Posts
So, apparently I am mostly back from the dead...sorta. Maybe.
It has been a rather insane summer. I spent the time before I went to Torrey Cambridge frantically finishing up the coursework that I didn't finish before the end of the semester. I did in fact get everything done necessary to official graduate, so that was good. Then I went off to England. That was AMAZING. I truly love that country. I did lots of wandering all over central Cambridge, which is a lovely city. I was part of an amazing group, which among other things planned a real-time game of Mafia (alas, it was never executed). I also got hooked on Dr. Who because a group of us watched the latest season (or is it only half a season...I'm fuzzy on that). After Cambridge, I spent a lovely ten days in London with Rachael and Leah in a very small hotel room in a delightful hotel (the owners were a Serbian family, and they were really nice). We also took a whirlwind visit to Paris (got on a train at some ridiculously early hour and came back on the last train the next day). That was an interesting adventure. The train left early enough that the tube wasn't running, so we figured we'd take the bus to the train station. The only problem with that plan was that the website that we were looking at for the bus schedule failed to tell us that the bus stop closest to us was out of service. Thus ensued a period running around London at some ridiculously early hour trying desperately to find some way to get to the train station before our train left without us. That was...interesting. Paris was amazing. We had originally planned on going up the Eiffel Tower on our first day, but we ended up going the second day. It turned out that was a change for the better. While we were at the top of the tower, we got to watch a proposal (and the security freaking out at the friend who set it all up before the couple arrived). That was really amazing. When I got back from England, I was home for a couple of days and then left again, this time for Supai. And now we get to a tale of Sarah's stupidity. I thought about taking my asthma meds with me to Supai, but thought "Nah, I'll be fine." Famous last words. We were waiting in line for the helicopter when my allergies started bothering me. Apparently it has been far too long since I've been around alfalfa. Since I didn't have any of my meds with me, allergies led to asthma flaring up, which then led to bronchitis. Or so I thought. I went to the doctor and got antibiotics and thought that was that. I was back in the next week because I wasn't getting any better. And then the next week, this time armed with a chest x-ray. At that point I found out that I had viral pneumonia. That suddenly made sense of why I wasn't getting better like I should have been. Happily, it is the walking sort of pneumonia, not the ICU sort. Apparently, if it had been bacterial pneumonia and my lungs were in the shape that they are in, I would be in the ICU. fun. Anyway, that is my summer so far. Right now I am basically on bed rest for at least another week (hence the pleas for ideas of things to do on facebook).
I gotta say, I miss you guys a lot. It has been really hard transitioning back into life at home knowing that this isn't just for the summer, but for reals this time. It still feels a bit surreal. It's hard because although I know this is where I am supposed to be for now, I have no idea how long that will be the case, or what comes next.
One thing that has been interesting about being sick is that I have been watching a lot of movies in my quest to stay relatively immobile without dying of boredom. There are so many broken things in our culture, and yet some of the stories that Hollywood tells are deeply true. Most often they seem to be a strange mixture of both. People are desperately searching for answers, but have no idea where to look. It is interesting to see how Hollywood tries to answer questions about the value of human life, about love, about what it means to grow up, about honor, about family, about justice, and about so many other deep questions. I think what has surprised me most is how, in the midst of chaos and bad morals and brokenness, so often the deeper story and the answers it gives is spot on.
Anyway, that is my ramble for now.
~Sarah
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Waves of Change: Thoughts from C.S. Lewis and life after Biola.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and a little reading, and most of my thoughts have come together into one thread. That thread is the topic of change, and this thread is beginning to weave a pattern. This pattern began months ago at graduation, has carried through many recent conversations, and has now coincided with my recent readings.
One of the many things that I love about books is that they don’t change. Sure, they may wear out, but the story it contains remains the same. A few weeks ago I turned back to one of my favorite stories, looking for the same beauty and comfort that I experienced when I read it the first few times. As I turned the pages of C.S. Lewis’ novel Perelandra, I understood a different aspect of the story that I had missed. The story itself had not changed, of course, but my understanding of it became much deeper. I blame Torrey for that.
When I first read Perelandra, I understood at some level that the book was about the struggle between Good and Evil, purity and corruption. The reader is wrapped up in a desperate battle where the fate of the world is hanging in the balance, and defeat seems certain. I believe that the story of the struggle, both ideological and physical, is deeply true, even if set in a myth. It taps into a place in my soul that I care about passionately.
But the thrilling truth that I missed was that the power of the temptation lies in the desire for stasis. For all the people like me that eat the same breakfast cereal in the morning for months or years, this is a powerful temptation. And for everyone else, I believe that everyone needs some static thing that forms their very basis for defining reality. Often this can be a location, like your bedroom, where you go to hide when life becomes overwhelming and you just need a place where you know you are safe and all the bad things in the world are on the other side of the door. For others, it can be a person that understands and comforts, no matter what’s going on. Whatever this “stasis point” is, its presence is everything, and without it life and emotion are uncertain drifting.
Now take Perelandra. For those who haven’t read it, the characters in the novel live on floating islands made of plants, and the whole world is a temperate sea. No one in the novel is particularly attached to any one floating island, and the concept of territory on an endless sea is almost meaningless. All the characters live on a constantly shifting landscape, and live a life of simple subsistence where all good things are recognized as coming directly from God’s hand. However, there’s one temptation: the Fixed Land. There is one solid island in the world, but living on it is forbidden.
And so the temptation presents itself: one can live an idyllic life constantly adrift at sea, or defy God Himself and live on a Fixed Land. Just like the choice between eating of the Tree or not, the choice seems simple to those who know the consequences of evil.
Besides, is it really so hard living atop a floating paradise, even if it does move from wave to wave? When all the really delightful things are atop the waves, why cling to a Fixed Land?
But think about it a moment. Do you really want to live a life where you fall asleep one night and wake up in the morning to completely different scenery? Do you really want to live not knowing where your next meal is coming from? What about school? A job? Why should things change so often? Isn’t something permanent much better than a temporary setting? See, we become attached to things we consider to be permanent. Houses, churches, friends, jobs and many other things that we don’t want to change. And they’re painful to give up, there’s no denying that.
But as I’m learning, clinging to something that I want to be permanent when God has a wave coming for me is wrong. The Paradise of God’s will floats on His ocean of plans for me, whether that be calm or turbulent for me. What’s even worse in a way is trying to project my expectations onto that next wave. I have all sorts of expectations for what God wants for me. I’m willing to follow His Will, as long as it aligns with my expectations. Those last sentences sound really silly, don’t they? We say that God knows what’s best for us, and we may even believe that in our heads. And then in our hearts we plan for what we think is the best course for us, and God has to roughly show us that we’re wrong. And in the end, we were struggling for a perceived good when God had something so much better in store.
I’ll just leave you with a few verses from Proverbs:
16:9—A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.
20:24—A man’s steps are of the Lord, How then can a man understand his own way?
One of the many things that I love about books is that they don’t change. Sure, they may wear out, but the story it contains remains the same. A few weeks ago I turned back to one of my favorite stories, looking for the same beauty and comfort that I experienced when I read it the first few times. As I turned the pages of C.S. Lewis’ novel Perelandra, I understood a different aspect of the story that I had missed. The story itself had not changed, of course, but my understanding of it became much deeper. I blame Torrey for that.
When I first read Perelandra, I understood at some level that the book was about the struggle between Good and Evil, purity and corruption. The reader is wrapped up in a desperate battle where the fate of the world is hanging in the balance, and defeat seems certain. I believe that the story of the struggle, both ideological and physical, is deeply true, even if set in a myth. It taps into a place in my soul that I care about passionately.
But the thrilling truth that I missed was that the power of the temptation lies in the desire for stasis. For all the people like me that eat the same breakfast cereal in the morning for months or years, this is a powerful temptation. And for everyone else, I believe that everyone needs some static thing that forms their very basis for defining reality. Often this can be a location, like your bedroom, where you go to hide when life becomes overwhelming and you just need a place where you know you are safe and all the bad things in the world are on the other side of the door. For others, it can be a person that understands and comforts, no matter what’s going on. Whatever this “stasis point” is, its presence is everything, and without it life and emotion are uncertain drifting.
Now take Perelandra. For those who haven’t read it, the characters in the novel live on floating islands made of plants, and the whole world is a temperate sea. No one in the novel is particularly attached to any one floating island, and the concept of territory on an endless sea is almost meaningless. All the characters live on a constantly shifting landscape, and live a life of simple subsistence where all good things are recognized as coming directly from God’s hand. However, there’s one temptation: the Fixed Land. There is one solid island in the world, but living on it is forbidden.
And so the temptation presents itself: one can live an idyllic life constantly adrift at sea, or defy God Himself and live on a Fixed Land. Just like the choice between eating of the Tree or not, the choice seems simple to those who know the consequences of evil.
Besides, is it really so hard living atop a floating paradise, even if it does move from wave to wave? When all the really delightful things are atop the waves, why cling to a Fixed Land?
But think about it a moment. Do you really want to live a life where you fall asleep one night and wake up in the morning to completely different scenery? Do you really want to live not knowing where your next meal is coming from? What about school? A job? Why should things change so often? Isn’t something permanent much better than a temporary setting? See, we become attached to things we consider to be permanent. Houses, churches, friends, jobs and many other things that we don’t want to change. And they’re painful to give up, there’s no denying that.
But as I’m learning, clinging to something that I want to be permanent when God has a wave coming for me is wrong. The Paradise of God’s will floats on His ocean of plans for me, whether that be calm or turbulent for me. What’s even worse in a way is trying to project my expectations onto that next wave. I have all sorts of expectations for what God wants for me. I’m willing to follow His Will, as long as it aligns with my expectations. Those last sentences sound really silly, don’t they? We say that God knows what’s best for us, and we may even believe that in our heads. And then in our hearts we plan for what we think is the best course for us, and God has to roughly show us that we’re wrong. And in the end, we were struggling for a perceived good when God had something so much better in store.
I’ll just leave you with a few verses from Proverbs:
16:9—A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.
20:24—A man’s steps are of the Lord, How then can a man understand his own way?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
I Miss You + RROTW
[posted by Rachael]
EDIT: Hey guys, I have recently developed a severe allergy to tomatoes. I have a rash on my hands and feet, my joints ache, and my top lip has swollen ridiculously. I have to wait until I get some money before I go to the doctor to have the allergy tested. Please pray that it is temporary and only a result of my cold. I personally would hate to have to avoid tomatoes for the rest of my life. I know God can heal, I believe He can heal me, and I ask that it is His will that He does heal me.
Well, first things first. I had my first day of grad school yesterday. Dear God, I miss Biola. I miss everyone. I walked through the campus, alone, friendless, missing the people I know and love. My heart aches for my second home. And for my second family, you guys. It just hit me yesterday and today, I'm not going to school where I used to, I won't see my friends as often as I used to, I don't know who's a Christian, people smoke. Everything is so different. I actually cried about it today. I miss you guys. A lot. Seriously. We HAVE to keep up with our get-togethers. Plus I'm going to make a concerted effort, once I get a steady paying job, to visit each and every one of you wherever you are in life. I feel so terrible, to not have realised what good friends I had, what amazing people you are. Thank you so much for being there for me these past few years. Always know that my house is open to you all, just drop me a line and you can swing by for a visit.
Okay, onto the rant. I HATE PEOPLE!!!!! So, you all know about the project car my father and I have been working on for the past 10 years. We finally got it all fixed up (there were some minor details here and there engine-wise). Dad had it parked across the street from our house. And... BANG!! Some jerk hit and runned us. We think it was our gardener's truck actually, but we have to measure it first. We got the police to come out and take a report, but they didn't check the back of the gardener's truck even though we'd asked them to. Oh well, we're going to measure it and if it matches the same height as the marks on our car we're going to have a talk with our gardener about it. It's not even a little scratch either, they dented the front fender really good and scraped a great deal of paint off. The really frustrating part is, when you paint a car, you have to wait for a few years for it to fully cure before you can wax it and we had finally gotten to the point where we were about to put the first coat of wax on the car. Well, that's screwed. And to top it all off, our insurance doesn't cover hit and run accidents, so we are out the money to fix the car, unless our talk with the gardener changes things.
So, I have a couple of prayer requests: The first is for me at school to not become so discouraged. The second is for the car thing to be resolved in a manner that is fair and just to both parties.
Thank you guys again for your amazing friendship. I miss you all, you're like family to me.
EDIT: Hey guys, I have recently developed a severe allergy to tomatoes. I have a rash on my hands and feet, my joints ache, and my top lip has swollen ridiculously. I have to wait until I get some money before I go to the doctor to have the allergy tested. Please pray that it is temporary and only a result of my cold. I personally would hate to have to avoid tomatoes for the rest of my life. I know God can heal, I believe He can heal me, and I ask that it is His will that He does heal me.
Well, first things first. I had my first day of grad school yesterday. Dear God, I miss Biola. I miss everyone. I walked through the campus, alone, friendless, missing the people I know and love. My heart aches for my second home. And for my second family, you guys. It just hit me yesterday and today, I'm not going to school where I used to, I won't see my friends as often as I used to, I don't know who's a Christian, people smoke. Everything is so different. I actually cried about it today. I miss you guys. A lot. Seriously. We HAVE to keep up with our get-togethers. Plus I'm going to make a concerted effort, once I get a steady paying job, to visit each and every one of you wherever you are in life. I feel so terrible, to not have realised what good friends I had, what amazing people you are. Thank you so much for being there for me these past few years. Always know that my house is open to you all, just drop me a line and you can swing by for a visit.
Okay, onto the rant. I HATE PEOPLE!!!!! So, you all know about the project car my father and I have been working on for the past 10 years. We finally got it all fixed up (there were some minor details here and there engine-wise). Dad had it parked across the street from our house. And... BANG!! Some jerk hit and runned us. We think it was our gardener's truck actually, but we have to measure it first. We got the police to come out and take a report, but they didn't check the back of the gardener's truck even though we'd asked them to. Oh well, we're going to measure it and if it matches the same height as the marks on our car we're going to have a talk with our gardener about it. It's not even a little scratch either, they dented the front fender really good and scraped a great deal of paint off. The really frustrating part is, when you paint a car, you have to wait for a few years for it to fully cure before you can wax it and we had finally gotten to the point where we were about to put the first coat of wax on the car. Well, that's screwed. And to top it all off, our insurance doesn't cover hit and run accidents, so we are out the money to fix the car, unless our talk with the gardener changes things.
So, I have a couple of prayer requests: The first is for me at school to not become so discouraged. The second is for the car thing to be resolved in a manner that is fair and just to both parties.
Thank you guys again for your amazing friendship. I miss you all, you're like family to me.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Great News + RRotW
[Posted by Rachael]
Well, my life has been interesting lately. Very much of it (all of it really) has been God blessed. So a quick overview of Europe. Followed by a small rant of the few weeks after Europe. Followed by God's latest blessing and showing of His providence.
Cambridge was AMAZING! So relaxing. I made new friends there and was able to strengthen bonds with people I had known, just not as well. Aside from lots of reading, there was lots of exploring. I went off solo on a bike most days, finding nature preserves and the like. I found the pond Lord Byron, as well as other famous Cambridge residents I can't remember, used to swim in. I found a goose on her nest near a stream. I almost got kicked by a cow :D I rode one day through a shady area of town which is totally not as shady as anything I've found over here in the states. Leah C. (she's a Comp Sci and Physics major who's in Torrey and on the archery team) and I went to a cathedral in a town nearby called Ely (pronounced "eely"). It was gorgeous. I wish we had been able to go to evensong there. We did go the evensong at the King's College Chapel in Cambridge though.
Then, after Cambridge, Leah, Sarah, and myself went to our hotel in London. It was great! Free breakfast and wonderful service. The only real downside was that even though it is a non smoking hotel, cigarette smoke still filters in from somewhere, so half of the time my sinuses were inflamed and I was choking. We did so much walking I bruised the bones in my feet. Leah's purse got stolen, so we had to go the US embassy and get a replacement passport, but other than that it really didn't cause too much disappointment (well, other than the camera that was inside with all of our day's pictures inside). We got to see a ton of sights: Big Ben, British Museum, British Library, Warwick Castle, Houses of Parliament, Evensong at St Paul's Cathedral, Evensong at Westminster Abbey, Greenwich Observatory, National Maritime Museum, Victoria and Albert Museum, MI5 (that's their local sort of FBI), Scotland Yard (they're kinda FBIish too), Tower Bridge, London Bridge, the Tower of London (though we didn't go inside, to darn expensive), the Eiffel Tower (yes, we went to France, and there was a marriage proposal at the top of the tower, it was cute!), and the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. BTW the marching band at Buckingham is enough to make you weep (and I generally *sorry Lydia* don't like marching bands), they played Pirates of the Caribbean and .... *drumroll please* a James Bond medley of songs! They were amazing and put most of the bands I've heard in the States (including the military bands) to shame.
Okay, now onto me being home. No sooner I get home than I get sick.Violently so. I have lost ten pounds already because I have no appetite and what little I have eaten gets... "revisited". I'm on the mend, but GRRR [in case you haven't noticed, this is the rant part] I HATE being this sick. It has sucked away my last few weeks of freedom before school starts. I'll be lucky to have this thing fully licked by the time school starts on Monday. Stupid cough that cough medicine doesn't help. I haven't been able to sleep lying down in days. I have to find new inventive ways of sitting up to sleep. One night I sit one way, then my body learns and if I try to sleep that way the next night I wake up every fifteen minutes hacking and coughing.
But in good news: I had a job interview today about a position at my new school. I was scared to death of having to jump right into a teaching job my first week at graduate school. I like to think (maybe delude myself) that God and I have a small "Gideon's blanket" relationship. If He opens a door, that means He wants me to go through it. I've made some bad decisions on that assumption, but God is amazing at correcting those. Anyway, so I get to the interview today and the professor basically asks me if it would be alright for me to wait until Spring semester to start teaching. He'd like me to get my feet wet in the graduate studies part of the program first. I was elated. I was praying for either a "you're hired" or "you're not" statement and what I got was "you are guaranteed a job a bit later after you've adjusted to the culture shock". I cannot be happier. I am on air. I love God and all of His mercy and grace.
There was a bit of sadness today though. I couldn't talk about God in the meeting today. I wanted to. I wanted to tell the prof all about His providence for me and His planning, but I had to keep my mouth shut. I'm going to miss Biola. I'm missing all of you, my friends, already. Please keep me in prayer: Pray that not only am I healed of this illness but also that my relationship with is God strengthened even while at my new school and that I can be a good witness for Him while there.
Adieu.
Well, my life has been interesting lately. Very much of it (all of it really) has been God blessed. So a quick overview of Europe. Followed by a small rant of the few weeks after Europe. Followed by God's latest blessing and showing of His providence.
Cambridge was AMAZING! So relaxing. I made new friends there and was able to strengthen bonds with people I had known, just not as well. Aside from lots of reading, there was lots of exploring. I went off solo on a bike most days, finding nature preserves and the like. I found the pond Lord Byron, as well as other famous Cambridge residents I can't remember, used to swim in. I found a goose on her nest near a stream. I almost got kicked by a cow :D I rode one day through a shady area of town which is totally not as shady as anything I've found over here in the states. Leah C. (she's a Comp Sci and Physics major who's in Torrey and on the archery team) and I went to a cathedral in a town nearby called Ely (pronounced "eely"). It was gorgeous. I wish we had been able to go to evensong there. We did go the evensong at the King's College Chapel in Cambridge though.
Then, after Cambridge, Leah, Sarah, and myself went to our hotel in London. It was great! Free breakfast and wonderful service. The only real downside was that even though it is a non smoking hotel, cigarette smoke still filters in from somewhere, so half of the time my sinuses were inflamed and I was choking. We did so much walking I bruised the bones in my feet. Leah's purse got stolen, so we had to go the US embassy and get a replacement passport, but other than that it really didn't cause too much disappointment (well, other than the camera that was inside with all of our day's pictures inside). We got to see a ton of sights: Big Ben, British Museum, British Library, Warwick Castle, Houses of Parliament, Evensong at St Paul's Cathedral, Evensong at Westminster Abbey, Greenwich Observatory, National Maritime Museum, Victoria and Albert Museum, MI5 (that's their local sort of FBI), Scotland Yard (they're kinda FBIish too), Tower Bridge, London Bridge, the Tower of London (though we didn't go inside, to darn expensive), the Eiffel Tower (yes, we went to France, and there was a marriage proposal at the top of the tower, it was cute!), and the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. BTW the marching band at Buckingham is enough to make you weep (and I generally *sorry Lydia* don't like marching bands), they played Pirates of the Caribbean and .... *drumroll please* a James Bond medley of songs! They were amazing and put most of the bands I've heard in the States (including the military bands) to shame.
Okay, now onto me being home. No sooner I get home than I get sick.Violently so. I have lost ten pounds already because I have no appetite and what little I have eaten gets... "revisited". I'm on the mend, but GRRR [in case you haven't noticed, this is the rant part] I HATE being this sick. It has sucked away my last few weeks of freedom before school starts. I'll be lucky to have this thing fully licked by the time school starts on Monday. Stupid cough that cough medicine doesn't help. I haven't been able to sleep lying down in days. I have to find new inventive ways of sitting up to sleep. One night I sit one way, then my body learns and if I try to sleep that way the next night I wake up every fifteen minutes hacking and coughing.
But in good news: I had a job interview today about a position at my new school. I was scared to death of having to jump right into a teaching job my first week at graduate school. I like to think (maybe delude myself) that God and I have a small "Gideon's blanket" relationship. If He opens a door, that means He wants me to go through it. I've made some bad decisions on that assumption, but God is amazing at correcting those. Anyway, so I get to the interview today and the professor basically asks me if it would be alright for me to wait until Spring semester to start teaching. He'd like me to get my feet wet in the graduate studies part of the program first. I was elated. I was praying for either a "you're hired" or "you're not" statement and what I got was "you are guaranteed a job a bit later after you've adjusted to the culture shock". I cannot be happier. I am on air. I love God and all of His mercy and grace.
There was a bit of sadness today though. I couldn't talk about God in the meeting today. I wanted to. I wanted to tell the prof all about His providence for me and His planning, but I had to keep my mouth shut. I'm going to miss Biola. I'm missing all of you, my friends, already. Please keep me in prayer: Pray that not only am I healed of this illness but also that my relationship with is God strengthened even while at my new school and that I can be a good witness for Him while there.
Adieu.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Bad News
I don't even know why this came to mind, but I felt compelled to share.
I lost.
P.S. Yes, you may delete this post.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Reflections on Farewells
[Posted by Melanie]
One of my very earliest memories – from the time when I was three or four – is of going to a friend’s Beauty and the Beast-themed birthday party. She was my best friend, I remember that. But I can’t even remember her name anymore, because one of my other earliest memories is of going to her going-away party. She moved away, I stayed behind, and soon I forgot everything except the vague memories of her party, kept alive by the Beast pin in my drawer.
After that, life was pretty stable until I entered second grade. I homeschooled during the week. I had my two best friends at church, Jill and Jeanne. I was comfortable and happy.
In the following eleven years, from the start of second grade until the beginning of college, I had best friends move away and/or graduate and move on nine times, including Jill and Jeanne. In one of the remaining years, I had no best friends. My only stable years – the second-plus year of the same best friend – were fifth grade and tenth grade. Well, sort of eighth and ninth grade, if you count my regular access in junior high to my best friend of ninth and tenth grade while we were riding the bus together. But since she was in high school, she couldn’t eat lunch with me, so I had my “lunch best friends” and my real best friend separately.
Anyway, I hardly ever got two consecutive years with the same friend. Saying good-bye became a constant theme of my life. I’ve never moved, but the people I most loved regularly did. It never stopped hurting, either. It’s probably the single thing I most hate in life, saying good-bye, not knowing when I’ll see them again or if it will ever be the same. I know: sometimes you see them again and it’s as if no time at all has passed, and you can laugh and talk and be happy together just like old times; but other times, you see them again and everything has changed, and you can’t seem to talk to each other anymore. The old happiness is gone.
I did, of course, get fairly good at dealing with that particular variety of pain. Still, the summers after those farewells inevitably stank.
Then I entered college, and there was Francis.
Francis, the most vibrant community of friends I ever had. Francis, the friends where I never had to go home at the end of the day and say good-bye even for a few hours. Francis, the friends I did life with. For three years, I lived, ate, did homework, went to classes, went to parties, discussed the most important parts of my life, and generally did life with the beloved members of Francis.
The next year I went to USC, and that was hard. It was another horrible good-bye, not seeing you every day. But you were still there. Francis was still there, doing life together, and I knew I could visit when things got rough. And I did. And I had prepared myself for the good-bye for so long. I knew what the farewell would be like; I’ve done it so many times before.
But it turns out I haven’t done a farewell like this before. Not like this. Not after four years of such close friendships. Not so many people I love all at once.
This is the eleventh time I have said good-bye to my best friends in my twenty-two years. Eleven times, but I find that none of the first ten fully prepared me for this. It's impossible to get used to this feeling.
Hurray for cars and cell phones and Internet; in that, at least, this farewell is the easiest of the eleven. But not even those things can make this easy.
I miss you, my friends.
In high school, a staple part of saying good-bye was that in the months immediately before and after the farewell, I would start writing sad poetry. It helps a little, at least.
Today I recognized that it was time to revive that little tradition, to mourn in the way I’m used to. So here’s the hasty little poem-like thing I wrote up today:
There is salt in the cool air that blows in my window
There is salt in the water that runs down my face
I never saw such a beautiful August
‘Tis a joy to be alive
‘Tis a joy to be here
Or would be if you were not gone.
One of my very earliest memories – from the time when I was three or four – is of going to a friend’s Beauty and the Beast-themed birthday party. She was my best friend, I remember that. But I can’t even remember her name anymore, because one of my other earliest memories is of going to her going-away party. She moved away, I stayed behind, and soon I forgot everything except the vague memories of her party, kept alive by the Beast pin in my drawer.
After that, life was pretty stable until I entered second grade. I homeschooled during the week. I had my two best friends at church, Jill and Jeanne. I was comfortable and happy.
In the following eleven years, from the start of second grade until the beginning of college, I had best friends move away and/or graduate and move on nine times, including Jill and Jeanne. In one of the remaining years, I had no best friends. My only stable years – the second-plus year of the same best friend – were fifth grade and tenth grade. Well, sort of eighth and ninth grade, if you count my regular access in junior high to my best friend of ninth and tenth grade while we were riding the bus together. But since she was in high school, she couldn’t eat lunch with me, so I had my “lunch best friends” and my real best friend separately.
Anyway, I hardly ever got two consecutive years with the same friend. Saying good-bye became a constant theme of my life. I’ve never moved, but the people I most loved regularly did. It never stopped hurting, either. It’s probably the single thing I most hate in life, saying good-bye, not knowing when I’ll see them again or if it will ever be the same. I know: sometimes you see them again and it’s as if no time at all has passed, and you can laugh and talk and be happy together just like old times; but other times, you see them again and everything has changed, and you can’t seem to talk to each other anymore. The old happiness is gone.
I did, of course, get fairly good at dealing with that particular variety of pain. Still, the summers after those farewells inevitably stank.
Then I entered college, and there was Francis.
Francis, the most vibrant community of friends I ever had. Francis, the friends where I never had to go home at the end of the day and say good-bye even for a few hours. Francis, the friends I did life with. For three years, I lived, ate, did homework, went to classes, went to parties, discussed the most important parts of my life, and generally did life with the beloved members of Francis.
The next year I went to USC, and that was hard. It was another horrible good-bye, not seeing you every day. But you were still there. Francis was still there, doing life together, and I knew I could visit when things got rough. And I did. And I had prepared myself for the good-bye for so long. I knew what the farewell would be like; I’ve done it so many times before.
But it turns out I haven’t done a farewell like this before. Not like this. Not after four years of such close friendships. Not so many people I love all at once.
This is the eleventh time I have said good-bye to my best friends in my twenty-two years. Eleven times, but I find that none of the first ten fully prepared me for this. It's impossible to get used to this feeling.
Hurray for cars and cell phones and Internet; in that, at least, this farewell is the easiest of the eleven. But not even those things can make this easy.
I miss you, my friends.
In high school, a staple part of saying good-bye was that in the months immediately before and after the farewell, I would start writing sad poetry. It helps a little, at least.
Today I recognized that it was time to revive that little tradition, to mourn in the way I’m used to. So here’s the hasty little poem-like thing I wrote up today:
There is salt in the cool air that blows in my window
There is salt in the water that runs down my face
I never saw such a beautiful August
‘Tis a joy to be alive
‘Tis a joy to be here
Or would be if you were not gone.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Another prayer request for you all
My beloved uncle Rich Buhler has pancreatic cancer.
Please pray for him and for his seven grown-up children and for all of us and for everyone he has touched. It is a wide list. He is a dear, dear man, kind and warmhearted, one of the most extroverted and joy-filled people I know. He is also a Christian talk show radio host.
Some of you know his youngest son Keith, my beloved cousin who is also a Torrey grad, who has worked at Wheatstone every year, and who got married just a couple months ago.
So yes, pray. Pray for his healing and for his joy to be constant through his suffering.
Please pray for him and for his seven grown-up children and for all of us and for everyone he has touched. It is a wide list. He is a dear, dear man, kind and warmhearted, one of the most extroverted and joy-filled people I know. He is also a Christian talk show radio host.
Some of you know his youngest son Keith, my beloved cousin who is also a Torrey grad, who has worked at Wheatstone every year, and who got married just a couple months ago.
So yes, pray. Pray for his healing and for his joy to be constant through his suffering.
New Franciscan welcome?
As I think all of my fellow Franciscans already know (?), I was thinking of holding a welcome party for the new Franciscans during Torrientation / Orientation week.
So here are my initial planning questions:
First, does anyone know what the Torrientation / Orientation schedule is? We need to find a time when the new Franciscans could do it without being overwhelmed.
Second, who will be in the area and able to come if the time works out? How hard would it be for the time to work out?
Finally, what do you think we should do? I was thinking something simple and non-exhausting, like taking them out for dinner (our treat). Does that sound like a good idea to the rest of you? (Input welcomed from those of you who won't be around, too.) Where do you think we should go? The Denny's, to connect with old tradition? Somewhere else? ...Lydia, another possibility, but one that I would in no way want to push on you or your family, would be to visit your house - would you and/or your mom want to play host to about sixteen random Torrey freshmen? We could also play Mafia or Apples to Apples if they wanted, but then again that might be too much during Torrientation - what do you think? Mostly I just want to be able to get to know them, tell some nervous Torrey freshmen that we love them, we're there for them, and it's not as scary as all that, give them advice if they want it, and give them a chance to relax as a group during a hectic week - whatever you think will help accomplish that.
Any help planning this would be really appreciated.
If no one posts a response to my question about the Torrientation schedule, I'll probably e-mail Janna in a few days and ask her, but I'd rather not bug Janna if someone already knows. :)
Can you believe there will be new Franciscans in less than a month? *cue warm fuzzy matronly feelings*
So here are my initial planning questions:
First, does anyone know what the Torrientation / Orientation schedule is? We need to find a time when the new Franciscans could do it without being overwhelmed.
Second, who will be in the area and able to come if the time works out? How hard would it be for the time to work out?
Finally, what do you think we should do? I was thinking something simple and non-exhausting, like taking them out for dinner (our treat). Does that sound like a good idea to the rest of you? (Input welcomed from those of you who won't be around, too.) Where do you think we should go? The Denny's, to connect with old tradition? Somewhere else? ...Lydia, another possibility, but one that I would in no way want to push on you or your family, would be to visit your house - would you and/or your mom want to play host to about sixteen random Torrey freshmen? We could also play Mafia or Apples to Apples if they wanted, but then again that might be too much during Torrientation - what do you think? Mostly I just want to be able to get to know them, tell some nervous Torrey freshmen that we love them, we're there for them, and it's not as scary as all that, give them advice if they want it, and give them a chance to relax as a group during a hectic week - whatever you think will help accomplish that.
Any help planning this would be really appreciated.
If no one posts a response to my question about the Torrientation schedule, I'll probably e-mail Janna in a few days and ask her, but I'd rather not bug Janna if someone already knows. :)
Can you believe there will be new Franciscans in less than a month? *cue warm fuzzy matronly feelings*
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