lost and found

I've migrated

2009-08-07T13:05:00.002-05:00

I've migrated! For those who don't know, I've been living and working in Kansas City for the past three months. Getting my bearings has been quite an adventure! You can keep up with my post-college life here:

http://kocikc.wordpress.com

Thanks for visiting -- hope to see you at the new blog!

:) Sarah

Oh, the Places I'll Go

2009-04-27T16:00:00.003-05:00

"Oh, the Places You'll Go!"
by Dr. Seuss

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

And you may not find any
you'll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you'll head straight out of town.

It's opener there
in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.

OH!
THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

You'll be on your way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.
You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you'll be the best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don' t
Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.

You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.

You'll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a Slump.

And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.
A place you could sprain both you elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That's not for you!

Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

With banner flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. there are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You'll be famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don't.
Because, sometimes, they won't.

I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

But on you will go
though the weather be foul
On you will go
though your enemies prowl
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3 / 4 percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!

The University of Missouri. Class of 2009. My years here may be done, but I'll always be a Tiger, the proudest of them all.

Spain and Portugal, winter 2009

2009-01-13T16:51:00.002-06:00

Pastries in Portugal: 3 euro
One postcard: .40 euro
One postcard stamp to the United States: 1 euro
Water, at each meal: 2 euro
A flamenco dancing show in Madrid and drinks to go with it: 35 euro
The best pitcher of sangria I've ever had: 7 euro
The original price of my Don Quixote painting: 55 euro
The new price of my painting, after I haggled in perfect Spanish: 35 euro
Cover at Kapital club: 15 euro
Cover at Dock's club: 0 euro on ladies' night

Returning to my job in America to a tower of documents to file (that's job security): priceless.

the lone star state, part two

2008-11-21T07:51:00.002-06:00

(written in DFW airport, from one of those sweet free internet kiosks)

The interview began with me sitting in a room by myself for 45 minutes. Because I'm a student on a heavily Greek campus, my first thought is, HAZING. I'm being hazed. They just make you sit here until your eyes bleed. Sweet.

Turns out they just forgot about me.

Once someone figured out where I was, they were nothing but kind. I enjoyed the conversations and the interviews and things went well. My eyes didn't bleed. Still, things just didn't click. To make another Greek reference, things just didn't feel right. Does that mean I would say no if I got a job? No. I'd definitely consider it. Still . . .

The city:
I tapped into my Greek network and joined some women from the Dallas Phi Mu alumnae chapter for dinner. I was glad I went out and left my hotel room. I didn't see much of the city, but I do know there are a ton of commercial-y places here. You're riding along the highway and there's a gloriously large building. With a Pizza Hut logo on it. Pizza Hut headquarters? I wonder what their employee cafeteria serves. There are tons of beautiful malls here . . . and I like malls. I didn't get that excited, butterflies-in-my-tummy feeling . . . but that doesn't mean it won't come later . . .

Bottom line: Home is where you make it. No idea where I'll make mine. I'm flying back to STL in an hour, and then heading up to Chicago.

Lots of things to pray about.

the lone star state, part one

2008-11-20T14:33:00.003-06:00

(written in the skies; posted in my hotel)

This is my favorite part of flying: everything below you suddenly becomes Polly Pocket-sized.

We rarely get to see so much of the world, all at once. It is moments like these that reveal God's creation. It is so big, so much bigger than us. We realize just how little we are when we see things from thousands of feet above the ground. Little, but integral. I'll praise Him for that.

* * *

(written from my hotel room)

My first look at Texas was from the sky. The first thing I noticed was how many trucks there were. Truck, truck, truck. The second thing I noticed was how many swimming pools there were. I guess in a climate like Dallas, you can use your pool more than three months out of the year. Does that mean it is always bathing suit season? If so, then thousands of sit-ups are in order for me.

The airport was normal. I'm not sure what I expected, but no one had an accent. No one wore a cowboy hat. Country music was not blasting over the loudspeaker. My taxi driver was Asian and played Christmas music on the radio. Again, no Texas cliches. I wonder how Texans feel when they hear the song "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas."

Now I'm in my hotel room. I'm so blessed. My interview begins in an hour, and I can't wait. At the very least, it is a free trip to the state that almost became a country earlier in history, and a great chance to practice my being-a-big-girl abilities.

Yep. A big girl.

My whirlwind

2008-11-19T14:18:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow is my first-ever trip to the big state of Texas . . . weather.com predicts 38 degrees for the high in Columbia and 61 degrees for the high in Dallas. Enough said.

Commentary to follow.

For more than just the ladies

2008-11-05T23:01:00.003-06:00

Because little boys should learn to cook too . . . gender-neutral kitchens.

I'm not planning on babies anytime soon, but when I do, those kiddos will have kitchens like these :)

Beyond November 4

2008-11-04T11:22:00.002-06:00

I posted this on the Service on Saturday blog and I felt it was worthwhile to re-post here:

Today is Election Day, and we’re not the first to tell you to get out and vote. But we do want to encourage you to keep up that civic spirit on November 5 and 6 and 7, etc. Voting enables us to have a voice, to make a difference in our community and our country -- so does volunteering.

From the City of Columbia’s Office of Volunteer Services newsletter:

The results are in! In the city's 2008 fiscal year (Oct. 1, 2007-Sept. 20, 2008), volunteers shared 43,228 hours with the City of Columbia valued at more than $843,000. More than 6,000 volunteers assisted the city in nearly every department. Thank you for sharing your most valuable resource - your time - to improve Columbia.

Vote!

"Volunteering for something is the ultimate experience in democracy. You vote in elections once a year. But when you volunteer, you're voting every day about the community you want to live in."

- submitted to GUIDEPOSTS

Productivity

2008-10-27T09:06:00.001-05:00

From Slate:

The challenge for presidential candidates, as Merlin Mann puts it, is "to know when to stop scanning your campground for bears long enough to make S'mores."

Isn't that the challenge for all of us?

The Slate article examines how presidential candidates schedule their lives, how they make productivity work for them. I'm a big 43 Folders fan. It's eye candy for the time-starved, offering hope for just half an hour to spare. There's more where this came from -- productivity classes, forums, books and podcasts (because who can read a book these days?). Half an hour would make me do a somersault; I'm sure Barack or John would do a round off and five cartwheels.

But do productivity strategies really make a difference? There wouldn't be an industry centered around checking off our to-do lists if the strategies didn't help us, would there? So why do we keep going back to these resources, keep trying to find what works? Why do we keep looking for a band-aid that will cover our open wound?

November 4

2008-10-23T14:30:00.003-05:00

I've voted absentee in Illinois before, picking names out of a hat without understanding the candidates' track records in the community. As a former Public Life reporter, I learned that our local elections carry more weight than the national ones; after all, your school board will impact your life more than your national president. So I changed my voter registration to Missouri a few weeks ago. I know about Missouri candidates, and I'm invested in Columbia.

But who will I pick for our next president? Couldn't tell you with a shotgun to my head. Actually, I probably could scream MCCAIN or OBAMA if my life was in danger, but you get the point.

I'm trying to approach this from a faith-based perspective, but there's no clear winner. I don't want babies dying, but I want the poor and underprivileged cared for. I want lower taxes, but I want quality programs to have enough funding. I hate the war, but it would not be wise to pack up and leave tomorrow. Some argue experience, but some argue the need for fresh perspective.

People I really trust have different perspectives. I thought about linking them here, but my list got uncontrollably long. Obama supporters and McCain supporters alike have tried to persuade me. I have yet to be won over.

Here on a work visa/ and that's how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air

2008-10-21T01:16:00.004-05:00

For what I'm about to write, I must give credit where credit is due: our speaker at Fall Conference.

Exodus tells the story of our freedom in Christ. We're no longer enslaved by our sin. Freedom is a compelling story; so is what we do with that freedom we never deserved in the first place.

People leave their own countries and go to others for many reasons, so there are many visas to fit those reasons. Some travel with a tourist visa, intending to visit a place for a few weeks and then head home. Some travel with a student visa, intending to learn and gain some knowledge and then head home. Still others travel with a work visa, wanting to serve their new country with their knowledge and ability.

Freedom in Christ isn't a tourist visa; it isn't a license to do anything we want. Freedom in Christ isn't a student visa; it isn't a culture we take from and learn from. Freedom in Christ is a work visa. We show up, armed with the Word, to change the world, to serve the world, to love with our arms outstretched.

Big orders. But then again, we have a big God.

***

There are many things I'll miss once I graduate from college. Thing #1: Sing-a-longs.

This weekend, at Fall Conference, I joined some of my best friends in the Fresh Prince theme song, Under the Sea, Wonderwall, Don't Stop Believing, Iris, I'm Yours, MMMBop (no consensus on the actual words), the Brady Bunch theme song, Summer Nights, songs from Rent, about 12 Backstreet Boys songs . . . the list goes on.

I can't remember all the words. I can't remember all the songs. But I remember the people I sang them with. This is the kind of stuff I'll miss next year.

You'd probably do better after a great night's sleep.

2008-10-21T00:57:00.003-05:00

Lunesta wants my business.

It's a quarter to one, and I'm scrolling around the homepage on MSNBC. News called; I answered. After clicking on a link and getting through the first paragraph of yet another Obama-McCain story, I notice an ad at the top of the page. It is a color matching game -- I don't say no to a good color matching and order game.

It was kind of like Simon . . . click on the colors in the order they appear. Each sequence got tougher. Just as I reached the lofty score of 5, the game announced how crummy I'd done.

"GAME OVER. You'd probably do better after a great night's sleep."

The game's sponsor? Lunesta. Display ads for sleep aids in the middle of the night, and you're likely to find insomniac customers. Now that's target marketing.

Done with that

2008-10-15T23:58:00.001-05:00

I walked through the old newsroom today on my way to a professor's office. (I'll leave the newspaper nameless, on the off chance that someone stumbles onto my blog and thinks I'm biting the hand that feeds me.) This foreign feeling of excitement rushed over me, a feeling of excitement and joy that I'm no longer held captive.

I wanted to cartwheel down the hall. Almost did.

Hitting refresh

2008-10-14T11:42:00.001-05:00

I was reading my church's blog today and a blogger asked this. Funny. It is the same question I'm asking these days:

In today's post I just want to ask one simple question and hear what you have to say:

What do you do to hit "refresh."

I am not talking about the left click a the top of your browser.

What do you do?

Segway

2008-10-07T17:23:00.000-05:00

When we leave a place, literally or figuratively, physically or mentally, the ends may not be tied up in neat, Martha Stewart-esque bows. Life isn't neat. Life isn't tidy. But God's plan is good; God's path is meaningful. We may not know where we're going, but God does, and we have a reason to be there, every step of the way.

My summer reading list

2008-06-17T14:43:00.006-05:00

I'm jumping on the post-your-summer-reading-list-on-your-blog bandwagon. I loved reading before college, and now it is time to remember that I loved it. Everything on my list has been recommended in some way, by people from church, friends from my Bible study, executives from guest lectures and titles I've noticed on bookshelves of those I admire.

Currently reading:

The Reason for God, by Tim Keller

Searching for God Knows What, by Donald Miller

Want to read:

Living the Cross Centered Life: Keeping the Gospel the Main Thing, by C.J. Mahaney

The Beatles: The Biography, by Bob Spitz

The Gospel According to the Beatles, by Steve Turner

Bobos in Paradise: The New Upper Class and How They Got There, by David Brooks

Twilight, by Stephanie Meyer

Never Eat Alone: And Other Secrets to Success, One Relationship at a Time, by Keith Ferrazzi and Tahl Raz

The Price of Privilege: How Parental Pressure and Material Advantage Are Creating a Generation of Disconnected and Unhappy Kids, by Madeline Levine

Bowling Alone, by Robert Putnam

I'm still taking recommendations, and I'm still going to add to the list. I can't wait.

Addicted to busy

2008-05-06T09:17:00.002-05:00

Yesterday afternoon I chatted with Ross for about an hour before class. It was a scary conversation; it started with me asking about a Sam's Club card and it ended with us talking about what it means to have an addiction.

We joke about it all the time. We say we're addicted to chocolate, addicted to Facebook, addicted to The Office. And it's funny. I joke about my addictions to people, to activities, to busy-ness.

That's where the problem comes in. It really is not a joke anymore.

Addiction means something when it is associated with a negative thing -- with alcohol, cigarettes, overeating, porn, undereating, overspending, compulsive exercise, drugs. Addiction means nothing when it is associated with a positive thing -- school, friends, volunteering, church. Being busy and loving people and getting involved are good things. But I've gotten carried away. I have this dislike for being alone, this disinterest in anything that takes longer than an hour, this fear of my life post-Mizzou, when the activities become nothing more than line items on a resume.

I need Jesus, but I'm too afraid to give Him the alone time that prayer requires. I've avoided personal prayer time by praying for others in groups, by reading the Bible together. I tried yesterday to be with God, in silence, in a room all by myself, for just five minutes. I picked up my cell phone and called a friend instead.

Yuck. I don't like who I've become. The state of my heart is questionable, and I'm totally uncomfortable with that.

Doing hard things

2008-04-30T15:15:00.004-05:00

I was reading this article and I got excited -- and then I got to thinking. When was the last time I did something hard?

When was the last time I did something difficult, something challenging, something that grew and stretched my faith in a big way? When was the last time I allowed God to totally morph my life?

"We can't just go on being ordinary, decent Christians, giving God part of our lives while holding back the rest. Either we are hatched and learn to fly or we are a dud that will soon start to sink. The ironic thing here is that although the hardest thing -- the almost impossible thing -- is to hand over our whole selves to Christ, it is far easier than what we are trying to do instead."

- Do Hard Things, Alex and Brett Harris

Any advice? How do we, on a daily basis, do these hard things the Bible commands us to do?

Strategic placement

2008-04-29T00:22:00.005-05:00

Tonight, after copy editing, I grabbed some orange juice from the fridge and I said hi to this sweet freshman girl. I don't know her name; I felt bad, but I struck up a conversation anyway. We talked about my Beads for Life necklace and how we need to sign up for bag lunches. She signed up for two -- brilliant. I've lived here for two years now and I have yet to figure that out.

She signed me up for a lunch, asking, "Is it Sarah with or without an H?" An H, I said. She also wrote my last name and spelled it perfectly.

I didn't even know her name.

After I figured out who she was, I sent her a Facebook message shortly, saying how fun it was to bump into her. I'm always coming and going, going and coming, and rarely do we have the chance to have a conversation that extends past "hey-howareyou?-goodyou?-good."

She replied back and said she really looks up to me.

She really looks up to me, but I've never shared coffee with this girl, never hung out with her, never even bothered to learn her name. And she looks up to me. I'm blessed. It makes me wonder how many other people look up to us without us even knowing. It brings real significance to this life we live.

In my marketing classes, we talk about strategic placement, putting ads in places where the target market is most likely to see them. A lipstick ad in Glamour, a cologne ad in GQ. God does that in our lives. He strategically places each person we meet.

"Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. For the LORD is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land." Psalm 95:1-5

An excuse to use the bullets button on Blogger.

2008-04-21T21:24:00.003-05:00

It was quite a weekend . . .

A conversation with an MU alum gave me the best answer ever to the question "What are you doing after graduation?" I've already used it twice.
God used my lateness for good things on Friday afternoon. I'm grateful I arrived at Jesse Hall at 1:02; I was able to see my parents to their seats, and I was happy they were okay. I enjoyed the afternoon.
I'm blessed with amazing friends. The irony is striking. I was recognized for doing so many things, so many things less significant than love. These things take me away from the very people who showed up to watch me get recognized. I'm the receiver of so much selfless love. It really is Christ in action.
My parents were impressed at my $230/month place. I'm getting a deal. I'm grateful.
How do you find the right balance between weak love and tough love? It is probably in this thing called the Gospel . . .

22 words

2008-04-21T21:22:00.001-05:00

I finally found a blog I want to recommend to everyone. People who hate reading will appreciate its simplicity; people who love reading will appreciate how it manages to be complex in so few words.

Made for another world

2008-04-18T01:09:00.007-05:00

Nothing motivates me more than a good goal. It has always been that way, and probably always will. The problem is, when you reach the goal, it doesn't always satisfy you like you thought it would.

The goals I make are like dessert: pretty, delicious, but only momentarily satisfying. Empty calories. And you feel just as empty after dessert as you did before.

Freshman year at Mizzou, I knew just what I wanted to do. Having reached that goal, I still feel exactly the same. We make these empty goals, we accomplish these empty goals, and we're just as hollow at the end. We're chocolate bunnies -- rich and foil-covered on the outside, full of nothing on the inside.

We think we have it figured out. Jesus, if only ___ will happen, then I'll be happy.

If only I get this job or get this promotion or make this friend or build this relationship or buy this car or get this gift or get the approval of him or her or them or everything . . .

Then we get it. We get that "if only" thing, and we're still just as broken. We're empty. If you try to inject chocolate into the center of the hollow bunny, you'll crack the shell. Still empty.

Tomorrow, I'm getting an "if only" that I've held onto for two years. This "if only" is an honor and I'm grateful. But at the end of the day, it is just an "if only," and those don't fill you up. Still empty.

"If I find in myself a desire that no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." -C.S. Lewis

Stuff to think about

2008-04-15T22:28:00.003-05:00

God has this funny way of humbling me, just when I start to get too full of myself. I listened to a podcast the other day and something the preacher said grabbed me: The biggest areas of sin in our lives are often what we like most about ourselves. When we trust in ourselves, trust in our abilities and in what we do and are, we stop trusting in the Lord and His abilities and what He does and is.

My capstone app, or why journalism has not lost all its appeal

2008-04-12T01:26:00.004-05:00

I realized this college thing won't last forever when I applied to my journalism capstone course. I realized this dance-around-and-see-what-career-we-land-on thing won't last forever when I got accepted to the class at my J-school. I also realized that, at its core, I don't dislike journalism. Maybe this class will fan my flame; only next semester will tell. Below is my application letter for my capstone:

Last summer I interviewed a woman who creates jewelry. The article was budgeted to be an eight-inch profile, about a Hinsdale resident who started her own business. Not so simple. Her brother died less than two months ago at age 23 from Ewing's Sarcoma, a rare form of cancer. The woman now hopes to donate a portion of her jewelry proceeds to and have a benefit for Ewing's Sarcoma research. If I hadn't asked her about her family, she never would have told me her story.

On that day, I realized journalism is bigger than reporting news. Journalism is the business of showing the world why each of us, individually and collectively, matters. That’s the fuel behind my fire for journalism.

Three weeks ago, my flame flickered. I opened a letter from my parents and a single newspaper clipping fluttered out. It was from our local paper, the one where I served as an intern and wrote the jewelry-maker story. Dear Reader, it began. The letter detailed the rationale behind a recent editorial decision. The paper was shifting from a bi-weekly to a weekly publication. The content that would no longer see newsprint would be posted online.

I’ve encountered the “changing face of journalism” since Career Explorations in Journalism class during my first semester at Mizzou, but I never understood what it had to do with me. Certainly, I reasoned, there will always be print newspapers and I can always write for them. Leave the online stuff to the convergence students and computer nerds.

The newspaper clipping was a wake-up call. The way we consume news is changing on a bigger level than I imagined, and it is our responsibility as students at the Missouri School of Journalism to imagine the future of journalism and put it into action. In just a few short years, we’ll be the ones writing the Dear Reader clips and making choices about how we give our readers the content they need, the content that tells them they matter.

As a student in the Mighty Mo class, I will bring my best to the table every day. My practical experience at five publications includes student papers and a division of the Chicago Sun-Times. As a Mighty Mo student, I’ll contribute my understanding of publications large and small.

I will contribute a developed understanding of the ins and outs of Columbia’s city council. Since my first day as a Public Life reporter, I’ve remained on top of local government and I’m not afraid to ask our lawmakers the hard questions.

My business knowledge brings a new dimension to the table. I am simultaneously pursuing a degree in Marketing and I view the financial community with an inquisitive eye.

The Mighty Mo class would be a welcome challenge to me as I complete my Missouri education. I often call my business degree my “black sheep major,” and it is evident to all that I prefer journalism. In a semester full of business courses, the Mighty Mo class is something I truly look forward to sinking my teeth into.

I will bring an insatiable desire for learning. My drive and motivation are contagious. Working with a team motivates me even further, and I thrive in a collaborative setting. I eagerly anticipate this challenge and would be honored to take part in this capstone course.

Connection-building

2008-04-10T10:57:00.002-05:00

In August, my best friend – and one of the most amazing women I know -- is moving to New York City. She’s taking a job with one of the most respected names in retail, and I’m proud of her. But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss her.

I came to Mizzou my freshman year determined to make as many friends as I was able. Aided by the recently developed Facebook, then a novelty for only the college set, friends accumulated by the dozen. It was good, I said; I was happy, I said.

A year and a half later, this same retail goddess drove me home one evening. Before graduation, she explained, she wanted to make some real friends, build some real connections. So we agreed to meet for an hour, every Monday afternoon. The hours became days and over time, I had a friendship stronger than I’d never imagined. Often, that’s how the biggest things in life begin: one conversation, one hour, one date on the calendar.

Fast forward to now: I’m terrified of the void I’ll have in my life when New York City gains and Columbia loses. This woman really is, in the words of Beyonce, irreplaceable.

In the last several weeks of the semester, I’m praying for new connections with others and to strengthen the old connections. My goal isn’t to replace my best friend; rather, my goal is to accumulate more, to share the gift of friendship that my friend gave me. I’ve been a friendship student; now is the time to pursue an assistantship.

There’s one I’ve known since my freshman year. She’s funny and kind and isn’t afraid to share of herself. We’ve agreed to coffee once a week. There’s another who, ironically, I met through the friend I’ll miss. Her years at college have taught her a lesson I need to learn: the approval of God is not secondary to the approval of others. There’s a third who I met in August, whose vibrant spirit continues to amaze me. One time we sat in the middle of a busy street. It was breathtaking. There’s a fourth who has a heart of gold and an admirable sense of hospitality. Her apartment smells amazing (and yes, that is a good reason to forge a friendship). There's one more, whose recent bitterness saddens me. But if we can't share our imperfections and our sorrows with each other, then do we ever genuinely rejoice together either?

Why now? my friend asked me. Why are you pursuing these women now? They’ve been around for a while.

That’s the thing about genuine friendship, I said. It’s like exercise.

You do okay without it. Maybe you huff and puff a bit more than the rest, maybe you’re a little rounder than the rest. Not a big deal, you reason. Not a big deal, that is, until you go for your first run. It isn’t easy, but there’s something exhilarating about it. You run again. It’s addicting.

Soon, you can’t imagine your life without it. I can’t imagine my life without it.

Job, part 2

2008-04-09T22:35:00.007-05:00

Christians -- myself included -- like to explain away suffering with cliches. It's all a part of God's plan. God helps those who help themselves (and if we haven't, then we're at fault). When God brings you to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on. God only sends you to battle with the proper armor (one of my personal creations).

We like to explain suffering away with verses, from the book of the God who made suffering itself. Verses like Romans 8:28, we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. Verses like Jeremiah 29:11, For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

These verses are comforting, no question. But they're a windbreaker in sub-zero weather: only good for a few minutes, and you're cold once again. We come back to the same question we asked before the cliche was delivered: Why does God let bad things happen?

Job spends the greater part of the book that bears his name lamenting the hand he's been dealt. His plate is more than full, and he has dealt with heart-wrenching pain and sorrow. It's that praise-God-I'm-not-Job kind of suffering, the kind of suffering that breeds gratitude because at least we're not as bad off as that guy over there. At the same time, we can connect with what Job is feeling. We've all been there.

Job fervently questions God about his suffering, completing the cycle from anger to sadness to bitterness and back to anger once again. The most appalling thing about finishing Job was I got no answers. As a journalism student, I've been trained to understand the best answers. The best answers are quick, concise and accurate. Give me the answer, in the shortest possible form, and give it to me now. Job teaches us that God has little in common with the way modern news is delivered.

God offers little practical comfort. But what He offers is great beyond our own comprehension.

Job 38 is God's first appearance. "Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?" God asks. The rest of the book is spent explaining God's power. It is bigger than our humanity can understand. God, as He himself explains, knows even where the lightning is dispersed. This is the real power of the God who made everything.

That's just it -- God made everything. Everything we like, everything we don't. All of it is His. Job 41:11: Everything under heaven belongs to me.

It is easy to see Job's frustration. We all have a certain degree of that frustration in our own hearts too. Why does God let bad things happen? I'm not alone in wondering. The answer isn't cut and dry. The answer is messy, and it starts with the understanding that we'll never understand.

As the pastor at my church in Chicago once said, God is God and I am not. This is easy to blog about, easy to verbalize, but hard to cement to my heart. God is bigger than big and His plan is bigger than big. God tells Job that He gives flight to hawks, gives a horse its strength. And I gave myself a pat on the back for only pressing snooze twice this morning.

God is big. Suffering is big. God makes it start and God makes it stop. Sometimes, the best comfort is to trust in the only One who fully understands it.

Then Job replied to the LORD: "I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted. You asked, 'Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?' Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.
- Job 42:1-3

Peep show

2008-03-17T22:07:00.003-05:00

http://www.chicagotribune.com/features/chi-peeps-ugcpg,1,6016770.ugcphotogallery

Peeps really shouldn't be eaten ever, in my opinion, but they still serve a purpose. Happy Easter.

Job

2008-03-16T16:23:00.003-05:00

I've been working through Job these days, and its fascinating. The story is about humanity -- it is a story about our human need to be heard and recognized, our human craving for justice, our human desire for an explanation of why things in our lives go the way they do. Simultaneously, I'm learning, it is a story about anger and resentment and how quickly the two can multiply and literally eat us alive.

The story begins in a compelling way. Job faces trials with trust; his faith in the Lord, admirably, endures. First, Satan harms his possessions, harming Job's livestock. Still, Job is faithful. Next, Satan sends a strong wind to tear down Job's house, destroying Job's home and killing his sons and daughters. Still, Job is faithful. Job 1:22: "In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing." If my Earthly possessions and my family were taken from me, praise probably wouldn't be my first reaction. Satan continues to test Job's faith. Job's health is at stake and he's in much pain. This proves to be Job's breaking point.

Job curses the day he was born. He curses God, asking where He is. Job curses wicked men and women, questioning justice. Job expresses his anger towards the wicked and does not understand why the wicked are rewarded. Resentment sinks in. The book began with a lack of faith in the Lord and His sovereignty, and by the middle of the book, Job has transitioned to anger about the actions of others.

The book may as well be titled "Sarah." I'm like that. My suffering does not begin to compare to Job's. It's like comparing a marble to a boulder -- to even attempt a comparison undermines what Job went through. But we tend to react similarly, regardless of how big or small our circumstances. It goes like this: Something bad happens. My faith falters. I question God's plan. I question those around me. I resent those around me. I grow to hate those around me. Sadness becomes anger; anger becomes resentment; resentment becomes bitterness; bitterness becomes sadness once again. I'm Job. We're all Job.

Hellogoodbye

2008-01-03T11:46:00.000-06:00

I am writing a preview for an art event this Friday taking place at an African restaurant and I just spoke with the most interesting man. He travelled to Ethiopia (which, I never knew until today, is in Africa) and photographed the local people. He has such a cool vision -- to show people as they are, not as souls to be pitied, as we often see on informercials and in other parts of the media. He said he worked with a church down there and helped out with a program that employs people with AIDS and gives them a source of income.

Here's the thing . . . I LOVE this part of my job -- I love interacting with people who clearly have a heart for the world and a heart for God and do artistic, beautiful things. But simultaneously, it is my least favorite part of my job. I just talked to this man and I will never talk to him again. I tell hardly a fraction of his story, and half of what I write will be cut for space. I was only on the telephone for seven minutes. He probably could have told me dozens more stories. I'd love to know how he got into ministry, how he fused his artistic talents with his heart for people, how that has changed his life, why Ethiopia . . .the list goes on. I would love to meet this man, listen to him, build a relationship.

But that's not how journalism works. We don't put our hearts on the line in journalism. We listen; we write; we move on.

I hate it.

moving and ice

2007-11-19T16:25:00.000-06:00

This morning, it took us about ten minutes to get down the stairs, then about 15 to get back up. It took us five minutes to walk to the bathroom, and five in the opposite direction. We did that several times. We waited ten minutes before standing up. We almost fell a few times. We checked our e-mail, by typing with the index finger on our left hand -- our right hand is beaten up after a fall. We clicked three times with the mouse, and soon logged out. It was tiring. Despite best efforts, there was no way we were going to the store this afternoon. Going to the store would force us down the stairs once more, into the car, out of the car, to the shopping cart, around the store, through the check-out line, in the car once again, then up the garage stairs, up the stairs to the second level, across to the bedroom, then into the bed. We'll go to the store another day. I'm only five feet, and he has a foot and dozens of pounds on me.

Sometimes, we take mobility for granted. In my case, I take it for granted every day. Today, I'm grateful.

I cried for the first time since I've been back. I needed to take money out of one bank and put it into a second, and on my way out of the first, the teller wished me a happy Thanksgiving.

Ironically, that's what did it for me. That simple outstretch of community, of humanity, was what broke me.

I think we're kind of like ice, sometimes. As long as you keep us in the freezer, we're all right. We'll stay ice forever, solid and cold and clear and hard. But the minute you introduce any heat into the equation, even just a degree of warmth, we crack. Our hard edges soften; our temperature rises; we melt. It isn't easy to keep cold for long.

Sitting in the driver's seat, I got on my cell phone and called one of the most amazing women in my life. She's always been here for me, through thick and thin. She opened the freezer door; I melted. We prayed together, for peace and joy for my family, for physical and emotional and spiritual healing for my dad and, really, for all of us. I was, figuratively, a puddle.

It was beautiful.

growing up

2007-11-17T13:15:00.001-06:00

This is it . . . this is growing up.

One by one, I'm going through every drawer in my desk, my dresser and my night stand. One by one, I'm going through every shelf in my closets. I'm determining what's necessary, what's good and then, the largest category, what to throw away. I was such a saver, for years. Now that very quality that I used to love is coming back to eat me.

every pen pal letter
every birthday card
every American Girl magazine
every too-small or too-big sweatshirt
every picture
every half-used package of stationery
every bookmark I got from a teacher
every necklace-making kit
every label-making kit
every Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys and *NSync CD
every shoe box
every Beanie Baby
everything

In the midst of all of it, I'm finding some rather intriguing things, things that show how far God's taken me. I found an old prayer journal. a pastel blue Hello Kitty notebook with a hot pink pen slipped in the side. I only wrote on six pages; I must have gotten bored. I asked God to make me less greedy, to help me pay attention to others more, to give my family some happiness. I prayed for my pen pals, for friends at school. I prayed for Girl Scout trips and for service projects. I crossed off a few of them; I assume they were prayers God answered. Beautiful stuff.

I used to tape old movie ticket stubs on my closet door. I saw everything from "Princess Diaries" to "On Cold Mountain." An ex-boyfriend saw the latter with me; we always picked the longest movies, regardless of whether we actually wanted to see them or not. It gave us more time for making out. In retrospect, probably not one of my classier moments. But that one relationship taught me more about myself than I'd learned in the sixteen years of my life before then. We learn from our mistakes.

We learn from our mistakes.

praying our afflictions

2007-11-17T00:19:00.000-06:00

I drove seven hours today. It was actually great. I got to listen to some music, just stare at the road for a while, occupy my mind. I am actually looking forward to my drive next Saturday.

Then I came back to Illinois, home of my family. Things kind of break my heart. Our computer room looks like a nursing home room. There is an IV machine dripping its filtered-out contents into my toilet. There are boxes of medical supplies in all kinds of closets. I'll be cleaning out my closets this week, week one of the last six that this I'll be residing here. You could include spring break, next Thanksgiving and Winter break, etc., but I'll be more of a guest.

I'm more of a guest now, I suppose . . . in my mind, anyway.

Ross's RUF sermon this past Thursday was beautiful. It was God, speaking through him, preparing me for what was to come. Psalm 113 is about praying our afflictions, reminding ourselves of the hope we find in Him and, finally, giving our life away in the way He gave His.

It was a poignant and beautiful message about how, yes, life can be miserable. Our afflictions can be overwhelming. But we need to take heart; this life isn't where we're destined for eternity. Rather, we're getting the chance to be with our Savior forever . . . it sure isn't breaking news, but every time I hear it, I'm in awe.

There's another verse I've been reflecting on a lot, in preparation for the time here with my family. Ross's wife, Jenny, shared it with me. Matthew 25:40 reminds me of how we're truly called to help and sacrifice and throw our lives away for others. This week, I'll try to throw my life away for my family. With God, I pray, this will be accomplished.

all kinds of new ideas

2007-10-23T11:19:00.000-05:00

Since I was 10, I've never wanted to do anything but write. What I've wanted to write has changed: poetry, stories, novels, magazine articles, newspaper articles.

A week ago today, for the first time in a decade, I considered doing something else. Crazier still, I think I just might do it.

I'm just as enthusiastic about newspaper journalism as ever. I love shedding light on the important issues of the world and giving citizens the tools they need to be a member of society. There's so much going on, and it would be a privilege to report it all. But I've been thinking about my lifestyle: it's busy, over-programmed, over-scheduled. I do too much.

I used to love it, but now I hate it. I'm perpetually exhausted, perpetually out of breath, perpetually way too much. I hate that I plan coffee dates with friends a week in advance, that I plan my sleep schedule, that I calculate how many minutes it takes for me to eat meals, then try to eat in less time than that. I hate that I don't do homework until the last minute, because I no longer focus well unless I'm on a deadline. I hate that I haven't been to the Rec Center in weeks, but I've been to countless restaurants and coffee shops, typically when I'm en route to some other destination.

God has given me many wake-up calls over the past several years. I listen, for about two days, but I rarely take steps to actually slow my life down permanently.

Well, God, I'm listening.

showing up

2007-10-09T16:29:00.000-05:00

Good news first: last time my dad was in the hospital, the Bears lost. To the Colts, of all teams. This time, the Bears won, against Green Bay. And Mizzou is now #11 in the nation, thank you very much. It's promising.

That's another thing God has taught me lately: there's so much promise in this world, but you only find it through Him. Phillipians 4:12 has two interpretations, and I'm shifting towards the second. The first interpretation is the Nike interpretation, the can-do, the slogan-on-a-motivational-poster interpretation: I CAN DO EVERYTHING through Him who gives me strength. The "through Him" aspect is a side note, an afterthought, an addendum to the real deal.

The second interpretation was revealed to me at Fall Conference with RUF. The verse isn't a pump-yourself-up verse; rather, it is a trust-in-God verse: I can do eveything THROUGH HIM who gives me strength. We're not the stars of the show. All we do is show up.

it's been a while

2007-10-08T22:22:00.000-05:00

I haven't blogged in a while. But I've been growing. God's been using challenges and experiences and PEOPLE to make a difference.

I've learned countless things about who God is, who He has made me to be and what He wants for His children. He teaches me every day that He never throws us into battle without armor. In my case, armor is my friends. I'm so grateful, because I have the best friends I could ask for. They support me and love me and show me a real picture of God.

I'm finding the joy amidst the trials . . .

fill 'er up

2007-08-01T16:39:00.000-05:00

"When you're full of yourself, God can't fill you. But when you empty yourself, God has a useful vessel." - Max Lucado
“Do not be wise in your own eyes." - Prov. 3:7

rain with a chance of sun

2007-07-31T01:06:00.000-05:00

. . So I pray

Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings
You glory And I know there'll
be days When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to
praise You Jesus, bring the rain.

- "Bring the Rain" by MercyMe

giving it up

2007-07-26T10:58:00.000-05:00

My to-do list:

- Give everything to God.

j-thoughts

2007-07-11T17:24:00.000-05:00

If there's one thing this journalism stuff has taught me, it's how many crazy people there are in this world. But one of the best things about it is how I get to tell their stories too. I like to think of journalism as the great equalizer: we can tell the stories of the big people and of the little people. It isn't a perfect trade, and there's plenty of things wrong with it, but the principles still stand.

Bottom line? I love it.

i'm always learning crazy things

2007-07-09T10:38:00.000-05:00

God never promised happiness, but He did promise contentedness.

Maybe the latter is enough. Maybe it's more than enough.

throwing off the bowlines

2007-07-08T12:49:00.000-05:00

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
- Mark Twain

I was reading a good friend and mentor's blog today and she has this quote as one of her entries, below a story she wrote about when she really began living life out loud, her junior year in college. She was in Europe, studying abroad, and she bought a pass that lets you travel from country to country in Europe, called a Eurail pass. It was expensive, but she reasoned that she'd never get the chance to do it again. It was a risk worth taking.

I'm trying to reinvent myself, because I'm kind of sick of this kind of Sarah. I'm turning back into the Sarah I left in Illinois when I first left for Missouri, 23 months ago. I loved the new Sarah, but her life needed more than just a facelift. My life needs plastic surgery, from the inside out.

I'm craving some real, genuine rest and joy and fun and peace. And I think I need to take a journey to track it down . . .

my plant analogy

2007-07-07T11:15:00.000-05:00

I wrote this five days ago and never posted it . . .

My mom has several plants in the corner in front of the kitchen sink. They all get plenty of light there, but some grow faster than others. One green ivy-like plant grows the fastest of them all. My mom transferred one of the smaller parts of it into a small flowerpot, maybe the size of my fist. I asked if I could keep it in my room.

Sometimes I water it; sometimes I don’t. I guess that’s responsibility in its most elementary form: giving a growing thing the sustenance it needs.

Most of the plant seems happy. Most of the leaves are the color of Kermit the Frog. But there’s this one leaf that doesn’t seem to catch onto the idea; it’s brown and shriveling. I want it to fit in and be like the other leaves. The plant is doing well; why does that one leaf have to bring the rest of the plant down?

Sometimes my life feels like that. Most of me is centered on what’s important: on Jesus, on loving others, on building relationships. But there’s often one leaf -- one part of me -- that drags the rest of me down. It’s the leaf that worries too much, that thinks about itself too much, that stares at the mirror more than at my heart, the leaf that talks too much, the leaf that talks too little.

I want to get out my Fiskars scissors and clip off that one crumbling leaf. It’s bringing the rest of the plant down.

But then I remember why I water this plant. I water it to keep the green leaves green, but mainly, I water it in hopes of saving this rather miserable-looking leaf. If there isn’t room for improvement, then what’s to push us past status quo?

Sometimes when I re-read things I wrote a while ago, I dislike them. That's why I just decided to post this and not re-read it.

In other new, have I ever mentioned how much I hate yelling? And pessimism?

Meredith Gray

2007-07-04T08:04:00.000-05:00

I decided your life seems so much cooler if you pretend you're on a TV show. Think about all the cool plot lines we could all make out of our lives! Trouble is, I'm not constantly surrounded by sexy doctors, but you know what, I'll take what I can get.

At the end of the year, during our last Bible Study, Andrea and I had our girls write themselves letters, about things they wanted to remember, and we're sending these letters out now. I'm writing a letter of my own to go inside them, and I'm realizing how much I miss them. That's one of the many things this past year -- this past semester -- has taught me, is how quickly someone can become a part of your life, and what a shock it can be when that all gets erased in a matter of days. You go from seeing someone almost every day to talking to them once every other week, if you're lucky. It's kind of devastating.

And, if I were Meredith Gray, I would say the above aloud, and then be able to link it to every character in my show through a series of clips of each one of them doing surgery or making out (because those are the two things they seem to do most frequently). Good thing I'm not Meredith; I think that narration would piss off my family after a while.

when it rains, it pours . . .

2007-06-27T21:29:00.001-05:00

. . and I should have brought an umbrella.

Life just keeps getting messier and messier. But isn't that the story for all of us? Our common denominator is that everyone has something. Everyone's heart has something on it. The magnitude or the significance of whatever's on our hearts isn't what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the common human experience of a whole lotta crap.

Six

2007-06-26T22:32:00.002-05:00

Today is my half birthday. 21 in six what-I'm-sure-will-be-short months. I can't wait; I honestly can't wait.

Being a person

2007-06-25T16:22:00.000-05:00

I think the business of being a community journalist is the business of being a person.

I'm on my seventh Monday working at the newspaper and every day I learn something new. Sometimes it's about journalism, but most of the time, it's about humanity, who we are and how we all want so badly to matter.

Today I interviewed a woman who creates jewelry. Not so simple. Her brother died less than two months ago at age 23 from Ewing's Sarcoma, a rare form of cancer. She hopes to donate a portion of her jewelry proceeds and have a benefit for Ewing's Sarcoma research.

If I hadn't asked her about her family, she never would have told me that.

There's the mom whose son is a Marine in the Middle East; she doesn't know exactly where, and she won't for a few more months. I didn't need to imagine how devastating that must be, because she told me. She cried several times in the interview. She's so strong.

Every week, we write something called In Memory, an extended version of the short obits we run for everyone. I call the family, and they tell me their favorite memories, about the person's nature, etc. I wonder how I would even pick up the phone if a reporter called me days after someone I love died.

The owner of a local restaurant took what used to be an empty building and made it into what's now being called a Westmont landmark. It's delicious food, but it tastes better knowing how much sweat and tears went into it. He goes all over the country with his barbecue to win national awards. Sometimes we run a story about the restaurant, sometimes eight inches and sometimes less.

I wrote a story about a movie filmed in town, and there was a sidebar listing films made in Westmont in years past. A few days later, I got a glowing e-maill from an indie filmmaker telling me how much he and his mom appreciated seeing his movie printed in the paper. It was one line, but it made this man happy and his mom proud. I wished I could have done more for him.

When I was in kindergarten, my picture was in the newspaper when my kindergarten class had Hundreds Day. My mom bought a dozen copies. It mattered.

We all want to be noticed. We all want to matter. And that's what journalism is: the business of showing people how much they matter.

I love this shit.

things i've learned

2007-06-21T00:43:00.000-05:00

This has been the hardest summer of my life. But God has this crazy way of taking the hardest times and growing us through them . . .

I love two jobs; I love 55-and-60 hour weeks.

When I started working at Ann Taylor, I got a dozen extra moms. My co-workers teach me something new every day.

My dad is falling apart. So is our relationship. I'm trying to stop that from happening, but maybe I'm not trying hard enough.

The more I help my friends, the more I learn about myself.

The less rest I get, the more I realize how important it is. Next semester will be better, because I'm going to rest more.

I love writing letters, and I should write more of them.

Journalism really is what I want to do with the rest of my life. I'm doing it now without getting paid, and I'm pretty sure I'll only love it more when they give me money to do it. I love it.

The more I worry about the future, the less I live today. I'm trying to stop that -- the worrying, not the living.
I'm a country music fan.

I miss my Bible study girls, and I can't wait to see them again.

I miss my sisters and I can't wait to share a house with them again.

Being a Pi Chi makes me really excited and I pray that God gives me the leadership skills I'll need for this August.

I'm starting to learn about sports. Someday I'll understand them, and I hope that someday is sooner than later.

I want my wedding theme to be black and white with red accents, and I want a polka dot wedding cake. I know some of my bridesmaids. I want a big wedding. That is all I know, and I'm glad I have years and years to figure out the rest.

God has been so good to me.

I'm worried about my sister and mom. I need to love both of them like Jesus calls us to love.

Driving isn't so hard. I just needed some confidence. Next on the to-do list? Directions.

I need to take more pictures. First, I need to have days worthy of taking pictures. I can't wait to have those. I need a new camera.

I really, really value my cell phone. I also really, really value AIM. Both are lifelines, total lifelines.

The only things that can really make you happy in life are Jesus and the relationships He gives us. That's it. That's really it.

86 days

2007-05-08T12:32:00.000-05:00

86 days until I'm back in Columbia. I'm already counting down.

This won't be such a bad summer. Maybe.

Brand new

2007-05-07T14:21:00.000-05:00

I'm so thankful that every single time I screw up, God grants me His grace. Brand new. Every minute of every hour of every day, He forgives me. I ask and He gives. I'm crazy about Him.

I'm trying. Not always succeeding, but I'm trying. Every day, allowing God to renew and renovate my life. I want to learn to see the world the way God sees it, I want to learn to think like God thinks.

Romans 12:2 -- I want to stop conforming to the way of the world and start conforming to the way of God. Brand spanking, fabulously new.

Bad things come in three's

2007-02-10T09:54:00.001-06:00

On Thursday night, at RUF, one of the freshmen from my Bible study said "Bad things come in three's." So, depending on how you count, they could be over . . .

Depending on how you count.

1. My dad in the hospital
2. My car ignition
3. The Bears
4. The bad car accident on Thursday
5. My broken heart -- life breaks hearts, doesn't it?

But thoughout it all, I have a much longer list of ways He has blessed me. My dad is alive. I have good car insurance. No one died in the car accident -- not even a broken bone. Gail. Sarah. Andrea. Ross, Jenny and Avery. Everyone who cares about me.

This morning, I spilled milk on the stairs on my way up. The first thing I thought of? Today is Saturday. The last day in my unlucky week. Saturday to Saturday, one week. I think tomorrow's going to be much better.

He doesn't give us anything we can't handle, right?

Right?

Mountains

2007-02-05T23:45:00.000-06:00

What do you do when things don't go as you planned?

My dad is in the hospital, again. Six years ago, when I was 14, I went through the very same motions in my brain. Fear for my dad's life. Fear for my life as I know it. Fear for my mom, my sister. Trusting in God. Then, the picking up of the puzzle pieces begins. It's going to be a long road ahead. I feel like I did six years ago. Just as little control over the situation, just as little ability to keep my life together.

A country song goes like this: "The Good Lord gave us mountains so we can learn how to climb." It's true. But somehow, I still don't feel good at climbing, even though I've been climbing for a long, long time.

Digging a hole and falling in

2007-01-16T14:26:00.000-06:00

It's the first day of classes. I'm already in over my head. I swore I wouldn't be. This semester would be different, I promised God, myself and others.

Oops.

I'm sitting in a stairwell in Middlebush right now. I bought a piece of cake from Starbucks and I'm eating the crumbs from the bottom of the bag, checking my e-mail, and cross-referencing my calendar. I volunteered to go cover a city council meeting tonight, then write a story about it. But my car doors are frozen shut and I was supposed to go to a friend's surprise party tonight . . .

Oops. Oops again.

Forget digging a hole. I've already fallen in.

Better days

2007-01-03T10:25:00.000-06:00

It's 2007. It's going to be a better year.

This next semester, I'm going to do just what makes me really happy. Things that make my relationships stronger, things that help me get closer to God, things that make me smile, things that make me feel rested.

Things that I don't like or don't want to do just won't be done. Of course I'll do homework and all that stuff that I don't like, and I know I'll probably end up doing things I don't enjoy, because we all have to do it sometimes. But I'll try my best, get it done, and go back to the things that make life worth living.

Especially in my sorority, I'm only going to do things I have fun doing. Instead of being Assistant Membership Director this year, I'm Outreach Chair. I'm doing this because I'm excited about it -- I get to write, design and publish our parent and alumna newsletters. Even though I always wanted to be an exec board member, I am never going to run for a sorority exec job again. God called me to something else, and He tried to tell me so many times, but I just didn't listen to Him. Now, I'm going to.

I'm also excited to take care of my health again. I've been going to physical therapy a lot over break so far, and my occupational therapy starts tomorrow. I asked my doctor this morning if I did this to myself, if I caused all the tension in my muscles. His answer? Less stress never hurt anybody. I'm really going to put my health first -- doing the stretches I learned in therapy, exercising and eating right and sleeping enough.

It's going to be a good year. I'm looking forward to peace.

The crescendo

2006-12-17T22:22:00.000-06:00

I took my last flight to Chicago yesterday morning. From now on, most of the time at least, I'll be driving back. It's a big deal, and I'm excited to have a car. But there's a certain ease and peace about flying -- putting responsibility in someone else's hands for a change. It's just me on that plane. No cell phone. No internet. Not even anyone I know. Just me, the airplane magazine and the little bag of peanuts. It's a gift.

Today in church, the minister preached about God's timing. 420 years took place between the promise made at the end of the Old Testament and the fulfillment of it in the New Testament. Just before God's about to do something huge, something eart-shattering, something utterly fabulous . . . there's nothing. That pattern is repeated over and over in the Bible. The minister called it the crescendo, the building up and building up and building up, just before the most beautiful part of all. It's the pause, the sheer nothingness, that makes us anticipate and appreciate what is to come, that much more. It's that part before the last syllable in the Hallelujah Chorus, that little pause that stops us in our tracks and fills us with awe.

So what am I waiting for? Many things. We're all waiting for many things. But maybe it's in the waiting that we find the real reward . . .

Plans

2006-12-14T15:58:00.000-06:00

"In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." - Proverbs 16:9

It's comforting that it's all in His hands, and not in mine.

I've been studying Marketing off and on today. One of the questions on our study guide reads, "In the consumer buying process, what is the information source in which consumers normally have the most confidence?" That's an easy one: our friends, our family, people we know. It just makes sense that we put the most faith in the opinions of people who have our best interests in mind. Surely my mom knows what's better for me than the clerk at the grocery store, my roommate better than the sales associate at Express, my teacher better than the boy behind the counter at the bookstore.

So if that's true, why is it that we trust ourselves more than we trust the one who knows us the most, the one who knows us the best, not the one who theoretically would die for us, but the one who did? I can't help but imagine it -- what would happen if I put my life fully in God's hands? Not just the things I want to give Him, but everything, every ounce of it. What would that look like?

"Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed." - Proverbs 16:3

Big hearts

2006-12-11T18:45:00.000-06:00

It has been a long semester, and it's getting longer. I really can't wait to begin again next semester . . . it will be much better. I can already tell. Today is a long day, and it's getting longer. I really can't wait to begin again tomorrow . . . it will be much better. I can already tell.

Two people told me that I have such a big heart today. It made me smile.

Box faith

2006-12-05T09:26:00.000-06:00

I was reading my daily blog digest (because I'm technologically awesome and plugged in like that) and the blog of an old friend, who I never talk to anymore, really touched me. She wrote about something huge . . .

She wrote that Christianity is box-like, closed, limited, when Jesus, in actuality, is free. Christianity says what CAN we do, but Jesus says "WHAT CAN'T I DO?" For Christians, there are two things we can't do: drink and have sex until we're married. These two sins are almost put on a pedestal, as the worst sins, as the two sins that will mess up your life the most. But wouldn't it be interesting if we treated gossip just the same as sex before marriage, pride just the same as getting drunk? I wish my selfishness would make my friends look at me with the same distaste they would if they found out I was sleeping around. I wish my lack of love for my enemies would shock people just as much as my drunkenness would.

Something to think about . . . something to think about.

As my friend said, love is big. Love isn't something that fits into a box. I want to do that. I want to love outside the box. So how, then, do I really do that? How do I do more than just think about it?

Addicted

2006-12-04T13:28:00.000-06:00

When we think of addiction, we think of drugs, alcohol, smoking. We picture people in rehab hospitals, with those gaunt, drawn-out eyes, with a personality hiding in there, somewhere. We picture syringes and cigarettes and tiny begs of powder and and empty bottles and broken bottles and half empty bottles and half empty souls.

But really, we're all addicted to something. Some of us are addicted to success, and the pursuit of it. Success in school, in your job. We shoot up with extra hours at work, at the library. We get drunk on extra credit, compliments, little advances towards that place we want to get. Some of us are addicted to social lives. Who do we know? Who knows us? Who should we know? What should we do to be known? The drug is face time. Only face time. Some of us are addicted to significant others -- the one we have, or the one we are trying to have. We're only happy when we're with them. We get high from their presence, and we're hung over when we're not. Some of us are addicted to memories, to the past. We chug bottles of yesterdays, with no taste for today or tomorrow.

So how do we cure these addictions? How do we get past the ball and chain that has us tied down? When we get to the end of the day, how do we not reach for that last cigarette, how do we put the cork in the bottle, how do we leave our old selves? Maybe the change begins where it started . . . why we got this way in the first place . . .

Homes

2006-11-27T23:21:00.000-06:00

It was a really good Thanksgiving.

I always dread breaks. There's this sinking feeling inside me as I get closer to Chicago and further from Columbia, because I expect the worst. But this time was the best. There was a peace in my house that I have not felt for a long time. And that is something to praise God for.

My praises? Meatloaf. Brooke. American Girl Place. Laura. Oak Brook Mall. The new H&M. Peace. My dad, mom and sister. Happy Feet. Cheesecake. Turkey and everything that goes with it. Christmas shopping. Believing in Santa. Believing in Jesus.

Leaving one home and going back to another has never been this peaceful. I'm looking forward to Christmas, believe it or not.

Heavenly peace

2006-11-20T19:24:00.000-06:00

I've been back in Chicago for three days now. It's peaceful. Pleasantly so.

I spent Saturday morning on an airplane, Saturday afternoon around the house and at the grocery store and Saturday night eating dinner that my mom made. Wonderful. Sunday was church, decorating Christmas trees with my sister's Girl Scout troop, then an afternoon with the newspaper and a nap. I ate another dinner my mom made, then watched Desperate Housewives, channel surfed and went to sleep early. Wonderful, yet again. Today, I spent the morning in Chicago when Brooke came to visit, reliving our childhoods at American Girl Place, ogling at every chocolate imaginable at the Ghiradelli and Hershey's stores, book browsing at Borders, and making wish lists at the three-story Gap. Then I went to the hand doctor and got no answers. I'm getting some tests and x-rays done later this week, then starting physical therapy in December. I want some answers, but I guess I'll have to be patient -- uncharacteristically so.

God's bringing me the peace I've wanted for so long . . . it's beautiful.

Craving

2006-11-16T23:33:00.000-06:00

I go through the same crisis four times a year . . . mid-November, mid-December, late March, and mid-May. It's when I don't know what is where, and when home is a feeling and not a place, and I can rarely grab that feeling and hold onto it like I desperately want to.

There's an RUF minister at Furman University, and he was in a biking accident last week Wednesday. He suffered major head injuries and had a blood clot removed from his brain the day of the accident. His brain keeps swelling and he's in a medically-induced coma, but the swelling isn't going down. His wife calls his voice mail just to hear his voice. He has three children, and dozens upon dozens upon dozens of children who aren't related to him, but whose lives he has touched through RUF. And that's who we are -- children. He's received an outpouring of support, but he isn't conscious to receive it.

It's a beautiful expression of the love of God's community . . . such a beautiful reaction to a tragedy . . .

But I go into this secluded daze because I can't figure out if my home is Chicago or Columbia. And it isn't even Chicago, it's actually Westmont. And when God's community pours out its love to me, I dismiss it.

I have a friend who has become distant of late because his stepmom has cancer and a former classmate died in Iraq. This friend could go to Iraq too. I have a friend who has never felt the confidence we should all deserve to feel, even though she's beautiful, and who wonders if God will ever bring her a date. I have a friend who is withering away, and I don't think it's an eating disorder, but there's something just not normal. I have a friend whose life is intangibly perfect, but it's often in perfection when the most flaws arise, when we settle for perfect mediocrity. I have a friend who won't share what's on her heart, and I wonder sometimes if she wants to, but there's just so much that she doesn't know where to begin. I have a friend whose boyfriend's mom is dying. It feels like her own mom is dying too. I have a friend who left school last semester because she was sick, and she can barely do some of what she wants because she always needs to rest. I have a friend who switched from Journalism to Hotel and Restaurant Management because she took a cake decorating class. If she can make what she eats look perfect, then maybe that will hide a life that isn't.

These are just some of the amazing friends God has blessed me with. I desperately want them all to know how much I appreciate them . . . they do what they can, and more, to make me happy. I don't gratify them with returning the favor. I'm stuck and I'm here and I want to be happy. I get happiness from God, and I'm craving it like no other . . .

Crash landing

2006-11-12T23:04:00.000-06:00

I took the leap of faith.

I landed face first, crashed into a ditch and got a mouth full of dirt.

My anger is gone, and my enthusiasm is back. But if one more person tells me that all this free time is a blessing, I'm going to throw up in that poor person's shoes. I need a group to lead, some people to include, something to make me feel content again. God didn't give me talents for nothing, and I intend to be the best steward I can of what He gave me.

Diving in

2006-11-06T00:53:00.000-06:00

I'm taking a huge leap of faith, and I'm asking God to carry me through it. After praying, deliberating, thinking, faltering, changing my mind, and changing it back, I'm realizing what God's been pointing to all along. I'm running for Vice President of my sorority, and tomorrow at this time, I will know if God wants me to do it or not.

I may not be wearing a life vest, but there's still Someone there to catch me.

"YOU know the way to the place where I am going . . ." - John 14:4

Perfect

2006-10-28T23:42:00.000-05:00

I'm guilty of never resting. There is a fine line between too little and too much, and I crossed it years ago. Everyone around me knows it, too. All I ever wanted was to be perfect -- and I saw activity as the way to become perfect. The more you do, the better you must be . . . it made sense.

I always want more hours in a day. On the one day of the year when I get it, the day when Daylight Savings Time takes place and the whole world changes the clocks back one hour, I ought to take that hour and run with it. Sixty more minutes. It's a gift.

This year, I'm going to rest. I'm taking that extra hour, that gift, and using it. I'm using it wisely -- not to change the world, but to change myself. And I have to learn that it's perfectly okay.

"Be still and know that I am God . . ." - Psalm 46:10

Clean

2006-10-21T22:14:00.000-05:00

After all the chaos of Homecoming is finally over, one of my roommates and I cleaned. It was so therapeutic. I brought down the big vacuum from the third floor, the one that cleans as well as clatters. All the glitter, the ravelled ends of paper, the dust, the thread, the hair . . . vanished, just like that.

Beautiful. Taken for granted. Beautiful.