I’m 22 now. And I had such a good, full birthday that I’m up now late into the night finishing up my preparations for my Senior Seminar presentation.

I spent my day with some of the people I love the most–whom I won’t see frequently after the next few weeks.  Let’s not think about that right now.

In nine hours, I will be done. I will be free of Senior Seminar.  This is quite possibly one of the most exciting things that has happened to me in awhile.

Will I be less busy? No, of course not.

Good job April. Yesterday was a good day.

Lord, make life beautiful.

April Thus Far

April thus far has had mixed results.

My Senior Seminar paper is finally completed. I still have a presentation, but the paper is done. Of course, as I looked up a quote in it this evening for another paper, I found a typo.  It was 43 pages–there were probably more typos.  Hallelujah, I’m done with that paper.

It was just getting to the completed state that was difficult. And challenging. And stressful.  I don’t really know how I’ve managed to live my life this “April Thus Far.”  So much of life lately has been nutty, busy, crazy, and just plain ridiculous.  Some of that was fun. Some if it was not.

Despite the mixed results thus far, I remain confident that April will finish miles ahead of March.  The crazy won’t end–it never will.

In fact, I shouldn’t be writing this post at all. I should be finishing my 10-11 page paper on theology of disability that’s due tommorow or studying for my American Government test that’s tomorrow or reading for the president’s class or cleaning my room or preparing for my summer or any number of things.  However, lately, I have been choosing mental and emotional health over certain responsibilities. Like going to visit a best friend I hadn’t really talked to since beginning of February or going to Ultimate practice–when I should have been homeworking.  Somehow, though, everything gets done.

Time now to finish a research paper.  After writing a 43 page opus, adding five pages to a paper that needs to total 10 is no big deal.

April: please proceed awesomely. I’m depending on you.


April has arrived.

It’s already better than March. Partly because it’s just not March anymore. Partly because Senior Seminar will be done this month.

I think I’m going to be spending much of April being of two minds. I will want things to end quickly yet never end at all simultaneously. I think that’s just how the last days of a senior year at college go.

I just want to enjoy April.  April, please be nice.


I just spent a week in Jackson, Mississippi.  As the title of this post suggests, it was fabulous. I want to write on and process all of it.


Real life is here. And sometimes, real life is unpleasant. I have wanted to scream a thousand times in the last couple days. On occasion, I have. Even though I need to process my trip…I can’t. I don’t have time.

I am overwhelmed.  With the exception of the bright and glorious sunshine that was my spring break in Jackson, March has been filled with frustration.  March is almost over. April, my most favorite of months is about to be here.

April 2010. Don’t disappoint. Please be as fabulous as other Aprils (except 2008, when I was sick on my birthday. Not ok, April, not ok) of my life. Attempt to be as fabulous as Jackson 2010.

If April goes well, I will officially remove my trip to Jackson from March to April in my head. If April doesn’t go well…..

I’d rather not think about that possibility.

The end of March has been just as frustrating as the beginning. March held such terrifying promise, only to be more terrifying than promising.  Yes, I realize that sounds crazy. If you lived in my head, it would make more sense.

April means many wonderful things: Easter, my birthday, spring, the winding down of the school year (although this year I have more mixed feelings about that than usual, seeing as this is my last traditional school year ever), the finishing up of projects, flowers, warm weather, and more.

April, come quickly.  And please, don’t disappoint.

Lord, come quickly. And please, send me a memo.

WordPress, you better press this. And please, send me freshly pressed apple juice.

Literature Review

This was supposed to be published on March 10. It wasn’t. It’s now March 29. WordPress, you fail. When I hit publish, I want you to publish. I shouldn’t need to triple check that a post has published.

I’m in the midst of writing my literature review of my senior seminar. I should be working on that instead of writing this.  However, I am distracted.

I’m only 10 days into March 2010 and already my life is vastly different from February 28, from January 31, from December 31.  I knew March 2010 would change my life and it will continue to do so.  Some of these March 2010 days are harder than others.

Too much is floating around in my head. This is unfortunate, because I’d like my thoughts to focus on this ginormous project I’m attempting to complete.  Other people’s problems and crazy, world events, classes that are wasting my time, arguments and frustration with the Lord, heart confusion, my own crazy, and more are competing with my researching and writing on church ministry to children with special needs.

I’m trying to enjoy the process, the journey, the path.  Right now, I’d like to put my responsibilities on pause and just do something completely crazy.

Alas. I don’t have time for that.


Well, today I realized that two of my posts were saved as drafts instead of being published. This was really annoying. Especially because both were time related.  The first was about the start of February and the second was about my first Ultimate Tournament. I don’t know how this misshelving of posts happened, but it did.

So, March. It’s here. And just as I thought in February, it will probably be terrifying. I just hope there will be some good parts, too.

I just hope it will be warm.

First Tournament

This was also supposed to be published a while back. On February 21, actually. Fail WordPress. Fail. Here it is now on March 1 but with the appropriate date.

This weekend I played in my first Ultimate Frisbee tournament.

I was terrified. Which was why I did it. My theme for myself this year is: “Don’t live in fear.” So if I’m afraid of something…I push myself to do it. [This does not include skydiving, lugeing/skeletoning at Whistler in Vancouver, playing with matches, driving unsafely, or any other such nonsense.  The fears involved with those things are healthy.]  Following this theme has manifested itself mostly in starting to play Ultimate Frisbee.

I swear, I lost my mind when I decided to start playing Ultimate this, my last semester of my senior year of college.  In addition to losing my mind, though,  I also let go of some fear, slowly and without realizing it at first.  It was only at the tournament this weekend that I realized how much fear had left me.

My fear of playing Ultimate was failing. I fear failure like nobody’s business. At least, I did. Somehow, I don’t really fear failure as much anymore.  Before I started to play, I feared failing in these ways (and this is by no means an exhaustive list): throwing a frisbee, running, letting down the team by my failures, and being so clumsy/unathletic that I just wouldn’t be able to play at all.

Here’s the thing. I fail at Ultimate. A lot. I throw the frisbee the wrong way. I hit people when I’m aiming for other people. I run the wrong direction on the field. I can’t run an end zone drill properly to save my life. I can’t run fast enough to the end zone to catch a hucked frisbee. I can’t run fast AT ALL. This list could go on forever.

Here’s the thing [again].  I don’t fear that failure anymore.  I know it’s going to happen. And somehow, my acceptance of that failure takes away the fear of it.

And that? That ridding of fear?  Makes all the crazy in my life, especially the Ultimate-related crazy, worth it.

So many times this semester (and oy vey, it’s only February. also, oy vey, it’s already February), I’ve cried out to God saying, “What are you doing? What in the world are you doing to/with my life? This is crazy.”  I still don’t know what he’s doing, because I’m pretty sure He isn’t done yet.  But this whole ridding of fear business? I like that. I like that a lot.

I just wonder….

What’s next?

And until I get that information…I just keep going.


This was supposed to be published on February 1st. It wasn’t. So here it is now…in March, but with the appropriate date.

February starts in less than half an hour.

How did that happen?  January has swooshed by in a blur of the beginning of my last semester in college and the start of many new, crazy things in my life.

February promises to be just as exciting.

March may be terrifying, though.

Time marches onward much too quickly for my taste.  It’s hard to live in the moment and embrace each day as it comes.  It’s hard to have faith that “things” will work out the way they should.

But I have to. And they will.

I still want freshly pressed apple juice. Thanks WordPress for always reminding me of my desire for said juice with a link for “freshly pressed posts.” Oi.

Where Am I Going?

I like taking pictures of my feet in different places. This place is Columba's Bay on Iona

Sometimes, I have no idea where I am going. I love having a plan, a map, a guide. But sometimes I have to cast aside any notion of a plan and just go where I am going.

This is terrifying.

For whatever reason, I often take pictures of my feet.  It’s a way of remembering where I’ve been.  It’s also an inspiration to keep on going.  My feet have stepped (in the case of the above picture) where saints have walked. Where history was made. Where almost nothing happened. Where someone died. Where someone lived.

I look back to remember why I am going forward.  I think of memories (some painful, some glorious, some dull) and see how those experiences have shaped me into who I am.  Sometimes I like how they have shaped me. Sometimes I do not.  Whichever way the memory runs, remembering encourages me to keep going.

Where am I going?

Where will my feet be pictured next?

Christmas Time Is Here

Christmas Time Is Here, but only for a few more minutes. Christmas 2009 is almost over.  I am in Ohio where there is no snow.  Oklahoma, where I usually am, had a White Christmas.  Who knew that down south there would be a blizzard while up north there would be…rain. Bing didn’t write I’m Dreaming of a Wet Christmas for a reason.

Fortunately, my happiness on Christmas is not weather-dependent, so long as everyone is where they are supposed to be and not trapped by the weather.  And this Christmas, everyone was in the proper place.

This Christmas has been lovely.

I need to listen to some more Charlie Brown Christmas before it becomes socially unacceptable to listen to Christmas music.

My brain keeps wanting to add as a postscript: Christ is risen.  Even though we’re celebrating His birth and not His resurrection.  But it’s always a good time to celebrate His resurrection. So, again:

Christ is risen.

Apple Juice

Papers, Thanksgiving, freshly pressed apple juice, and death.

There are 2 days, 5 hours, and 11 minutes until Thanksgiving Break.

Before then, I have to write approximately 20 pages of paper. Two different papers, but both are 10-15 pages. So I could potentially write up to 30. But I won’t.

The Hallelujah Chorus just came on my itunes Christmas playlist.

I really want to go to Pret. But it’s in the UK and not the Midwest.  (I just saw that they have some in NYC and one in DC. If I do get to go to NYC for Spring Break, I am going to Pret.)

Actually, I really just want freshly pressed apple juice.  I never really liked apple juice until I had it in the UK. Why? All the apple juice I had there was NOT FROM CONCENTRATE. And they came in handy small bottles. I’ve tried Simply Apple and it’s not the same. Plus it only comes in a huge bottle. I’ve also tried Whole Foods 365 NOT FROM CONCENTRATE Apple juice. And it’s closer, but still not the same or in a huge bottle.

It obviously makes a diference when your juice is pressed the same day you drink it.  And when you’re drinking it in London.

I wish I had a picture of my favorite apple juice from Pret. Or the ones I got from Costa at Heathrow.  I’d also take a juice box of Apple with blackcurrant juice from the Co-operative. If there were a Co-operative store here, I would shop there.

My dog Bailey died on Thursday. I wasn’t there.  Now I simultaneously want to go home more and don’t want to go home. But it’s Thanksgiving. And I need to go home.

Now there are 2 days, 4 hours, and 55 minutes remaining until I can go home for Thanksgiving Break.

I just want some fresh pressed apple juice. Thanks wordpress for having “freshly pressed” slathered all over your website.

Time to go write some papers.

2 days, 4 hours, and 52 minutes now.


To Return Would Be Wonderful

A first glimpse of the town on Iona
A first glimpse of the town on Iona
A little road to walk on whilst on a pilgrimage
A little road to walk on whilst on a pilgrimage
Here I am on a bridge in Pitlochry, Scotland
Here I am on a bridge in Pitlochry, Scotland
My purple-clad toes in a Narnia-esque forest
My purple-clad toes in a Narnia-esque forest
It wouldn't really be a trip to London without a photo in front of Big Ben
It wouldn't really be a trip to London without a photo in front of Big Ben

Some days I would love to return to Scotland and England.

Ok, most days.

I am content where I am–but I miss these places dearly.

New Header

I have many pictures from my trip, but just a handul on my computer because my copmuter is incredibly slow and can’t handle uploading pictures.  However, I do have a lovely picture taken on the Isle of Iona for the header.  I’m pretty sure it’s of Columba’s Bay, but it could be another equally scenic point on the Isle.  Whatever Bay it is, it’s beautiful.


I don’t look my age.  I’m 21, but I look about 14. If I’m lucky. This has been a little weird here in the UK because people think I’m too young to be on a university trip.  Well actually, stranger, I’m in my fourth year of university, thank you very much. Sigh.  Because of this contrast between my age and my appearance, it was decided a few days ago that it would be fun to go somewhere that required being carded/ided just to see what would happen. 

Well, that happened.  When we were in Edinburgh, a group of 4 of us went into a pub (restaurant) where you had to be 18, even if you wanted to just eat and not buy alcohol.  We made the unfortunate choice of sending me first into the restaurant, so of course they wanted to check my id. I provided my driver’s license and it was rejected, probably because it was an American driver’s license and the waitress didn’t recognize it. She wanted my passport, but I don’t carry that with me. Well, we didn’t want to eat there that badly anyway and so we went somewhere else. 

Yes folks, that is my life. I am old enough to be in certain places and they still won’t let me. Sigh.

I’ve been told for years now that I’ll be thankful for this whole looking younger business when I’m older.  I’m still waiting….

Until then, though…I guess I’ll just have to keep looking 14.