the beginning of the end

I'm done with college classes.
I could even say I'm done with "college life."

Dorm life is a distant memory. I will probably never get 3am donuts with friends again. I can't "skip" the days I'm just not feelin' it. Never again will I be able to bum lunches from campus ministy potlucks. In a way, though, I haven't experienced any of this since last year.

This semester has been a good transition. I haven't felt like I was in college at all, really. And when I actually do travel across campus and see people wearing their Greek letter shirts, complaining about cafeteria food, handing out flyers for SGA activities, or tossing a frisbee, I think to myself, "Oh yeah. I live on a college campus. In fact, I'm in college."

I remember the days of playing Apples to Apples in dorm lobbies until the RA made us leave because of the noise level. I remember when my extracurriculars were actual activities, not grown-up things like grocery shopping, teaching Sunday School, and doing workout videos. I remember when 85% of my life took place at the Wesley Foundation. I remember naps and hoodies and taking tests instead of writing them. I remember when seniors seemed so old, and graduation was inconcievable.

Next semester, I am interning in a 6th grade Language Arts classroom. "Student teaching." This means it's back to that taste of the real-world I got this summer. Back to early-morning alarms, Lean Cuisine lunches, and decent-hour bedtimes. However, unlike this summer, I will not be recieving a backcheck. Also unlike this summer, I will be on my feet and working with real, live people. 11 and 12-year-old ones, to be exact. I am excited, but I don't feel prepared. You want me to manage who? Assess what? Portfolio taskstream lessonplan curriculum common core evaluate whoby whaty?

Oh, and I'm also supposed to have my future figured out by about February. No big deal.

At least my closet is ready.

keep calm & carry on

Things I Do Not Want to Think About:

- Praxis Scores

- Internship next semester

- Life after graduation, aka my future

- My past relationships

- Guys in general

Things that I am Constantly Thinking About:

- Praxis Scores

- Internship next semester

- Life after graduation, aka my future

- My past relationships

- Guys in general

Please distract me with Christmas movies and Dirty Santa parties.

Mr. Right

My ideal man is a fictional character who has a Scottish accent and hairy feet.

This could be a problem.

Ode to Grade 5

Me, 5th grade, 2001:

Me, 5th grade, 2011:

Yes, children, there is hope.

Oct. 16

"I don't know what the date is for you--what broke apart on that day, what was lost, what memories are pinned forever to that day on the calandar. But I hope that...on that day, you leave the dance floor and hold yourself open and tender to the memories for just a moment. As one who grieves today, I grieve with you, for whatever you've lost, too. For what might have been."


-Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet

humble abode

So I'm a little late in posting these...

-Living Room/Kitchen-

-Bedroom-

Apartment life > dorm life

Joy is not dependent on circumstances. This I know. However, let's be honest--there are times in our lives that are just better or worse than others. Some seasons are low and some are high. My Joy--and more importantly, my Jesus--is present through each season. But when I come through a season in the valley into a season on a mountian top, I am without a doubt going to rejoice in thankfulness and LIVE IT UP.

I am so blessed. SO BLESSED. Sometimes, honestly, I get annoyed by that phrase. It's a favorite phrase of the Christian community. If a Christian won they lottery, they wouldn't say, "Boy, did I get lucky,"; rather, they would say, "I am so blessed!" I am not making fun of Christians. I think we should give God the credit for the good things in our life. I often forget that my life is full of these blessings, which may be why God has smacked me in the face with an inaviodable blessing more commonly referred to as my (our) apartment.

First of all, God has blessed me with the opportunity to live in a place for which I am paying wayy to much per month. I am a tightwad, and my family calls me "cheap" on a regular basis. Even still, this is worth the moolah. My own room. A kitchen. A bathroom shared with one person. A getaway. A home. But what's a home, anyway, if not the people that live in it?

My roommates are beautiful in every way. I am so thankful for their friendship. They have transformed weekly Walmart trips from a dreaded experience into no big deal. We hold each other accountable--for exercising, for eating healthy, for growing in the Lord, for growing as people. We connect and relate in ways that I never would have thought we would. Together we study, laugh, and pray, kill roaches, question relationships, and write pointless inside jokes on one aonther's facebook pages.

We also lead a Bible study together each week. Tonight, we had a full house, and it was awesome. I can already tell where the Lord is wanting to move in each girl's heart. It's going to be a good semester, but we can already tell that the devil is trying to worm his way in. After everyone left, we sat at the kitchen table and talked. About friends, about boys, about the Lord, and about brokenness and healing. I never thought I'd find myself drinking wine out of coffee cups and laughing about last year.

Last semester, I remember sitting alone in my parked car at night because my dorm was not a fit environment for crying my eyes out. I remember asking God when I would be happy again. I knew it was a selfish and immature question. Basically, I was asking God if He would relieve me of my circumstances. I remember pleading, I just want to feel okay again. I just want things to go back to the way they were before.

Things didn't go back to the way they were before, and they never will. That season was long gone. But thankfully, the season of crying in the parking lot is over now, too. I know that I will face heartache again. I know that this high season will end at some point, too. But I know that with each season (high or low) comes experience, wisdom, and growth. And each time, it will be worth it.

You have turned my mourning into dancing. Psalm 30:11

the light is green, our break is through

I have been itching to write. Something is coming soon.

--Whoa. I interupt this post to point out something very cool: I am currently listening to the song for which this blog is named..."Sun" from Mae's album Destination: Beautiful. The acoustic version is angelic.--

In an hour, 12 young ladies are coming over to my apartment for our first Bible Study of the semester. I am PUMPED! And I am confident that this year is going to be the best of my 22 years thus far. Don't worry, I will keep you informed on the Senior Year Extravaganza that is my life.

But now, I've got to go take the cookies out of the oven and get the living room in order...I have mouths and souls to feed.

"Classic" Design

So much for writing, huh? So I probably won't be "catching you up" on my summer...it will probably be more like a summer recap in photos. Later.

I've been home about a week, but I think I've been on the road and on the go more than I have been at my house. Which explains the utter chaos that is my room. I figure there's no point in unpacking just to repack a week later, so there are various suitcases and pieces of furniture and piles of new bedding growing from my floor. Have you seen/read the last Harry Potter book where the trio break into the LeStrange Gingotts vault, and everything they touch multiplies? That's kind of what my bedroom has been like. In the time that I HAVE been at home, I normally would have spent a little more effort organizing this clutter; however, last weekend, creativity struck, and pure genius can't be wasted on cleaning.

It started with a bookshelf...

And then a lamp. And I planned to stop there, but...


I eventually covered my old journal from Sophomore year and my planner, too. What can I say? Mod Podge is addictive. And yellowed pages from classic books makes ordinary stuff look AWESOME. The shelf and small lamp are going in my apartment. The big lamp and clipboard went to my BFF Katie for her birthday. Everything else will be sold in my Mom's booth at the local flea market/antique store.

I only have a few days left before I move back to Russ, and they are already booked with various appointments and get-togethers. This being said, I suppose it's time to put the craft box away and continue my quest for what is, if I remember correctly, a hardwood floor.

Rain is a Good Thing

This morning, I woke up the sound, smell, and feel of rain through my open window.

Dixie took my car to work, thus confining me to the Shelton Shelter (home to 4+ people and 6+ animals at any given time) all day. I was going to get my oil changed and run a few errands today, but I am actually quite relieved that I have the excuse to go nowhere today.

Rainy days are beautiful, and even more beautiful in the summer when they cool the temperature. They are most beautiful when they happen on days that I do not have to answer a telephone at Garmin International. This is 2nd weekday I've had off work all summer, and the animals and I are enjoying it thoroughly.

Barbara Walters and I are making muffins and drinking coffee (yes, the cat is actually sharing my coffee). Thaddeus Stevens and Gertrude Stein are wrestling on the kitchen floor. Steadman Graham and Jeff Buckley are curled up in the ficus tree, and Neil Patrick Harris is sleeping on the stairs. They will be sad when I leave the zoo, and I will miss them as well.

I need to clean the house. I need to pack for this weekend. I need to pack in general--I am going home in 4 days!

I think it's a good atmosphere for some Peter Bradley Adams this morning...enjoy.

Coming Soon

It's been over four months since my last post.

I have no excuse for my lack of blog dedication; I have had plenty of time to write this summer, so naturally, I haven't written a thing.

But fear not, four people who read this blog! I plan to update several times in the next few weeks. I have a lot to write about, and I will have nothing else better to on Thursay and Friday when I have PAID TIME OFF, as well as this weekend when I visit Hannibal, MO with my sister (yes, the boyhood home of Mark Twain and inspiration for the fictional town of St. Petersburg).

Also, tonight I took a big step. I made this blog visible to a select but significantly larger-than-before group of people on my facebook. I doubt that many of them will read it, but lately I've felt the desire and need to write for more than myself. Maybe someone else will come across and be encouraged or get a good laugh for the day.

I better get some sleep: tomorrow is my last "normal" day at Garmin, and my customers depend on me to listen to them yell and help them learn to use their computers.

Hello, Employment!

It's ironic that I, the directionally-challenged, will be spending my summer working for Garmin. I was recently hired for a summer/seasonal Product Support position at the headquarters in Olathe, Kansas, and I am stoked! This job was totally a God thing, as if He brought it right to me. Praise the Lord for open doors!

I start training a week from tomorrow. Eeek! This will be my first ever "big girl" job. I'm kind of nervous about that. But even more so, I'm excited about it.

(Just don't tell them I'll be making my way to work via TomTom. Shhhhh.)

Spring

Winter is over, and Spring is here...
both in the natural world, and in my heart.

Praise be to God,
who makes all things new.

braving memories

Dumbledore: "I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

Harry: "You mean... that stuff's your thoughts?"

Dumbledore: "Certainly."

* * * * *

Music is my Pensieve. There's something wonderful about music's ability to capture and preserve memories and emotions. Take seasons, for example. There are certain songs and certain albums that I only listen to during specific seasons of the year. During the rare out-of-season occasions I listen to these songs, I am taken back to the "season" they represent.

Music preserves seasons of life, as well. I love this about music--it's like a time machine. However, sometimes remembering a season can be painful.

* * * * *




Meet Alexi Murdoch: Scottish folk singer and pure bliss to the ears and soul. I love Alexi Murdoch, and his album "Time Without Consequence" is one of my favorite albums of all time. It is soothing and peaceful, yet still complex and brilliant. Additonally, Alexi is one of the few folk singers I know of who writes positive music. Seriously, if the man isn't already taken, I want to marry him.

This album, however, is a pensieve. This album contains the memories of a very lovely season of my life, as well as the memories of a very difficult season of my life; both of which are very painful for me to think about. The memories stored in these songs are memories that I avoid, times in my life that I don't often allow myself to even think about.

In the past few months, I have briskly swept through the "As" of my iPod, ignoring Alexi Murdoch as if he were an ex-boyfriend I didn't want to make eye contact with. I have missed his sweet melodies. I have longed to listen to them. I thought about it a few times, but I never brought myself to actually tap the song and let it play. I kept telling myself, "maybe tomorrow. Soon, one of these days. But not yet. You aren't ready yet."

I don't know what possessed me to do it. I wasn't in a nostalgic mood. I wasn't feel sad or overwhelmingly strong. I wasn't setting out to prove anything. But tonight, I came in from Age to Age, pulled up my iTunes, and did it.

I pushed play.
And I've almost made it through the whole album.

spring cleaning

out with the old, in with the new.
let go of the past. embrace the present.


i think this is what they call "moving on."

Homemaking

You don't fully realize the importance of a home until you go so long without one. When I say "home," I don't necessarily mean the place you grew up, or the place your parents live. I mean a home, as in anyone's home. Not anyone's house...but someone's home.

Let me clarify what a home is. A home is a place you can relax. A home is cozy and welcoming. It smells good--like candles or laundry or a freshly cooked meal, or all of the above. It it comfortable--never too hot, never too cold. Homes can host parties and entertain large groups of people. Homes can also be intimate and one-on-one. Homes are places of escape. Places where you can cook and nap and chill out and pray and be alone but never be lonely. Homes are family embodied in a dwelling.

Let me clarify what a home is not. A home is not a dorm. At home is not a single room over which you sometimes have no temperature control. A home is not place that forbids open windows. A home is not a microwavable dinner heated in a microwave. A home is not "Feather Soft" toilet paper. A home is not jeans worn 7x due to lack of laundry quarters.

I don't hate dorm life at all. In fact, I've rather enjoyed it for the past 3 years, and I wouldn't take it back for anything. But this semester, I've longed so badly to live in a home--to make a home. Some nights I waste precious gas because my car is the only place I can truly be alone. A few weeks ago, I stayed the weekend at a friend's house. She fed me delicious wheat cereal in a beautiful blue bowl. It was delicious. The next time I went grocery shopping, I splurged and bought the cereal (my friend refers to any cereal that comes in a box as "fancy cereal." Most cereal in the price-range of college students only comes in bags, and is consisted primarily of sugar). I couldn't wait to eat it. When I ate it for dinner, however, it wasn't as good as it was at my friend's house. At first I checked to make sure I got the right kind of cereal. Then I realized what was wrong: I was eating out of a green plastic bowl. The next day, I bought a glass bowl.

All this to say, my dorm days are (finally) coming to an end. Yesterday I signed a lease on my first-ever apartment. A full-size bed. My own bedroom. My own space. A bathroom shared with only one other person. A kitchen where I can cook real food. A window I can open. A real sink I can wash dishes in (in fact, even a dishwasher! Whoa). A couch. Walls to decorate with real decorations (not posters and plain photos). I place where I can relax and unwind. I place where I can pray and cry and dance and be alone and be surrounded by others. And more importantly, a place where I can make a home to my friends in dorms who don't have a place to get away.

University Commons Apartment 109C, I can’t wait to spend my senior year with you.

preach, garfield

all things new

Tonight,I am up late simply soaking in the fact that God is real and He is here.
Tonight, I am thankful for many things.

I am grateful for the ability to feel emotion.
Two years ago, I feared I had forgotten how to cry. No matter how hard I tried, I could not shed a tear for anything or anyone. In the past four months, however, I think it's a good estimate to say I've cried at least three times a week. Several of those times I was alone, driving my car around town after midnight or letting loose in the shower. Just as many of those times I was around people--friends, family, even strangers. After a while, I stopped fighting it and started embracing it. Tonight, I take pride in the fact that I am sensitive enough to shed a few tears. I am grateful that I am able to cry tonight, not necessarily because I am sad, or because I am happy, but simply because God makes everything so beautiful.

I am grateful for real, true friendship.
The first Saturday of my college career, I was invited to play ultimate frisbee with a bunch of people I didn't know. A cute brunette girl introduced herself as Johnnie, "like the boy's name." I told her that I once had a female teacher named Johnnie, and that my name was Georgia, "like the state's name." God sneakily placed us in the same Bible study, and soon I had found my kindred spirit. I have never seen a pair as different as Johnnie and I, nor as close (and I like to take pride in that). We even each other out, and I like to think we'd be pretty wreckless with out one another. In the past year, I have had the privlige of watching my friend fall in love. I have also had the privlige of learning (perhaps the hard way) that despite her new relationship, she still needs me--and I need her just as much.

I am grateful for visions that become realities.
This summer, God put a desire in my heart to start a girls' Bible study on my campus. My vision didn't take off until this semester, but even after a mere 2 months, the fruit is bountiful. I am blown away by what God is doing and how He is using each of us to help one another. There has not been a night when I did not fully feel the presence of His Spirit on our time together, and I have faith that this is only the beginning.

I am grateful for fire.
Fire purifies and strengthens. Regarding my church's college ministry, this has been a year of storms--yet transformation. Together, we roughed through it. Together we prayed through it. Together we cried and tried to make it right. Together we learned that God is soverign and faithful. And together we watched deliverance and revivial unfold before our eyes.

I am grateful for heartbreak.
Broken hearts hurt, but they make way for healing. Broken hearts humble us and remind of how much we need God. The bittersweet times in life are the times we are able to hear and feel Him the most. Changing and rearranging are hard, but they clear out the old to make room for the new. God has shown me that brokenness is just as beautiful and necessary as wholeness, and that his glory is magnified in both. Our experiences shape and mold us into who we are going to be, and these experiences can help share the gospels with those who need to hear it the most. I read recently that Christianity is all about death and rebirth. He is constantly changing our lives for the better--for His better (which, ultimately, becomes our better as well).

I am grateful for what has been and what's to come.
I have said a lot of goodbyes in the past few months--to friends, to relationships, to plans and dreams, to seasons of life. Perhaps most sentimental is the goodbye I'm saying to Brookhill Ranch Summer Camp, my second (or perhaps even first) home. Brookhill has been a consistency for the past 9 years of my life. It is the place where I first truly came to know what Christianity is about. It's the place that convinced me I was beautiful as an insecure 14-year-old girl. It's the place that told me how much I was worth, and that God had a plan for my life. It's the place where I learned confidence as a camper, humility as a JC, and maturity as a Senior Couneselor. It's at Brookhill that I made most of my favorite memories, as well as most of my closest friends. It's at Brookhill that I recieved the greatest mentoring I could ever ask for, and felt the greatest love towards rowdy children that I'll never see again. It's where I messed up, where I was corrected, were I succeeded. Over and over and over again. It's where I fell in love--with God, with kids, with people, with life. Everything I needed to know about life, love, and responsibilty, I learned at Brookhill. This place is more than home. Yet I know it's time to pass on the torch to a newer, fresher, and greener counselor. It has been hard to sit back and watch as my fellow staffers get hired for this summer. For a short time, I contemplated going back as a Senior Counselor or as the nurse. But I know it's time to move on: for the first time in 9 years, I see myself more outside of camp than in it. Camp will always hold my heart, and I will always miss it, but this year, I am called elsewhere. My (tentative) plan is to spend the summer in Kansas City with my sister. More about that when it happens. Until then...the legend of the Red T-Shirt lives on. I am so blessed to have been a part of this legacy.

I am grateful that the Lord is continually making all things new.
Including me. Including you.

now thats good writing

If I do not complete my homework this weekend, blame Shauna Niequist .

what's this?

Dear God,

You didn't have to give us a beautiful February.
You didn't have to give us weather that allowed snow boots on Friday and sundresses on Sunday.
You didn't have to give us sunny walks to class to lift our spirits.
You didn't have to give us a perfect weekend for camping.

But then again,
You've always been one for doing things
you didn't have to do.

Thank you for turning my weeping into dancing.
Thank you for filling me with joy and hope and fire.
Thank you for setting me free.
Thank you for the little things,
like beautiful Februaries.

I love you more than words can say.

Yours forever,
George

3 consecutive snowdays make weekends lose their vigor.
however, this does not eliminate the school burnout i've (already) been feeling lately.
it helps, though.

i think i'm feeling artsy tonight...

another brick in the wall?

Dear Professor,
Belive it or not, I am learning many things
from the textbook required in your course.
I am learning things from you, as well,
such as
how
NOT
to be
a
teacher.

Your harsh,
inconsiderate,
and belittling comments
add nothing to my education.

But what do you care?
You teach at the college level.
Your job
is all about
you.

Thanks for the tears,
"Miss Wyllia"

giving in

Today, I finally gave in to the 21st century and surrendered $20 a month to add text messaging to my phone. It has been the funnest(/most distracting) day ever!

Responses from 3 of my closest friends:

Friend #1: "Yay! Now I can send you encouraging messages!"
Friend #2: "Awesome. Now I can send you witty messages."
Friend #3: "Sweet. Now I can send you dirty messages. ;)"

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my friends' personalities, in a nut shell.

february 1

"Today is a perfect typical Monday morning: droopy, rainy, and cloudy. You couldn't ask for anything better. In fact, if you close your eyes, you can even see a smile spread out over Edgar Allen Poe's face."

--Dr. Krueger

(best professor to ever teach at Tech, who retired last year)

Today is the first day of my least favorite month of the year--"least favorite" being an understatement. I have held bitter feelings toward February since the 4th grade (11 years?!). I shouldn't hate February; automatically acessing bitter feelings at the beginning of a calandar month is illogical and immature.

It's just that February holds:
-dreary, wet, and cold weather
-the death anniversaries of many loved ones
-Valentine's Day (yes, I'm that person)
-nothing particularly exciting.

Plus, the month's name is not even pronounced as it is spelled. Geez.

I didn't realize that today marked the beginning of February until I read the facebook status of my friend and classmate, who seems to hold a different view of February:

"MaKayla is happy regardless of the weather. It's February! My BIRTHDAY month, mating season for skunks, and Black History Month! Woot Woot!"

When I read that approximately 15 minutes ago, I decided that I am going to try something new. This year, I am going to hold neutral feelings for February. (I do not think that I can give up my annoyance of Valentine's Day, though. I'm not there yet.) Besides, how hard can it be? Only 27 days to go!

Isaiah 62

Because I love Zion,
I will not keep still.
Because my heart yearns for Jerusalem,
I cannot remain silent.
I will not stop praying for her
until her rightousness shines like the dawn,
and her salvation blazes like a burning torch.
The nations will see your rightousness.
World leaders will be blinded by your glory.
And you will be given a new name,
by the Lord's own mouth.
The Lord will hold you in his hand for all to see--
a splendid crown in the hand of God.
Never again will you be called "The Forsaken City,"
or "The Desolate Land."
Your new name will be "The City of God's Delight,"
and "The Bride of God,"
for the Lord delights in you
and will claim you as his bride,
Your children will commit themselves to you, O Jerusalem,
just as a young man commits himself to his bride.
Then God will rejoice over you
as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride.

O Jerusalem, I have posted watchmen on your walls;
they will pray day and night, continually.
Take no rest, all you who pray to the Lord.
Give the Lord no rest until he completes his work,
until he makes Jerusalem the pride of the earth.
The Lord has sworn to Jerusalem by his own strength:
"I will never again hand you over to your enemies.
Never again will foreign warriors come
and take away your grain and new wine.
You raised the grain, and you will eat it,
praising the Lord.
Within the courtyards of the Temple,
you yourselves will drink the wine you have pressed."

Go out through the gates!
Prepare the highway for my people to return!
Smooth out the road, pull out the boulders;
raise a flag for all the nations to see.
The Lord has sent this message to every land:
"Tell the people of Israel,
'Look, your savior is coming.
See, he brings his reward with him as he comes.'"
They will be called "The Holy People"
and "The People Redeemed by the Lord."
And Jerusalem will be known as "The Desirable Place"
and "The City No Longer Forsaken."

-------------------

Now, read through this again. Replace "Zion" and "Jerusalem" with your name. Replace it with the name of your church. The name of your school. The name of your city.

For Georgia's sake, I will not keep still.

Because my heart yearns for Fellowship of Christians, I cannot remain silent.

I will not stop praying for Arkansas Tech University until her rightousness shines like the dawn.

Russellville will be given a new name.

Never again will Tech Fellowship be called "The Forsaken City" or "The Desolate Land."

Tech Fellowship's new name will be "The City of God's Delight," and "The Bride of God."

Because I love Tech Fellowship, I will not keep still.

You walk with me through fire.

Day 27

This afternoon, I'm sitting at the desk of my room at my house in England staring out the window and watching flakes of snow dance across the sky (let's see how many prepositions can fit into sentence, shall we?).

The view from my window is an ugly one: crooked telephone poles in the alley frame the remnants of my neighbor's house that burned to the ground several months ago, surrounded by a backdrop of a neighborhood that signifies the beginning of the town ghetto.

It's nice to know that outside intervention can bring beauty to even the most desolate and ragged eyesores.

-----------------

Today is the 27th day of my winter break. Until about a week ago, I was counting these days like tally marks carved into the wall of a prison cell (I was not literally counting the days. I do not voluntarily incorporate math into my everyday life). Today, I am surprised to find that, if weather and road conditions permit, I will be traveling back to Arkansas Tech in less than two days.

It took some time to realize that the prison of which I speak is not the house that-- save a few trips to Little Rock and Russellville--I have been trapped inside due to its distance from my friends and the economy's intimidating gas prices. Suffocating as this town is, I found that the box in which I was trapped was the prison of myself. My thoughts, my emotions, and my physical being were all screaming because they were sick of Georgia.

These feelings are nothing new. I've had them before. All humans long to escape from the concept of Self. Fortunately, I know how to rid these feelings. I know that Christ died to save me from Self, to free me from Georgia. I know how to let go of Self, how lay Self at the feet of Christ, and how to live for Him so that I don't even have to deal with Self. But I also knew that taking my burdens to Christ would require examining them. Letting go of the things that were destroying me would mean giving them up. I knew that ignoring problems doesn't make them go away. So I tried dwelling on them instead.

Foolish girl.

A few weeks ago I drove up to my church in Russellville. I needed to worship and listen and talk and hug and receive hugs and simply escape for a while. After the service, a middle-aged couple who are very near to my heart (as well as the “correction is not rejection” kind of mentors I need) asked,

“How are you doing? Have you been feeling any better?”

“Was I not feeling well?” I attempted to fake confusion with a fake smile.

“Stop trying to hide, George. We see right through it. You’ve got to let this stuff go. You haven’t been yourself for too long. Where’s the spunky joyful girl we met a few months ago? This isn’t the real you.”


And then it hit me.


“Actually, that’s the problem. This is the real me. The flesh me, Georgia-minus-Jesus. You’re right…I’ve got to let it go…like, for real let it go. I’ve got STOP being myself.”


----------


Sometime and somewhere in the past two weeks, I’ve found healing. It’s come through a series of midnight interstate drives, kitchen-table coffee dates with David and the Psalms, time spent swapping between Donald Miller and Leslie Ludy books (because I can only handle so much of each of them in one sitting), laughter with friends, morning bike rides with Lecrae, tears in the shower, reflections on past seasons of my life, and a person who knew nothing of my situation yet seemed to know everything about my situation whose simple words led me right back to the feet of my True Love, where I was able to understand Christ’s longing for me more clearly than ever before. Ultimately, healing has come through submission of time, thoughts, emotions, plans, and life that was never really mine in the first place.


Restoration is a process, and it isn’t as easy as I hoped it would be. But in healing, there is change. Change for the better than turns wounds into scars that tell stories. Change that brings about growth and difference and strength and new layers. Change that takes the old and trades it in for something new.


Change that brings beauty to even the most desolate and ragged eyesores.

You say goodbye, I say hello

When the world appears motionless, solemn, and frozen,

do not lose heart;

for it is in the Winter that I prepare for Spring.

-----

In my lifetime, 2010 was without a doubt the single greatest year of transition, change, challenge, and growth.

For every adventure, experience, friendship, blessing, heartache, healing, and test of faith, I am ever grateful.

God moves from glory to glory, and my 21 years of life have proved this to be true. That being said, I hold great expectations for the year 2011.

I won't be satisfied with anything ordinary...I won't be satisfied at all.