next year, God has His hand over it.  What peace I found from such a realization.  How silly of me to hear the words "Your will, not my own be done" and never truly understand the meaning until now.  How foolish I was to sing the words of worship songs and on so many occasions, barely even believe what I was saying.  Oh, how my life has changed this year.  I thought coming to SPU would be going back into a safe and familiar Christian bubble of a world.  Yes, it is a wonderful Christian community, but it has challenged me in ways I never would have been challenged if I were on a different campus.  

This week is Holy Week and we sang tonight "Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again."  I sang these words with the realization in my heart that Christ gave up His life for the broken human race.  He gave His life to ensure the salvation of a group of broken people.  We are helpless, but through Christ's death and resurrection, we are able to have hope in a dark world.  I sang the words with a smile on my face: CHRIST WILL COME AGAIN! 

Spring is Coming, I Can Feel It

I am sitting here at my desk, yet again.  I often find myself here at my desk when I should be cleaning my room.  I also often find myself cleaning my room, when I should be here at my desk.  That's just the way life is for me at SPU...constantly distracting myself with the endless variety of other things to do.  I look out my window and I see students slowly trickling their way back to the dorms after their finals.  Some are going back to bed.  Others are going to study for more finals because for some, the finals never seem to end.  And then there are the ones like me, who should be packing and getting ready to head out, but find themselves endlessly distracted.  We're all so close to Spring Break, but it feels as though it will never come.

It's been "so close" for weeks now, can't it just be here now?  Our lives for the past few weeks have been like the tree that is right outside my window.  We're the blossoms on the end of the branches, waiting so desperately for the cold of winter to die down.

I became acquainted with the tree on move in day, which was six months ago.  How did time fly so fast when it was full of times like these, where each day drags out as long as possible?  On move in day, the tree had big green leaves on it and I was nearly too busy to even notice.  As the quarter went on, the tree began to lose its leaves as we began to lose sight of high school and adjust to the wonderful new college life set out before us.  When the tree's leaves were completely gone, I was able to look into the main lounge and watch certain someones play the baby grand.  I left the tree for Christmas while its branches were bare and all I could see was its sturdy trunk.

When I returned after an exceptionally long and snowy Christmas break, the tree was still there, looking just like it did when I left it.  I woke up four times over the quarter to a tree covered in sticky white snow, some days were fluffier than others.  Those mornings were always so quiet because I was up at 8:00 on a Tuesday or Thursday (unheard of in college!).  I would walk across the deserted campus shivering, wishing that I could watch the snow with a cup of cocoa in my hands, wrapped in a blanket.  The snow would be gone by 9:30, though, so I never would have had these precious, quiet mornings, had it not been for my 8:30 class.  It was a good class, but I am most thankful for these four peaceful mornings that the 8:30 hour provided me with.

When mid-terms surprisingly hit us, I looked out the window and saw green popping out of the branches.  New life had appeared overnight and it was beautiful.  Later on in the quarter, my crazy English teacher taught us all a valuable lesson about winter and the transition into spring.  She couldn't help, but notice the green on the trees outside the windows of Demaray 356, so she shared with us her views on the matter.  "Winter is a long hard journey," she said, "BUT YOU KEEP GOING!"  And now look outside the window and look at the new life exploding out of all the trees.  They were quite encouraging words during our exceptionally long winter quarter.  Now, every bird that chirps and every flower that blooms reminds me of her lectures on love and peace and perseverance.  My last quote from Suzanne Wolfe:

"You can sit on your ass for A THOUSAND YEARS wishing for wings and never get there.  OR you can get up and put one foot in front of the other, go for as long as it takes and eventually you'll get there."

She's right, all it takes is the courage to put one foot in front of the other.  This quarter, that required getting up when the alarm went off and heading to the classes I didn't want to be in.  It required taking time out of my busy days to simply rest, to sit, to listen to God.  It required praying about the questions I had and waiting patiently for the answers.  Answers which led me to have difficult, yet necessary conversations.  Answers which led me to tears at some points and laughter at others, but which ultimately led to the peace of mind I so desired. 

Now there are tiny pink buds nestled in between the bright green leaves.  They have been there for the last two weeks which have also been the busiest and most stressful two weeks of my life.  I just wanted the trees to blossom and show me spring, but they have thought otherwise.  Slowly, more buds come each day, but no blossoms.  The buds, just like God, have been telling me to wait.  It's not spring yet, spring will come when it is time.  You can't rush nature, no matter how much you desire to.  So, here I sit, staring at the hot pink buds, imagining what they are going to look like.  Of course, once I leave today for Disneyland, I will forget about the tree.  I will be in the warm weather of California with my family, what more could I ask for?

The tree will probably blossom while I am away, but I have come to accept that fact.  I will return to a new quarter and a new outlook on life.  No more winter blues, instead the hope and freshness of spring! 

Cookies For Thought

Middle of the quarter.  Middle of the week.  Middle of the day.  This was the time I found myself in a few weeks ago and I never find the middle a nice place to be.  It feels melancholy and everyone has a tired feeling about himself.  I left work at about 4 o’clock and began walking up the steps that feel so much longer in the middle of the day.  I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my pea coat to shelter them from the dry, cold February air.  I found a delightful surprise in that pocket: My last heart shaped cookie from my dear friend, Holly Roe. 

I pulled the cookie out of its bag and took a bite of the delicious cookie covered in a delectable frosting.  This is a familiar taste, for these cookies have been at every big event for the last ten years.  Valentine’s Days, Christmas tea parties, my high school graduation, sweet sixteen’s, Oscar parties, every single birthday.  Whatever the event, the cookies are always there and I love them.  So, when I grudgingly made my way up the steps to my dorm, I suddenly forgot the melancholy of the day when I found this wonderful cookie in my pocket.  Memories began to fly into my brain of all those different events where the cookies were present, as well as many friends.

My first memory of the cookies (I’m sure they existed before, but this is my first recollection) is at Paula’s tenth birthday party.  We all got dressed up that year in our nicest dresses and piled into a limo to go an adventure all around the city.  Halfway through the adventure, we arrived at Carey Park and piled out of the limo.  We ran to the stone wall that protects onlookers from falling into an endless cliff of blackberry bushes and we sat down.  Soon, there was a plate of sugar cookies in front of me, all the numbers 1 and 0: ten years of life for the lovely Paula Roe.  I bit into that cookie and I had never tasted anything more delicious in my entire life.  It was time for seconds.  And thirds!  The cookies were scrumptious!

Since then, these cookies have appeared everywhere in all different shapes.  Hearts, Stars, 13, 16, 50, 2002, and most recently 2008.  Parties to celebrate performances, birthdays, graduations and even those that celebrate nothing at all, just the joy of being together.  I was so excited when that particular plate of cookies arrived at my graduation party.  This was what I was waiting for so many years: The cookies would be sitting on a table decorated with graduation paraphernalia for 2008.  And there they were, some strange sort of final step found in a plate of cookies.

I know that I love food, but I never thought that a simple cookie recipe would have so much of an impact on my life and stir up so many memories.  On this particularly long Wednesday, though, it was an absolutely wonderful reminder of the love that Holly Roe has shown to me and so many others through the years.  So, thank you for the cookies and for the friendly reminder of the love that we should all be sharing with the world. 

Notes on Love

I am taking a class this quarter called "Faith and Literature."  If you know me at all, you would know that there is no way that I would actually choose to take a literature class, but I ended up in this one because I couldn't get into any of the other classes I wanted to take.  My backup class was filled and so was my backup backup class, so I was left with no choice other than taking this class which I was told was interesting.  I have not regretted taking this class for one second.  Not even while I was writing an eight page paper on a novel that I finished a week too late.  Yes, this class was, as the title states, about faith and literature.  We read a few novels and discussed them intensely in class, but that's not what I have learned from this class.  This class has taught me something much more important than how to analyze a text in the context of faith.

This class was about love.  The love that we receive from God.  The love that we are intended to show others.  The love that we actually show others.  So many kinds of love boiled down into one bare concept: Love is not easy.  Love requires effort from both parties.  We cannot honestly accept love unless we can give love in return.  In a busy quarter, it is so easy to forget about others and think only of my own troubles.  My own homework that constantly causes stress and my own friendships that are struggling so often took priority over the troubles of those closest to me and I am ashamed of it.  Ashamed to say that I could be selfish enough to not even think about my best friends before myself.  I ignored Christ and then, through my professor's ridiculous British accent, I heard these words: "Trying to love is running a marathon.  It is a constant struggle to the very end."  

She went on and on about how love is not meant to be something easy.  If love were something easy, it wouldn't be God's greatest challenge to us.  "Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.  Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.  Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love."  (1 John 4:7-8)  It seems like such an easy thing to love those around us, but in the midst of our own troubled worlds, it becomes a constant struggle.  Ms. Wolfe told us that love means laying down your life.  Are we willing to do that?  Are we willing to lay down our own lives for those we love?  

I see this love all around me now.  I see it in the heartbreak of those around me and the comfort they can find so easily.  I see it in the support through daunting tasks that stir fear within us.  I see it in the constant effort others put forward to make a busy quarter just a little bit less stressful.  It is in the hugs, the cookies and the walks by the canal.  The listening ears and the comforting words.  It is everywhere and I want to be a part of it.

It is a challenge to love, but it is not an impossible task.  God does not call us to do the impossible, he calls us to do the things that stretch us.  If he does not challenge us, how then are we to grow?  I know I have grown this quarter exceptionally due to a class that I was placed in by mistake.  I don't think it was a mistake anymore, it is proof that everything happens for a purpose.  If I hadn't been placed in this class, I would have forgotten what love truly means.  I hope that you don't forget like I did, for "this is the message you have heard from the beginning: We should love one another."  (1 John 3:11)