Man is a giddy thing...

It's been a good week.

I've had to laugh at myself a couple of times. Let's make a list, shall we?

1. I did the dishes--all of them. Now, I know this seems like a menial task, and it is. There's something about it though. The idea of washing dishes really makes me dread going into the kitchen, but once I start and I put the first clean pot on the towel to dry it just feels so purifying. It gives me time to stop thinking about all of the other things that are distracting me and allows me to get right to the heart of me. That personal reflection time is good for my introverted self.

2. On Tuesday, I just couldn't get away from all of the distractions--the tangible ones like the TV and my computer. Do you ever feel that way? Like technology is strapping you down and making you waste time and sucking away your productivity? I do. And it's everywhere. I needed to get some writing, and I wanted to--I needed to unplug and just be with the pen and paper for a while. So...I decided that I was going to soak my feet in the tub. I basically moved my "office" (I don't have an office, who am I kidding?) into the bathroom. For obvious reasons, my computer can't sit with me on the edge of the tub. My iPod did come with me though so I could play some music with its small speaker and cut the silence. It was a strange thing, going to the bathroom to get away from all of the distractions. I just wish it was more comfortable to sit on the edge of the tub....

3. We're having a garage sale! I have a lot of stuff (and a good part of it can just go away). About every summer I try to do a deep clean of my room...Last summer I got about half way done and gave up. So, now with a garage sale date in mind, I've been begun the purge again. I went through my dresser yesterday...and I threw away a multitude of old socks and underpants. Seriously, why do we (maybe it's just me, but I doubt it) horde old socks? It's not like we wear them...they just take up space while the elastic really gets bad. The same with old underpants. Seriously, what do we think is going to happen to them? There isn't a fairy that comes and takes those things away like the tooth fairy...they just sit in the drawers. And most of them don't have pairs anymore either. That's just sad, put them out of their misery.

4. Last night, Daddy came into my room to see the progress...and his one comment was, "You have a lot of stuff...and you've hit your limit for bookshelves in this space." How very true. Three large bookshelves take up a lot of room. My response was, "I have enough stuff for an apartment." I really do...and the idea that "a place of my own" might be in the cards in the next year or so is really exciting. I mean, words cannot describe how fantastic that would be. Granted, I would miss eating with the folks because they do food really well...but I would really like not having to retreat to the bathroom to get some alone time to write.

5. Writing Workshop on Wednesday was wonderful. (Do you like all those w's? I do.) I knew this was going to be different then any writing experience I have had. How did I know this? Because my cousin is part of the group, and I knew she would be asking hard questions about my story. Questions with answers I had never articulated to another person. I also knew that she was going to make me really get into the grit of it--she's a teacher after all. She's used to pushing people to get good stories. This week was no exception. There were a lot of questions, and that is partly because we're getting to the meat of this story. These young women that I'm working with are truly inspirational. I love reading what they've done and sharing with them what I have. Rachel and Kaitlin have been a blessing to me this summer, more than I had anticipated...and I hope that this writing relationship will continue.

6. Rachel asked me how much I thought I would post here...I told her I was hoping for twice a week. Ha. We'll see. So far I'm not doing so hot, but I'll get there. I'm just warming up.

7. I marked all the wedding dates in my calendar, the ones that I have so far. Holy weddings, yo. Every day I get more and more behind my peers in the relationship/wedding/baby scene.... But mostly I'm okay with this. I'm not ready for all of that just yet. There are a lot of things I need to get done independently before all of that happens. Funny how our perceptions of ourselves change.

"The one who's always, and never, alone...does she even know she's the girl with the red balloon?" [The Civil Wars]

Hold Me Fast, I'm a Hopeless Wanderer

I did not forget about my blog, honestly I didn't. I thought about coming here to relieve some of the unbidden stress, and I thought about it often. Sometimes we get going with things and we let other thing move to the back burner...and eventually they fall behind the stove. I didn't forget this was back here, but it would have taken work to move the "stove" and get the "pan" out again. What a mess.

So what has me back here, almost a year after my last post?

Thanks to my beautiful cousin, Kaitlin, I am part of a writing workshop--we should really think of a better name, like Tolkien and Lewis's Inklings. In this writing workshop there are three members: myself, Kaitlin, and Rachel.

This workshop has been just what I needed. Over the last year I've felt the itch to write, to create--the itch never goes away. And over the last year, I'm ignored the tugging, distracting myself with other things that also needed attention. I've been working on Morning Star, and Rachel and Kaitlin have been giving me awesome feedback...and I get to hear their voices as well! The stories they are weaving are important, and I hope they recognize how much I appreciate their honesty in all things.

Kaitlin is also getting married (yay!) and she asked me to be her Maid of Honor. This came as a surprise to me, I was going to be happy if she asked me to be a Bridesmaid. I am so honored and happy to work with her throughout her engagement. (There is a point to this bridal tangent, promise.) I don't think she realizes how blessed I am to take on this responsibility as it distracts from my own loneliness (I'll write more on this at a later date).

My mom and Aunt Deanna wanted to host a Bridal Shower for Kaitlin, which I was very happy to help host. (This gave me an opportunity to create decorations from papercrafting, which I loved.)

So last night we hosted this lovely party that beautiful Rachel and her mother were invited to. After several guests had cleared out, after having a lot of fun, it was mentioned that Rachel has a blog. (Which I was very pleased to receive an invite to read.) She sheepishly smiled and admitted to this blogs existence, so I told her that I also had a blog, but it had fallen into disuse.

When I got home from the party and was able to take a moment for myself, I perused her blog...and then I came back here, to this space. And I thought to myself, You silly girl, move that stupid stove and start writing again. You know you'll feel better when you do. 

So here I am, I'm back, and I sincerely hope I am more faithful to this space. I will do my best.

"How fickle my heart, and how woozy my eyes. I struggle to find any truth in your lies. And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know. My weakness I feel I must finally show." [Mumford and Sons]

You're the peace to the restless

It's been a big couple weeks in the heart of this Nebraska-girl.

Last Tuesday there was a phone call with a certain young man that lasted over 50 minutes. This  soothed the fraying edges of my hopelessly romantic heart. His general concern for my well-being is comforting. Just yesterday I received a letter from said young man. These pieces of life that we keep sharing...I can't help but wonder at the greater picture. And still I pray that God's Hand sew the pieces into place without my own hand trying to force the pattern.

I also baked and delivered a cake that a new relative had ordered for her birthday. Baking is good for the hands that are itching to do. My hands have been so idle with unemployment that they were thankful for the fun task. Baking is also good for the inner homemaker in me that doesn't have a lot of opportunity to shine just yet.

This Tuesday I had an interview with one of the local elementary schools at 8 am. It had been so long since I turned in an application to the district that I had mostly forgotten about it, and had certainly thought it was a dead end. The interview went very well and I was expecting an answer sometime in the next couple days. Two hours later, I got a phone call from the administration building offering me the paraeducator position. All I could think to say was, "Wow, that was fast," to which the lady on the other end confirmed. With a thankful heart, I accepted the position and am excited to begin working with kids that are struggling with reading and math and other areas. This rejection-sick heart is glad to be accepting an offering, a calling.

When I look back at my past experience I see that God was whispering all along, Just wait, I've been preparing you for something specific. You have to trust Me to show you what you're supposed to be doing. Trust Me. And that trust was incredibly hard, but worth the wait. I've been a  Writing Center tutor, I've been an administrative assistant, I've been a teacher's aid, I've been a person who struggled with reading at a young age. All of these things, and so many more, have been shaping me for this moment. God is good.

Wednesday I was able to spend some time with a few of the ladies in the family. We went to get pedicures, something I've never done before. It soothed the worry-weary heart by healing the dry-heat abused feet. There's something to be said for healthy feet--the washing and care-giving is Biblical, after all.

I fell asleep to thunder and lightning Wednesday night, and I slept easy knowing the thirsty ground was getting some much needed moisture. And this morning I was woken by thunder and lightning at 6 am, an hour before my alarm would go off, and I didn't mind at all.

My heart is abundantly thankful for the answers to so many prayers, for my heart was as thirsty as the land, and God is pouring out the rain and grace that we so desperately need. Let it rain.

"For greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this City." [Chris Tomlin, God of This City]

Never would I ever...

I've been struck by the irony in my life this year. Everywhere I turn, and every time I think I've finally turned the bend to leave it behind, irony is right there. And I must admit, we're not really friends. When I'm reading or watching a movie or tv show I don't mind the situational irony because it's funny. That's the thing about irony, it's funny when it isn't you.

Now, I don't want to rehash all of it, but if you read my post about February you have an idea of the kind of thing I'm talking about. I think it's even more frustrating to realize the irony because then you dwell on it...  Sometimes I wonder if God finds irony amusing.

Last semester, Claire and I started regularly attending the local E-Free church, I've mentioned this before. One of the congregation members really likes working with the college group, and so she hosts these meals once a month after the second service. The food she provides is always delicious, and it's just a good ministry to us--the poor and hungry college students.

It is kind of a wonder I ever went back though. The first time meeting these people, and the lady that helps Dawn asked us what we were majoring in. A standard question, easy to answer. When I told her I was an English major with a Creative Writing emphasis, she asked me second question, "What do you plan to do with that?" I explained to her my graduate school plans and that I want to be a professor. She actually, and I kid you not, scoffed and said, "Yeah, that's what my daughter said, she put all her eggs in on basket, and now she works at a car dealership. What a waste."

....

I was shocked and offended and just said that I wasn't going to do that. Wasn't going to do that.

Here I sit this morning, at one of the largest car dealerships in my town, waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting for the phone to ring and praying that I get the full time position.

Maybe this is at the root of my frustration with not getting into graduate school. I'm afraid of getting stuck here, afraid of losing my will to go back to school. Then I remember that there's nothing wrong with this part of life. There's nothing wrong with taking some time to stretch your wings and allow some things to heal--the wounds that can only come from academia and dorm life and loans.

It's not a sin to work at a car dealership, like this lady made it sound. The people here are nice. The days are always interesting. The customers sometimes bring their kids, and they are adorable. I see people here. I talk to people. For once I feel like a semi-normal person. (Usually I say that normalcy is overrated, but it's really not.)

So, here's to a standard job. And irony.

"Humor brings insight and tolerance. Irony brings a deeper and less friendly understanding." [Agnes Repplier]

And all will turn to silver glass...

I took Hansi outside today so he could do his doggy duty. It was warm, but not unpleasantly hot. So, while he snooted out a spot, I took a seat on the back step. And for the first time, in a long time, I just watched the land and listened to the whistles and buzzes in the air.

Four acres of land that is ours. Four acres that I really don't take the time to examine very often. When I do spend time with the flora and fauna I'm mowing, and I have my iPod in and I don't listen to anything but the loud hum of the riding mower and the blaring ear buds.

But the earth has a music of its own.

I started thinking about what this land means to my Dad, as part of his inheritance. And I wonder what will happen to it someday. My Aunt's husband always talks about windmills, which my dad has responded to with, "Over my dead body." He doesn't want anything to happen to this place that will "mar the landscape." He cherishes this good green earth. Why don't I think about it the same way?

I haven't worked these fields like he has--I spent my time in another farmer's corn, pulling tassels. Even when I was working I was singing, trying to make myself forget the heat and the thirst that followed me.

Sometimes I wish I could know what my dad thinks when he sees the fields that his father once worked so hard to maintain. I like to think that the fields are part of Grandpa Rob that were left behind and that when Dad walks around them (while another farmer works them now) he talks to his dad about the things he didn't get to say when he was alive. About how his daughter has the same gait as he did (apparently). About the joys of being married--and the hardships. About his son that would make his grandpa so proud. About the four grandchildren he never met. About how he works with computers now, but he did cling to his art for a long time.

You see, they were both artists, just of a different nature. Grandpa was an artist of the land: year after year he would work to mold the fields and livestock into a living painting, one that changed with the seasons. Dad, well, he would paint the landscape, but he was also a sculptor, he too moved the clay into a piece of art.

I think my Oma works her gardens and the yard to so much because she wants to feel close to him, too. She protects the farm, she's wrapped her entire being around its upkeep. When she is outside in this Nebraska sun, I think she imagines my Grandpa coming home from the fields and giving her a dusty hug. I wish I could witness this love.

So tonight, I sat on the back step and breathed deep the air that my Grandpa must have loved so dearly. I wondered what it will be like someday when I bring kids back to visit my parents. And I thought of where I will be in a little over a year. Will I still be breathing in the Nebraska air, or will I be in Iowa City surrounded by suburbs?

I pray that I will never forget the whistling, buzzing, and humming of this place. That I would not forget the beauty of the grass that fights against the weeds every year. The perfect rows of the cornfields. How could this land still suffer Adam's curse? If this is the curse, this land of plenty, then I cannot imagine what it was like in the Garden.

"In a dry and thirsty land, Lord you are the rain." [Casting Crowns]

Home sweet home...

Some things that I learned while house sitting:

1. Light bulbs burn out at the most unlikely time. Don't let it throw you off, even if they are unusual sizes.

2. Eventually, toilet bowl seats break. It has nothing to do with you--it just happens. And if you freak out enough and have enough nightmares you're bound to find out that the owner of said toilet broke her gramma's a week earlier. You'll feel better.

3. Cats are strange creatures. They're adorable, but they're strange. Don't let their cute appearance fool you--they play dirty. I've never had so many scratches.

4. Neighbor ladies and lovely, make a point to meet them before the last day of house sitting.

5. If you live in the country and house sit in town over the Fourth of July, don't be alarmed if it sounds like a war just erupted on the front lawn--it's apparently very normal.

6. If a cat is hungry enough in the morning and you're still sleeping he will lick and bite your elbow. And then you're arm. And he'll try to get to your face, but if you're lucky his whiskers will wake you up.

7. Some cats like helping you make the bed.

8. Some cats can open doors--beware.

9. You may think your barky dog is annoying, but you'll miss his cuddling.

10. People in town mow their lawn in columns, they don't go around in circles like you do on a four acre lot. Don't be scared of breaking your pattern.

11. People will come and pray over your house when you're not there, and they'll leave you a little flier telling you that they're praying. It's a nice gesture, but also kind of creepy.

12. The guy that checks the meter will knock on your door at an ungodly hour. He's just doing his job, be nice and try not to look like the living dead.

13. The garbage guy makes a lot of noise, and actually picks up early in the morning--it's not just a myth!

14. It's nice managing your own home. The day-to-day chores are actually enjoyable if you turn the music on loud enough. It's also easier with just one person to care for.

15. Don't forget about the plant. You will kill it in three weeks. You will turn out to be your mother's daughter. You will regret this gene.

16. Thunderstorms are scarier when you only have the cats and no weather alarms (no matter how much you loath that weather alarm, you do feel saver with it).

17. Reading seems to be more difficult to focus on while staying in another person's house...mostly because you can't figure out how to make the tea because you don't know where anything is.

18. Falling asleep on the couch with TVLand playing is incredibly easy. And waking up to "The Nanny" can be jarring.

19. It's harder living in two places in one town than two places across the state from one another.

20. Sing in the shower as loud as you want. There is no one for you to disturb.

"This is home, now I'm finally where I belong."

If a double decker bus crashes into us...

Yesterday was a day of firsts. And it is here that I want to immortalize them.

1. The Wedding

No, no, I didn't get married. My brother was hired to do the videography of a wedding at our church. He needed an assistant, and I was happy to oblige. I love weddings! Drinks all around! (And by "drinks" I mean punch of the nonalcoholic variety.) It was a good experience, if not a little strange. (We didn't know the bride, and only recognized the groom as someone I thought was already married.) The bride asked me, "So, are you teaching him?" HA! No...I'm the assistant. I'm just doing what he tells me to do. Although, I have been to a lot more weddings than he has, so it was good that I was there and knew what to expect for certain things.

2. Buying an R-rated Movie

That's right, I bought my first R-rated movie. But it wasn't for me, it was for my dad. It was a western that we had watched in a hotel room while we were on vacation a few years ago: "Open Range." It was good, and we couldn't believe that it was rated R. Walmart had it for a good deal. So, it was my first time getting carded for something other than glue at a craft store. The cashier lady wasn't going to check my ID, and then she looked at me and said, "Yeah, you look young. I'll need to see your ID. ... How old are you anyway?" 20 "Oh, sorry."

3. The Car Accident

After we went to Walmart, Josef and I went to our cousin's house to celebrate her parents' 30th wedding anniversary. It was great to sit and visit with family. We didn't leave until around 10 pm. It's a strange thing, really.

Driving along, going the speed limit (I was actively fighting my lead-foot condition), leaving the radio off to sing a cappella with my little brother, and then seeing a turn signal from my right on a one-way street. My spot in the left lane was suddenly threatened. I think I said aloud, "What are they doing? Oh, crap!" And my feet were doing their own thing, and my hands yanked the wheel left, into the parking spaces. Still, there was the impact, did I blink?

I stopped the car, turned the blinkers on--why did I think of that and not the horn when it could have really mattered? I've never been closer to swearing in my entire life, and I admit that I said the Lord's name in vain, "Oh my God, what just happened?" I could say it was a prayer, but that would be a lie.

I knew Dad was behind me in the truck, did he see what happened? Would he stop? When I opened my car door, and Josef got out of his side--the side of impact--my only thought was of my dad. I didn't walk around the car to assess the damage, maybe I didn't want to see. I didn't ask Josef if he was okay, the only think I told him was to stay by the car. (He was obviously okay; walking and talking, just as shaken as me.)

Then I was walking down the middle of the road, yelling for my dad, "Daddy! He just freakin' hit me!" Really, I was screaming, unbelieving of what just happened, needing to know it was okay. Thank God I was still wearing heals, they slowed me down, and before I could continue yelling I realized what I was doing and shut my mouth, letting the screams die in my throat and prevent further damage.

I'm not sure how, but it didn't take me long to catch up to him, and I was holding his hand, walking towards the other car; the car that I thought was going to drive away. (No fear, their bumper and license plate was in the middle of the intersection.) But they didn't. I saw the woman get out of the car, and Mom was on 911. The passenger of the other vehicle started running after we all confirmed we were unhurt. Mom told the dispatcher, they were ready to chase him down, but he was just going to get her boyfriend, whom she was going to see.

All the while, I wanted to yell at her and ask her what she was thinking; turning left from the right lane on a one way. But I didn't. I was shaking--a result of one of the biggest adrenaline rushes I have ever had. Mom asked me if I was okay once she was done on the phone. I wasn't as upset as much as I was angry. And I wanted to cry, felt like I should cry, but I didn't. She was the one to go back and confirm that Josef was okay. I was the last person to look at the damage. I saw the bumper in the road of the other vehicle, and I didn't want to face what I was sure to be a disaster.

Thankfully: Nobody was hurt except her car and Jimmy (our car). The lady was insured. She confirmed what Josef told the cop. The cop called the towing company. God gave me enough grace to shut my mouth and just be quiet after that initial outburst. Mom and Dad were driving behind us. My Daddy has strong hands, able to hold his little girl's while I faced one of the worst "firsts" of the year.

It was almost midnight by the time we got home. But sleep wouldn't find me for several hours.

"To die by your side, what a heavenly way to die." [Cover by Anberlin]

Were hearts made whole just to break?

Rejection. It's been the tune of my summer. And believe me when I say that this has nothing to do with romance, again. No, it's something a little more shallow, but still a bit painful.

I've been filling out job applications like no one's business. To no avail. Either I don't meet the requirements (how do I not make the requirements at a bookstore?) or they aren't hiring (even though they're handing out applications like cheap candy).

Now, I suspect the requirements I'm not making having something to do with going back to school in the Fall. Who would have thought that going to college would cost me job opportunities? Didn't think of that negative. 

Who would have a big sign when you walk into their store: "Pick up your application today!" if they weren't actually hiring? Talk about false hope...

As bitter as I am about this this morning, it has given me a lot to think about. How could the constant "no" be teaching me? What should I be learning from this experience?

Well, when I get to graduate school applications I probably (and by "probably" I mean "definitely wont") get into every school I apply to. And when I am in grad school not everyone will like my writing style or subject matters. When I get to the publishing world, not every agent will like my stuff. And when I have an agent, not every publisher will like my story. When I get a publisher, not every editor will be helpful. When I'm done editing and book is published, not every reader will enjoy my fantasy either. There will always be disappointments.

Perhaps this summer I am learning to handle those issues. I am preparing for my life. Why didn't anyone tell me the start pistol had fired?

I'm going to leave you with a short poem I wrote last night, when I was trying to work out the next seen in Morning Star. It's just a ditty, really, it needs work. But it's a start.


It is not for lack of paper,
That I do not write.
I have drawer upon drawer
Of books waiting to be written.

It is not for lack of heart,
That my voice is silent.
I have tear after tear,
Of love and pain to be heard.

It is for lack of courage,
That I shrivel in fear.

But stand up,
Silent poet,
Be strong.

God, I want to dream again, take me where I've never been...

I may not have a job yet, hopefully that will come soon, but I've still been keeping busy. In a sense.

I've done a fair amount of reading--surprisingly enough it's all been young adult fiction, a genre I don't generally enjoy. It's not so much that I dislike it... I dislike what it's doing to young readers... but that's a post for another day. (And I know I'll get a lot of grief for it, so it can wait.) What I want to talk about is my independent study, actually.

I can't remember if I have posted about this directly yet or not... I've certainly thought about it a lot. In this independent study I'm required to write an hour a day (at least) and pick an author I would like to emulate. Which is a word I don't particularly like, I've decided. I don't want to be another author, but I do want to learn from them. Ideally, this would be an author that writes a similar genre to what I'm interested in, but do it differently than I do, or better than I do.

So I've been reading Fantasy. The problem with finding a fantasy writer of whom I am going to read all of their works is that they write a lot. Now, naturally the first author that came to mind was Tolkien. (How did you guess? You know me so well.) However, even he was a prolific writer in that he wrote the entire history of Middle Earth. I'm not ready to tackle all of that in a summer. And besides, I just did a study on him, and if I'm going to learn more then I need to pick someone new.

What have I been reading?

Well, I'm just about to finish reading Graceling by Kristin Cashore. And let me tell you, for this being her debut novel, I'm impressed. She has created this fantasy world with skill, and I can tell she has put a lot of thought into it. I feel bad choosing her though because she's only written one book. But it's a good one. I'm excited to see how it ends.

I've also been reading the Hunger Games trilogy. I just need to read Mockingjay. I'm anxious to see how Suzanne Collins is going to wrap this all up--there are so many questions swirling around in my head. I don't think that I would classify these as strictly fantasy, but more as a fantastical dystopia.

In addition to these books (which mostly only take me a day to read) I've been reading The Books of Pellinor by Allison Crogan. (I think that's how you spell her name.) These are intense. I first read The Naming my summer between my Sophomore and Junior year of high school. And I had started The Riddle shortly after. It's been a book I return to off and on. I was determined to finish it this summer, and the rest of the four book series. These books make me happy, and not because they're particularly joyful--they're not. No, it's something else--they're challenging. Even for me, a senior in college. Yet, they're considered to be YA books because the protagonist is a young adult. But the reading is dense, full of detail and creative devices. And intrigue! I'm being surprised all the time, and I love that I can't necessarily predict it! I love that there are young adults out there reading these books and being actively challenged. I'll have to do some research and see if she's written anything else. I also love her mastery of scenery, something I desperately lack.

Most of all, while I'm writing, I'm beginning to realize that I'm afraid of what this could turn into. My instinct is to just pump the story out--finally finish Morning Star so she won't be a burden anymore. But I've wrapped my identity around this book--what if people don't like her? Each of those characters carries a piece of who I am, or who I want to be. Do I really want to release them out to a world that they may be ridiculed? Am I strong enough to handle that possibility?

And then there's the issue of names. The protagonist of Graceling: Katsa. The protagonist of The Hunger Games: Katniss. Thank goodness that The Books of Pellinor don't have a protagonist who's name starts with 'K.' And then there's Morning Star, who contains a character, one who will be fairly influential even if she doesn't get the book title: Katra. It makes me angry that these other books have come out before I could finish mine... mine that has been in the works for at least seven years. I don't want to be just another female writer with a female character who's name starts with a 'K.'

And am I writing for a young adult audience? That would be ironic, after all. Or am I more like Markus Zusak? Not writing for any particular audience, but telling a story I feel must be told. (Granted, my story doesn't carry as much weight as one about Nazis.) More on this when I talk about Young Adult literature I think.

Do you have any author suggestions?

"Forget the fear, it's just a crutch that tries to hold you back and turn your dreams to dust. All you need to do is just dream." [Fireflight]

I will swim in the deep...

We've had a lot of rain. And not nice rain but destructive rain. There has been hail and tornado warnings. Let's just face it--if the rain is coming down hard enough and fast enough it's just downright scary.

A prime example of this was Friday. I took my brother to school in the hopes that I would have an interview in the afternoon and would need a car. Well, the interview didn't happen (but hopefully this coming week!). And so, 3:30 rolled around and I had to go get him. At about 2 it had started raining pretty hard. I thought for sure it would clear off by 3:15. It didn't. So, I ran out to the car and started driving.

Visibility was minimal. Gravel is no fun when wet--to the point of being covered in water. My cousin later described it as "driving through a swimming pool." And I think that's an accurate description.

You're going to laugh, but when I got in the car and turned the radio on "Blessed Be Your Name" was playing. I laughed a little, and then enjoyed the song. That got me to the highway. Then the song "Manifesto" (it's fairly new) started playing. That got me to the main road I needed. And then I could hardly see, and there were semis. So, I turned the radio off to focus.

I don't like silence. So I started praying out loud. "Papa God, get me to the school and pick Josef up safely. Protect those traveling on this road." Mostly I was scared of hydroplaning, or being hit by someone else who was. Or my engine flooding--I had to drive through some pretty substantial puddles.

After I was done praying, I turned the radio back on. And I started laughing at the song that was playing. God really does have a funny sense of humor. (Not that I think He made this song play on the radio, but it was a hilarious coincidence.) So I sang along. The song was, "Let the Waters Rise" by Mikeschair.

It was wonderful. I made it to school. My brother had to leap a stream to get into the car, but he made it--a bit wet. (And by a bit wet, I mean soaked.) And we made it home. Just as we pulled into the driveway the rain let up. And I laughed some more.

"There's a raging sea right in front of me, wants to pull me in, bring me to my knees. So let the waters rise if You want them to." [Mikeschair]

This was over before it ever began...

This year has just flown by. I can hardly believe that I'm home for the summer. The general theme seems to be: "I'm going to miss everybody, what am I going to do without all of my friend? We've made it so far!"

Now. I am going to miss my friends. And I truly can't believe I only have a year of undergrad work left. It's a big deal. And honestly, it probably deserves a blog post--but I'm not going to give it one. Nor am I going to give my pining for my friends a post--I'll see them again, before we know it summer will be over. (I do miss you all, really I do.)

The bigger issue of being done with the semester--packing and unpacking.

It took me a day to get all of my stuff loaded into the pack of the truck with the help of some friends (thanks Andrew, Heather and Heidi). Before I left campus, I looked at the truck and said, "Woah. My whole life fits into the back of a truck." This may be an over generalization, but it's kind of true, when you think about it. Everything I need to "survive" was in the back of a truck. Crazy.

When I got home I had to unload it all into the garage and living room--my room in the basement wasn't ready to handle all of the boxes yet. How is it that a room couldn't hold what a truck could? Because it was full of a crap from the previous chapters of my life--middle school and high school.

So, I spent the first day on break ignoring the impending project and read a book, a whole book. For fun. It was lovely. Today though, the second day of break, I had to venture down to my bedroom... and started pulling things apart so I could put them back together in a more efficient way.

What has happened?

Well, I stripped my bed to wash the sheets and stuff, and then I started going through some of the older boxes that held stuff I had forgotten existed. I threw a lot of stuff away. I figured that if I didn't remember it I probably didn't need it. That said, I still have a huge pile of crap on my naked bed. Stuff that I don't know what to do with.

I went through the old Graduation Cards...that was a nice trip down memory lane.

I found millions of old notebooks with started stories...I'm excited to see what I may be able to do with some of them.

I checked hundreds of pens to see if they still worked...I love the cheap pens that never seem to die.

I have apparently been hoarding music from high school...All State Music...that made me smile, I hadn't realized I had stolen from the school.

I went through a very angsty period in my life...there are many pieces of paper with poems to prove that which I don't really remember.

I. Am. A. Pack. Rat.
(But if I'm throwing most of it away now, does that redeem that quality?)

Here's to big projects. And the start of summer. And books yet to be read. And stories waiting to be told and written down.

"It's hectic in my mind, but I'm gonna leave it behind. I'm ready to let go." [Natalie Grant]