Honey From The Rock

I had big ideas for this Christmas break. big ideas. I made a Christmas bucket list that included knit socks, learn to play a Christmas carol on my mandolin (which I haven't touched in three years), decorate Christmas cookies, go ice skating. I think the only thing I achieved was watching White Christmas while drinking Baileys and playing poker with the family. And then I got sick. I came home under the weather as my father would say and then it just took a turn for the worse. The worse being laying in bed with a fever and being grumpy and unrealistic and mean. When I'm sick, especially fever-sick, it goes all the way into my bones and changes me. No big plans for this break, just grumpy, cranky, people-alienating days of believing all the lies. You know how sometimes in the olden days, people would hallucinate when they had really high fevers; I think I'm a little like that, my brain changes and everything looks and feels different. I cry really easy, I get upset and annoy

The sun is shining. I woke up this morning and the sun was shining. It's been raining almost since I've gotten home on Friday. Macon has thrown out all my rules about rain. In Michigan and even Chattanooga, the weather isn't regular by far, but the pattern of its quirks I've gotten used to, synced with. But in Macon, that still hasn't happened. One day it rained on and off all day and then picked up and rained steady all night and then didn't stop until the following evening. So much rain. I think the weather in Macon doesn't change as quickly maybe; in Michigan if it starts raining at night, it'll probably stop at least for awhile mid morning and shift to some other weather pattern. But in Macon, once you have rain, you've got it. So anyway, all that to say, I'm so glad the sun is shining. Maybe it's my farmer family but my mood is closely connected to the weather. Whenever I talk to my grandparents on the phone and even my parents, they'

I am drinking beer tonight. Alcohol is so closely connected to breaks for me. time off from studying and classes. Its the epitome of relaxation in my book. The perfect compliment to hanging out with friends, a cozy night with my parents, a way to celebrate an ending. Along with that, the emotionally needy puppy curled up next to me evokes the memory of breaks. Her presence is a central part of my home. When I sat down this evening, she didn't wait for the proper beckoning but jumped into my lap and buried her head in me. Right now, I stopped stroking her soft ears for a second, and so she looked up at me with her big, sad eyes that are asking, are you still there? am I still here? Dr. Kapic in my doctrine class talked about how his new puppy would always bark just for attention. He said, its like she's saying, look at me, I exist, I exist, look at me. Sometimes I feel that the puppy's cries perfectly capture my heart. Every interaction with people is me asking, you still th

As I get closer to endings, space becomes more and more full for me. There is a certain significance to the angles of this desk’s corners, the tilt of the picture, the colors of the few dark reds. Sometimes I stare at it, imprinting it on my brain because I am sentimental and it is still very much imprinted on my heart. And this sentimental girl can only take so much. So much crumbling and breaking, daily decay of my created order.   The constant slide into chaos, the constant ending of good things. I wash dishes every day and then I eat again. I arrange and center, lighting candles, ‘creating the atmosphere’ I secretly whisper to myself, knowing this joy too childish to share in seriousness. And the people fill the room, the smells fill the room, the candles flicker and beckon, but only to go out, be silenced, be absorbed by the old musty walls of the cold house. It ends and again I wash dishes, throw away spent candles, sweep the floor, and I am alone. The silence of a weary hous

This is the era of my life of coffee shops and dehydration. Nonprofessional clothing and flexible hours. Confusing Tuesday mornings for Saturday afternoons. Crying in the car for the realities I can’t face anywhere else. Sleep deprivation so acute I can't remember my mailbox number. Laughing until it hurts because we're high on the sweetness of college breaks. Roadtrips and chickfila and the crazy freedom of not having a job. Checking in every few days and then doing whatever makes sense, whenever I want. Playing at being domestic and then forgetting the stacks of dishes, consequences from the dinner party the night before. Buying Groupons and wearing perfume and feeling like a woman with a very small checking account. Listening to one song for hours on repeat just so I can write this paper and because it expresses my soul so accurately. Seeing the day change from today to tomorrow almost every night and hoping to be awake for only one more hour. NPR, paying bills, lipstick

My alter ego is John Wayne. He would be my second self. My better half. The part of my identity that I don’t’ let my friends see. He makes vague appearances when I’m shooting my father’s guns or driving my grandfather’s machinery or when I look over a field of green turning wheat. Or sometimes after a walk through country roads that’s been so long my legs are a tiny bit numb and my stride is a set rhythm and I’m wearing the perfect boyfriend jeans. I am John Wayne. Or sometimes when I throw open the hood of my car and crook my hip or when I slip into the gruff, know it all responses including the cuss words when I answer my uber girly friends. I let a little bit of John Wayne out. My alter ego goes real deep because you see I inherited him. Its eve a little watered down in me. But in my father its a little bit closer to being John Wayne and my grandfather is even closer. The American myth of the cowboy, of John Wayne strutting the original swag, the careless nonchalant shrug of a g

Hi. So I have this theory that good things become really great when you can share them with someone. And since I'm home on fall break, off facebook, and doing this morning kind of solo (except for a puppy who is ob.sessed. with a tennis ball and a brother who just woke up), I thought I'd share my good things with my host of blog readers :)  so here it is 1. Coffee with pumpkin spice creamer, made the way I really like it: strong with only the creamer mellowing it out.  2. This grandpa sweater I found in a closet. incredibly warm I must say. uber cozy.  3. Reading the Word in a white rocking chair on a sunny, quiet back porch.  4. Waking up with prayers rising from my mind. this doesn't often happen to me, but I woke up just needing to commune with my Lord and today it came easier than normal.  5. Paul Simon. 6. Nine freakin hours of sleep last night. haven't gotten that much sleep in one time since summer I think.  Being home has allowed me to

I'm sipping here at Starbucks. I don't like writing here but Macon doesn't have real coffee shops (just drive through Starbucks); this one happens to have a patio of sorts but still no good view of the sky or anything actually inspiring. I'm facing the back side of an El Sombrero and there's a small parking lot. And it smells like the cigarettes that the employees smoke on their breaks. So just a few things I've been realizing. One, I'm able to almost completely detach myself from school when I'm here. Its taken about three days but I'm slipping into this place. My problems at school have been set aside, the independence of dictating my own schedule, the dedication and freedom my schoolwork requires, it all kind of fades a little bit. Its more calm here, but also less exciting. More steady maybe with the stability of a family. Two, I discovered pumpkin spice chai tea lattes. Who knew, right? They EXIST. Three, my SIP, this huge essay I'm

Life's been a bit tough lately. for lots of reasons, homework, work, friends, figuring how to live well in this place where I'm not sure if I belong yet. Transition is harder than I know. But it's October and I really really want to be happy. I don't want to be messy. I want to rejoice and delight in the wonder of October. The leaves, the pumpkin everything: lattes, candles, muffins, pancakes, decorations (I even bought this huge one today for our house), the colors, the smells, the season of autumn. But, like I said, life's been tough. but I still want to rejoice. I want to celebrate, I want joy. So here's my verse for right now, this area of struggle: Psalm 63:3. "Because Your lovingkindness is better than life, My lips shall praise You." So for October, its going to be a month of celebration. Of counting blessings because of Christ's love beautifying it all. the struggle and the pain, the colors and smells of this place, of right now.

Day of Prayer: Sunrise Service at Rock City Thank you Father  for not letting me be an orphan, everlasting love in finite spaces, finite places, infinite soul,  for gooey, glazed donuts, dissolving like dew, succulent sweetness,  for Niedlov's coffee in blue cracked mugs and the curly headed boy laughing across the room,  for revelations on pages, an entire morning with books, no demands for productivity or evidences of hard work, just undiluted pure grace,  for space and time to stare out windows,  for friends and coffee, filling empty spaces with light,  for color, brilliant dark red, earthy brown, scratched black and grey, dark dark indigo, grassy green, for redorangeblue flannel,  for orange mugs with white foam resting in the bottom, for new things, difficult stretching things that open up stagnate hearts, bitter providence, dark grace, filling cracks with sweetness.  for Jesus who is enough. Praise the One who paid my debt  and raised this l

Life has been full, not just busy but full, overflowing with things to think about it, to look at it, to slow down and breathe in. But also its been full of things that I've rushed into, through, and out of, mostly homework assignments and those few boring classes. My SIP (senior integration project) is capturing my interest and my heart, making me feel very academic and happy. Full of knowledge and freedom to look at beautiful things without feeling guilty. I met with my first reader, an expert in the subject area I'm pursuing (personal essay), and she gave me the liberty to go steep myself in others creativity and art to come back to my project with freshness. I have all these leads, paths to follow themes down, to broaden how I think about this project and I guess, cliche-ly but ultimately my life. Some of my books And along with all this fullness, there's been an odd mix of friends and quiet, loneliness and intentionality. Its been difficult to find a place as a

Failure sucks; here is a little hope that I'm struggling to hold on to, a bit of grace for a very weary sinner. It's from Today's Letters : "Here's to gratitude and how it turns everything into enough." Sometimes you need to stop thinking and just see good.  I am thankful  for sunshine after days of rain,  for rice and beans and corn, cheap and tasty with enough cheese and hot sauce,  for daily bread that breeds forgiveness,  for quiet evenings that offer a little respite from craziness,  for short tempers quickly resolved and selfishness overcome,  for being unseen on days where you feel unseeable,  for remembering that there is always hope, always grace. 

So I'm back, here at Covenant College on a mountain in Georgia. and its strange, unbelievably strange. I forget until transitions come how much I'm connected to physical surroundings. Place is so significant for me and that fact always surprises me. And so I'm setting up new roots in a new house, a new bedroom with new roommates, a new kitchen and a new work place. Its crazy and strange and awesome. but also a little unsettling and overwhelmingly adult-y. I set up trash service today for my house. I have a house. I have a kitchen and a driveway and electric bills. Crazy. Here's a peek at the chaos and the people of my new house. I'll post more pics soon.

Transitions and home and waiting. This is me procrastinating, not packing. not organizing my life into small boxes and packages and stuffing it into my car. But as I just posted, I have everything I need for today. Everything. I choose to believe.

" Believe it: I have all I need for today. The needs of our day are great but our God is greater and we call Him Providence because we believe:  He is the One who always provides . {And when God provides, He should be praised, and  if God always provides, shouldn’t praise always be on the lips ?}" @Ann Voskamp

My life is full right now. I am student, RA, friend, daughter, and Christ follower. The roles I step in to everyday are varied and challenging, and I'm still trying to figure out how it's suppose to work. Especially because God has called me to things I can't do, to a person I can't be. God has called me as an RA to give until I die, when I am dead to myself and alive to Christ.  I am suppose to share my coffee creamer, my time, and my tears. I am suppose to lose myself in loving others. I am suppose to be the one who reacts when the fire alarm goes off, when someone has a melt down, when people are crossing lines, when the hopeless can't see the way out. I'm the one who is suppose to be in charge, the one who gets the calls at midnight. I have to learn how to always be willing to say yes. I know there are boundaries, a healthy balance. Saying no is an option. But please don't give me excuses. Jesus has called me to a life of radical self-leaving. I must sa

Its time to count blessings. to be thankful. to remember grace. for mornings woken to quiet energy, sunshine in my window for pruning bushes with hot sun draining hot sweat, the joy of exertion for arranging aromatic herbs destined for windowsills, for freedom from constraints, to choose my time, for an abundance of peace, learning to be quiet alone. Shauna Niequist recently wrote a  blog post  about how she likes to have goals or themes for different seasons of her life that will keep her focused during that time. And I thought this a particularly good idea as I enter into my final fall semester of college. It will be a completely new season of life: living in a house off campus, being a senior, hunting for jobs, answering some relationship questions. I've started thinking about themes for my fall semester and here's what I've come up with so far: 1) Prayer. Learning to rest in quietness, keeping my balance, and living in stability. 2) Freedom from the opinions of

This is me. About to die.  sunburned shoulders and peeling nose. rock wall climbing with straining harness, aching muscles. horse hair smooth under the wet, clinging dirt. purple bandanas and plastic sunglasses. fields of green and grey with hot hot sun. pine trees and sand, everywhere, sticking to my feet. swimming in chlorine, soft blue cooling hot skin. lifeguard buoys red, tough, and smooth. chaco blister. zing and smack of arrows from bows, my designated proficiency activity, the joyful yellow of the smallest circle on the target. camp cheers that give rhythm to walking, eating, talking. three kittens all grey cuddle and warm purr. the quiet splash of canoe paddles in dark lake water, where I feel most at home. thoughts of my father and the woods when fifty feet above ground on a wire, shuffling towards the zipline. new faces, new ideas, new backgrounds, new laughs, new perspectives, new people.  Summer is here and real camp starts in two days with the arrival of camp

I'm at Joshua Cup, the hipster-est place in Macon GA, a little coffee shop downtown with ceilings painted black and scratched wood floors. I'm drinking coffee black with cinnamon and I'm starting in on writing my SIP, a personal essay. But I don't really fit in. Two ladies in professional dress eat their organic lunches with big black sunglasses on their heads while three men use their laptops. The first is wearing a long grey robe of sorts with black dress shoes. Jewish maybe? I don't know, he's typing away on a word document. The other two look slightly disheveled. One with long, frizzy red hair and a black painter's cap has huge black headphones engulfing his ears; he's bent over his work on an ipad, shoulders kinked in. The other is wearing the gym clothes of a couch potato, baggy tshirt, baggy grey cotton shorts, and flipflops. They both sport facial hair. I sit somewhat apart with all the glory of a pink laptop, floral notebooks, two bags, and se

Thank you, Lord of my heart, for sleep, even when its stolen from homework time, refreshing my eyes, giving physical grace, for coffee, percolating next to me as I slowly wake up, for the stillness of my room, and the quiet covenant of coming rain to the ground, for all the spiritual blessings in the heavenly places, meaning I have comfort as I pack away and leave this place, my home for the last year, for forgiveness as sure as the coming rain, not yet seen but felt, for the depth of a friendship that holds even when communication gets tangled, jumbled, chaotic, for hall events that do not end up like the dreams I have dreamt about them, for people who are as needy as I am; we who are always ever in need, a created good, for spent time on good, in good. in grace. reading the Words of a loving Father, for new energy to see suffering and step forward, not retreating, for feeling that the running might be ending, that I am back. for faithfulness that is new every morning and