A Banbury Pedestrian

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees

2010-06-22T16:49:00.005+01:00

Summer, as usual, has gotten away from me. I feel as though I have been standing in the midst of a river, watching its ripples and currents, feeling it slide past inch by inch. I have felt my time ebbing away and stood, frozen in a dreamy reverie, gazing at the current and musing over its flow.

I have only 3 days left in Chattanooga. Today is my last day of work, tomorrow my last day babysitting, then I pack my things and head for Marietta. On July 1st the Nation family flies to Dublin. I have not fully wrapped my head around that fact yet.

All reveries aside, however, the past couple months have been packed with activity. Obviously, engagement was the high point. On May 20th Dave asked me to join him in three things: a picnic, hang gliding, and marriage. I eagerly agreed to all three. Since then life has been a whirlwind of wedding planning combined with work, friends and the homework I should have been studiously applying myself to all along for my studies in London. Mom, of course, has already proved a champion wedding warrior (to no one's surprise) and we have accomplished quite a bit in the past month. I leave for England eager and anxious, but confident that everything will happen in due course and fully prepared to suck the marrow out of my time in London.

It's funny the way God has worked in my heart over the years. Dave and I started browsing through my old xanga last night and in addition to having several very good laughs at the absurd things I wrote as a high school and early college student, we were both amazed and encouraged to read some of the things I wrote about my faith. It was humbling to read the thoughts of that younger girl, to remember how innocent, passionate, vulnerable and earnest I was back then and see how openly and joyfully I chronicled my walk with Christ. I have substituted some of my vulnerability for cynicism and lost a measure of my wonderment along the way. I hope to reclaim these qualities, even as I grow into a more mature person. However, it was also encouraging to read some of my old prayers and hopes and see how God has guided, strengthened and blessed my journey. So many answered prayers.

We stumbled across one particular entry I wrote as a very zealous (and very single) senior in high school, which was addressed "to my future husband." I was slightly horrified and embarrassed by this silly, albeit impassioned, entry about purity and patience and attempted to scroll past it, but Dave insisted that, as it was clearly addressed to him, he should read it. Once the overwhelming self-consciousness abated, I realized that a picture of providence was unfolding before me. How incredible to see that something I wrote so ignorantly and zealously 5 years ago was coming full circle. God uses the craziest things to show us His faithfulness. I wonder what I would have thought and felt as a senior in high school if I had known that years down the road, I would sit with the man to whom I had unwittingly addressed that silly blog post and watch him read my message to him. Those impassioned reflections, which I imagined myself to be sending into some web-based void, would actually be stored away for 5 years and eventually delivered to Dave (who, luckily for me, apparently found them quite adorable). Silly, yet meaningful.

The whole experience has renewed my excitement about keeping a record of my life here. I realized that it's not really about the beauty of my words or the profundity of my thoughts, it's just thrilling to be able to look back and see God's hand in your own history. It's amazing how differently you see even your own words after years of perspective. And having it online for the world to see is actually a very healthy measure because it will keep me from being utterly ridiculous. Hopefully... no promises.

And getting back to that record:

As I said, I leave Chattanooga very soon. I have mixed feelings about leaving for London. I am both elated and fearful (hence the quote that heads this blog). At this moment in my life, I am practically swimming in blessings, and cannot begin to express my gratitude for God's goodness and faithfulness. Many adventures lie ahead for me in the next year or so and at this precise moment I feel refreshed, exhilarated and ready to take them head on. I am ready, as some of my beloved friends frequently recite, to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees [....]

[....] and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

(Alfred Lord Tennyson -Ulysses-)

I and Love and Dave

2010-05-22T19:18:00.009+01:00

–adjective

expressive of or appealing to sentiment, esp. the tender emotions and feelings, as love

I love you for sentimental reasons

I hope you do believe me

I'll give you my heart

I love you and you alone were meant for me

Please give your loving heart to me

And say we'll never part

I think of you every morning

Dream of you every night

Darling, I'm never lonely

Whenever you are in sight

I love you for sentimental reasons

I hope you do believe me

I've given you my heart

God is good.

Mountain Song

2010-03-18T19:49:00.002Z

Though Levin found himself amidst the hum

of singing scythes, yet I myself prefer

to let the grasses grow. The fertile bed

his peasants sowed with seed, will pillow me

as, laying still and quiet, I reacquaint

myself with stars. I’ll sing no taming song,

but hear instead the whirring crickets chirp,

and wonder that the breeze should blow each blade

of grass so gently. Others work this soil

to harvest crop, but I content myself

with lazy weekend walks and hope the life

of fields and streams will sow itself in me—

that, walking sterile halls and working days

in sterile rooms I’ll keep a fertile mind,

recalling still the kiss of grass, the smell

of pine and all the untamed order of

my mountain valley. Even now I hear

its song and feel my heartbeat keeping time.

"Myth Became Fact": Why I Study Literature

2010-03-04T05:01:00.006Z

Tonight I had to write a "letter of interest" to accompany a scholarship application. It was supposed to be about my literary curiosities, passions, and why I am studying literature, among other things. Accordingly, I spent my entire night writing what should have probably taken about 15 minutes. It was quite therapeutic and refreshing to remember why I love books, so I decided to share a bit:

"My interest in English studies developed at an early age and has steadily grown in the last eight years. As a child I was constantly surrounded by literature. My parents were the type that not only encouraged my brother and I to expand our minds by exploring the world around us, but also spent many hours reading to us. Rather than growing up on “Full House” and “Saved By the Bell,” my imagination fed on The Chronicles of Narnia, The Hobbit, Wind in the Willows and Anne of Green Gables. The nights my parents spent reading to me planted a literary seed in my heart, which my later education nurtured into full bloom.

"Although I grew up in a family where reading was highly valued, I first recognized a passion for stories as a high school student. My English classes became a haven from the stress of prep school life. I lost myself in classics like A Tale of Two Cities, To Kill a Mockingbird and Pride and Prejudice, and even learned to enjoy the labor involved in reading novels like Moby Dick, Tristram Shandy, and Anna Karenina. All of these stories touched me on a fundamental, human level and encouraged me to understand and experience thoughts and emotions I had never before grasped. When I got to college I felt somewhat guilty declaring myself as an English major—scarcely believing I was allowed to study something so utterly delightful.

"In my time at Covenant College I began to understand the profound effect of stories. Confronted by thinkers like C. S. Lewis, Dorothy Sayers, J. R. R. Tolkien, Owen Barfield, and Salman Rushdie, I realized the capacity of fiction to present truth. I learned that humanity is naturally drawn to stories, because each of us experiences what Paulo Coelho calls our “leyenda personal” (personal legend)—an idea which I find particularly prevalent considering the astounding number of memoirs currently published in America. The Inklings particularly inspired me with their conception of mythopoeia and subcreation—suggesting that every story effectively echoes the cosmic story of existence (which, being a Christian, I perceive to be the Biblical metanarrative of creation, fall, and redemption—although I consider the notion of story as relevant to all human experience, regardless of ideology). The more I read and study literature, the more I am stretched and challenged, and the more I understand my own world and my own heart. This is the literary inheritance I one day hope to share as a professor."

So, in case I was wondering... that's why I'm in graduate school. My SIP comes back to me at times and rebukes me for the apathy I frequently embrace--how could I be so callous towards the stories I get to study, these Christ-haunted myths? They would whisper heavenly anticipation to me, if only I would listen.

"Ac grace is a gyfte of god and of greet loue spryngeþ" (Piers Plowman)

Faded from the Winter

2010-02-24T14:45:00.004Z

See, I told you I'd be back.

I feel ridiculous realizing how long it's been since I posted my last entry. I sincerely apologize to anyone who has actually been waiting to hear more.

I am now in my second semester of graduate school here in Chattanooga. Last semester started with a lot of excitement, sunk to a bit of boredom in the middle, and ended in a frantic rush at the beginning of December. With a sigh of relief and a new 4.0 (It's back! But don't get too attached...), I thoroughly enjoyed my Christmas vacation at home with loved ones.

January, of course, came all too soon, and so I find myself back in Chattanooga. This semester seems worlds away from the last. My classes are more enjoyable, but also a lot more demanding, which is always a blessing and a curse at the same time. Here is my class schedule:

Monday nights: Genre in American Literature: The Novel

American Lit has never really been my forte--I am naturally drawn to the Brits most of the time. However, the reading for this class is wonderful and I'm getting the opportunity to experience novels that have been on my "must read" list for years. We've so far read The Scarlet Letter (again... yes... turns out it's actually fantastic, despite what you thought in high school), The Rise of Silas Lapham, The Ambassadors (yikes... I was planning to be all scholarly and love James... but I don't know. It was the most laborious read of my life), and I'm currently revisiting The Great Gatsby (which is always a pleasure). The class actually focuses more on important critical trends and the nature of the genre itself, rather than being a survey of a bunch of novels, so I'm also reading a lot of criticism which is always fun. I think this will be my most challenging class.

Tuesday afternoons: Appalachian/Environmental Literature

I love this class. I love this class. It's exactly what it sounds like: literature from and about Appalachia, with an environmental focus. We read a novel a week (although sometimes it's a travel journal or other non-fiction book. I, of course, prefer the fiction.) and write a short paper every week, which is a huge pain, but it really aids class discussion and I think it's great practice for me (further re-enforcing my ability to crank out a well-rounded, fully supported essay). I've been joking with everyone that I'm going to come out of this class as a tree-hugger, but in the best way possible. It's been both enjoyable and eye opening to learn more about the world around me and the effect my actions have on the places I inhabit. Reading people like Wendell Berry and Ron Rash has encouraged me to develop a more holistic theology of place. Recognizing that the Chattanooga, Tennessees and Blairesville, Georgias of this world will one day be resurrected in the new heavens and earth certainly makes you think more deeply about the way we alter and scar our landscapes. Basically, I'm much keener on the idea of place--being connected with your physical surroundings and being responsible in your lifestyle. I'm not planning to stop shaving my legs and start living in a tent, but I have come to esteem deliberate simplicity.

Thursday nights: Modern Rhetorical Theory

Don't ask me what this class is about. I still don't know. I have a certain number of Rhetoric credits to fulfill, and that is the only reason I signed up for this class, thinking to myself, "maybe I'll finally grasp what 'rhetoric' actually is." Unfortunately, the discipline of rhetoric appears to be not much more than sociological analysis sans the whiff of science, and rhetorical theory is apparently a group of people who are all trying to define exactly what rhetoric is. In other words, the discipline exists to define itself... And that's about all I've gathered so far. It's theory, so I can handle that (to an extent... and then my brain explodes), but I am clearly on a different wave-length from everyone else in the class. I. A. Richards is right: true communication is an impossibility. ;)

Other than school, I still work 10 hours a week for Dr. Sachsman in the Communications department and 10 hours a week for Dr. Rehyansky in the English department. I'm still going to North Shore every Sunday, singing now and then, and enjoying a growing sense of community with my small group. I still have the most wonderful and caring boyfriend that ever existed, which is an incredible blessing, and I wish I could say that I have a plethora of friends, but I do have a few dear friends in the area.

God and I are having a lot of conversations about my future these days. Well, mostly I'm asking Him what on earth He wants me to do and waiting to hear His answer. Although I still plan to apply for doctoral programs and hope to teach university level english classes some day, that dream is getting less simple by the day. For one, I am having trouble imagining actually getting a Master's degree, much less a Doctorate. The sheer work that lies ahead is daunting and discouraging, and it's difficult to remain confident at times when I feel so essentially insufficient. Furthermore, life as a post-graduate student is something that you can never be prepared for, no matter how much people tell you to brace yourself. The frustration of constant, ever-present work, when others can compartmentalize their lives into career and leisure is acute. Yes, what I'm saying is that I am lazy, and I hate having to work when other people relax. This becomes extremely difficult, however, in times when I am discouraged with school and struggling to find deep meaning in my studies. At those times, my life can appear somewhat empty. God and I have been discussing my need for joy and purpose in my work a lot too. I remain confident that He is in control and knows my every need.

And, believe me, if there's one thing I am aware of these days, it's my need. Living alone has effectively lost any glitter it once had. I am now confronted with hours and hours by myself in a cold apartment with only books and my own insufficiency for companions. Dave is wonderful and he has been an incredible support for me (he has seen me at my worst this semester, and amazingly-by the grace of God-managed to love me and continue to speak the truth of the gospel to me when I most need to hear it), but he also has a lot of responsibilities and a busy life here in Chattanooga. I treasure every moment I get to spend with him, but I am fully aware that he simply cannot fix the loneliness in this season of my life. If not for Jesus, I am not sure I could keep getting out of bed in the morning. It is only His grace and love that sustains me through the dejection I'm experiencing this semester.

I hope and believe, however, that Winter is finally coming to an end--in a literal and metaphorical sense. I am beginning to wake up to the sound of birdsong again, and the promise of sunshine and warm weather lifts my spirits and lessens my claustrophobia considerably. In addition, I am catching glimpses of the light at the end of the semester's tunnel and can start looking forward to the adventure of a new summer. It strikes me that I have a lot to look forward to, not to mention a lot to be thankful for in the here and now. I officially sent my first payment for a Shakespeare course in London this summer, which sends a thrill through my heart. It's time I begin to shake off this Winter hibernation and start actively pursuing the many adventures God has set before me in my Master's program, in Chattanooga, and wherever else He may lead.

Speaking of adventures. It's time for work, and I have a manuscript of Piers Plowman that has been patiently waiting for me.

My prayer for the semester:

In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
Give me Jesus.

When I am alone,
When I am alone,
When I am alone,
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus.

When I come to die,
When I come to die,
When I come to die,
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus.

Chapter One (again)

2009-08-18T14:43:00.002+01:00

Well, I'm back.

I typically reserve this type of writing for times when I am traveling abroad or somewhere special that inspires me. Admittedly, I had hoped that my next post would be coming from Edinburgh or St. Andrews in Scotland, but as Divine Providence would have it I find myself firmly planted back in Chattanooga Tennessee. God has a funny way of doing whatever He pleases with you and working it all out for the best whether you like it or not, and therefore, I have decided to simply be inspired by Chattanooga and cast aside any European regrets.

At this moment, I am sitting on my bed in my apartment on the fifth floor of an old brick building on Vine Street. Yesterday being my first day of class and work here at the University of Tennessee in Chattanooga, it was both encouraging and frustrating. My thoughts are frankly all over the place, so I'll resort to my horrific (yet typical) use of bullet pointing for some highlights:

Work is going to be just fine. I will learn to have a thick skin and I will learn a lot about editing and I will constantly remind myself that when you combine the cost of tuition with my stipend I am being very well compensated. My assistantship with the English department has not started yet, but I met my Professor and she seemed amiable enough and I am looking forward to working for her. The communications department, however, is where I worked yesterday and where I will be returning today, equipped with my own usb thumb drive and a readiness to read with a critical eye and search through tons of files on tons of ancient computers.
I have officially arrived at not Covenant. Before my first class was over, the professor (a very colorful youngish gentleman who loves Literary Theory and Criticism almost as much as he loves to hear himself talk) informed the class that despite protests from the crazed conservative masses, there is no such thing as absolute truth. I thought we all realized back in high school how absurd such a statement is? Speaking of Literary theory and Criticism, that statement of fact about the non-existence of absolute truth might sort of deconstruct itself upon close inspection... maybe that's just me. Anyway, I quickly realized that the sorts of things I heard Oxford Dons say aren't as charming and palatable coming from the mouth of a Tennessee native who illustrates everything with a reference to Southpark or the Speed channel. Nonetheless it's going to be a really good class and I will be challenged on many fronts.

Glancing at the clock it strikes me that if I want to obtain my books and lunch and get to work on time I should probably roll out of bed and start moving. But, don't worry, I'll be back. :)

Galatians 19-21 "For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God, for if justification were through the law, then Christ died for no purpose."

Her Tea Leaves

2008-10-30T22:36:00.002Z

I'm in a poetry class this semester, and I thought it would be appropriate that I include the poems that I have worked on thus far. They are in the order in which I wrote them.

Christopher Wren (Villanelle)

I saw a puddle crossing Old School’s Quad

And stepped aside to keep my sandals dry

And raised my eyes to praise a stone façade.

“Redemption here would take an act of God,”

I thought. Perceiving sin in every eye,

I saw a puddle crossing Old School’s Quad.

Within those halls the greatest thinkers trod.

I saw myself amongst them by and by

And raised my eyes to praise a stone façade.

Yet on those streets in light I rode roughshod,

And every base, debauching drunk denied,

And skirted puddles crossing Old School’s Quad.

Those vaulted spires seduced me as a bawd

Ensnares a wretched mind. I breathed a sigh

And raised my eyes to praise a stone façade.

Beware the wakeful wit of stone-carved gods—

The evil erudition may supply.

I saw a puddle crossing Old School’s Quad

And raised my eyes to praise a stone façade.

Brother (Sestina)

My memories of you are like gentle

Strokes of a brush. They paint before my eyes

a silhouette upon which, until now

(your absence), I could not deliberate.

Our lives become a manuscript explored

And I will bend the binding back and read.

When I was six and didn’t care, you read

me Faerie books. You drew me on gently

into adventures, charmingly explored

amidst your childish zeal, and in my eyes

you were the author of deliberate,

intelligent mythologies. So, now

do I perceive you changed? Seeing you now,

an awkward start-up man, yet widely read

and not without thoughtful, deliberate

assurance, I must turn the pages gently

to recall the child with brightened blue eyes

who thought our creek a sea to be explored.

The fleeting backyard world we once explored

dissolves to rude reality, and now

the physical discovery of eyes

and child-size hands is mediated, read

in words instead of sprightly play. Gently,

age has constructed a deliberate

man of you, and I must deliberate

whether you’ve lost the ardor to explore

that once drove me to mimic each gentle

action you took. Perhaps the truth’s that now

you’ve moved beyond that childish world and read

a greater story than before, with eyes

that are more like God’s own redemptive eyes.

This new world unfolds in deliberate,

broken, yet beautiful glimpses. I read

again your every move and see explored

a vaster, more enchanting story now

than any you’ve invented. Still your gentle

passion inspires me like your gentle eyes

have often done. Now, with deliberate

care, we’ll explore this faerie world you’ve read.

Babel (Pantoum)

Beautiful melodies, sung out of key,

Fall on receptive, deafened ears. Short of

all encompassing salvation, only

blind men read. Inarticulate sermons

Fall on receptive, deafened ears, short of

A word of truth. Faith mewls and dozes while

Blind men read inarticulate sermons

To pews of padded flesh and bone. To style

A word of truth, faith mewls and dozes while

coarse commotion rises and silence calls

to pews of padded flesh and bone to style.

Without a tuning touch the center falls,

coarse commotion rises, and silence calls

wantonly, babbling. Tongues must comprehend

without a tuning touch: the center falls.

In such scars our words aspire to transcend

wantonly. Babbling tongues must comprehend

all encompassing Salvation. Only

In His scars our words aspire to transcend

Beautiful melodies sung out of key.

Upon the Dropping of Ceramics Class (Sonnet)

Alas, I cannot apprehend the weight

of every willful act I take. Control

eludes—clay forms collapse, crush, take the toll

of ineffectual hands. I watch with hate

and curse the crooked forms. To tolerate

this failure, must I lay my wilting soul

in weak submission down before a bowl

of mangled earth?—a blank deistic fate?

Not so. For He has cradled lifeless clay

before. The malleable matter of

my small and childish lot cannot betray

such dextrous, guiding hands. For viscous gloves

of filthy mud did not deter His plan

when quick’ning arid dust and forming man.

Highland Lament (Ballad)

Oh won’ ye go an find my luve,

an bring him back tae stay?

Oh won’ ye go an seek him out?

He’s left me but a day.

He promised to be e’er my luve,

an ne’er tae go away.

Oh won’ ye go an find my luve,

an bring him back tae stay?

On yester’morn he left our home,

Wi’out a single word.

The fast’nin o’ his brog an brat,

was a’ the sound I heard.

I rose from bed tae find him gone,

the myst’ry I now mourn

Oh Won’ ye go an find him for

I’m hertily forlorn.

When we were wed it seemed a shame,

for I were yet so young.

My faither gave me tae a man

So auld, my hert was wrung.

An though he luved me tenderly

An wrote me verse an sung,

I met his luve wi’ bitterness

an spake wi’ poison’d tongue.

The day since he’s been gone I’ve been

descendin tae despair,

At first I said “he’s left tae seek

a bih o’ Hielan air.”

But now I see he won’ come back.

It takes me unaware,

Tae see the way I need him, Oh

my hert was unprepared!

So won’ ye go an find my luve

an tell him I was wrong,

The way I took his gentle smile

for granted a’ along.

Today if he wuld smile at me

my hert wuld fill wi’ song.

Oh won’ ye go an find my luve

an tell him I was wrong?

Cornmarket (Blank Verse)

A cold, light rain falls gently on my cheeks

and hair, like so many silver beads. The rain

no longer stops this town, its streets are full

of faceless motion, tucked beneath a black

umbrella, or sunk in hooded slickers. I

once thought I saw a friendly face within

this heartless throng, but soon repented of

such charitable thought, and chastened, walked

with down-turned eyes to watch my footfalls. Now,

with beaded rain collecting on their lashes,

I raise my eyes again, examining

the street. Each darkened form propels itself

with some unknown intention, hastening on

to buy a pair of shoes or read another

essay to a keen and silent don. In all

the bodies moving here among the stores,

the birds, and beggars on the cadge, I smile,

look up into the falling rain, and feel

delicious freedom pouring down like oil.

Adventure of the Nations (Part II)

2008-09-14T23:04:00.005+01:00

Better late than never, ey? That's what the Canadian travelers we encountered in Gimmelwald, Switzerland would say anyway...

Gimmelwald: After several different train rides and cable cars up up into the mist covered Alps (and a short stop in the village of Murren to gather supplies of the edible variety) Trey and I arrived in Gimmelwald, a small Alpine Village with significantly more cows than people, two roads, and no grocery store. Our Hostel was a pretty little Chalet with colorful flowers in the window boxes and a breathtaking panorama of the alps in front of it. We agreed that it was by far the best view we've ever had as we brushed our teeth in the morning and peered out the open window above the sink at a sort of majesty that I had never before (and never have since) witnessed.

My only regrets concerning Gimmelwald are twofold: First, that we did not stay longer, and second, that we were allotted less than ideal accommodations. After completing our check-in, the friendly Swiss hostess/bartender informed us that, "you'll be staying in the lover's room." I decided I must have heard her wrong. But despite Trey's diligence to designate with every reservation that it would be himself and his SISTER, I peered horror-stricken at our information slip and saw the words clearly printed at the top: "Lover's Room." My chagrin only deepened when we actually reached the room to find that it was a large room with about 20 bunk beds all pushed together essentially into a giant form of what the gentlemen of Founders might mockingly call a "love bed." oh my... That was the first, and ONLY time I will ever sleep on a giant bed with 20 other people. Although I admit in hindsight that the situation was quite laughable. At the time, Trey seemed to find it a bit more hilarious than I myself did...

As to my first regret, that will be a given after full explanation of our day in the Alps.

We awoke early and headed out in the closest thing we had to Alpine hiking gear (which turned out to be jeans, sweaters, Tevas and Keens...), and rode a cable car up to the peak of Schilthorn. (Check it out: http://www.swisspanorama.com/html/schilthorncam1.html ) Schilthorn is a 2900 meter peak and apparently owes a portion of it's fame to the 007 movie "On Her Majesty's Secret Service". On the top we had a delicious breakfast next to the panorama windows in the revolving restaurant, Piz Gloria, which included everything from cereal to coffee to pancakes to champagne. Then, after fatting ourselves for a few hours and watching for a sign of the mountains through the thick cloud cover, we set out on the greatest hike of my life. The first few miles were a bit rough, trudging our way through about a foot of snow in places (keep in mind that I'm wearing sandals throughout this) and laughing at the contrast of our casual appearance with the serious hikers with snow boots and poles. We actually had a couple at the head of the trail look at us like we were crazy people and say, "You're going to walk down that? Are you sure that's a good idea?" But, believe me, it was well worth any numb toes and slippery going. I couldn't possibly begin to explain how breathtaking this whole experience was. It was the most surreal feeling I've ever had walking along surrounded by those silent snow-capped mountains, watching the mist sweep along between them and across our path. As we climbed further down, bubbling mountain streams ran down from and melting snow and delicate little wildflowers began to peep through the snow until they became an absolute sea of color around us. If I have ever felt like I could jump into the air and take off in flight, it was standing there in the Swiss Alps with the wind in my hair.

I must admit that I was forced to give a little rendition of "The Sound of Music." Trey exhibited more self control. ;)

Munich: Munich, the city of excessive drinking... this was not the most anticipated destination in my mind, but it, just like all the captivating cities we visited, won me over. To be perfectly honest, our time in Munich was largely spent day-tripping outside the city itself. We opted out of getting sucked into American tourist traps like the Hofbrauhaus and instead had both of our meals in the city at a smaller more locally frequented beer hall. Let me tell you something about German food: it is GOOD. And let me tell you something about German beer: it is AMAZING. We had some delicious meals of Pork Schnitzel, potato flapjacks with apple sauce, and blueberry pancakes (which is, like I said, more like a cake than a crepe and has ice cream on top), as well as sampling their signature beers.

Our first day in Germany, we took the train to Neuschwanstein, the fairy tale style castle of Ludwig II of Bavaria. Apparently Ludwig liked to play around with his country's money by building idyllic palaces, which is why he soon accidentally, and rather mysteriously, drowned in 3 feet of water with several unaccountable bullet holes in his back... Regardless of the slightly opulent and squeamish history involved, however, the place really did look like something out of a fairy tale. About a mile from the castle was a waterfall tumbling into a gorge which was spanned by a large walking bridge. Despite a great deal of rain, we stood and surveyed the castle and gorge from that bridge with utter delight. I felt like I was in a novel.

Day two in Munich we hiked to a Monastery called Andechs. The hike was relaxing and beautiful, and the Monastery itself was resplendent-there was a sort of gaudiness to it that shocked me a bit, I think I had pictured something more like the dark and dank places of gothic novels-but the coolest thing about this place was that it had a huge dining hall, where one could get typical German cuisine, as well as beer brewed specially by the Monks themselves (in fact, as I write, I am sipping juice from a small glass stein with Andechs painted on it). Trey and I were apparently the only non-Germans in the place, which gave us a satisfying sense of authenticity. We both got a pretzel and a beer (his was a full liter, but I resigned myself only to a half-liter), and hunkered down to enjoy our tasty treasures, reminisce about the path behind us and the journey yet to come, and do a healthy amount of people watching. I was amazed to watch German men sit down together for lunch and consume a full 2 liters of beer each, without showing any sign of the alcohol intake. Admittedly, I was sufficiently unsure of myself after my .5 liters so that I chose my footing carefully on the stairwell out.

Another highlight which I almost forgot about Munich was the event of the Eurocup final. We happened to be in town for the final match between Germany and Spain and found the streets before the game thronged with balloons, flags, painted faces, honking horns and general hilarity. Unfortunately, this all abruptly vanished into an oppressive silence at the game's conclusion and Spain's authoritative victory. As boring as I found the game itself, I felt extremely sorry for the disappointed fans that surrounded me.

Vienna: This city seems more of a blur in my mind for a variety of factors. One is doubtlessly the oppressive heat, another is possibly because we had grown too lethargic in the face of this heat, my own longing for America, and the advent of Independence Day to dish out all of our money on admittance to the countless museums. Nonetheless, some of my most treasured memories from our adventure are set in Vienna. We trekked around town and saw the venerable faces of the Hofburg, the Schonbrunn, Mozart's house, The State Opera, and St. Stephen's Cathedral, as well as the gorgeous Hapsburg gardens and Mozart's Memorial. We decided to actually pay and enter the Imperial Library (the Hofbibliothek), which was well worth the sum paid. It was reminiscent of the Duke Humphrey's Library, a three storied room with high domed ceilings (ironically picturing the apotheosis of Karl VI). We got to see some beautiful manuscripts.

Our second day in Vienna was a laughable, but treasured, Independence day (my birthday). In hopes (at least on my part) of finding a spring in which to swim, we day-tripped out to the town of Baden: frequented getaway of Beethoven and the Hapsburgs. We arrived to find a very commercialized resort spot, in which there were spas, casinos, etc. and no hope of a natural spring to swim in. But our spirits were still high and after obtaining a map at the tourist information center, we headed to Kurpark Baden bei Wien, which is esteemed as one of the best gardens in Austria. It was, indeed, quite beautiful, and we had a nice little picnic in a small grecian temple structure beneath the bust of Beethoven, and gazing up at yet another painted dome, this time picturing the apotheosis of Beethoven. On the way out, I was also pleased to find a fountain that put off quite a bit of spray and enabled me to jump around like a child of 4, giggling in the cool vapor. Trey, once again, exhibited more self control, but was very indulgent of my insanity, recognizing that it was, in fact, my birthday.

We finished the day out with dinner at "Happy China" and gelato from "Zanoni and Zanoni," and then headed back to the hostel where we actually witnessed a firework display across the city, over the tops of buildings. I will treasure it as one of the strangest, and most precious birthdays.

And now... Slovakia must wait for one more installation. I have now dwelt amidst my memories for too long, and the stresses of schoolwork are bearing down on me. It is a misty, rainy, sleepy sort of night, and I intend to burrow into my couch with a cup of tea to soften my Global Trends reading.

Please Forgive Me

2008-09-10T17:19:00.002+01:00

I submit myself for judgment. I have been terribly neglectful of this poor electronic space.

Obviously, I am no longer in Europe. In fact, I am on Lookout Mountain, sitting in my purple bedroom in my little house on Krupski Loop, contemplating the joys of the past few months. God has carried me a long long way. Already this has been the most incredible year of my life to date.

Oxford already begins to seem like a lovely dream. Was I really there? I couldn't have imagined a better experience for myself, which, I suppose, is why I leave my actual life experiences up to the gorgeous creativity of God. He never fails to weave the greatest story.

I am about to "run out the door" (as my mother might put it) and head for campus. Pinch Pots in Ceramics class and a Global Trends quiz await me, and later a small group with the precious people of Rock Creek Fellowship. However, I sincerely promise to return and finish a relation of our European adventure, as well as providing an update on mountain affairs. I can hardly wait to relive the Swiss Alps!!

The Adventure of the Nations 2008 (Part I)

2008-07-01T19:49:00.003+01:00

Things I have realized that I love:

· Leaning out of the window in a big city to feel the cool wind on my face as I watch the people pass below.
· The smallness and inspiration I feel in the face of gargantuan, snow-capped mountains, not to mention a renewed wish for wings to soar amongst them with (I hope we can fly in heaven!! Is that too much to ask?).
· The Stone Mountain Laser Show J
· German pancakes. It’s an actual cake. In a pan. It’s huge, and it has blueberries in it and ice cream on top. And it is probably one of the most delicious things on this planet.
· The innocence and endearing absurdity of small town life.
· The shade of tall trees leaning over a dirt path after miles of smoldering pavement.
· Discussing Lord of the Rings with someone who knows eons more about it than I do (*cough* Trey’s a nerd *cough*).
· Speaking and being understood in a language that is not my own. Human connections that span the language gap are often the sweetest, albeit the subtlest.
· Associating familiar and well-loved music with the various and new landscapes that unfold beyond a train window.
· Seeing the image of God displayed in more cultures and people than I could ever imagine or comprehend.

I feel overwhelmed with the idea of approaching all that I’ve experienced since the last time I wrote. Therefore, I regretfully beg your pardon for the gaps and confusion that will follow. If you’re really that curious, we can get coffee some time and I’ll tell you all about it. This whole experience (Oxford and Europe and the whole deal) has been the longest, most overwhelming and most exciting adventure of my life to date. ;)

Paris, I will explain in fewer words than it deserves (not necessarily because of the merit of the city itself, but because of the joy, exasperation, refreshment and general hilarity we found being there together as a family). The sights of Paris are endless, and we saw many beautiful and meaningful things, but overall I think I will treasure the hysterical laughter we shared during and after the Sewer tour, and the triumph and awe we received atop Notre Dame, and the transport and wonder we discovered at the Garnier Opera above and beyond the tourist destinations themselves. Paris was beautiful, but being there with my family made it even more so! (One might presume that I missed them quite a bit the past few months at Oxford…)

Trey and I said our farewells to Mom, Dad and Paris on June 21^st and set out on our grand adventure. Since then we have traveled Paris to Strasbourg, Strasbourg to Geneva, Geneva to Gimmelwald, Gimmelwald back to Geneva, Geneva to Munich, and tomorrow we leave Munich for Vienna. Phew… It makes me tired just remembering it all. Every city we’ve been to or traveled through has had something beautiful or endearing about it that I will carry around in my pocket; years from now, I will pull them back out and unfold each memory with a smile and a longing.

Strasbourg is near the border of France in Bavaria. It was a friendly, smaller town that gave us the rest and welcome we needed to recover from the frantic, rude nature of Paris. The city itself was picturesque with it’s Bavarian wood beamed buildings, lazy waterways and charming Cathedral (not to mention that the people were warm and more than willing to engage and communicate with two very clueless American kids). We bummed around the city for a day, seeing the Cathedral and taking a boat tour, which had an adorably strange multi-lingual commentary. On our second day we saw the decorative arts museum (which was extremely nice, and extremely empty, and altogether odd. In other words, we loved it!), and then rented bikes to venture further out and picnic beside the water, and see Strasbourg’s two lovely public gardens.

I feel as though I were writing a tourist guide, but nonetheless… Strasbourg was really nice because they are seeking to become a bigger tourist destination, but are not there quite yet. This means that they were thrilled to see us, and were still friendly in a smaller town sort of way, but at the same time, they had really good tourist deals, and the place just isn’t that crowded. Trey and I spent 11 Euros on a tourism pass that got us the bikes, the boat ride, up to the top of the Cathedral platform, in to see the astronomical clock at the Cathedral, and into the decorative arts museum. In other words, it got us everything we did for two full days for completely free, and we didn’t even take advantage of all its perks. So, in other words, if you’re planning a trip to France, Strasbourg might be nice! And they would adore me for saying that… :)

Another highlight of Strasbourg was a tiny little Kebab store we discovered. The night we arrived, Trey and I stumbled into this place because it smelled like food and we were starving. While awaiting our tasty brochette sandwich, he noticed that everyone in the place was speaking Arabic, and when we went back the next day (it was so good we had to get some more) Trey spoke some Arabic with the guy that served us. Turns out he is from Morocco, and it was so cool to see the way his face lit up when he heard Arabic (and specifically Moroccan words and phrases) coming out of Trey’s mouth. The last thing he expected from a big pasty American kid (no offense bro!) was to hear his own language. It was so awesome.

Geneva came next and threatened to dampen our spirits, but charmed us in the end. The part of town we stayed in was overwhelmingly large and… well… ugly. However, thanks to the kindness and enthusiasm of an American we met in the Co-op, we discovered that we could jump on a tram (I incurably referred to them as trolleys—often accompanying the reference with a rendition from “Meet Me in St. Louis”—much to Trey’s chagrin) and find ourselves in some very cool places. We went to the UN building and listened to the joyful shrieks of little children as they played in the fountains while we admired a very very large, three-legged chair (a sculpture in honor of victims of land mines). Then we rode to the other side of town and sauntered through the old city, where we saw the Reformers Wall, picnicked in a park and providentially stumbled upon the Reformation museum, as well as the Auditoire De Calvin which is A Scottish Presbyterian church that was founded by Calvin as a haven for protestant refugees of all languages to meet, worship and receive the teaching of John Knox. In the words of John Holberg: Oh Yeah.

Geneva ended up having a lot to offer and it rests in my mind as a very lovely city where families are thriving. Everywhere we went we ran into some kind of park where parents were watching their children mingle and play: everyone’s urban ideal. It was a bit sad to see that the general populace, as well as the tourist crowd was not hugely interested in all the Reformation history laying at their feet, especially considering that Calvin was basically responsible for putting the place on the map (the population doubled when he encouraged it as a haven for protestant refugees). However, we were able to appreciate it for its historical impact, as well as its general niceness as a European city, and as a melting pot today just as much as it was during the reformation.

**To be continued**

Free Man in Paris

2008-06-19T11:12:00.002+01:00

"America is my country, and Paris is my hometown" -Gertrude Stein

Finally, we have obtained an internet connection! I have been in technological withdrawal...

I am in Paris. A week ago today, I finished my last tutorial at Oxford University. I packed up my things, and said a rather drawn out goodbye to the city, spending a couple last days with my family, touring the Kilns (Lewis' home), and showing them some of my favorite spots around town. I have been in France for 4 days, and I miss England already.

Paris is, however, (rather unsurprisingly) a beautiful and marvelous place. I had no idea architecture could be so quintessentially... well, french. We have now seen Notre Dame, The Musee D'Orsay, The Eiffel Tower, Sainte Chapelle, The Conciergerie, St. Sulpice, The Pantheon (with Foucault's pendulum!), the Opera Garnier (the inspiration for Leroux's Le Fantôme de l'Opéra and thus Andrew Loyd Webber's musical), and also got a brief tour of the Paris Sewers (which Mom and I took at more of a sprint... I wouldn't necessarily recommend it for the weak stomach).

The small apartment we are staying in is on a cobbled street with rows of little shops. Past the red curtains and the rather grand white framed windows are opened into the room and one may peek out at the lovely little rue that stretches out in front. Directly across the street sits a little pastry shop which we have visited a time or two. Although french food is not really my forte, no one can frown in the face of a pain aux chocolat. mmmmmm... french pastries.

I must admit that my one regret for this Parisian experience is that I have not yet heard a busker playing La Vie En Rose. I know, I'm a ridiculously stereotypical tourist, but I can't help myself. Today, we make for the Louvre and Victor Hugo's House (yay!!). Tomorrow is Versailles, and then Trey and I embark on Europe Adventure 2008. Let's hope it's an adventure, rather than a catastrophe...

Singing in the Rain

2008-06-03T17:55:00.005+01:00

It's been an excessively rainy day. Here in England, we generally get occasional bouts of misty, light rain, but today it fell in torrents all day. Kathleen and I trudged to Queen's College for a very damp tutorial, where Clare actually told us that if she'd had our number, she'd have telephoned and told us not to come today, due to the rain. "Oh well," she said, "I guess when you live in Oxford, you have to get a bit used to being wet." Never have I heard a statement of greater truth.

I suppose you might wonder why I'm so fixated with the weather these days, but I finally understand why the British talk about it all the time. It's infectious apparently. And I've found that I take a lot more notice of the weather when I'm forced to be out in it every day, walking or cycling to one place or another. In all honesty, however, I quite enjoyed splashing my way home through all the puddles, armed with umbrella in one hand and a steaming mocha from the Queen's Lane Coffee Shop in the other. I've found that walking under an umbrella is extremely conducive to singing show-tunes, as the rain creates a certain level of noise, and the umbrella hides one's face, so that no one can be quite certain if that girl was actually singing to herself as she walked down the street alone... It's hard to take life too seriously when you're traipsing through puddles the size of swimming pools. No one looks distinguished as a drowned rat.

On a completely different note, I just had 3 lovely girls over for tea and a tour of our house. Shantha, Amy and Crissy (all 1st year historians from Keble, not to mention some of the most fabulous people I've met!) came over this afternoon and, although we didn't exactly get to lounge in the garden as we would have liked (due to the torrential rain... See! it's an unavoidable topic!), we had a nice time chatting in the dining room over tea and biscuits (which were actually cookies... or at least some of them were, and some were truly biscuits... it was a bit confusing really, but we worked it all out eventually) and walking around the house. It was fun to see how impressed they were with it. I think the awe of these accommodations have slowly worn off for me, so I was both proud and refreshed to hear how much they admired them.

So now, as I sit at my desk and wait for dinner time to roll around, I am kept company by a bright red balloon, which Shantha presented to me at the door. It used to have a face, but the rain washed it away on the journey here. I can just barely trace the outline of a big smiling mouth and two heavily lashed eyes.

Oh my... I'm going to miss rainy Oxford days!

where does the time go?

2008-05-30T11:19:00.003+01:00

What should be happening right now is this: I should be writing my Modern Irish Essay on "Waiting for Godot." But, as I have learned, there is a fine line between procrastination and responsible time management.

Last weekend I spent in Edinburgh with Susan and Emilie. It was a gorgeous weekend, and a precious time with much loved friends. Who would have ever thought that the three of us would find ourselves together in Edinburgh? If you had told us that back when we were all playing dolls and watching "The Parent Trap," I think we would have given you a rather blank stare. The distance each of us have come over the years can only be attributed to the unquenchable power of Christ, and I am thankful, more now than ever, for those friendships.

We had a great time, bumming around in shops and cafes, walking the Royal Mile and touring the Castle, and hitting the clubs. The first night we arrived, we simply sat in Susan's kitchen and talked for hours over pizza from the chippy. We talked about our faith, and our friends and the ways we've been growing and stretching and being challenged. We talked about the last ten years, and the next ten years and the places God is taking us. Hopes, dreams, fears. We talked about the things only old friends can truly talk about. We talked without self-consciousness and just loved each other, knowing that we were known. It was refreshing beyond description.

Susan showed us some really cool places that I'm sure I would have never seen outside of the native scene, from the fried mars bars at the chippy down the street, to Frankenstein and The Rat Pack. She has thrown herself whole-heartedly into her time abroad. I think Edinburgh is truly a home for her now. She knows it and loves it and belongs. Leaving in the next few weeks will not be easy.

As the end of my time at Oxford draws nigh, I find myself cramming more and more into each week's agenda, trying to soak in everything I possibly can here. This week, along with essays and reading and tutorials, I'm attending three plays/shows. Wednesday night, I went to see a student performance of "Oklahoma." Yes, my first and only experience with "Oklahoma," the (debatably) great American musical, was at Oxford University. It was both a strange and wonderful experience. The students did a great job with it, and I was genuinely impressed with many of their American accents. A few of them could have truly fooled me if I met them on the street. I just want to know who chose, out of every musical in the world, to do "Oklahoma." It was awesome. And a few of the friends I've met at Keble were in it, which made it all the better.

Last night, I went with a group of us UGA folks to see Spring Awakening at the Oxford Playhouse. The primary reason I saw it was because Anna Popplewell (Susan from the new Narnia movies) was in it. And yes, it was cool to see her on stage (especially since I was sitting on the front row somehow...), but overall I thought the play was kinda dumb. I'm considering going back and reading it sometime to see if it actually makes any sense, or if it's really as silly as it seemed. The acting was fantastic, but otherwise, not my favorite. After the show we went out to Po Na Na (one of the clubs here in Oxford) and danced the night away. I had my first sketchy club guy experience, which I feel deserves a full description here:

Heather: [dancing with friends]

Sketchball: [trying to dance with them]

Heather: [ignoring him intensely]

Sketchball: [comes over anyway, and tries to start conversation. (keep in mind, the music is extremely loud...)] So!... *unintelligible words*

Heather: What?

Sketchball: *unintelligible words*

Heather: What?!

Sketchball: WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

Heather: I'm from Georgia.

Sketchball: Oh, I've never been to Canada...

Heather: really... [smiles inwardly at this imbecile, until she realizes in horror that all her friends just moved to a different part of the floor and she is alone with him. begins inching away.]

Sketchball: *lots and lots of unintelligible words, complete with arm gesturing, shrugging and a whole lot of spitting*

Heather: yeah, yeah. Uh-huh. [Turns and dances rapidly away]

Sketchball: [probably just kept talking. who knows.]

Anyway, the rest of the night was sketchy club guy free and I had a blast dancing with all my UGA buddies.

Tonight, me and my roomies are going to see Sense and Sensibility at Magdalen College (pronounced like "Maudlin"... no one knows why... I asked.), and tomorrow I'm planning to take a day trip to Dover with some of the girls.

In other words, life is good.

Daniel 2:20-22:

Daniel answered and said:

"Blessed be the name of God forever and ever,

to whom belong wisdom and might.

He changes times and seasons;

he removes kings and sets up kings;

he gives wisdom to the wise

and knowledge to those who have understanding;

he reveals deep and hidden things;

he knows what is in the darkness,

and the light dwells with him."

It's Gonna Be Alright

2008-05-23T10:43:00.002+01:00

I'm sitting on my bed looking over the various suitcases I've just packed, and wondering what's in them. Emilie and I are catching a train up to Edinburgh today to visit Scotland, and more importantly Miss Susan Crisler. I can't wait to see Scotland again, since I first set foot there as an 8th grader I think it's been my heart's home. It is always a thrill to see how it changes to me as I grow older, like visiting a friend you haven't seen in many years.

Only 3 weeks remain to me here in Oxford. I'm not sure where the time has gone, but I am certain it has been well spent. I will treasure this experience all my life: the little nooks I have discovered, the people I have met, the study, the coffee, the rain, the flowers. I will miss looking out my window and pondering about the tiny church steeple cross that just peeks over the rooftops behind the garden. It's the tiny little intimate details of Oxford that have won me over irreversibly. Like Marietta, or Chattanooga, I think this place will always have a hint of home for me.

Since the last time I wrote on here, more things have happened then I could possibly record, but some of the highlights have been:

Participating in Cuppers with the Keble Ballroom team. I danced the Jive with a wonderful girl named Kashmali (I got to be the man... which was an interesting experience). We actually did much better than we expected (4 rounds!) considering that neither of us had ever danced the Jive before and we only danced together a few times before the competition. It was quite a laugh for us... Anyway, I had an absolutely wonderful time dancing and hanging out with the team. Keble's A team won the competition, and we all had curry and celebrated. Not only did I get to enjoy Indian food for the first time, but I got to chat with Amy and Shantha who have quickly become two of my favorite people here. Shantha is from Edinburgh, and Amy from somewhere near Manchester. I'm currently trying to convince them to come visit me in the States. Amy says she wants to see Lookout Mountain. :)
The Dedication of the UGA house was last Tuesday night. Overall it was a nice ceremony and a pretty good night. But that's another story for another time...
Visited the Mannheims in Tetbury. It was SO refreshing to just drive around the gorgeous Cotswolds with Emilie, and we had somewhat of a Jane Austen nerd weekend, having tea in the Jane Austen Centre in Bath, visiting Dyrham Park and watching a new mini series of Sense and Sensibility. I love my spare family!!

God has been teaching me about boldness and being open and genuine. He has been teaching me about the comfort and love He provides. He has been teaching me that He can carry me through anything, including essays. ;)

"It's gonna be alright.

It's gonna be alright.

I believe you'll outlive this pain in your heart,

And you'll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart,

Oh, I believe, I believe that

It's gonna be alright."

~Sara Groves (I was getting a little tense about my schoolwork last night, but Sara told me that it's gonna be alright. I appreciated it.)

I love you all!!

I Feel the Earth Move

2008-05-04T14:35:00.000+01:00

Last week was officially one of the craziest weeks of my life. We'll start from Wednesday night:

So, Wednesday, after you last heard from me, I basically skulked around all night feeling miserable and decided to blow off the Modern Irish Paper (we get 3 weeks off with the paper writing, so it was no big deal), watched a movie and went to bed. Thursday morning, which was May Day (the first of the month is apparently a big deal here) was quite a festive occasion. I arose at 4 in the morning to make my way up High street with Catherine and Kristin. We stood under the Magdalen bell tower with about a thousand other people (all of whom seemed to be either students who'd been out drinking all night, or 100% sober tourists like us) to hear the Choir sing as the sun rose. It was a bit anti-climatic, as we could hardly hear the choir over the drunken chanting that simultaneously arose, but it was worth the experience nonetheless. (I was having a Lewis nerd moment because it reminded me of Shadowlands)

As the crowds dispersed from Magdalen, we sought out some breakfast and found ourselves enjoying pancakes at the St. Aldates Tavern. When our plates were clean and glasses drained, we ventured out into the crowded streets once more, making out way through morris dancing, and people dressed like trees to Keble, where we listened to their (or I should say our) choir sing a service from the chapel roof, before enjoying a second breakfast (it's not just for Hobbits anymore...). The rest of the day was pretty quiet for me, but it's safe to say that the celebration was still going in the pubs around town all day long.

Now, we'll fast forward through the mists of my cold-ridden memory to saturday, the night of the Keble Ball.

Saturday was consumed by shopping, cold medicine, and preparations for the night to come. At about 8:30 we all set out towards Keble, fully decked out and ready for we didn't know exactly what. After several minutes in line outside (in which I got to talk to my big bro on the phone. Did you know that he just graduated?!), we made it in and got a glass of champagne, which I imagine was strategically placed to calm us down before we were totally overwhelmed by the magnitude of the thing. There were tons of stands everywhere with champagne, beer, pimms and lemonade and various other drinks, stir fry, hot dogs, donuts, etc. Under a huge tent in the middle was a dance floor with live music. There was also a casino, sumo wrestling, a moon walk, gladiator fighting, the pub was decked out as a bar, which also had a dance floor, there were touch up stations for hair and makeup, kung foo demos as well as other things that I was probably completely unaware of (I heard rumors of free massages and the like). Basically, it was crazy huge and I suffered from severe brain-overload when we first got there.

We did, however, recover from the shock and all generally had a really great time. I am proud to say that I made it all the way until the survivors picture at 4am. Although I'm not sure if I was actually in the picture or not. I didn't realize that everyone was gathering under a particular window to have their picture taken, I just started following the crowd, so if I am in the picture, I'm probably looking confused, and definitely not looking up at the camera.

I think my favorite point in the night was when the band played Sweet Home Alabama. All of us American kids rushed the stage and went crazy. There was much dancing, singing and arm-pumping, accompanied by Jeremiah's shouting of "Representing the American South!!!!" which caused a few of us to cover our faces in slight shame. ;)

Overall, it was a great time. The low point was definitely when I arrived home at 4:30 to find everyone in my room huddled around my roommate Katie. She and Emily had left me and some others on the dance floor to go home, but had apparently decided to have one more go at the Sumo Wrestling. This ended up being a slight mistake, as it left Katie with a minor concussion. Thus, we stayed up pretty much the rest of the night to make sure she was ok. And she is, thank God, although she's still pretty exhausted and a little woozy.

Needless to say, yesterday was a rather quiet day around the UGA house, and Keble as well. Every face I encountered had a similar haggard, yet content look about it. I spent the day resting and reading Ruth, praying through the Valley of Vision, going to Chapel and contemplating the six weeks I have left here. I've been praying that God will use me in these weeks, that I will not squander this time.

Speaking of which, I must now turn away from such pleasant remembrances and face the work of the week ahead. I have a date with Mr. Geoffrey Chaucer this afternoon, and he makes no promises to have me home by 10pm...

Love to all!

Christlikeness from "The Valley of Vision"

"Dawn returns, but without thy light within no outward light can profit;

Give me the saving lamp of thy Spirit that I may see thee,

the God of my salvation, the delight of my soul, rejoicing over me in love.

I commend my heart to thy watchful care,

for I know its treachery and power;

Guard its every portal from the wily enemy,

Give me quick discernment of his deadly arts,

Help me to recognize his bold disguise as an angel of light,

and bid him begone.

May my words and works allure others to the highest walks of faith and love!

May loiterers be quickened to greater diligence by my example!

May worldlings be won to delight in acquaintance with thee!

May the timid and irresolute be warned of coming doom by my zeal for Jesus!

Cause me to be a mirror of thy grace,

to show others the joy of thy service,

May my lips be well-tuned cymbals

sounding thy praise,

Let a halo of heavenly-mindedness

sparkle around me

and a lamp of kindness sunbeam my path.

Teach me the happy art of attending to things temporal

with a mind intent on things eternal.

Send me forth to have compassion on the ignorant and miserable.

Help me to walk as Jesus walked,

my only Saviour and perfect model,

his mind my inward guest,

his meekness my covering garb.

Let my happy place be amongst the poor in spirit,

my delight the gentle ranks of the meek,

Let me always esteem others better than myself,

and find true humility

an heirdom to two worlds."

Amen

Happiness Is a Warm Cup of Tea

2008-04-30T17:50:00.000+01:00

To be perfectly honest, I'm currently fighting against various forms of despondency and illness.

I went out this morning, in the rain, on foot (partially because I accidentally locked my keys in the room, and partially because Cody saw a cyclist get hit by a delivery truck which scares me...), to Boots to buy cold medicine because I've been basically miserable for the last 24 hours. I got really wet, and really confused, but somehow ended up back at Keble for lunch with a bag or various cold remedies, none of which I recognize. Then I traipsed back out in the rain to Blackwell's where I got a very welcome cup of hot tea from the Cafe Nero people who are beginning to feel like my best buddies, and attempted to read W.B. Yeats until it was time for Chaucer (which is incidentally just down Broad street at Trinity, if you weren't aware). Arriving at Chaucer I made a complete fool of myself because I was so fuzzy-headed I could barely form sentences, and definitely couldn't manage analytical thought of any sort, although fortunately, Jeremiah did a lot of talking to compensate for my dumbness. And then I dragged my sorry carcass back to the house (which takes SO much longer without a bike), and I felt like the day was sort of summed up by the big truck that drove past and splashed a bunch of muddy puddle water all over me. Now I'm perched on my bed like a sad little bird, contemplating the paper I haven't started writing for Modern Irish tomorrow, and all the May Day festivities that I'm going to miss out on tonight due to a combination of excess work and disease.

So there's my day. Hey, tomorrow can only get better, right? ;)

In other news... um... I can't think of any other news. My head is too fuzzy.

I'll try this again when I'm more coherent... But until then, here's something that's sustaining me at the moment:

"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.

Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry to her

that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned,

that she has received from the Lord's hand

double for all her sins.

A voice cries:

'In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord;

make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be lifted up,

and every mountain and hill be made low;

the uneven ground shall become level,

and the rough places a plain.

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,

and all flesh shall see it together,

for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.'"

(Isaiah 40:1-5)

You Play Your Stereo Loud, You've Got Your Headphones On

2008-04-22T17:52:00.000+01:00

We were reunited with the sun today. I felt myself smiling like a fool as I rode my bike through town, basking in the afternoon glow, and an aura of fresh knowledge. I haven't even had my first tutorials yet, but I already feel as though a new world of literature is opening in front of me. It has more depth than I ever imagined, and it's so inextricably connected with every discipline and every aspect of life. In preparation for Chaucer, I've been reading first century philosophy, C. S. Lewis, and Italian poets like Boccaccio and Dante, and going to various lectures about Chaucer and Troilus and Criseyde, as well as reading the text itself. I will never be able to read everything I could/should for class, but it's very empowering to get such a variation of perspectives and to go into a piece of literature with so much context. In other words, this system is pretty neat.

For all of you dorks out there, here's an experience you can appreciate with me: yesterday afternoon I walked around listening to my ipod and just looking at everything surrounding me, setting my memories and mental pictures to music (apparently Innocence Mission is the overarching theme for this trip). It was awesome. ;)

And speaking of awesome/me being a dork: I think I'm on the Keble ballroom team now... I'm not really sure. I went to their ballroom lesson last night, just to see what it was like and for a study break, and by the time it was over they were assuring me that they would find me a partner for the upcoming competition (which, humorously enough, might end up being Danielle). Wait... what? They want me to do the Jive (which, by the way, is a really fun, and really FAST sort of swing... although they classify it as latin). I just learned the basic steps to the dance last night, and it was pretty overwhelming, but apparently the deal with the competition is that you have to have at least one unexperienced dancer in each dance (I definitely qualify...). I don't know if I'll actually end up doing it, but I'm gonna go back next week and play it by ear.

Now I have to find my robe and cycle up to Keble for dinner. We had our first formal dinner last night and none of us knew what to do. Plus, the whole robe thing just felt like maybe it was a cruel joke at our expense. However, I can personally attest that, yes, they do actually wear robes to dinner.

To all the Covenant folk: good luck with finals!! Hang in there!

At the Bottom of Everything

2008-04-17T13:23:00.000+01:00

Well, I'm about to turn in my last History essay, and then I only have one more paper to write before seminars are behind me. I think these two classes will look a lot better in hindsight than they look from within... sort of like reading Moby Dick.

And speaking of wonderful literature, Kathleen and I've just returned from meeting with our Modern Irish Lit Tutor. Her name is Dr. Clare Conners (she told us to call her Clare) and she is probably in her early 30s, and she promises to be the most awesome tutor ever!! I cannot wait to sink my teeth into manageable amounts of Joyce, Yeats, Heaney, Beckett, Bowen and Synge.

Kathleen and I found our way to Queen's College on High street and entered it to be awed by the gorgeous quad: a carefully kept courtyard of white and purple flowers surrounded by towering ancient walls and stained glass windows. I has a much more intimate and official feel to it than Keble. Dr. Conners met us at the Porter's office and led us through a labyrinthine corridor to her office. When she opened the door I think I might have visibly drooled a little bit. She has an adorable little office overlooking the garden, with magnolia blossoms peeking in the open window. The ceiling has exposed, finished beams running across it and every surface in the room is cluttered with an assortment of books, papers, teapots, coffee cups and little trinkets. (it's basically a lot like Ralston's office, except even more cozy and British)

So, suffice to say, that I'm extremely excited and encouraged from this meeting. I think I will actually enjoy this tutorial and be able to embrace the work much more enthusiastically.

Cheers!

PS -for any Philip Pullman fans out there: I was bad yesterday and I bought a copy of his newest little book (Once Upon a Time in the North), as well as a copy of Northern Lights (The Golden Compass). I just think it's cool looking and it's novel cause it has a different title. I'm bummed because apparently Pullman spoke at a literary festival here the weekend I was in London. I had no idea... *sigh*

Brush the Cobwebs off the Sky

2008-04-13T17:35:00.001+01:00

Many days have passed since I last posted... I'm sorry about that. Life has been a blur of frantic study beneath domed ceilings.

Highlights of the past couple weeks:

Wrote papers
Read books
Went to London with Susan (which was wonderful, by the way... except for the sketchy hostel we stayed in...)
Read more books, so that I could write more papers
Went to class
Prepared presentations
Had a pint or two
Wrote papers
Read more books

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's one of those gloomy days when there are just enough dark clouds to make you pensive, and just enough sunlight peeking thru them to fill you with hope. I walked the streets of city center alone today; Just me and my God, with tears in my eyes and a smile on my lips. The true beauty of unflinching grace is so far beyond these streets and these buildings, and yet each stone is permeated with a divine caress, as if every inch of creation has felt His mercy in some capacity. The trees in the garden outside are reaching their bare arms up towards the sky with a sort of understated urgency, as if they long to be made new. And surely, the spring will bring them new life. It occurs to me that these seasons are working themselves out in my very heart. Somehow, the cold, hard earth in me becomes warmer, more fertile, more resilient day by day. Divine love works hourly in my heart to cover bare limbs with flowering fruit.

I went back to St. Ebbes this morning, accompanied by friends who have become dear to me in these few weeks (Katie, Em, Cody and Jeremiah). As always, it was refreshing to be amidst God's people. And if that wasn't enough, I happened to run in to some other American students I had been hoping to meet (Mallory's cousin Ryan, his girlfriend Janel, and some other friends of theirs), and got to have tea and talk to them a bit after the service, before heading to Blackwell's and burying myself in a book.

Tomorrow is the first day of the last week of seminars. Even now, while I'm here, this whole experience seems more like a dream than reality. I rode my bike especially slow on the way home today, trying to soak in every building, every street, every park and pub and illustrious old wooden door. Monday next (that's how we say it at Oxford...) I will start my tutorials, which promise to be vaguely (or perhaps precisely) akin to drinking from a fire hydrant. Ryan and Janel told me today that 2 weekly tutorials is more than most Oxford students do in a term (or so they think). This is interesting, considering that I'm taking 2, plus cricket. But, come on, I go to Covenant, and this is just Oxford. Mere child's play ;)

More things I'm learning:

the unparalleled thrill of an unopened envelope and the joy of familiar handwriting on folded paper
the true genius of Radiohead (I admit, I've been a doubter in the past, but something about Oxford opens one's eyes)
you will never experience Oxford it you're afraid of getting your feet (and the rest of you) wet
sometimes a smile impacts you more than any work of literature or art (so don't be stingy)
pigeons aren't actually very intimidated by bicycles, but that doesn't mean you have to pander to them. Stand your ground! (my bicycle, by the bye, has been affectionately dubbed Marlow, after Conrad's infuriating narrator)

If you are reading this, chances are that you are in my thoughts, and I have possibly seen you on the streets of Oxford (it's crazy how often I think I see people I know in the faces of strangers). I hope you are well!

While the boats raced on the river and decongestants went awry

2008-03-29T17:50:00.000Z

Why I love Oxford:

Warm Cappuccino in a cozy cafe
Steak Pasties (I'm totally addicted...)
The gentle, warming sunlight after the rain
Reading for hours on end at Blackwell's
Walking along the river
Seeing Hogwarts everywhere I go
Discovering new streets and nooks and pubs and cafes
Drinking Pimm's and lemonade
Walking around the quad of Keble College

Things I learned from my day in town:

That cute little umbrella you snagged for $5 at TJMaxx isn't quite so trendy when it's blowing inside out. multiple times. (however, the practical, wind resistant, black one you bought at Boswell's for 15 quid is only marginally better against a gale...)
Apparently there is an open air market in town on Fridays
When walking through the crowded street, be less concerned about staying dry, and more concerned about not getting your eyes gouged amidst the sea of umbrellas
Everything closes earlier here. If you were planning to stay at Blackwell's and read until dinner time, you will be disappointed. Dinner's at 7pm (or I should say 19:00), but most stores in the city close at 6pm
Don't go to the top floor of Blackwell's if you like old books or they'll positively jump into your hands and refuse to be reshelved (you're better off going to the antique and rare books section on the next floor down, because you can't afford them anyway)
Postage is expensive (I paid 7 pounds for 8 stamps... I'm trying to avoid doing the math on that one... ouch)
That creepy little street beyond the Bridge of Sighs and the Turf Tavern, is actually a short cut to High Street

The past two days have been spent in a frenzy of reading, but I've managed to do this reading in some awesome places, so it's been wonderful. Last night was our first meal in the Keble College Dining Hall, which is pretty surreal and amazing. I intend to take some pictures very soon (although I'm a little embarrassed to do it... I know the full-time students will probably scoff at me for it). The food is decent, not great, but not bad either. Brunch today was really good (a proper English breakfast including eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, baked beans, cereal, pastries, yogurt, fruit, juice, and hot drinks. Apparently the usual hot beverage dispenser isn't working however, and I got yelled at for trying to use it. It was rather amusing how many of us did "stupid" things and were very harshly rebuked for it (I think they staff was stressed today cause there's a wedding in the Keble Chapel and they're probably responsible for the reception). Anyway, I can't wait until the term starts back and the place is full of students. We get to go to high table and we've even got our own robes to wear (Harry Potter! EEK)!

Today I broke down and went to rent a bike. I love walking, but I'm realizing that it's a lot more convenient to have a bike for class and some of these errands that I have to go into city centre or summertown for. The 25 minutes you save on your bike are 25 minutes for extra reading. However, I can tell it's going to take me a little while to get used to riding around here. I haven't really ridden in a while, and never on the left side of the road with huge buses right next to me (don't worry Mom, I bought a helmet!), but I'll get the hang of it, and there's a few other people with bikes, so I won't venture out alone on it until I'm more confident. Now is the time to gain that confidence before the students some back for the Trinity term. I hear this place will be swarming with bikes when they arrive.

The two things I haven't yet done that I'm still dying to do are studying in the Bodleian, and going to the Eagle and Child, but I hope to remedy that in the next couple weeks. I've stepped inside both, but not gotten the chance to actually experience them yet.

In other news: Congratulations Oxford on winning the boat race today against "the other place" (Cambridge)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's 3 out of the last 4 years! Woot!

It's Never Quite What It Seems...

2008-03-28T00:03:00.000Z

Well, the beginning (or should I say the end) has come, and it's not kidding around.

Tuesday was the first day of seminars and I finished the day with a definite lump in my throat. My first class was a literature class with Dr. Bradshaw. I don't know quite how to explain it, but he walked into the room and instantaneously transformed into the scariest man alive. I don't think any of us could breath. Apparently the first day of class is designated for acquainting all of us with how stupid we are, and it worked like a charm. He started into his little introductory shpeel (which was primarily about how American students have never read enough important literature and how we should be ashamed to consider ourselves true intellectuals) and suddenly turned and asked me, "what's the last book you read for pleasure?"

After recovering from practically peeing my pants, I realized that I wasn't even sure I could read... "Uh... uh... uh, I'm reading Godric right now..."

"Never heard of it."

"Oh..."

"Is it good?"

"Oh, um... It's ok..."

And then he continued his intro and everyone officially knew that I was a brain dead rodent. I felt better, however, after the same sort of thing happened to two or three other people when they were asked questions. I think Bradshaw has some sort of intimidation magic. We all left that room with sweaty palms. It's actually not going to be a super hard class, just a lot of reading and writing (surprise, surprise). Today's class was a lot less terrifying and much more enjoyable. I'm pretty sure I'm actually going to like his class A LOT. It's been really interesting thus far. The only scary thing is that I have to read my first paper to the class and then have my grade given to me for everyone to hear (and he told us to be prepared for extremely bad grades).

My history seminar, on the other hand, came in like a lamb. I was all worried that my History don would be as intimidating as the literature don. But when Dr. Archer showed up, he came traipsing through the entrance to Keble saying, "alright everyone! Follow me! But not too quickly because I'm carrying this tea here and I don't want to spill it." Nice. I knew then and there that I didn't have to be terrified of this one. Until today's class when I participated in a group presentation to which his only response was, "Well, is that it? You didn't do very well with it, did you?"

What do you even say to that? "Yeah, we were totally slackin... huh!" I'm still not exactly sure what was wrong with it... But, yeah. That was a nice kick in the teeth. I had thought that Oxford classes were all about learning tons and tons, but apparently the first week or so is actually just about continually bashing the system of education you've been in since kindergarten, and making you feel like a total ignoramus.

It's working...

So, now I'm starting from scratch and trying to learn some stuff and reading my butt off and trying to retain EVERYTHING and pondering two papers that I don't really want to write all that badly. Right now, I'm thinking I might just have to give up showering, or going to the bathroom or something until the term is over, cause there's just not enough time in the day. ;)

Tomorrow I don't have class, so I may wander off into the heart of Oxford by myself and find a nook in which to pour over my books all day. In case you didn't know, this is the coolest place ever!

Christ the Lord is Risen Today

2008-03-23T15:00:00.001Z

Happy Easter everyone!

It's been a very quiet day for me, but a nice one. I went to church this morning with three other girls from the house (Kristin, Sara and Brittany). They were all wanting to go to something more high church, so we went to St. Mary's. It was a service like I've never attended before, but it was nice. I was just excited and encouraged to get to go with those girls. Afterwards we had lunch in the Queen's Lane Coffee House, which is supposed to be the oldest coffee shop in the UK I think (est. 1600s).

My current Oxford soundtrack:

"When Mac Was Swimming" Innocence Mission
"First Breath after Coma" Explosions in the Sky
"Boulder to Birmingham" Emmylou Harris
"Are You Some Kind of Hypnotist?" Flaming Lips
"Now Now" St. Vincent
"Beautiful Change" Innocence Mission
"No Poetry" Gary Jules
"Your Song" Kate Walsh
"Femme Fatale" Velvet Underground & Nico
"Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois" Sufjan Stevens
"Poughkeepsie" Over the Rhine
"Calling My Children Home" Emmylou Harris
"Mad World" Gary Jules
"Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us" Robert Plant and Alison Krauss
"Fireworks" Kate Walsh

Snow Day

2008-03-22T08:08:00.000Z

Well, everyone's mother can officially say "I told you so," because it snowed and hailed like the dickens outside today. I'm not quite sure I brought my winter coat... or my face mask.

Today we headed out on a group excursion to see Leeds Castle. It was lots of fun despite the bitter wind. We got to walk through the great house, visit the aviary where a beautiful, colorful Macaw greeted us in a British accent, and wander through the maze. We also explored an underground grotto that reminded me strangely of Rock City...

Other highlights from the trip thus far:

We walked around the quad and chapel of Exeter college (Tolkien's college!! EEK! Nerdy joy!)
I've gotten to enjoy a pint in both the Lamb and Flag, and the Turf Tavern (the Eagle and Child is still at the top of my to do list, but nobody else seems quite as eager as I am to see it)
We've walked around the city several times and I've already bought and returned books at Blackwells (the Flourish and Blotts of Oxford)
A man asked me for money on the street and I gave him the coins in my pocket, only to have him chasing me down the street saying, "this ain't money sweet'eart! Ya can't spend it! it ain't money. Here, take it back." (I had somehow obtained a coin that is no longer in circulation... it was rather embarrassing and he made a bit of a scene about it, but was very sympathetic seeing as I am only a silly American)
I made a wish under the bridge of sighs (but I can't tell you what it was, or it wont come true. The tour guide assured us that this works)

Tomorrow I'm heading to St. Ebbes for the Easter service and then I'll just be reading and preparing for classes until tuesday, when the party begins. And by party, I mean lots and lots of work. ;)

Jet Lag Anyone??

2008-03-19T10:21:00.000Z

After some truly thrilling travel, I have arrived in the UK. I'm currently at the Mannheims' battling with jet lag and hanging out.

I'm already falling in love with England and it's people all over again. People often claim that the British are not friendly or cordial like Americans (especially those from the south). It is true that Brits don't often smile at me on the street and say "hey! how are you?" whether I know them or not, however, after being here less than 24 hours I had personally witnessed the kindness of strangers (even in London of all places!).

There's not much to be told about the flight itself. I sat next to a scholarly old British man who had carried on his own house slippers and drank about 8 glasses of champagne. We did not converse much, but I considered us friends enough that when I saw him later on a bus I expressed great joy at the meeting. He was not so openly excitable at the reunion, but he did smile quite boldly in return to my very southern "heeeeey!!" and responded with a not unfriendly "hallo there." Besides making a friend ;) , the only things I did on the plane were to eat and sleep, and these were not terribly exciting so I will leave them completely to your imaginations.

I trudged off of my flight at 6am Gatwick London time (1am Marietta time), to stumble through customs and baggage claim. After gathering myself (and my 2 large suitcases, internal frame backpack, and guitar) I set off with some newly acquired pounds (and I'm not just referring to myself or the suitcases, I'm speaking of money) for the bus to Heathrow. Unfortunately my ticket was for a 9:10 bus, and it was only 7am. Thus, I asked the first driver who pulled up if he had room for me on his bus instead, only to be brusquely rejected. Defeated, I rolled my suitcases further from the curb and perched on top of one.

A few minutes went past when a small middle aged woman approached me with her bright red suitcase.

"Are you going to Heathrow as well?" she asked. I told her I was and we discovered that we both had tickets for the 9 o'clock. "Wont they allow us onto an earlier coach?" she inquired. No, I told her, I asked the last driver and he told me to wait. She was silent for a moment and then looked at me and said: "well... bugger," and smiled. I did all I could to smile back without exploding.

When the next bus came by, she decided to take our cause into her own hands and left her suitcase with me to go speak with the driver, who agreed to let us onto the bus. We savoured our victory as we piled onto the bus with bags in tow. This is when I was reunited with my scholarly friend from the plane. I'm sure that if we hadn't all been dozing from the jet lag the three of us would have been a very merry crew indeed. ;)

Upon arriving at Heathrow we found that there was no bus to Cirencester until 10:45 (it turned out the woman was also going to Cirencester), so we had to wait at the central bus station. I recognized an essential need for coffee and made my way across the station for a mocha. By the time I had settled at a little table I had once again been joined by my coach buddy (I believe her name was Carol, but I'm afraid I can't actually remember... blame the jet lag, right?). We had a nice chat over some coffee and tea and were eventually joined by very nice Welsh man who introduced himself with a rather unfunny joke about what might have been in his suitcase (which he asked us to keep an eye on for him while he bought a coffee) if he were a terrorist. um... haha?

Anyway, we all chatted until our bus came. Then it was back on the coach for one more nap. When I got to Cirencester the Mannheim's were there to meet me and we headed home to Tetbury, stopping at Tesco along the way. I had a nice night with them and some of their friends from the States.

Now, I've had a night's sleep and the world is a lot less fuzzy than it was yesterday. I'm enjoying chilling with the Mannheim clan today and tomorrow I head to Oxford.I am pretty chuffed (as the Brits would say) to be starting the semester.

Better Grab a Muffin!

2008-03-12T05:25:00.000Z

As I sat on my bed tonight, flipping through a copy of "The Valley of Vision," and pondering the testimony I'm going to present to a room of Middle/High schoolers tomorrow night, I came across the remnants of a quiet afternoon I spent in a coffee shop last summer. Enfolded in the worn pages was a napkin with an illustrated caribou on it, encouraging me to "grab a muffin." Apparently, I failed to grab said pastry, but I did, however, use the napkin to scribble down some thoughts:

"Today I feel small...

Today I feel foolish and unlovely...

it strikes me that I am, in fact all of these things, yet my Savior loved me nonetheless. He loved me with a divine, unquenchable love. So why am I sad?

I'm sad because I like to feel like I deserve things. I want to be loved because I am beautiful or smart or fun or adorable. I don't like the idea of being loved despite myself.

this is because of my PRIDE.

And yet, my Savior does find me beautiful. He has made me beautiful."

On the page opposite this scribbled napkin is a puritan's prayer:

Belonging to Jesus

"OH HEAVENLY FATHER,

Teach me to see

that if Christ has pacified thee and satisfied divine justice

he can also deliver me from my sins;

that Christ does not desire me, now justified,

to live in self-confidence in my own strength,

but gives me the law of the Spirit of life

to enable me to obey thee;

that the Spirit and his power are mine

by resting on Christ's death;

that the Spirit of Life within answers to the law without;

that if I sin not I should thank thee for it;

that if I sin I should be humbled daily under it;

that I should mourn for sin more than other men do,

for when I see I shall die because of sin,

that makes me mourn;

when I see how sin strikes at thee,

that makes me mourn;

when I see that sin caused Christ' death,

that makes me mourn;

that sanctification is the evidence of reconciliation,

proving that faith has truly apprehended Christ;

Thou hast taught me

that faith is nothing else than receiving thy kindness;

that it is an adherence to Christ, a resting on him,

love clinging to him as a branch to the tree,

to seek life and vigour from him.

I thank thee for showing me the vast difference

between knowing things by reason,

and knowing them by the spirit of faith.

By reason I see a thing is so; by faith I know it as it is.

I have seen thee by reason and have not been amazed,

I have see thee as thou art in thy Son

and have been ravished to behold thee.

I bless thee that I am thine in my Savior, Jesus."

I was sitting on a tall stool by the window, watching the traffic on Roswell Road and grappling with Christ's love. The Sun shone across the table and warmed my back and shoulders. I can still feel that mingling of shame and gratitude as though I were sitting there now. God embraced me that day, through the warmth of the sun and an abstract, yet undeniable confirmation of His affection. Eric Liddell felt God's pleasure in running; on that day I felt it in a cup of steaming coffee and a half hour of quietness.

I am glad that Jesus is a man. The God of Heaven knows how good it can feel to bask in the sun, or enjoy a good drink. I am glad that someday, when both this world and I have been redeemed and made new, I will be able to sit next to Jesus. Maybe He will sit and enjoy a cup of coffee with me like He did that day last summer. Maybe He will laugh at the enthusiastic, yet heretical fantasies my fallen and limited mind once entertained... and posted on an online blog. ;)

All heresies aside, this reminds me that God is everywhere, and in everything. A youth pastor once encouraged me to look for God in the mundane activities of life. He is there.

Tomorrow, it is my job to meet with God amidst the packing of suitcases. I trust that as He clothes each lily of the field, He also takes an interest in packing my clothes for a semester abroad. My God is big enough to redeem my soul and yet near enough to help me count socks and fold sweaters.

Then the sky fell open and my eyes were opened to a world of hope falling at my feet...

2008-02-26T19:38:00.000Z

It seems like ages have passed since I first posted on this blog. Time has certainly moved slowly, but nonetheless I find myself beginning to believe that I will soon step onto a plane and fly to the UK. The idea of me living and studying in Oxford still seems utterly ridiculous at times, but it's certainly becoming more real.

I've now said goodbye to many of the people and places that will haunt my thoughts while I'm away. There's a sense of relief in knowing that I wont be driving up Lookout Mountain again until the leaves are back on the trees and everyone returns to campus with renewed enthusiasm and tanned skin. The long, drawn-out goodbyes are finished, and now I can leave that old me behind and let new sights and experiences change me. I tremble with fear and excitement to see how these months will shape me. Only God knows what is in store.

I am fearful and weak. Every day I realize it more deeply and truly. But every day I realize the love and strength of God more as well. Despite all the things I have to leave behind, God is going with me. He is already there, preparing the people and places for me, and He is here, preparing me for the people and places.

Last night I looked at the syllabi for my first two classes at Oxford. A familiar sense of stress instantly descended, but I'm ready for it. I can't wait for the challenge. I can't wait to see how He will sustain me.

A Long Expected Trip

2008-01-27T21:43:00.000Z

I'm always at a loss when it comes to beginnings. For one thing, it's neither here nor there. I don't see that this moment or this day is any particular sort of beginning. I don't see a chapter closing or a new one opening. Rather, this beginning begins in the middle of things. And I suppose, when viewed from a creative, fictional standpoint, that is exactly where great writers start: in the middle.

And with dialogue:

"Why doesn't this stupid piece of crap work?!" I mutter, disconnecting and reconnecting the USB plug of my external hard drive, "how am I supposed to store data on here if I can't access the damn thing?"

In the midst of my "personal legend" (which currently consists of sitting around the house, working at a law firm, and making preparations for my seemingly distant travels), the foremost plight concerns the preparation of my new laptop for a semester abroad. It's amazing how a piece of slightly confusing technology can become your arch-nemesis when you've got nothing better to do. However, mundane frustrations aside, I am trying to take advantage of this time and soak in the more fundamental beauties of life.

I am floating lazily through a calm spot in the proverbial river of life. I'm still a little weather beaten from the white waters of the past semester, and I think maybe I can already hear the rush of the rapids ahead, but for now I'm just laying back, basking in the sun and watching the sky and trees drift past. I have always felt that boredom is a neglect of the simple joys.

From my perch at the kitchen table, I can see my own backyard, as well as the backyards of two houses on the next street over. To the right, is the home of a very kind older lady. She, and her husband (who passed away some years ago on Christmas Eve), mean more to me than she probably realizes. I remember Trey and I traipsing down the hill, across the creek and through their back yard many a chilly december night to deliver a loaf of cream-cheese bread to their door. I remember walking over with my dad to help her get a squirrel out of her attic. I also treasure many vivid stories about the escapades of their sons and my uncle when he was a boy and living in this very house. He once chased a bear that had escaped from the Circus through that backyard. I love picturing this as I peer out the kitchen window.

Tonight, however, as the sun casts golden lines through the trees, I'm watching the silhouette of a boy on a rope swing streaking back and forth across the amber tinted grass. Although I can barely make him out through the trees that obscure his yard, the shadow he casts grows to fill the whole length of the yard before it diminishes away again. It reminds me of jumping on the trampoline when I was a younger child (for I admit that I still consider myself a child). After eight o'clock the motion light on the back of the house would come on, creating the perfect setting for shadow art. I remember the strange thrill it gave me to watch my shadow soaring across the stretch of all the backyards belonging to the houses that line my street. It was as if the neighborhood suddenly became my very own amphitheater. I sometimes imagined that all our neighbors were gathered at their kitchen or sitting room windows, watching my shadow dance across their yards, engrossed by the story which my movements unfolded.

I don't jump on the trampoline anymore. We gave it away years ago because Trey and I stopped using it. I guess we got too grown up. But as I watch that boy swinging through the leafless trees, it seems as though I've lost something. I've lost that sense of adventure. Or at least, it has become dull.

Adults don't seem to live in the same world as children do. I no longer explore the wonders of the creek behind my house or the oak tree in my front yard. You don't see adults out on the lawn building forts made of umbrellas and raked leaves. But I think we (or they...) still have that same thirst for adventure, the same explorer's spirit. Are we ashamed or simply too jaded to admit to it? or is it that we have grown to look beyond our own backyard, and the backyards of our neighbors?

As I contemplate a coming semester in the UK and Europe, that familiar thrill returns a little. The sense of terror and excitement and beauty and discovery I once found in my own backyard now lies across an ocean in rolling hills and ancient walls. It is vaster, more subtle and less innocent, but it still tugs at my heart and tells me that the universe is a magical place, that God is creative and beautiful, and that Heaven will be an even greater adventure than my heart could begin to imagine.

A Banbury Pedestrian

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees

I and Love and Dave

sen·ti·men·tal

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Faded from the Winter

Chapter One (again)

Her Tea Leaves

Adventure of the Nations (Part II)

Please Forgive Me

The Adventure of the Nations 2008 (Part I)

Free Man in Paris

Singing in the Rain

where does the time go?

It's Gonna Be Alright

I Feel the Earth Move

Happiness Is a Warm Cup of Tea

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At the Bottom of Everything

Brush the Cobwebs off the Sky

While the boats raced on the river and decongestants went awry

It's Never Quite What It Seems...

Christ the Lord is Risen Today

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Jet Lag Anyone??

Better Grab a Muffin!

Then the sky fell open and my eyes were opened to a world of hope falling at my feet...

A Long Expected Trip