And when I say that, I fidget nervously with the ring on my right hand. Sometimes I'll take it off and fiddle with it. Yes, I have a Bilbo issue. Fortunately, my ring does not do any special magic tricks. Even though, when I'm really stressed out, sometimes I wish I could just disappear and go kick it with Elrond...or Aragorn...yeah, I would kick it with Aragorn any day of the week.
The irony? I'm taking an independent study on The Lord of the Rings and if you've been reading my blog for very long, you probably already got that impression, I may have even mentioned it. So part of what's adding to my stress is that I need, no, I have to read the books. No biggie, I love reading. And then you add to that the other two lit classes. I have things to do!
Now, part of the beauty of this independent study is that I get to write about themes of hope versus despair for a theology conference, and my primary text is The Lord of the Rings. So I get to submerge myself in the land of Middle Earth. And all I have to ask is, "Where in the world did March go?"
April is a pretty awesome month, I mean, it's birthday central for my family! But then, so is March. And April also marks the last month before school is out...before finals week. yikes. It should be a happy thing, right? And it is...but good grief, I need to finish chillin' out with Free Folk of Middle Earth! And that needs to happen before April 9, really. That's next weekend. Woah. This is where I pass out, and try to plead mental illness for taking on so much this semester.
I also have presentations galore in the next few days.
All that to say, I may not be blogging as much in April. I mean, I would love to be blogging, but I need to have some self control so I can get things done. I should be popping in once and again, hopefully.
And so, I slip the Ring on my finger, and I disappear! (but not really, because this is my metaphorical Rivendel.)
"'I pass the test,' she said. 'I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.'" [Galadriel]
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
I'm not into the idea of me without you...
Today was a weird one.... In a good way. I guess. It's hard to explain, but I'm going to try.
I was a "victim" in the emergency response test that my college town had today. Actually, it happened on campus, so I guess it was just the college...but everyone else was there too, like the ambulances and firefighters and yeah...everyone.
When I got to the campus center at 8:30 this morning, they gave all 17 of us victims a tag. Mine said that I had no breath sounds on my left side, was making gurgling noises, was confused, and was reluctant to follow instructions. So they made me really pale (as if I wasn't pale already) and gave me some blood splatters around my mouth... and later sprayed me with this water and glycerin mixture to make me look sweaty. One of my favorite moments of the day was going out to the bathroom to check out how I looked. (Some people had huge gashes into their foreheads and some had burns, ect.) While I was walking, a boy scout looked at me and asked, "Woah, did you get punched?" No, and I laughed. Then he turned to one of his fellow scouts and said, "Man, I should have brought my first aid kit!" I laughed then, but now I hope that someday he carries that enthusiasm for helping people (sort of?) into his life. Maybe he'll be a doctor someday.
Then the put us in our places, I was sitting against a wall. The first responders were boy scouts, I think that mine was terrified of me. He kept saying that everything was going to be okay, quietly, and scooting back. He may have been whiter than I was, but I can't be sure. I wanted to reassure him, but I couldn't. I talked to several boy scouts actually. I was one of the only people in my area talking/able to talk. So, because I was supposed to be confused, and the gurgling was not pleasant, I kept asking if other people were okay. It was kind of silly, because I knew what everyone's injuries were, basically. I knew Dottie was actually dead. I knew that Alicia would be okay.
One of the older scouts came over to check on me when he realized the 12 year old wasn't doing much talking to try and keep me calm. He told me to take a deep breath and count the ceiling tiles... first of all, I had told him I couldn't breathe well, that was on the card. Anyways. I told him I didn't like counting, I wasn't a math major. ha. I was just being difficult. And now, a moment of reflection. How many times has God "checked on me" and said to me, "Anna, be still, and know that I am here. Count the tiles while I take care of you. Be calm." And I said, "God, I don't like being still, I don't like being calm. And dang it, I don't like counting!" Had I actually counted the tiles, I would have probably felt better.
That scout must have gone and got another one to sit with me. This new one, Evan, sat with me for quite a while. He was 17, going to get his Eagle Scout hopefully, so I told him that my brother was his age and getting his Eagle. If I hadn't been a victim I probably would have actually enjoyed that conversation. The weird thing? He had a beard. A legit beard. How does that happen to a 17 year old? I guess my brother is just particularly baby faced... hm. Needless to say, I thought Evan was older than he was. He was actually a comfort... Because he didn't look terrified. And when I asked him if the other scout was his boss, I think I heard laughter in his voice when he told me, "No, he just knows more about what is going on." I wanted to laugh. But I couldn't break character.
At about the same time, one of the ladies from Noah's Rescue, the crisis dog center, came up to me with her dog Bella. She stayed with me for the remainder of my time on the floor. She kept me distracted, and it was actually hard for me to be stressed out when that dog was there, she was so calming. I saw them loading Dottie up onto a gurney, and I don't know if I screamed or just yelled, but I know I said, "I think she's dead! Oh my God, she's dead!" And I actually cried. I wasn't expecting it, but it happened. And those tears felt good. I cried while Darcy, Bella's handler, stroked my hair and told me everything was going to be okay. I know she was talking about the scenario, but I felt it resonate deep within. As I cried and felt God whispering to my soul, "I told you I would take care of you, didn't you believe me? It's okay to cry, I'm picking up the pieces." I was finally able to act the way I had been feeling inside for the past couple weeks, confused and finding it hard to breathe.
Finally, after about twenty minutes of me waiting after the medical personal arrived (so probably 40 minutes after the drill started) a firefighter woman approached me and asked me what was wrong. I told her I was having a hard time breathing. So she checked my tag and had me lie down without moving my neck or head, I think she assumed a spinal injury, and I was definitely thinking a broken rib had punctured my lung...but whatever, they have to keep all the bases covered. I was still crying a little when she had me laying on the floor. And I heard her get up and tell one of the other firefighters that I was in critical condition and needed to be on the next ambulance. My first thought was, I have been here for forty minutes. If this were real, I would probably already be dead, drowned from my own blood in my lungs. And they spent forever on Dottie, someone who was already dead... I did find out later that they resuscitated her, so that's good.
It's funny, I don't know if this is normal, but when you get that into acting, you actually start to feel the way you're acting. I could feel my breathing changing, and when Bella showed up I could feel it leveling back out. They did finally get loaded up on a gurney and taken out to an ambulance.
When we got outside, it was still snowing. I was laying on my back and it was snowing on my face. It was a new experience. And it was beautiful. If I hadn't been terrified of them dropping me, I probably would have enjoyed that moment. I ask/tell my firefighter "Is it snowing? It's beautiful..." I also told him several times not to drop me. I do that to God, too. "Don't drop me, Lord. I'm scared of falling." And He tells me, "I would never drop you. Look at this snow. I made it to make you calm. You asked for the rain, and I gave you something far more beautiful."
And then I got to the hospital and it was all good. I know, lame ending. But the test wasn't about the doctors being competent but about the system working. Bella and Darcy stayed with me all the way to the hospital. I loved them both for that.
The moral of this story? I was able to throw myself into this acting job, my first ever. And I was able to release a lot of emotions that I have been bottling up for a long time. And it was good. I got back to my room and slept. Purging and refreshing. Thank you, God.
"In the depth of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." (unknown)
I was a "victim" in the emergency response test that my college town had today. Actually, it happened on campus, so I guess it was just the college...but everyone else was there too, like the ambulances and firefighters and yeah...everyone.
When I got to the campus center at 8:30 this morning, they gave all 17 of us victims a tag. Mine said that I had no breath sounds on my left side, was making gurgling noises, was confused, and was reluctant to follow instructions. So they made me really pale (as if I wasn't pale already) and gave me some blood splatters around my mouth... and later sprayed me with this water and glycerin mixture to make me look sweaty. One of my favorite moments of the day was going out to the bathroom to check out how I looked. (Some people had huge gashes into their foreheads and some had burns, ect.) While I was walking, a boy scout looked at me and asked, "Woah, did you get punched?" No, and I laughed. Then he turned to one of his fellow scouts and said, "Man, I should have brought my first aid kit!" I laughed then, but now I hope that someday he carries that enthusiasm for helping people (sort of?) into his life. Maybe he'll be a doctor someday.
Then the put us in our places, I was sitting against a wall. The first responders were boy scouts, I think that mine was terrified of me. He kept saying that everything was going to be okay, quietly, and scooting back. He may have been whiter than I was, but I can't be sure. I wanted to reassure him, but I couldn't. I talked to several boy scouts actually. I was one of the only people in my area talking/able to talk. So, because I was supposed to be confused, and the gurgling was not pleasant, I kept asking if other people were okay. It was kind of silly, because I knew what everyone's injuries were, basically. I knew Dottie was actually dead. I knew that Alicia would be okay.
One of the older scouts came over to check on me when he realized the 12 year old wasn't doing much talking to try and keep me calm. He told me to take a deep breath and count the ceiling tiles... first of all, I had told him I couldn't breathe well, that was on the card. Anyways. I told him I didn't like counting, I wasn't a math major. ha. I was just being difficult. And now, a moment of reflection. How many times has God "checked on me" and said to me, "Anna, be still, and know that I am here. Count the tiles while I take care of you. Be calm." And I said, "God, I don't like being still, I don't like being calm. And dang it, I don't like counting!" Had I actually counted the tiles, I would have probably felt better.
That scout must have gone and got another one to sit with me. This new one, Evan, sat with me for quite a while. He was 17, going to get his Eagle Scout hopefully, so I told him that my brother was his age and getting his Eagle. If I hadn't been a victim I probably would have actually enjoyed that conversation. The weird thing? He had a beard. A legit beard. How does that happen to a 17 year old? I guess my brother is just particularly baby faced... hm. Needless to say, I thought Evan was older than he was. He was actually a comfort... Because he didn't look terrified. And when I asked him if the other scout was his boss, I think I heard laughter in his voice when he told me, "No, he just knows more about what is going on." I wanted to laugh. But I couldn't break character.
At about the same time, one of the ladies from Noah's Rescue, the crisis dog center, came up to me with her dog Bella. She stayed with me for the remainder of my time on the floor. She kept me distracted, and it was actually hard for me to be stressed out when that dog was there, she was so calming. I saw them loading Dottie up onto a gurney, and I don't know if I screamed or just yelled, but I know I said, "I think she's dead! Oh my God, she's dead!" And I actually cried. I wasn't expecting it, but it happened. And those tears felt good. I cried while Darcy, Bella's handler, stroked my hair and told me everything was going to be okay. I know she was talking about the scenario, but I felt it resonate deep within. As I cried and felt God whispering to my soul, "I told you I would take care of you, didn't you believe me? It's okay to cry, I'm picking up the pieces." I was finally able to act the way I had been feeling inside for the past couple weeks, confused and finding it hard to breathe.
Finally, after about twenty minutes of me waiting after the medical personal arrived (so probably 40 minutes after the drill started) a firefighter woman approached me and asked me what was wrong. I told her I was having a hard time breathing. So she checked my tag and had me lie down without moving my neck or head, I think she assumed a spinal injury, and I was definitely thinking a broken rib had punctured my lung...but whatever, they have to keep all the bases covered. I was still crying a little when she had me laying on the floor. And I heard her get up and tell one of the other firefighters that I was in critical condition and needed to be on the next ambulance. My first thought was, I have been here for forty minutes. If this were real, I would probably already be dead, drowned from my own blood in my lungs. And they spent forever on Dottie, someone who was already dead... I did find out later that they resuscitated her, so that's good.
It's funny, I don't know if this is normal, but when you get that into acting, you actually start to feel the way you're acting. I could feel my breathing changing, and when Bella showed up I could feel it leveling back out. They did finally get loaded up on a gurney and taken out to an ambulance.
When we got outside, it was still snowing. I was laying on my back and it was snowing on my face. It was a new experience. And it was beautiful. If I hadn't been terrified of them dropping me, I probably would have enjoyed that moment. I ask/tell my firefighter "Is it snowing? It's beautiful..." I also told him several times not to drop me. I do that to God, too. "Don't drop me, Lord. I'm scared of falling." And He tells me, "I would never drop you. Look at this snow. I made it to make you calm. You asked for the rain, and I gave you something far more beautiful."
And then I got to the hospital and it was all good. I know, lame ending. But the test wasn't about the doctors being competent but about the system working. Bella and Darcy stayed with me all the way to the hospital. I loved them both for that.
The moral of this story? I was able to throw myself into this acting job, my first ever. And I was able to release a lot of emotions that I have been bottling up for a long time. And it was good. I got back to my room and slept. Purging and refreshing. Thank you, God.
"In the depth of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." (unknown)
Thursday, March 24, 2011
God is bigger than the boogie man...
My brother turned seventeen last week. He's officially taller than I am. When we were younger, we used to fight like no one's business. There was hair pulling, biting, hitting, yeah, the works. We were nasty to each other... but under that level of rawness there was a deeper love that went straight to our bones, the very essence of who we were.
I used to sing to him when he was terribly scared. I would tell him everything would be okay, that Daddy would never let anything happen to us because he loved us so much. (Not that there was ever actually any danger, anyway.)
Well, on Monday I got a phone call from him. He rarely calls me... and I was watching Stargate with a friend. (Yes, every Monday I let my inner nerd out and watch my sci fi show.) It was a really intense episode emotionally, and I didn't really want to talk to him just then. But I answered anyway. He said that he was driving home from Boy Scouts. (He's almost an Eagle Scout, woo!) He also said he almost hit five animals, and that he was kind of freaked out by it.
He's always been afraid of the dark and the nightly noises. Which always reminds me of the quote "heed no nightly noises" which comes up in The Fellowship of the Ring as well as other places. I told him he would be fine. And that I needed to go. After hanging up, I almost instantly regretted it. If we had been younger, I would have sang for him, I would have sang the Veggie Tales song, "God is bigger than the boogie man" and I know it would have made him feel better.
The next night I was walking back to my room in the dark. While I wasn't actually freaked out, I was kind of bored, and cold, so I called him. He, surprisingly, answered. And he talked to me the entire way back to my dorm. He told me silly stories that made me laugh and started retelling an episode of Magnum P.I. for me. It was sweet.
I'm glad that I have him. And while I sometimes feel like I'm protecting him, I don't think he realizes how much he is protecting me. I don't think I always realize. But he is. He protects my heart from bitterness and depression. He saves me from self-loathing. I am so thankful for him and his laughter and ability to make me laugh, even when I'm royally ticked off.
Just the other day I was flipping through a notebook and found scrawled on one of the pages: "Beauty is more than skin deep. And your skin is beautiful so you've got both things going for you!" --Josef
And I found a video he had recorded on my computer over Christmas of him dancing while I was listening to music in the kitchen while baking.
I miss my Bud Nub. Desperately. He's the best little brother I could have ever asked for.
"God smiles on my little brother. His love is making me stronger. Inside and out he's better than I am." [Taylor Swift]
I used to sing to him when he was terribly scared. I would tell him everything would be okay, that Daddy would never let anything happen to us because he loved us so much. (Not that there was ever actually any danger, anyway.)
Well, on Monday I got a phone call from him. He rarely calls me... and I was watching Stargate with a friend. (Yes, every Monday I let my inner nerd out and watch my sci fi show.) It was a really intense episode emotionally, and I didn't really want to talk to him just then. But I answered anyway. He said that he was driving home from Boy Scouts. (He's almost an Eagle Scout, woo!) He also said he almost hit five animals, and that he was kind of freaked out by it.
He's always been afraid of the dark and the nightly noises. Which always reminds me of the quote "heed no nightly noises" which comes up in The Fellowship of the Ring as well as other places. I told him he would be fine. And that I needed to go. After hanging up, I almost instantly regretted it. If we had been younger, I would have sang for him, I would have sang the Veggie Tales song, "God is bigger than the boogie man" and I know it would have made him feel better.
The next night I was walking back to my room in the dark. While I wasn't actually freaked out, I was kind of bored, and cold, so I called him. He, surprisingly, answered. And he talked to me the entire way back to my dorm. He told me silly stories that made me laugh and started retelling an episode of Magnum P.I. for me. It was sweet.
I'm glad that I have him. And while I sometimes feel like I'm protecting him, I don't think he realizes how much he is protecting me. I don't think I always realize. But he is. He protects my heart from bitterness and depression. He saves me from self-loathing. I am so thankful for him and his laughter and ability to make me laugh, even when I'm royally ticked off.
Just the other day I was flipping through a notebook and found scrawled on one of the pages: "Beauty is more than skin deep. And your skin is beautiful so you've got both things going for you!" --Josef
And I found a video he had recorded on my computer over Christmas of him dancing while I was listening to music in the kitchen while baking.
I miss my Bud Nub. Desperately. He's the best little brother I could have ever asked for.
"God smiles on my little brother. His love is making me stronger. Inside and out he's better than I am." [Taylor Swift]
We're crying for them, come back home...
So, I'm writing this book called "The Broken Glass." For my playwriting class last semester I wrote a ten minute play based on the first chapter. After I have it all done, I think it would be fun to write a script for the whole thing... a screenplay. And there are a few songs that I just think would be great in the movie someday, if it ever happens. Which, lets be honest, isn't likely. But if my brother gets into the film business like he wants maybe I'll have a chance.
"The Broken Glass" is about a young air force family. Kadience and Cameron Leigh have a little girl named Madison and a new baby on the way. Kadience is shocked by the news that Cameron has gone missing in action. The book is mostly about her coping with the help of an old friend, Landon Benson. It is written in third person, but there are letters scattered throughout. I don't want to give away the end... but I'm really excited about it. I have a long way to go, but once I really get trekking on it, it shouldn't take me terribly long to get it written out. I have the beginning and end all figured out, I just need the in between.
So, here are some songs that I definitely want in the soundtrack...who knows if it will actually happen, but it would be awesome.
Benjamin by Sanctus Real
Behind the Scenes by Francesca Battistelli
Tears of the Saints by Leeland
You should look 'em up, they're pretty fantastic.
"Father, we will lead them home. Father, we will lead them home." [Leeland]
"The Broken Glass" is about a young air force family. Kadience and Cameron Leigh have a little girl named Madison and a new baby on the way. Kadience is shocked by the news that Cameron has gone missing in action. The book is mostly about her coping with the help of an old friend, Landon Benson. It is written in third person, but there are letters scattered throughout. I don't want to give away the end... but I'm really excited about it. I have a long way to go, but once I really get trekking on it, it shouldn't take me terribly long to get it written out. I have the beginning and end all figured out, I just need the in between.
So, here are some songs that I definitely want in the soundtrack...who knows if it will actually happen, but it would be awesome.
Benjamin by Sanctus Real
Behind the Scenes by Francesca Battistelli
Tears of the Saints by Leeland
You should look 'em up, they're pretty fantastic.
"Father, we will lead them home. Father, we will lead them home." [Leeland]
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Let it rain
I'm in a strange "funk."
It's been a bad week so far; nothing horribly bad, just a lot of little bads.
I've been battling within myself for days now, and I'm still learning what exactly it is that I'm fighting against. The funny thing? All my usual "weapons" aren't working. What are those things? Writing poetry, it's great reliever for me, and it has taken me four-five days to finally get something out that wasn't straight up awful. Reading my Bible, I was reading the words but not actually listening to them. Writing out my prayers, nothing I said really hit what I was feeling. Reading a good book, nothing felt right.
And then, some out of the ordinary things happened to me yesterday and today and it has made me feel better... So I'm going to make a list. Because I feel like it, and I don't normally make lists, and the not-normal has been helping. So here we go:
1. I walked down the narrow stairs outside of Jesse Hall after work yesterday because my boss suggested it. I love those stairs... they're so... old looking. (And totally sturdy.) I was able to put my hand on the iron railing and just be present in that time... a time that doesn't seem to exist anymore. So, when it gets warmer... I may start making one of those stairwells my writing home, and I am very excited about that endeavor. And I will probably be sad to leave it when summer starts.
2. Bob Olson, one of the guys that works for buildings and grounds (he's also our resident set builder; aka: set god), was working on the stairwell (inside) in Jesse... which is why I had to take the elevator and was then "forced" to take my timeless stairwell outside. When I got to the cafeteria to drop off some tickets for the One Acts, he was in there taking a quick coffee break. I stopped to talk to him a little bit, ribbing him about making me take the elevator. It turned into one of the best conversations ever. After we talked about campus a little, he asked me about how my year was going and how my classes were, and remembered from a previous conversation (like two semesters ago) that I was a creative writing-emphasis English major. And he asked me about grad schools. And he told me about some of the stuff he has worked on... I'm blown away by the man's talent. I don't know how old he is, but he's not a spring chicken and he still talks about how he'll get around to getting his children's books published "someday." I made the comment to him that he is such a busy bee, he probably deserves some time off just to rest. He looked at me and said, "I think it's a sin to waste ones talents." Woah. It hit me between the eyes. How many days do I waste my God-given talents? More than I care to admit. I am thankful for Bob. He's a wonderful man, and if you ever get a chance to talk to him, you Concordians, do it. Please. You'll end up a better person for it.
3. When I left the cafeteria, it had started to rain. A little. Big drops, but not a lot falling. I was worried about my laptop. And then I was thinking about how, if it weren't for my laptop, I would have really enjoyed that walk. Just as I stepped under the awning of the building I was walking to, it started raining a lot heavier. I turned around and looked up at the sky, and I thought, "God, You're awesome, and thank you for not making that happen until I got under the awning." Now, yes, I realize that God probably didn't really care about my laptop just then, and surely it started raining harder on other people who weren't under the awning, so it is flawed thinking to believe that He held off the rain until I was safe...but it was a nice coincidence.
4. I gave one of my professors a hug. She has been a true inspiration to me, and while we are not learning together, we are learning simultaneously what it is to let go of dead weight. (This is part of what I've been fighting against lately, I think.) We've been fighting our elephants. In that embrace, I felt my own burdens lift just a little, and not because words were spoken, but because love was shared. And that can make all the difference. She is a blessing to me, and I thank God that I am able to be in her class. And I look forward to this summer and taking an independent study with her. There will be much writing, some laughing, some crying, and much presence. I am excited to simply be with her reading over my shoulder, so to speak.
5. Talking to a friend I haven't seen in a while at lunch today ended up being one of the most refreshing experiences. We tend to get into these routines, and the routines turn into ruts. I have been eating lunch with approximately the same people for over two months now. I love them. But it was good to break away, hear something new, and laugh. I mean laugh. At something I hadn't already heard five times, or thought about twenty times. It was good, and just what I needed.
Five is a good number, even though it's not technically "round," it's round in my head. Five not-normal things that have made all the difference.
So, let it rain, and let it storm, because I need some nourishment in this twisted heart of mine.
"In a dry and thirsty land, Lord, You are the rain." [Casting Crowns]
It's been a bad week so far; nothing horribly bad, just a lot of little bads.
I've been battling within myself for days now, and I'm still learning what exactly it is that I'm fighting against. The funny thing? All my usual "weapons" aren't working. What are those things? Writing poetry, it's great reliever for me, and it has taken me four-five days to finally get something out that wasn't straight up awful. Reading my Bible, I was reading the words but not actually listening to them. Writing out my prayers, nothing I said really hit what I was feeling. Reading a good book, nothing felt right.
And then, some out of the ordinary things happened to me yesterday and today and it has made me feel better... So I'm going to make a list. Because I feel like it, and I don't normally make lists, and the not-normal has been helping. So here we go:
1. I walked down the narrow stairs outside of Jesse Hall after work yesterday because my boss suggested it. I love those stairs... they're so... old looking. (And totally sturdy.) I was able to put my hand on the iron railing and just be present in that time... a time that doesn't seem to exist anymore. So, when it gets warmer... I may start making one of those stairwells my writing home, and I am very excited about that endeavor. And I will probably be sad to leave it when summer starts.
2. Bob Olson, one of the guys that works for buildings and grounds (he's also our resident set builder; aka: set god), was working on the stairwell (inside) in Jesse... which is why I had to take the elevator and was then "forced" to take my timeless stairwell outside. When I got to the cafeteria to drop off some tickets for the One Acts, he was in there taking a quick coffee break. I stopped to talk to him a little bit, ribbing him about making me take the elevator. It turned into one of the best conversations ever. After we talked about campus a little, he asked me about how my year was going and how my classes were, and remembered from a previous conversation (like two semesters ago) that I was a creative writing-emphasis English major. And he asked me about grad schools. And he told me about some of the stuff he has worked on... I'm blown away by the man's talent. I don't know how old he is, but he's not a spring chicken and he still talks about how he'll get around to getting his children's books published "someday." I made the comment to him that he is such a busy bee, he probably deserves some time off just to rest. He looked at me and said, "I think it's a sin to waste ones talents." Woah. It hit me between the eyes. How many days do I waste my God-given talents? More than I care to admit. I am thankful for Bob. He's a wonderful man, and if you ever get a chance to talk to him, you Concordians, do it. Please. You'll end up a better person for it.
3. When I left the cafeteria, it had started to rain. A little. Big drops, but not a lot falling. I was worried about my laptop. And then I was thinking about how, if it weren't for my laptop, I would have really enjoyed that walk. Just as I stepped under the awning of the building I was walking to, it started raining a lot heavier. I turned around and looked up at the sky, and I thought, "God, You're awesome, and thank you for not making that happen until I got under the awning." Now, yes, I realize that God probably didn't really care about my laptop just then, and surely it started raining harder on other people who weren't under the awning, so it is flawed thinking to believe that He held off the rain until I was safe...but it was a nice coincidence.
4. I gave one of my professors a hug. She has been a true inspiration to me, and while we are not learning together, we are learning simultaneously what it is to let go of dead weight. (This is part of what I've been fighting against lately, I think.) We've been fighting our elephants. In that embrace, I felt my own burdens lift just a little, and not because words were spoken, but because love was shared. And that can make all the difference. She is a blessing to me, and I thank God that I am able to be in her class. And I look forward to this summer and taking an independent study with her. There will be much writing, some laughing, some crying, and much presence. I am excited to simply be with her reading over my shoulder, so to speak.
5. Talking to a friend I haven't seen in a while at lunch today ended up being one of the most refreshing experiences. We tend to get into these routines, and the routines turn into ruts. I have been eating lunch with approximately the same people for over two months now. I love them. But it was good to break away, hear something new, and laugh. I mean laugh. At something I hadn't already heard five times, or thought about twenty times. It was good, and just what I needed.
Five is a good number, even though it's not technically "round," it's round in my head. Five not-normal things that have made all the difference.
So, let it rain, and let it storm, because I need some nourishment in this twisted heart of mine.
"In a dry and thirsty land, Lord, You are the rain." [Casting Crowns]
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Let music never die in me...
Okay, this post will probably end up being lengthy...and for that I am sorry, but music has just been a big factor in my daily life right now. Mostly in negative ways, actually. Which is incredibly sad.
Where to start.... let's go in chronological order, so what became an issue first.
Remedy Drive. Wow, I just love these guys. I've been listening to them since before they were Remedy Drive and they were just Remedy. I have three signed posters from them, a T-Shirt, all their CDs (except for the EP, sad day) and I can't even tell you how many concerts I've been to. I even know some of their family (their uncle was my english teacher and I went to the same church as him and his family) and I have been to a relatives house after a concert and had snacks with them. Yeah. (I doubt they remember me, I was a sophomore or something like that.) Well, this last weekend I was talking to a friend about them, and he didn't realize they were all brothers. So then I was listening to them and was wondering when they were going to be in Nebraska again, they're here fairly often after all. Well, I was met with the news that (I think?) David is the only remaining Zach in the band. Which breaks my heart, honestly. I'm sure the new guys are fine...but it's just not the same. You know? Following a band since their infancy makes you very protective of the members. I even had a dream that I ran into their uncle and was asking him questions about it. Yeah. Music let down number one.
This next music encounter is positive. My friend Ben was in Nebraska with his a cappella group, Living Water, from Yale. It was good to see him, and here the group. They were fantastic. If you ever get a chance to see them, good luck with that, do it! It will be well worth your time. I was blown away, and it made me really miss my a cappella group from high school.
Now... high school leads to this disheartening situation. Nebraska is in a deficit, what state isn't? Well, they're having to make budget cuts... and that means that the Public School system in Grand Island is kind of getting screwed over. And it's all the programming that was so important to me in high school. They're cutting the High Ability Learners program... which kept me sane through scholarship season as a senior. Also, they're cutting German, probably because it's not a "valid" language... I say they should cut French then too, come on! Grand Island was founded by German immigrants, doesn't that give it a bit of a leg up? I guess not. There is also a high possibility that they will be "riffing" fifth grade band and orchestra. Which may not sound all that bad (but really it is, honestly), but that means that those teachers that are tenured will be guaranteed positions within the system... so there is a very likely chance that the current music teacher at my high school will be replaced by a fifth grade band teacher. Yes, let's say it all together now: "What?" That's not the most disappointing thing for me, surprisingly. Why, you ask? Let me tell you.
I am convinced that the current teacher is great. I know he is. He student taught there when I was a junior. He also student taught for quite possibly one of the best teachers to ever come through the department. Mr. LaBrie. Now, he doesn't teach there anymore, he teaches at a private university now, where he should have been all along, honestly. That's right, my high school music teacher was on par with a college professor. My high school has bad luck with music teachers. The kids in the grade after mine had a new teacher every year. Yeah. It sucks. And I know one of the prime arguments right now is that the kids just need some stability. I agree. What really irks me is that some of the kids are saying they won't do music anymore if they get a new teacher. That's bull crap.
Music is bigger than the teachers you have in high school. The kids in the class after mine went on after LaBrie resigned. Now that's hard. Yes, this current teacher is good, and the situation is bad, but if the kids of 2010 could do it, so can the kids of 2012 on down. Quiting the program is not the answer here. Quiting has never been the answer in music. Yes, this all sucks, but it can be overcome, regardless of the results of the voting in the coming weeks.
Every year since I was a sophomore I sang "The Awakening" with Chamber Singers. It was always during the last concert, a kind of sending off for the seniors. I don't know if they're continuing that tradition or not, now that LaBrie is gone. But the epiphany of the song is, "Awake, awake my soul and sing! The time for praise has come! The silence of the night has passed, a new day has begun! Let music never die in me. Forever let my spirit sing. Wherever emptiness is found, let there be joy in glorious song. Let music live!" It's beautiful, and will forever echo in my soul.
"I dreamed a dream, a silent dream, where no birds sang, no steeples rang, and teardrops fell like rain. I dreamed a dream..." [The Awakening]
Where to start.... let's go in chronological order, so what became an issue first.
Remedy Drive. Wow, I just love these guys. I've been listening to them since before they were Remedy Drive and they were just Remedy. I have three signed posters from them, a T-Shirt, all their CDs (except for the EP, sad day) and I can't even tell you how many concerts I've been to. I even know some of their family (their uncle was my english teacher and I went to the same church as him and his family) and I have been to a relatives house after a concert and had snacks with them. Yeah. (I doubt they remember me, I was a sophomore or something like that.) Well, this last weekend I was talking to a friend about them, and he didn't realize they were all brothers. So then I was listening to them and was wondering when they were going to be in Nebraska again, they're here fairly often after all. Well, I was met with the news that (I think?) David is the only remaining Zach in the band. Which breaks my heart, honestly. I'm sure the new guys are fine...but it's just not the same. You know? Following a band since their infancy makes you very protective of the members. I even had a dream that I ran into their uncle and was asking him questions about it. Yeah. Music let down number one.
This next music encounter is positive. My friend Ben was in Nebraska with his a cappella group, Living Water, from Yale. It was good to see him, and here the group. They were fantastic. If you ever get a chance to see them, good luck with that, do it! It will be well worth your time. I was blown away, and it made me really miss my a cappella group from high school.
Now... high school leads to this disheartening situation. Nebraska is in a deficit, what state isn't? Well, they're having to make budget cuts... and that means that the Public School system in Grand Island is kind of getting screwed over. And it's all the programming that was so important to me in high school. They're cutting the High Ability Learners program... which kept me sane through scholarship season as a senior. Also, they're cutting German, probably because it's not a "valid" language... I say they should cut French then too, come on! Grand Island was founded by German immigrants, doesn't that give it a bit of a leg up? I guess not. There is also a high possibility that they will be "riffing" fifth grade band and orchestra. Which may not sound all that bad (but really it is, honestly), but that means that those teachers that are tenured will be guaranteed positions within the system... so there is a very likely chance that the current music teacher at my high school will be replaced by a fifth grade band teacher. Yes, let's say it all together now: "What?" That's not the most disappointing thing for me, surprisingly. Why, you ask? Let me tell you.
I am convinced that the current teacher is great. I know he is. He student taught there when I was a junior. He also student taught for quite possibly one of the best teachers to ever come through the department. Mr. LaBrie. Now, he doesn't teach there anymore, he teaches at a private university now, where he should have been all along, honestly. That's right, my high school music teacher was on par with a college professor. My high school has bad luck with music teachers. The kids in the grade after mine had a new teacher every year. Yeah. It sucks. And I know one of the prime arguments right now is that the kids just need some stability. I agree. What really irks me is that some of the kids are saying they won't do music anymore if they get a new teacher. That's bull crap.
Music is bigger than the teachers you have in high school. The kids in the class after mine went on after LaBrie resigned. Now that's hard. Yes, this current teacher is good, and the situation is bad, but if the kids of 2010 could do it, so can the kids of 2012 on down. Quiting the program is not the answer here. Quiting has never been the answer in music. Yes, this all sucks, but it can be overcome, regardless of the results of the voting in the coming weeks.
Every year since I was a sophomore I sang "The Awakening" with Chamber Singers. It was always during the last concert, a kind of sending off for the seniors. I don't know if they're continuing that tradition or not, now that LaBrie is gone. But the epiphany of the song is, "Awake, awake my soul and sing! The time for praise has come! The silence of the night has passed, a new day has begun! Let music never die in me. Forever let my spirit sing. Wherever emptiness is found, let there be joy in glorious song. Let music live!" It's beautiful, and will forever echo in my soul.
"I dreamed a dream, a silent dream, where no birds sang, no steeples rang, and teardrops fell like rain. I dreamed a dream..." [The Awakening]
Thursday, March 10, 2011
I know your face...
I'm having a flash back of when I was a little girl. I may have been three years old, or maybe four. Definitely under six, and the only reason I know that is because I remember the house it happened in.
The house in town, on Fourth St. The house with an epic porch. The house with pillars in the living room. The house with a half bathroom by the kitchen. The house with two stories and basement, and that means four flights of stairs. The house with a fenced in backyard. The house with no air conditioning.
I've lived in each house for six years. The Fourth St house had the honor of years 1-6. I remember much from that house, and sometimes I still dream about it. I loved that house. I loved it despite some of the memories being painful.
I remember falling asleep, crying, in my parents bed. I remember screaming and Mom and Dad rubbing my legs, trying to help me while all I could do was kick and squirm. "It hurts so bad!" I sobbed. What was happening to me? I think they probably cried, too. Daddy knew what was wrong, all too well. Leg cramps. Something I would learn to deal with on a regular basis. Growing quickly and being tall means that stretching feeling, the feeling of your bones being pulled, you muscles stretched. Growing.
I can recall them telling me what was happening, but my tears drowned them out.
When I woke up, I was in my own bed.
The reason this is coming up tonight? Anytime I get any kind of leg cramp, I think of that first time. I just hope I'm not growing tonight.
"Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain." [Robert Gary Lee]
The house in town, on Fourth St. The house with an epic porch. The house with pillars in the living room. The house with a half bathroom by the kitchen. The house with two stories and basement, and that means four flights of stairs. The house with a fenced in backyard. The house with no air conditioning.
I've lived in each house for six years. The Fourth St house had the honor of years 1-6. I remember much from that house, and sometimes I still dream about it. I loved that house. I loved it despite some of the memories being painful.
I remember falling asleep, crying, in my parents bed. I remember screaming and Mom and Dad rubbing my legs, trying to help me while all I could do was kick and squirm. "It hurts so bad!" I sobbed. What was happening to me? I think they probably cried, too. Daddy knew what was wrong, all too well. Leg cramps. Something I would learn to deal with on a regular basis. Growing quickly and being tall means that stretching feeling, the feeling of your bones being pulled, you muscles stretched. Growing.
I can recall them telling me what was happening, but my tears drowned them out.
When I woke up, I was in my own bed.
The reason this is coming up tonight? Anytime I get any kind of leg cramp, I think of that first time. I just hope I'm not growing tonight.
"Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain." [Robert Gary Lee]
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Never despise meager beginnings...
Because it is Spring Break, I have taken some time to write. Yes, I opened the ol' Morning Star manuscript. I have been working on this fantasy piece since sixth grade. That's where it all began. And by all, I mean all.
Now, Morning Star, has been the gem in my writings. But it didn't start that way. When I look back at the original handwritten copy, I am embarrassed. The writing is horrible, the storyline is eh, and it's long. What sixth grader has a legitimately good writing voice? Well, I didn't, and as I kept writing my voice was changing, so the beginning of the story is severely different from the end of what I had been writing. The storyline is this strange mesh between "Star Wars" and "The Lord of the Rings," I mean, it's straight up weird. And long is over 200 pages handwritten. Yes.
So, the start to my gem has been rough, but what is a diamond in the rough? It needs polishing, and work, finely crafted tools. Rewrite. Edit. Rewrite. Embellish. Rewrite.
Honestly, it's almost a completely different story from where it started. I looked back at the old manuscript today to see if I was missing anything...and I realized that my old guideline was almost obsolete, I had strayed so far from the original. And that's okay.
I'm just glad to have caught the bug again. And I'm thankful for the time I've had over this break to just write.
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."
Now, Morning Star, has been the gem in my writings. But it didn't start that way. When I look back at the original handwritten copy, I am embarrassed. The writing is horrible, the storyline is eh, and it's long. What sixth grader has a legitimately good writing voice? Well, I didn't, and as I kept writing my voice was changing, so the beginning of the story is severely different from the end of what I had been writing. The storyline is this strange mesh between "Star Wars" and "The Lord of the Rings," I mean, it's straight up weird. And long is over 200 pages handwritten. Yes.
So, the start to my gem has been rough, but what is a diamond in the rough? It needs polishing, and work, finely crafted tools. Rewrite. Edit. Rewrite. Embellish. Rewrite.
Honestly, it's almost a completely different story from where it started. I looked back at the old manuscript today to see if I was missing anything...and I realized that my old guideline was almost obsolete, I had strayed so far from the original. And that's okay.
I'm just glad to have caught the bug again. And I'm thankful for the time I've had over this break to just write.
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Not the beard!
So, I'm home for Spring Break this week. And for the first half of it my daddy has to go on a business trip. Bummer deal, right? Yeah, I thought so too.
Well, about twenty minutes ago, he comes out to the kitchen with the clippers (the box set). Mom normally cuts his hair, but with her arm problem she is in no condition to do it right now. She was going to suffer through it though. Until I caught on to the silly business!
We had talked about me doing it last time I was home. Granted, last time I wasn't sick.
Dad hasn't been getting near me, for fear of "contamination." But, after some convincing (which involved me tying a tea towel around my face so I couldn't breathe on him and thickly applied Germ-X) he let me do the job.
It turned out pretty well. I also helped get rid of some of the peach fuzz on the back of his neck. I was feeling to make sure I got it all and decided that: "this is in beard jurisdiction." That got a laugh. He told me anything around his jawline he could get himself.
As a kid, you never think you'll cut your parent's hair. It was kind of a weird feeling. It made me think of the time Mom was gone and Dad had to put my hair in a pony tail for me. I could tell he felt like a fish out of water. He started out using my comb (which I never use) and then decided that his own soft wire brush would do better. It turned out to be a low pony tail. I will never forget that day, sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, Daddy running his fingers through my little girl hair. And today, Daddy sitting in the middle of the kitchen on a chair while I ran my fingers through his feathery "old man" hair.
"Catching butterfly kisses at night."
Well, about twenty minutes ago, he comes out to the kitchen with the clippers (the box set). Mom normally cuts his hair, but with her arm problem she is in no condition to do it right now. She was going to suffer through it though. Until I caught on to the silly business!
We had talked about me doing it last time I was home. Granted, last time I wasn't sick.
Dad hasn't been getting near me, for fear of "contamination." But, after some convincing (which involved me tying a tea towel around my face so I couldn't breathe on him and thickly applied Germ-X) he let me do the job.
It turned out pretty well. I also helped get rid of some of the peach fuzz on the back of his neck. I was feeling to make sure I got it all and decided that: "this is in beard jurisdiction." That got a laugh. He told me anything around his jawline he could get himself.
As a kid, you never think you'll cut your parent's hair. It was kind of a weird feeling. It made me think of the time Mom was gone and Dad had to put my hair in a pony tail for me. I could tell he felt like a fish out of water. He started out using my comb (which I never use) and then decided that his own soft wire brush would do better. It turned out to be a low pony tail. I will never forget that day, sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, Daddy running his fingers through my little girl hair. And today, Daddy sitting in the middle of the kitchen on a chair while I ran my fingers through his feathery "old man" hair.
"Catching butterfly kisses at night."
Dark have been my dreams of late...
What happens when you have influenza? You sleep a lot.
What happens when you have a fever? You have feverish dreams. Yes. That's where I've been.
Well, this is me wanting to share the dream I had Friday night. It might require a little backstory.
Backstory: I have a "friend" named Mike. Now, I say "friend" because I'm not entirely sure what we are. We sat next to each other in Modern Poetry last semester... and we talked in class. He didn't live on campus though, so I never saw him at meals or outside of class. I wish I had. At the end of last semester he kind of disappeared... I haven't seen him since probably the first week in December. Yeah. I've been a little worried, but I don't have any way to getting a hold of him. Mike is an agnostic/atheist. I never even tried to talk to him about my faith. Yeah. So after Dare 2 Share I was feeling pretty lame about that, and started praying that I would at least get a chance to talk to him again. We'll see if that ever happens. I hope it does.
Okay. I think that's enough backstory. If I think of anything else I'll put it in parentheses. On to the dream.
Dream: My family and I were in Iowa visiting my mom's family. Only, this wasn't the small town in Iowa that I was familiar with, it was most of a suburb. And there was snow. Lots of it. Actually, it kind of reminds me of a suburb in Omaha. Anyways...
We got to this house where my Grandparents were with my cousin and her family (all four kiddos). It was kind of disturbing because Lily, the second oldest who's four, had really short baby-fuzz hair. (In real life she has super long and beautiful blonde hair.) I never did find out what the deal was with that. The newest edition, Jordyn, sure was a beautiful baby though. It made me really want to see her.
Before we even had a chance to get all of our stuff into the house my grandpa announced that he invited Mike to join us at the bowling alley. And almost immediately, Mike walked through the door. (I had once told a friend that if I ever saw him again I may just become overcome by whatever girly emotion I was feeling and just hug him because he was okay.) I didn't jump him right away. At first, I felt incredibly awkward and I was trying to get stuff all squared away. So he was standing in the hallway talking to my family.
Eventually, I did return to the hall and get that hug... which was weird. Because we did this thing where we were still hugging but walking down the hallway to the kitchen, kind of like dancing. My dad was following us, so I laughed and I whispered in Mike's ear that Dad was following. Mike promptly let me go and walked back down the hall. Yeah. Weird. He still hasn't said a word to me at this point.
And then it was suddenly time to go to the bowling alley, apparently, because I was the only one left in the house. I grabbed my coat and purse, and by the time I got outside all the cars were gone. I couldn't even find my car. And then my brother was running towards me on the sidewalk saying, "Anna, we've gotta go!" I said, "I can't find my car! I don't know where it went. I'm the only one with a key, where could it have gone?" Mom and Dad drove up to get us then, so I told them about my car. Mom's response was, "It's probably just blending in with the snow, it is white after all." I think I raised an eyebrow at her and then realized that they were driving my car. I don't know how... Dad's got mad skills.
So we got to this bowling alley, and as it turns out we're celebrating a birthday, I don't know whose. I end up sitting in the lobby with Lily on my lap, Mike is nowhere to be found, not that I had looked particularly hard. He came out of the actually alley and said, "I gonna head out." My grandpa just told him it was good to see him again. I almost had a panic attack.
"Mike! Wait, we haven't even gotten a chance to talk!" I tried to set Lily down on the floor, but she grabbed my ankle. "Mike, wait!" I finally got her to let me go, and ran outside after him.
I got into his truck with him, and he immediately started driving away (!!!) and started saying, "What are we evening doing here? We don't like bowling."
"Well, I like bowling. Wait...we?"
"And the Lord of the Rings. We don't even like those movies."
"What are you talking about? I love those movies. Why do you keep calling us, 'we?'"
"Can we go rent some Stargate?"
"Why would we do that? I own most of it...you like Stargate?" I knew by then that he wasn't going to answer any of my questions.
"I don't even know why I'm here."
"What do you mean "here?" Do you mean, like, in Iowa, or the bowling alley?"
"I mean, here, on this earth and here, in Iowa." He then went on to talk about reinjuring his foot and getting into the karaoke business. Which is apparently how he knew my grandpa.
"Mike, I know why you're here--"
And then I woke up. Yeah. Lame. I was going to tell him that he was there because I had prayed for a second chance with him... and I didn't even get that. sigh
"Then I was weary, very weary; and I walked long in dark thought." [Gandalf, Two Towers]
What happens when you have a fever? You have feverish dreams. Yes. That's where I've been.
Well, this is me wanting to share the dream I had Friday night. It might require a little backstory.
Backstory: I have a "friend" named Mike. Now, I say "friend" because I'm not entirely sure what we are. We sat next to each other in Modern Poetry last semester... and we talked in class. He didn't live on campus though, so I never saw him at meals or outside of class. I wish I had. At the end of last semester he kind of disappeared... I haven't seen him since probably the first week in December. Yeah. I've been a little worried, but I don't have any way to getting a hold of him. Mike is an agnostic/atheist. I never even tried to talk to him about my faith. Yeah. So after Dare 2 Share I was feeling pretty lame about that, and started praying that I would at least get a chance to talk to him again. We'll see if that ever happens. I hope it does.
Okay. I think that's enough backstory. If I think of anything else I'll put it in parentheses. On to the dream.
Dream: My family and I were in Iowa visiting my mom's family. Only, this wasn't the small town in Iowa that I was familiar with, it was most of a suburb. And there was snow. Lots of it. Actually, it kind of reminds me of a suburb in Omaha. Anyways...
We got to this house where my Grandparents were with my cousin and her family (all four kiddos). It was kind of disturbing because Lily, the second oldest who's four, had really short baby-fuzz hair. (In real life she has super long and beautiful blonde hair.) I never did find out what the deal was with that. The newest edition, Jordyn, sure was a beautiful baby though. It made me really want to see her.
Before we even had a chance to get all of our stuff into the house my grandpa announced that he invited Mike to join us at the bowling alley. And almost immediately, Mike walked through the door. (I had once told a friend that if I ever saw him again I may just become overcome by whatever girly emotion I was feeling and just hug him because he was okay.) I didn't jump him right away. At first, I felt incredibly awkward and I was trying to get stuff all squared away. So he was standing in the hallway talking to my family.
Eventually, I did return to the hall and get that hug... which was weird. Because we did this thing where we were still hugging but walking down the hallway to the kitchen, kind of like dancing. My dad was following us, so I laughed and I whispered in Mike's ear that Dad was following. Mike promptly let me go and walked back down the hall. Yeah. Weird. He still hasn't said a word to me at this point.
And then it was suddenly time to go to the bowling alley, apparently, because I was the only one left in the house. I grabbed my coat and purse, and by the time I got outside all the cars were gone. I couldn't even find my car. And then my brother was running towards me on the sidewalk saying, "Anna, we've gotta go!" I said, "I can't find my car! I don't know where it went. I'm the only one with a key, where could it have gone?" Mom and Dad drove up to get us then, so I told them about my car. Mom's response was, "It's probably just blending in with the snow, it is white after all." I think I raised an eyebrow at her and then realized that they were driving my car. I don't know how... Dad's got mad skills.
So we got to this bowling alley, and as it turns out we're celebrating a birthday, I don't know whose. I end up sitting in the lobby with Lily on my lap, Mike is nowhere to be found, not that I had looked particularly hard. He came out of the actually alley and said, "I gonna head out." My grandpa just told him it was good to see him again. I almost had a panic attack.
"Mike! Wait, we haven't even gotten a chance to talk!" I tried to set Lily down on the floor, but she grabbed my ankle. "Mike, wait!" I finally got her to let me go, and ran outside after him.
I got into his truck with him, and he immediately started driving away (!!!) and started saying, "What are we evening doing here? We don't like bowling."
"Well, I like bowling. Wait...we?"
"And the Lord of the Rings. We don't even like those movies."
"What are you talking about? I love those movies. Why do you keep calling us, 'we?'"
"Can we go rent some Stargate?"
"Why would we do that? I own most of it...you like Stargate?" I knew by then that he wasn't going to answer any of my questions.
"I don't even know why I'm here."
"What do you mean "here?" Do you mean, like, in Iowa, or the bowling alley?"
"I mean, here, on this earth and here, in Iowa." He then went on to talk about reinjuring his foot and getting into the karaoke business. Which is apparently how he knew my grandpa.
"Mike, I know why you're here--"
And then I woke up. Yeah. Lame. I was going to tell him that he was there because I had prayed for a second chance with him... and I didn't even get that. sigh
"Then I was weary, very weary; and I walked long in dark thought." [Gandalf, Two Towers]
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