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.