Trying

A conversation.

That's all it took

to start the silence.

Trying to recall the thoughts

which have crowded my mind

for the past three weeks.

A tear.

That's all it took

to start the sobbing.

Trying to figure out how

the words could make any sense

in a time of endless wrestling.

A hug.

That's all it took

to start the next step.

Trying to ask God

what the future will hold

in the coming months.

A prayer.

That's all it will take

to finally be at peace.

Trying to let go

of the things that were to be

and grab hold of the things meant to be.

Finally Finished and Just Beginning

I was up late last night. I thought about not telling how late because I know Mom and Grandma may read with disapproval, but I believe in honesty. Yes, I was up until 3:30 writing a paper that has been assigned since day one. But other things came up. So many other things came up.

Friends fell and I lifted them up. I fell and they lifted me up. Statistics became garbled in my head with talk of z-scores and standard error versus standard deviation. "P hat and q hat," what do they all mean? Aly went to jump on some trampolines and the next minute, she's in the ER finding out her world has been turned upside down. Valentine's Day came and went, some friends missing their loved ones and others wishing they had someone to love. Certain plans for the future turned into a murky muddled mass of questions. Words were said that made me cry for hours. Friendships began to slip between the cracks. The last three weeks, all relationships have fallen between the cracks of group and school and emotional overload.

I ask myself constantly, "How can I do it all?" I don't really know. All I know is that I take it one day at a time, I make plans far in advance and I somehow manage to get everything done and still spend time with the ones I love. As I cried to my friend Leanne on Tuesday night, she told me she respected how emotionally invested I am in my relationships. I am glad I'm invested in my relationships, even though it exhausts me. It's a good kind of exhaustion. The kind of exhaustion you feel after staying up until three playing games or running a really fast mile (not that I know what that feels like, but I hear it feels great). After the exhaustion comes joy. That joy came with the sun.

The beautiful 60 degree warmth that Seattlites long for has been lingering in and out over the past few days. Somehow, in these moments of sunshine, all is forgotten. The books are put on hold, the petty arguments are left behind and people enjoy one another. I flit in and out, visiting old friends and catching up on a nearly finished quarter. The sun has a certain magic about it that stretches the hours into long days. I'm thankful for these long sunny days that give me hope for spring. As I finish up papers and prepare for studying for finals, I dream of next quarter. I long for long days, a schedule designed entirely to spend the most time possible in the sun and a heart that has grown a lot in the last month.

Closing the book on this quarter, I'm taking away a lot of lessons. Not just countries and capitals and terms like GDP and food security. I learned that friendships aren't always easy. I learned that it takes a lot of love to forgive. I learned that I can't go through this life on my own. I am ever grateful for friends. Friends who have ears to hear, advice to give and time to hold me.

Opening on the book of Spring Quarter, I am exhilarated. A fresh start will be good and I am excited to see what's next. I'm not sure what else to say, other than I am excited for the possibilities that it will hold. It is uncertain and I, for some reason, am really happy for that.

Too Much

In church today, we were asked to think of how God could use us. How God could use us. We are tiny broken humans who only exist for a blip in time, yet God wants to use us for the greater good. He says it right there at the end of Matthew: "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Through many conversations, much prayer and a few life-changing decisions, I have come to understand something very interesting about Jesus and the great commission. He doesn't expect us to be perfect in order to spread the love of Christ. All he asks is that we do it. As my roommate pointed out, Jesus didn't walk with high rulers and rich kings, he walked with the helpless, the poor and the broken. And now, He is walking with us.

So there I sat, in a beautiful building surrounded by people who all share the same faith as me. And nobody is getting in trouble; nobody is being persecuted. We are being encouraged and supported to go and live a life of Christ in spite of our brokenness. "It's okay to struggle, just don't walk away." I was told that struggling was good, that it actually brings us closer to God. So where is my struggle? I attend a top rate college for practically nothing. I live with my best friend and we still love each other very much. My family gets along ALL THE TIME. I am taking classes that make me want to learn more every time I leave. I am blessed with almost too many friends. I am not afraid to move into the action God calls me to. I am on a leadership team that has strengthened my faith more than anything else. I live in the land of opportunity. There is no struggle. The struggle is in the lack of struggle. How do I use all that has been given to me? Where does God want me to go from here? The struggle is a lack of direction, a fear of the unknown.

Maybe in three years, I will be in Uganda distributing food to remote villages. Or maybe I will be in an office in Seattle, filing papers and making phone calls asking for donations. I fear the mundane, I strive for the adventure. But God often puts us in the places we don't see fit. He put me in Ballard High School, not Kings. He put me in a classroom at SPU learning about political issues in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, not on a Broadway stage. He has different plans and we need to accept them. We need to stop planning our own lives. As pointed out last week: "Stop trying to live the Christian life on your own so that you may realize you can only achieve the position to which God has called you to when you call on God." Yes, it's a lot to take in at once, but break it up. Stop trying to live the Christian life on your own. Only when you call on God will you be able to achieve the position God has called you to. God calls on us, but it is important to call back to Him.

It was when I was applying to my new major that I realized my total lack of direction. The question on the application: What do you want to do with this major? A harder question could not have been asked. That's the dreaded question of the college student. What will you do with that? I don't know, it's just an interesting subject to me. What kind of a job will it give you? I don't know, I'll probably go work for a non-profit somewhere. What area? I don't know, I'm open to going anywhere. Do you want to be a missionary? Maybe...I'm not sure. I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW. Yes, I have found my struggle, I have found my brokenness. God has given me so much, but I have no idea how to share it. God has changed my life, but I'm having trouble acting on that change.

My prayer is that over the next couple years, direction will be found. More importantly, my prayer is that over the next moments of my life I will be able to share my blessings with those around me. "To whom much is given, much is also required." The next step is to call on God, to ask him to use me in my brokenness--in the selfishness of my blessing--to spread the love of Christ to which He calls us.

Hope in the Red and the Shiny

Winter quarter has hit everyone with a storm this year. Figuratively speaking, of course. The weather itself has been rather warm and typically full of drizzle. But the students at SPU, the people in my life, are struggling. Each day presents its new difficulties and we are struggling to hold on. Hold on to what? To life? To school? To relationships? To God? The biggest question of all time is the question of why we must hurt. Why we must feel pain. Why do we believe in a God who would allow us to be wounded by emotions and friendships, even though we believe so wholeheartedly? It's not an easy question to answer.

The play that SPU just put on was one of the most extraordinary and beautiful plays I have ever seen. It was the account of the Pan Am flight that crashed in Lockerbie, Scotland and a story of grieving. The mother of a boy who had died in the crash has been grieving for seven years when her husband takes her back to the site of the crash. Rather than searching for peace, she searches for vengeance and that search is what made way to an interesting point. The women living in Lockerbie say this: If it were always night, you would not see the beauty of a sunrise. If it were always light, you would not see the beauty of the stars. If you could not hate, you would not know how it would feel to love.

Without pain, you would not see healing. Without sorrow, you would not see joy. Without a winter that makes your soul ache, you would not see the beauty of a spring that brings redemption.

I have been in the middle of all of this. Between my roommate, my neighbors, my band, and my classmates, I've heard a lot of stories of hurt and questions of why. I am not complaining about being in the middle, I'm grateful that my class load isn't too hard and that I am happy right now. If I weren't, who would they talk to? There aren't many of us around who are doing just fine right now and those who are hurting don't want to burden another already in pain. So when someone needs to talk or to be held, I invite them over, make them some tea and sit.

I was frustrated the other night when there were six people in my room and I had to keep leaving the room to fill up our tiny hot pot. Our tiny hot pot that we bought in October (we each paid five whole dollars) and has since been used many a time. I've forgotten about it a dozen times and my roommate has to remind me that there is boiling water about to burn our room down. It's dangerous. Not only dangerous, but also disgusting and turning a color that isn't white. It's more like orange and it looks like the inside of our hot pot has been rusting and we've slowly been drinking rusty tea. I cleaned it out, filled it up, boiled it and repeated three times. I told the people sitting in the coziness of room 465 that I just need to cough up thirty bucks and buy myself a nice, not rusty, not hazardous, hot pot.

Yesterday, I worked all day and came home rather exhausted. It was my dear friend Becky Jo's birthday, so I brought some cake home with me to give to her, but she wasn't there yet. I was sitting in my room with the door wide open and then Becky Jo's roommate shuts my door for no good reason. I knock on her door and ask if I can come in, they scream "Go away!" and I have no idea what's going on. All I want to do is give her some cake and tell her that I love her. About two minutes later, Becky Jo runs into my room with a giant gift in her hand and says, "This is for you!" I am puzzled now because Becky Jo is giving me a gift on her birthday. But, heck, I love to get a present, so I rip off the paper and what is inside? A brand new, shiny red hot pot.

"Now you don't have to leave all the time when you want to drink tea with people," she tells me. I was exhilarated and, to me, it was so much more than a hot pot. It was a "thank you" for listening and hugging and holding and praying. It was encouragement that, even though I am busy and tired, I can always make time for my loved ones who need it. It is things like this that help us get through each day. Yes, we're still hanging on for dear life, but at least we can know what we're hanging onto. We're hanging onto hope. Through slices of cake, tears on your shoulder and shining red hotpots, we will be able to survive to the possibility of the brightness that tomorrow might hold. If not tomorrow, then the next day. And if not the next day, then the day after that. The point is this: hope doesn't disappear forever. So sit down, take a break from whatever is holding you back, boil some water and sit down with a friend. They need it. And so do you.

Not Today

Today is not the day to get out of bed.
It's not the day to go to work.
To do a statistics project.
To study for an exam.
To memorize Russian Geography.

Today is the day to hug my roommate.
To smile at strangers.
To sit with someone who needs you there.
To hang out with Grandma.
To drink tea and watch the grey sky.

Why is it so hard to put these things together?
Why can't our days be endless?
Why must time constrain us so?

So much to do, so little time.
So many questions, so few answers.
And life goes on, but how?

Through love.
Joy.
Peace.
Patience.
Kindness.
Goodness.
Gentleness.
Faithfulness.
Self-Control.

She

She is a piano, the black and white keys.

I am a viola, the 4 fragile strings.

She is a velociraptor, open smile all the time.

I am a narwal, resting cooly upon the pillow.

She is orange, full of life.

I am red, full of passion.

She is the listener, the ears to hear, the heart to respond.

I am the talker, the lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue.

She is a banana, presented beautifully atop the cereal.

I am an apple, thrown in the backpack for when the stomach calls.

She is tea, a steaming cup of calm.

I am cocoa, a steaming cup of crazy.

She is love, giving all she has.

I am faith, trusting in all He has.

She is stripes, vertical and horizontal, a rhythm.

I am polka dots, bright and colorful, a variety.

She is monkey feet, familiar and fun.

I am bunny feet, from childhood and memories.

She is a mole, awkward and adorable.

I am a penguin, huggable and lover of the cold.

She is autumn, falling leaves and rainy days.

I am spring, fluttering blossoms and sunny days.

She is a whole note, always there.

I am an eighth note, flying in and out.

She is my friend.

I am hers.

Three Weeks Ago, 2010 Began

How are we already three weeks into 2010?

I have much to say on New Year's and such, but somehow I have been swallowed up by tests, statistics and breakfast dates. This year, 2010, has always seemed a long way off and now that it's here, it is hard to grasp. On Christmas Eve, my family discussed what the year would look like for us and I can sum it up in five words: ONE STEP AT A TIME.

We are all in different stages of life, discovering new passions and wondering what to do with them. Looking at the years to come, I can easily see us all in different parts of the world doing different things, all meaningful in their own way. Looking right in front of us is harder, though. The things right in front of you are much more real. They are here, they are now. They are the steps that must be taken in order to get to where you see yourself in the future. Once we get to where we see ourselves, it's not so hard, but it's a matter of taking those first steps that stirs fright in all of us. Because I could never relay in words to you all that was said that night, I will tell you what is on my mind.

For me, entering 2010 is huge. I'm no longer taking classes that deal with learning to juggle or making someone believe that I really am a crazed genius whose father just died. Now I'm learning what acronyms like GNP and FDI stand for. I'm not learning how to build a flat for a production, but I am learning why Yugoslavia split up in the 90s and how we can help those new countries get back on their feet. I only have five months left in the dorms and will switch gears and live in a house with some of my closest friends. I will be faced with the decision of whether or not I want to be on group staff again or find a new place to serve. I will be searching for internships and practical ways to apply my learning. Constantly learning, that's what I'm doing this year.

It's hard to tell, really, what I expect to come of it all. It's exciting, though. When people ask me where I think my major will take me and I say "anywhere," it sparks the fire of adventure in my heart. I'm not afraid of what God might throw at me because I know it's under control. Even in times when I have thought no good could come of it, something changes in my heart and it's all okay. The point is that somehow or other, it works out. All I can do is trust. So, in the ever so wise words of Bilbo Bagins, I leave you with this:

"It's dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

Dangerous? Yes, but danger is just another word for adventure. And adventure is what God has in store, if I'm willing to trust. And I am.