Breathe

"All that I know is I'm breathing."

I remember listening to this song on repeat last spring. I listened to it because I was terrified. Heartbroken. Alone. My God, how things have changed in the last six months.

I was talking to Anna today about how I feel like my junior year of high school is so far away. It was only four years ago, but if there is anything I have learned, it is that life is very moldable. We are shaped and defined by tiny events that occur and in the course of four years, much will change. I'm not just different from that 16 year old, I'm different from the 20 year old I became in June. Who will I be four years from now? Well, if there's anything else that I've learned, it's that there's no way to predict such things.

Here I am, over halfway through college: studying global development, living with four other girls I barely knew until about a year ago, playing my viola in two bands for ten hours a week and writing on a blog with a cup of tea in my hand at 9:30 on a Friday night. Did I ever think this is what my life would look like? No, but this is who I am and I really enjoy it. My boss asked me today what life will look like for these four weeks without class. I told her that they would most likely involve a lot of sitting and talking to my friends without feeling guilty about the ten page paper I have to write or the thirty page articles I have yet to read. My friends are very important to me and it feels like most things I do surround them. But during the quarter, there's always a part of my mind that is not at all focused on them. What joy it is not to have that chunk of my mind removed now. I am here...ALL of me. That, to me, is what a "good time" is. It's guilt-free, deep and full of love.

How frustrating that school so often gets in the way of my fun. I often wonder what it must be like to have a life where I can come home after work and do whatever I want. Then I get scared when I realize that such a time is not actually that far away. I have dreams, though, big dreams. I want to GO. I don't know what that means. Maybe I'll be like the lovely woman whose dog I walk and I'll change the world through libraries in Eastern Europe. Or perhaps I'll be Blake Mycoskie's new best friend and I will put shoes on the feet of children in Argentina. Or I will be called to something not so glamorous, but just as rewarding...I will be called to stay. Stay here in Seattle, this supposed "godless city," and let the love of Christ shine.

There is much for me here. My beautiful family, wonderful friends and a church that I have had the pleasure to watch grow. Why do I always have a longing to go? My challenge is to sit still and watch the world around me. Soon enough I will have the chance to go out and help, but first this. First there are studies, group and pastries with lattes. This is a phase and, like all phases, it will pass. I will enjoy it while it's here. And I will especially enjoy this particular part of the phase called Christmas Break. I'm glad you're here.

International

I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but I now have friends who live all over the world. Some are friends from SPU who have decided to burst from its Queen Anne walls and live out the motto continually engrained in our minds: engage the culture. Others are Upward Bound students that I met in Austria this summer. A few are old family friends who have tucked themselves quietly into that beautiful corner of the world called Germany. And here I am, in Seattle, with hopes and dreams that span the globe. It's finals week and I think that this week, more than any, makes me want to do nothing more than travel. Experience. Live.

I have been studying Economic Geography, International Peace and World Order, and Global and Urban Ministries this quarter. Though I mentally checked out of these classes a few weeks ago, my heart is still very much in my studies. I want to dissolve the disparity in the world, I want the victims of war to be healed and I want to know the stories of those who need to tell them. It is hard to concentrate on my research papers when all I want to do is get out of the classroom and into the world. I need to keep reminding myself that these four years in school are just the final stepping stone and then I need to keep reminding myself that's probably not true.

Is there really ever a final stepping stone? First we are born, then there is elementary school, middle school and high school. We are encouraged to attend college and told that after that, we enter the "real" world. Is the real world that the adults tell me about really all that different from what I am experiencing now? I work in an office with adults and I work at a bakery with people who are not in school...is this really the real world? Why is it that our educational status separates us from the real world? I am living a very real life right now and I think I am already in the real world. It is a world where the things that I study in class are out of that days' New York Times and where I read articles on the racialization of the Seattle Public School that I attended. These issues are real and they stab me in the heart every day. So why do I want to study something that seems so full of despair?

Because there is HOPE.

We don't read these depressing articles on the state of our world for nothing. We read them to learn from them and to give a meager attempt at solving them. We see the small, but significant, things we can do to help. If Philip Eaton really wants us to engage the culture and change the world, we have to get out and see (what is sometimes the sad) truth that is our world. It will not be like this forever. No, of this I am confident. There will be a day that all will be well and history will be a fading memory. Until then, I will continue to learn and implement the small amounts of change that I myself am capable of.

Swinging Freedom

The other day I was walking up to Queen Anne to visit a friend and I decided to take a detour through the park. The day was sunny, the leaves were crunchy and the trees were calling me in. I had just been to chapel and was trying to sort out the things I had just heard, so I thought as I walked. And then I saw the swings and decided to take a seat. I just sat there swaying back and forth, thanking the Lord for this day. Although I'm now a junior in college-which continues to be a tough thing to believe-not so deep down, I'm just a kid. I like the simplicity that comes with being a child. I like the friendliness and the warmth associated with a care free life. As I've gotten older, I have found myself on swing sets several times as I struggle to understand why some things unfold the way they do. On walks home from school, on late night adventures out of the dorms and on this day. I see the abandoned swing sets and I know that as soon as I sit myself down, the troubles will slowly begin to melt away. So, as I sat on the swing on this brisk Tuesday in particular, everything in the world made a little more sense. The people in my life seemed a little more special. And the fact that I am where I am was turned into a huge blessing. I'm sure the swings will continue to call me to that childlike freedom as life continues and I am thankful for that.

A Haiku for You

Tears of joy stream down

as a friendship once broken

is mended with love.

A Thousand Splendid Friends

I had plans...many plans. Did any of them happen? Well, no, not really. There were art projects to create, chores to complete and a paper to write. But when I came home from my run, a short conversation turned into a long one and a homemade pizza turned into a beautiful evening. It's always nice the way life turns out when our moments of madness are put on hold and we can just breathe.

It was a long week due to a test that consumed my mind with 104 terms to study and 31 essay prompts to prepare. Then, immediately following the test I had two and a half days to complete a ten page research paper. I was supposed to go on group retreat on Friday night and half of Saturday, but I opted out in order to write my paper. Confession: I haven't started to work on my paper. But I have found a whole lot of beauty and rest in these past few hours and it has rejuvenated my soul.

Becky Jo and I started cooking our pizza at 7, so by the time we finally sat down to eat, it was about 7:30 and the lights of our dear beloved city were sparkling across the water. We lit all of the candles in our living room and put on some Sigur Ros. We then prayed for our meal and dug in. We dug into the pizza and we also dug into our pasts-remembering the days of freshman year that feel so long ago. How did we end up here? We pondered that question for a while and realized that the answer was hiding from us. Why can't we pinpoint the moment our friendships begin? Because the closest relationships of all just happen naturally. They're the ones you don't force and the ones you don't strive for. True, I meet people and think, "wow, I really want to be their friend." And I am their friend, but not really. There are the friends who I pour my heart into and there are others who I watch a movie with once in a while.

My friendships in college are funny because there is a universal understanding of "Let's hang out. Except we can't because we both know we're too busy." Is this bad? Being too busy for my own friends? The reality is I can't be friends with everybody. We were joking about Becky Jo having a thousand friends the other day and then we realized that surely, throughout the course of our lives, we have known a thousand different people. To keep up all of those relationships is impossible. So, we constantly end up going through that painful process of saying "yes" to some and "no" to others. There is hurt along the way, but in the end they move on and so do we. And hopefully we are able to realize that the moment of our life that was spent in relationship was very significant at the time.

I came into this year thinking it would be easier because there wouldn't be a floor full of forty girls that I wanted to be friends with, but it hasn't been all that easy. There are times when I just beg for an extra hour in the day or day in the week. All I want is a night of the week to spend in rest with my friends. And here it is: Friday night, paper writing plans and a pizza to put a stop to them. I thank God for this pizza, for this night and for the lovely girl I was able to share it with. It is hours like these that make me realize I have it so good. True, there are hard things, but if the hardest thing I have to do is skip a retreat to write a paper, I think my worries are pretty low. And I can thank the good Lord for that.

Two French Rolls

Home: A place where something flourishes, is most typically found, or from which it originates.

Something that has been itching at my heart recently is homelessness. I am very fortunate at this moment in my life to be surrounded by many different homes. There is my parent's home. There is Upper Gwinn. There is Schladming. There is Nielsen's. There is The Nest. These are the places that I am filled up, that I can be myself and that I go to and from. To not have a place to call home is heartbreaking. Even more bluntly, to not have a roof over your head is just plain cold. In this rainy city alone, there are over 6000 homeless people. That means that every day, there are 6000 people walking around Seattle, unsure of themselves and unsure of what to do.

There are the skeptics who say that these people need to learn to be self sufficient. There are those who say that they will use my money to buy drugs and ruin their lives. But here is the reality: RIGHT NOW, THEY ARE HUNGRY AND THEY ARE COLD. When I walk down the street and I'm afraid to make eye contact with a beggar, what does that say about me? It makes me feel selfish. But my heart is rapidly changing. Just a couple of weeks ago, here is what happened to me:

I am walking to the bus after work and I have a bag full of leftover french rolls in my backpack. When I see a man standing on the corner asking for money and I watch dozens of people speed by him, my heart breaks. It's raining and this man is hungry and every person who walks by him says they have nothing to give him. That's not true. Surely you, with the shoes in your Nordstrom bag, surely you have something to give. Or you, man with a briefcase that no doubt has a laptop in it, you must have something to give.

But not me. No, I'm in college, I have nothing to give. STOP IT. I don't have loans, I have two jobs, I own a computer and a cell phone and a violin. I can go to concerts and see musicals whenever I want to. If my shoes get a hole in them, I can buy a new pair that fits. I have so much. So what is it that stops me from giving to this man? It has been the constant stream of "advice" from society that tells me this man deserves to be standing on this street corner. No he doesn't--nobody does.

I'm ashamed to say that I too speed by this man. And then all of those thoughts I just shared with you speed through my head. I CAN give to this man. He doesn't deserve to be on the streets right now, but he is. He didn't do anything wrong, but he is treated like he has. And he is hungry. I turn around and I look him in the eyes--he has beautiful eyes--and they light up. "I just got off work," I tell him, "and I have a bunch of leftover rolls. Would you like some?" I pull out the bag of rolls and it was as though he was looking at gold. I open the bag and he looks at me with a questioning glance. "Go ahead," I tell him as I push the bag toward him. He plunges his hand into the bag and takes one. "You can have more than that," I tell him and he takes another. "These will go nicely with dinner once I get some," he says.

What faith. He knows that dinner will come. He doesn't know how or who from, but he somehow knows he will eat. Perhaps it was these rolls that gave him hope or maybe he met someone earlier who gave him hope. The point is, it didn't take much. Two french rolls...though free for me, they normally only cost thirty-five cents. Who doesn't have that? Please, I beg you, GIVE. It doesn't take much. No, it barely takes anything. In this country where living "in poverty" is having a salary below $12,000, I know you can spare thirty-five cents for a roll or twenty cents for a banana. Stop getting bogged down with the details of the history of the person standing in front of you. Look them in the eyes and see that they are a person, just like you, and they are hungry. Go. Feed them.

Beautiful Things

All this pain. I wonder if I'll ever find my way. I wonder if my life could really change at all. All this earth. Could all that is lost ever be found? Could a garden come up from this ground at all?

You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of the dust. You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of us.

All around, hope is springing up from this old ground. Out of chaos, life is being found in You.

You make me new, You are making me new.

Gungor, Beautiful Things

I took this picture in Austria on one of my toughest days. It was raining and my stomach had never felt worse. There we were, trudging through the wet earth, and then I saw these flowers. I continually noticed flowers like this in Austria-these flowers that grew out of the rocks. Flowers are such delicate wonders, so it is amazing to me that they can thrive in the rocks.

This quarter, we are studying the book of Genesis. I have been reading what has always felt like the same Sunday school story, but with a very critical eye. I have been noticing so many different aspects of the story deep beneath the surface of the simple words on the page. I studied Genesis two years ago when I came to SPU as a freshman, but it didn't have so much meaning to me then. Now, after two very life changing years and a summer spent in creation, the first book of the Bible and I have grown very close to one another. My biggest realization is that this faith is so simple, but it is also so complex.

Reading Genesis 1, I was so full of inexpressible joy at the concept that God created a beautiful and flawless world just for us. I reflected on my time in the mountains and how perfect creation is. And then we got to Genesis 2...also known as: The part where we screwed it all up.

I can't really wrap around my head the idea of a flawless world because it is not something I have ever known. I imagine it as the moments of beauty I experience every day, but that's all there is. A flawless world is a beautiful thing and when I read that Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, I can't help but cry out in agony. Why? Why would they ruin something so perfect? I can't help but wonder if it broke God's heart the day that sin entered His perfect world.

This realization came at a perfect time for me. A week ago, I heard terrible news from a friend...a story of complete brokenness. She told me her story and I wept as I realized that so much of my life is based on trust and when that trust is broken, all I want to do is start over. That's when these song lyrics came into my life: YOU MAKE ME NEW. Out of brokenness, Christ brings healing. Out of darkness, Christ brings light. Out of dust, Christ brings life.

God intended for us to live lives of love and joy, not lives full of fear. The story of the tree in the garden should not be one full of heartache, but one full of redemption and grace. The Christian faith is based on a story of hope and hope is something I can give my whole heart to. God has made me stronger this week. He has given me the courage to hand over what weighs me down and that is how I am able to continue living a life full of joy in the midst of grief.