Don’t think of a pink elephant.
You did, didn’t you?
Doing exactly the opposite of what you’ve been told is a pretty natural reaction for us humans. Sometimes it’s involuntary; sometimes we catch ourselves rebelling and make a conscious effort to stop. Sometimes we don’t know how to stop.
This week has been a lesson in resisting the temptation to focus on the negative, the unknown, that which I dread.
Graduation. From North Greenville University.
I’ve been told that my “view is skewed.” I should be more than ready to walk across that stage on December 10th. But I’m not. Not entirely.
I’m glad that I’ve reached my goal. (Because, honestly, there were many times when I didn’t think I’d make it this far.) Yet here I am, on the brink of the future—and I’ve been fighting it with all I’ve got.
Not because I don’t want to grow up. Not because I’m afraid of the real world.
But because I belong at NGU. My heart is at NGU. It has been for some time now. I can’t stand the thought of being separated from it, from the people who make it what it is. The people who have influenced who I’ve become. My heart aches at the thought of leaving them.
With only five weeks until graduation, I can’t ignore its inevitability anymore. Acceptance is mandatory; preparation is key. But here’s the thing: I can’t stop thinking about it.
Last week ended with near panic attacks every time the mention of or thought of G-Day entered my mind. I slunk toward despair. (And even now, as I write, I find myself making an effort to divert my attention from that grayness of mood.)
Then Pastor Thomas spoke on God’s promises—Philippians 4:6-7 specifically—on Sunday. Broken down into two parts--the command and the promise-- this passage spoke volumes to me this week. Verse 6 reads, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.” Simple enough. Don’t worry about anything, talk to God, and be thankful. Then comes the promise in verse 7: “and the peace of God which passes all understanding will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” Obey the command and you’ll be at peace; God will comfort you.
Of course it took several days for this to sink in. Meanwhile, I continued my lament. At least, I did until I realized today that I can live one of two ways during the next five weeks.
Option 1: Walk around in a miserable, depressed state because “time waits for no one” (according to Souza).
Option 2: Accept that graduation is near and appreciate the little things that make life sparkle in the meantime. (Little things including work study hours spent serving others, lighthearted and not-so-lighthearted conversations with mentors and friends, Tuesday/Thursday lunches, unexpected meetings…I could go on.)
So I’ve decided that I’m going to make the most of these last few weeks at NGU. I’m going to embrace each day as an opportunity to make memories. I’m going to be thankful for each tiny, sparkling gift God gives me throughout the day.
And if you catch me on a bad day, pray for me. And remind me of the sparkles, the nuggets of happiness, of peace that have made the past four years so dear to my heart.
And know that I am thankful for your part in my life everyday.
"For a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin--real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first [. . .] At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. This perspective has helped me to see there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So treasure every moment you have and remember that time waits for no one" ~Souza
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Oh, Wait...
I had on of those wait-a-minute moments today. One of those pauses where something really hits home.
This morning Dr. Drummond told me that she has been invited to chaperone a trip to Israel next May. I was looking through the brochure, vaguely thinking how Israel with Dr. D could be fun, but also telling myself that I didn't want to take the class required for the trip next semester. I handed the brochure back to Dr. D and went on with my day.
It wasn't until I got home several hours later that it hit me:
I won't be at NGU next semester. The class for the trip didn't even matter. Because this is my last semester.
It's true.
Sure, I've been lamenting the fact for weeks. But I don't think it became real--really real--to me until today.
It was just one of those moments that stops you in your tracks.
This morning Dr. Drummond told me that she has been invited to chaperone a trip to Israel next May. I was looking through the brochure, vaguely thinking how Israel with Dr. D could be fun, but also telling myself that I didn't want to take the class required for the trip next semester. I handed the brochure back to Dr. D and went on with my day.
It wasn't until I got home several hours later that it hit me:
I won't be at NGU next semester. The class for the trip didn't even matter. Because this is my last semester.
It's true.
Sure, I've been lamenting the fact for weeks. But I don't think it became real--really real--to me until today.
It was just one of those moments that stops you in your tracks.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Pilgrims Return
We've returned from Massachusetts, back to the realities of life. The ten days Harvin, Haley, and I spent touring literary Massachusetts were wonderful. Here, a few of my thoughts along the journey.
Scroll down and begin with the first entry--and enjoy.
Scroll down and begin with the first entry--and enjoy.
Travel Journal 8: The End is Near
Sunday, August 9, 2009
11:34 a.m.
We’re on the homestretch, currently about 20 miles from Richmond, VA—where we’ll stop at the Poe Museum. I’m so ready to be home.
Yesterday we saw the Mark Twain house in Hartford. It was by far the most gorgeous of all the houses we’ve seen this week. And hearing the stories about Twain was fascinating. I love Twain—he was such a loveable rascal, much like his beloved characters Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.
Then we set out for the American School for the Deaf—the first Deaf school in the country, founded by Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet and Laurent Clerc. But we never found it. The GPS couldn’t locate the address, so after driving up and down Main Street for half an hour, we went back to the Twain house to get directions. According to Google, we were only 2 miles from the school. Two miles. We went back out, but never found it. It was like it had been hidden from us—sort of like Diagon Alley is hidden from the Muggles in Harry Potter. The only explanation I have is that it wasn’t God’s time for me to see the school yet. Of course I was a bit disappointed, but I’m trusting that God’s timing is perfect.
11:34 a.m.
We’re on the homestretch, currently about 20 miles from Richmond, VA—where we’ll stop at the Poe Museum. I’m so ready to be home.
Yesterday we saw the Mark Twain house in Hartford. It was by far the most gorgeous of all the houses we’ve seen this week. And hearing the stories about Twain was fascinating. I love Twain—he was such a loveable rascal, much like his beloved characters Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.
Then we set out for the American School for the Deaf—the first Deaf school in the country, founded by Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet and Laurent Clerc. But we never found it. The GPS couldn’t locate the address, so after driving up and down Main Street for half an hour, we went back to the Twain house to get directions. According to Google, we were only 2 miles from the school. Two miles. We went back out, but never found it. It was like it had been hidden from us—sort of like Diagon Alley is hidden from the Muggles in Harry Potter. The only explanation I have is that it wasn’t God’s time for me to see the school yet. Of course I was a bit disappointed, but I’m trusting that God’s timing is perfect.
Travel Journal 7:The Wonders of Concord, MA
Friday, August 7, 2009
7:21 p.m.
I’ve been totally slack in my journaling these past 36 hours. I only hope that I can remember all that has transpired since yesterday morning. We’ve packed so much into each day that my memory bank is overwhelmingly full.
We started out at the Longfellow house, which Harvin was especially excited about. We arrived just minutes before the next tour departed (we’ve had exceptionally good timing when it comes to tours). As we were given the ground rules, our guide—Abby—informed us that we could take pictures INSIDE the house so long as we didn’t use the flash (which I accidentally did a couple of times—oops!). Harvin and I were ecstatic! The chance to take photos inside a house museum presents itself so rarely that this opportunity was thrilling. (Yes, I realize we’re nerds. It’s okay.) Unfortunately, Kodie’s (Jess’ camera) batteries were dying, and my extras were in my bag, locked in a closet in the lobby. So I had to be careful to conserve his juice. Still, I got some pretty good shots.
After leaving Cambridge we stopped in Lexington to grab some lunch from McDonald’s (sweet tea for the first time in a week!) as we headed back to Concord. Have I mentioned that I LOVE Concord? I do—very much.
Our first stop was the Emerson house. While the house itself was quite nice, I wasn’t impressed with the logistics of the tour. People come in and join the tour in progress wherever it may be, then detach from the group once they make it back to wherever they began the tour. Additionally, the guides switched out every couple of rooms. The whole process just felt disjointed. And then there was the woman in our group who KEPT TOUCHING THINGS. There’s a certain amount of respect that house museums require—and one is that you don’t touch things—especially 150-year-old books. I swear, this lady ticked me off. Definitely not one of my favorite tours. Though I did enjoy envisioning the Emerson children running down the back stairs, yelling “Here comes fun” as Thoreau arrived at the house.
Next we stopped by the Minuteman National Historic Park visitor’s center—which Jordan would have loved—and the Paul Revere capture site. Again, the closeness of history was awe-inspiring as we stood on the spot where the “regulars” captured Revere, Dawes, and Prescott during their midnight ride to Concord.
The third stop in Concord was the Old Manse where both the Emersons and the Hawthornes lived. We were the only people on the tour. Our guide was FANTASTIC. Her name was Joan, she’d been a stand up comedienne in Vegas for twenty years, and she was a riot. She spoke of the Emersons and Hawthornes as if they were old friends, sharing juicy tidbits which I’m sure didn’t find themselves being told on regular tours. She even told us about a t-shirt idea the staff had, but that had been turned down by the trustees board. The tee’s slogan: “Hawthorne was a hottie” would be accompanied by the “angelic photo” of Hawthorne. *sigh* I’d wear that shirt. She told us they were going to have the shirts made anyway and that if we left our email addresses, she’d let us know when they were ready. (Yes, she quickly realized that we are diehard Hawthorne fans.) Awesome tour.
The last stop in Concord was sleepy Hollow Cemetery. We arrived just before sunset—the perfect setting for the end of our time in Concord. There, all the literary celebrities of Concord were laid to rest more than 100 years ago—Hawthorne, Thoreau, Alcott; and, of course the “sugar daddy of American literature”—Emerson. How poignant that they were not only neighbors in life, but remain neighbors still today. We left stones and pennies on the graves of Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Alcott; a branch—the ugliest—on Emerson’s boulder (for Dr. Thompson); we left these behind in homage to the great writers who have shaped our lives, our love for American literature.
After a few moments of reflection—and waiting for other r visitors to move on—we settled in to read to Hawthorne. We took turns reading to him, sitting by his tombstone, videoing ourselves to immortalize those moments. Haley began by reading both the introduction and conclusion of Hawthorne’s own “Ethan Brand” (a story which haunts every English major who has passed through Dr. Sepko’s lit theory class at NGU in the past six years or so); Harvin offered Longfellow’s poem “Hawthorne”—which was written as a tribute to the deceased author; and I concluded with an excerpt from another of Hawthorne’s short stories—“The Minister’s Black Veil.” Such wonderful memories that we will carry with us for many years to come.
As we descended Author’s Ridge, we were all quite silent. On the way back to the car, I concluded that leaving Sleepy Hollow—as well as Concord in general—was akin to leaving old friends behind, like saying goodbye. Having been a part of their world for two days, departing company was saddening—even though they’ve all been dead for more than 100 years.
Farewell, Concord.
10:15 p.m.
A quick recap before I crash for the night:
Today’s agenda specified that we check out the hotel in Danvers and head west to Amherst to visit The Homestead (Emily Dickinson’s home), as well as her brother’s house next door—The Evergreens. We were also planning to stop by the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. Once in Amherst, we opted for the hour-and-a-half tour of “Emily Dickinson’s World”—and again, we were the only people on the tour. Our guide, Brooke, was about our age, perhaps a little older, and quite knowledgeable about Dickinson. The tour was great, but I’d imagined the house a bit different—more original/authentic, I guess. The house has passed through many hands over the years—it’s only been a museum for about six years—so very few of Emily’s things are left in the house. I’ve found that original furniture is one of my most important requirements for a good house museum. Next door, however, The Evergreens holds an abundance of original furniture and décor. It hasn’t been touched since Emily’s brother’s family lived there. The carpet is threadbare and the walls are faded, but it’s authentic.
After the tour, we walked through the town to West Cemetery where Emily is buried. I’m turning into such a grave-hunting nerd. A wrought iron fence surrounds the Dickinson family plot, keeping fans off the grave of the poet and her family, but near enough to satisfy her visitors. As we walked away from the grave, Harvin mentioned that the gate had been unlocked; we could’ve walked right in; however, there were several landscapers mowing in the vicinity, so we refrained from treading upon Emily Dickinson’s hallowed ground.
Next we had lunch at an upscale-casual restaurant called Judie’s in downtown Amherst. Then we browsed a couple of local bookshops. Our last stop was to be the E.C. museum, but we got back to the car just 15 minute before it closed. We weren’t too disappointed because this stop wasn’t high priority—it was just an extra we’d thrown in. So we drove on to our hotel in Hartford, CT; chilled for a bit, and had dinner at Ruby Tuesday. Twain house and the ASD tomorrow!
7:21 p.m.
I’ve been totally slack in my journaling these past 36 hours. I only hope that I can remember all that has transpired since yesterday morning. We’ve packed so much into each day that my memory bank is overwhelmingly full.
We started out at the Longfellow house, which Harvin was especially excited about. We arrived just minutes before the next tour departed (we’ve had exceptionally good timing when it comes to tours). As we were given the ground rules, our guide—Abby—informed us that we could take pictures INSIDE the house so long as we didn’t use the flash (which I accidentally did a couple of times—oops!). Harvin and I were ecstatic! The chance to take photos inside a house museum presents itself so rarely that this opportunity was thrilling. (Yes, I realize we’re nerds. It’s okay.) Unfortunately, Kodie’s (Jess’ camera) batteries were dying, and my extras were in my bag, locked in a closet in the lobby. So I had to be careful to conserve his juice. Still, I got some pretty good shots.
After leaving Cambridge we stopped in Lexington to grab some lunch from McDonald’s (sweet tea for the first time in a week!) as we headed back to Concord. Have I mentioned that I LOVE Concord? I do—very much.
Our first stop was the Emerson house. While the house itself was quite nice, I wasn’t impressed with the logistics of the tour. People come in and join the tour in progress wherever it may be, then detach from the group once they make it back to wherever they began the tour. Additionally, the guides switched out every couple of rooms. The whole process just felt disjointed. And then there was the woman in our group who KEPT TOUCHING THINGS. There’s a certain amount of respect that house museums require—and one is that you don’t touch things—especially 150-year-old books. I swear, this lady ticked me off. Definitely not one of my favorite tours. Though I did enjoy envisioning the Emerson children running down the back stairs, yelling “Here comes fun” as Thoreau arrived at the house.
Next we stopped by the Minuteman National Historic Park visitor’s center—which Jordan would have loved—and the Paul Revere capture site. Again, the closeness of history was awe-inspiring as we stood on the spot where the “regulars” captured Revere, Dawes, and Prescott during their midnight ride to Concord.
The third stop in Concord was the Old Manse where both the Emersons and the Hawthornes lived. We were the only people on the tour. Our guide was FANTASTIC. Her name was Joan, she’d been a stand up comedienne in Vegas for twenty years, and she was a riot. She spoke of the Emersons and Hawthornes as if they were old friends, sharing juicy tidbits which I’m sure didn’t find themselves being told on regular tours. She even told us about a t-shirt idea the staff had, but that had been turned down by the trustees board. The tee’s slogan: “Hawthorne was a hottie” would be accompanied by the “angelic photo” of Hawthorne. *sigh* I’d wear that shirt. She told us they were going to have the shirts made anyway and that if we left our email addresses, she’d let us know when they were ready. (Yes, she quickly realized that we are diehard Hawthorne fans.) Awesome tour.
The last stop in Concord was sleepy Hollow Cemetery. We arrived just before sunset—the perfect setting for the end of our time in Concord. There, all the literary celebrities of Concord were laid to rest more than 100 years ago—Hawthorne, Thoreau, Alcott; and, of course the “sugar daddy of American literature”—Emerson. How poignant that they were not only neighbors in life, but remain neighbors still today. We left stones and pennies on the graves of Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Alcott; a branch—the ugliest—on Emerson’s boulder (for Dr. Thompson); we left these behind in homage to the great writers who have shaped our lives, our love for American literature.
After a few moments of reflection—and waiting for other r visitors to move on—we settled in to read to Hawthorne. We took turns reading to him, sitting by his tombstone, videoing ourselves to immortalize those moments. Haley began by reading both the introduction and conclusion of Hawthorne’s own “Ethan Brand” (a story which haunts every English major who has passed through Dr. Sepko’s lit theory class at NGU in the past six years or so); Harvin offered Longfellow’s poem “Hawthorne”—which was written as a tribute to the deceased author; and I concluded with an excerpt from another of Hawthorne’s short stories—“The Minister’s Black Veil.” Such wonderful memories that we will carry with us for many years to come.
As we descended Author’s Ridge, we were all quite silent. On the way back to the car, I concluded that leaving Sleepy Hollow—as well as Concord in general—was akin to leaving old friends behind, like saying goodbye. Having been a part of their world for two days, departing company was saddening—even though they’ve all been dead for more than 100 years.
Farewell, Concord.
10:15 p.m.
A quick recap before I crash for the night:
Today’s agenda specified that we check out the hotel in Danvers and head west to Amherst to visit The Homestead (Emily Dickinson’s home), as well as her brother’s house next door—The Evergreens. We were also planning to stop by the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. Once in Amherst, we opted for the hour-and-a-half tour of “Emily Dickinson’s World”—and again, we were the only people on the tour. Our guide, Brooke, was about our age, perhaps a little older, and quite knowledgeable about Dickinson. The tour was great, but I’d imagined the house a bit different—more original/authentic, I guess. The house has passed through many hands over the years—it’s only been a museum for about six years—so very few of Emily’s things are left in the house. I’ve found that original furniture is one of my most important requirements for a good house museum. Next door, however, The Evergreens holds an abundance of original furniture and décor. It hasn’t been touched since Emily’s brother’s family lived there. The carpet is threadbare and the walls are faded, but it’s authentic.
After the tour, we walked through the town to West Cemetery where Emily is buried. I’m turning into such a grave-hunting nerd. A wrought iron fence surrounds the Dickinson family plot, keeping fans off the grave of the poet and her family, but near enough to satisfy her visitors. As we walked away from the grave, Harvin mentioned that the gate had been unlocked; we could’ve walked right in; however, there were several landscapers mowing in the vicinity, so we refrained from treading upon Emily Dickinson’s hallowed ground.
Next we had lunch at an upscale-casual restaurant called Judie’s in downtown Amherst. Then we browsed a couple of local bookshops. Our last stop was to be the E.C. museum, but we got back to the car just 15 minute before it closed. We weren’t too disappointed because this stop wasn’t high priority—it was just an extra we’d thrown in. So we drove on to our hotel in Hartford, CT; chilled for a bit, and had dinner at Ruby Tuesday. Twain house and the ASD tomorrow!
Travel Journal 6:Tears and Treasures
Thursday, August 6, 2009
7:02 a.m.
Yesterday was such an overwhelming day. We saw so much and experienced a closer link to some of our favorite authors than we ever could have imagined. To stand on the edge of Emerson’s study, to gaze at Thoreau’s humble desk, to STAND IN THE VERY ROOMS where Hawthorne, Thoreau, Emerson, Alcott, and Fuller gathered together, to be surrounded by Hawthorne’s furniture (including the table at which he ate, the handmade desk where he stood to write and the cabinet where he kept his manuscripts in his beloved sky parlor), to wander around the room in which Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women, to see the staircase where she and her sisters played Pilgrims Progress, to stand in the parlor of Orchard House and envision the Alcott/March sisters putting on plays for their guests: it’s unimaginable until you’re standing there in the midst of it all.
As we approached the Concord Museum yesterday, we had our first moment of collective awe. Standing off to the side of the path was a little wooden structure. Harvin paused to get a closer look at the sign on the building: “Thoreau’s cabin.” We all gasped and moved closer quickly. Of course, it was only a replica—which we all knew, but momentarily forgot. Still, we were giddy.
After a brief conversation with the lady at the front desk of the museum (who was quite intrigued by the existence of Travelers Rest, S.C.), we set off through the exhibits. Once we entered the Emerson and Thoreau exhibits, the three of us fell into a mutual silence as we each contemplated the nearness of literary history.
Moving on, we had lunch at Walden Grille. Then we set off to the appropriately-named shop down the street: Thoreauly Antiques. There we perused books and other treasures. Nothing really caught my attention until we were about to leave. I was looking around when a small, worn box in the corner caught my eye. I lifted it from a basket and gasped in excitement. Opening the box, I turned to Haley and said, “I FOUND THEM! I found Dr. Sepko’s author cards!” Doc has told us many times how she first found her love of literature sitting on her grandmother’s front porch, learning about various authors from these cards. She’s been looking for another set for years. To find something so precious for someone we treasure infinitely is exhilarating. I can’t wait to give them to her—we’ve already predicted tears all around!
Well, I must pause in my reflection to get ready to head out to Concord again today; the Old Manse, Emerson House, and Sleepy Hollow Cemetery are in the plans for today!
7:02 a.m.
Yesterday was such an overwhelming day. We saw so much and experienced a closer link to some of our favorite authors than we ever could have imagined. To stand on the edge of Emerson’s study, to gaze at Thoreau’s humble desk, to STAND IN THE VERY ROOMS where Hawthorne, Thoreau, Emerson, Alcott, and Fuller gathered together, to be surrounded by Hawthorne’s furniture (including the table at which he ate, the handmade desk where he stood to write and the cabinet where he kept his manuscripts in his beloved sky parlor), to wander around the room in which Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women, to see the staircase where she and her sisters played Pilgrims Progress, to stand in the parlor of Orchard House and envision the Alcott/March sisters putting on plays for their guests: it’s unimaginable until you’re standing there in the midst of it all.
As we approached the Concord Museum yesterday, we had our first moment of collective awe. Standing off to the side of the path was a little wooden structure. Harvin paused to get a closer look at the sign on the building: “Thoreau’s cabin.” We all gasped and moved closer quickly. Of course, it was only a replica—which we all knew, but momentarily forgot. Still, we were giddy.
After a brief conversation with the lady at the front desk of the museum (who was quite intrigued by the existence of Travelers Rest, S.C.), we set off through the exhibits. Once we entered the Emerson and Thoreau exhibits, the three of us fell into a mutual silence as we each contemplated the nearness of literary history.
Moving on, we had lunch at Walden Grille. Then we set off to the appropriately-named shop down the street: Thoreauly Antiques. There we perused books and other treasures. Nothing really caught my attention until we were about to leave. I was looking around when a small, worn box in the corner caught my eye. I lifted it from a basket and gasped in excitement. Opening the box, I turned to Haley and said, “I FOUND THEM! I found Dr. Sepko’s author cards!” Doc has told us many times how she first found her love of literature sitting on her grandmother’s front porch, learning about various authors from these cards. She’s been looking for another set for years. To find something so precious for someone we treasure infinitely is exhilarating. I can’t wait to give them to her—we’ve already predicted tears all around!
Well, I must pause in my reflection to get ready to head out to Concord again today; the Old Manse, Emerson House, and Sleepy Hollow Cemetery are in the plans for today!
Travel Journal 5
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
1:43 p.m.
We’re sitting in Walden Grille in Concord, MA. Today has been busy—as we knew our time in Concord would be. We started the day at the Concord Museum, which was well worth the time and money. We learned a great deal about the town’s history, but even better—we saw Emerson’s study and Thoreau’s belongings!!!! It was so incredible to be so close to the very possessions of these men who contributed so much to American literature and philosophy. I actually teared up while walking around the Thoreau exhibit, looking at his name inscribed on his snowshoes and the worn edges of his desk. Literary nerd? Yes, and proud to be one.
1:43 p.m.
We’re sitting in Walden Grille in Concord, MA. Today has been busy—as we knew our time in Concord would be. We started the day at the Concord Museum, which was well worth the time and money. We learned a great deal about the town’s history, but even better—we saw Emerson’s study and Thoreau’s belongings!!!! It was so incredible to be so close to the very possessions of these men who contributed so much to American literature and philosophy. I actually teared up while walking around the Thoreau exhibit, looking at his name inscribed on his snowshoes and the worn edges of his desk. Literary nerd? Yes, and proud to be one.
Travel Journal 4
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
7:15 a.m.
Last night was really rough. I hardly slept at all, just coughed all night. I’m wrestling with the idea of staying at the hotel today and resting. I highly doubt I’ll be able to talk myself into it though.
Haley and I were talking last night about how we wished Dr. Thompson had come with us. I’ve been thinking of her with almost every step we take. She inspired this trip. If it weren’t for New England Writers, Harvin, Haley, and I wouldn’t be bffs, and we wouldn’t be in Massachusetts right now. She planted this love of American literature in me and I am so thankful for it.
This trip is an incredible gift and I’m so grateful for the perspective it is providing me—even in spite of my sickness. These memories will last a lifetime, these experiences will broaden my horizons, this history will make me grateful for those who came before me, and this exploration of new boundaries will be a teacher in the days to come.
7:15 a.m.
Last night was really rough. I hardly slept at all, just coughed all night. I’m wrestling with the idea of staying at the hotel today and resting. I highly doubt I’ll be able to talk myself into it though.
Haley and I were talking last night about how we wished Dr. Thompson had come with us. I’ve been thinking of her with almost every step we take. She inspired this trip. If it weren’t for New England Writers, Harvin, Haley, and I wouldn’t be bffs, and we wouldn’t be in Massachusetts right now. She planted this love of American literature in me and I am so thankful for it.
This trip is an incredible gift and I’m so grateful for the perspective it is providing me—even in spite of my sickness. These memories will last a lifetime, these experiences will broaden my horizons, this history will make me grateful for those who came before me, and this exploration of new boundaries will be a teacher in the days to come.
Travel Journal 3
Monday, August 3, 2009
6:00 p.m.
Whew! I’m exhausted. Yesterday’s tour of the HOSG was incredible. Walking through the house where Hawthorne was born and the house he visited that later became the basis for his novel was an indescribable experience. It’s amazing that these structures still stand as a link to history.
Today we walked all around Boston on the Freedom Trail. We saw sites including the Old North Church (where Paul Revere and company hung the lanterns signaling the arrival of British troops), the former location of the Old Corner Bookstore (where Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter was first published and which has been replaced by Borders—what would 19th century authors think of that?!), the graves of Paul Revere, Ben Franklin’s parents, John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and others; the Paul Revere house, the site of Poe’s home in Boston, the Holocaust Memorial, King’s Chapel—and the list goes on and on. There’s so much history in this city—the birthplace of our country. It’s fascinating.
I still feel pretty icky, but I’m trying to just trudge on and enjoy being here as much as I can. Tomorrow we’re headed to Cambridge, Emerson College (Harvin wants to check it out), and Longfellow’s house.
Song of the day: “Boston” by Augustana
Oh! I vowed that I wouldn’t leave New England without having a lobster roll, so I had one from Boston Chowda Co. for lunch at Quincy Market today. It was fabulous!
6:00 p.m.
Whew! I’m exhausted. Yesterday’s tour of the HOSG was incredible. Walking through the house where Hawthorne was born and the house he visited that later became the basis for his novel was an indescribable experience. It’s amazing that these structures still stand as a link to history.
Today we walked all around Boston on the Freedom Trail. We saw sites including the Old North Church (where Paul Revere and company hung the lanterns signaling the arrival of British troops), the former location of the Old Corner Bookstore (where Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter was first published and which has been replaced by Borders—what would 19th century authors think of that?!), the graves of Paul Revere, Ben Franklin’s parents, John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and others; the Paul Revere house, the site of Poe’s home in Boston, the Holocaust Memorial, King’s Chapel—and the list goes on and on. There’s so much history in this city—the birthplace of our country. It’s fascinating.
I still feel pretty icky, but I’m trying to just trudge on and enjoy being here as much as I can. Tomorrow we’re headed to Cambridge, Emerson College (Harvin wants to check it out), and Longfellow’s house.
Song of the day: “Boston” by Augustana
Oh! I vowed that I wouldn’t leave New England without having a lobster roll, so I had one from Boston Chowda Co. for lunch at Quincy Market today. It was fabulous!
Travel Journal 2
Sunday, August 2, 2009
11:49 a.m.
Our first official day in Massachusetts. We’re roaming about Salem today. We’ve toured the Salem Witch Museum—which was insightful and thought-provoking. We also wandered around Salem Common and had a swinging session. Swinging in Salem on Sunday—what a great, alliterated start to a beautiful day of discovery! Next, we’re headed to lunch then off to the House of Seven Gables, the Custom House, and the Derby Wharf lighthouse. *Listening to Bloc Party’s “Hunting for Witches”*
12:48 p.m.
Sitting in Engine House Pizza and Subs which claims to have the best pizza in Salem. We ordered the Fire Chief’s Special—and it’s pretty darn good. Even Bernard (Haley’s gnome) thinks so. J
I woke this morning feeling pretty good, but now I’m hitting the midday slump: my head is all stuffy and pounding, and my voice is waning. L Maybe HOSG and the Custom House will make me feel better?
5:15 p.m.
We climbed Clifford’s secret stairway in the HOSG! Actually, the staircase was added long after Hawthorne wrote HOSG in order to draw in more tourists, to make the house more like the one in Hawthorne’s’ novel. Still, it was fun to pretend to be Clifford for a moment—stealthily slinking betwixt the dining room and attic! Headed back to the hotel tonight, then going to see the new Harry Potter movie in IMAX 3D! Yippee!
11:49 a.m.
Our first official day in Massachusetts. We’re roaming about Salem today. We’ve toured the Salem Witch Museum—which was insightful and thought-provoking. We also wandered around Salem Common and had a swinging session. Swinging in Salem on Sunday—what a great, alliterated start to a beautiful day of discovery! Next, we’re headed to lunch then off to the House of Seven Gables, the Custom House, and the Derby Wharf lighthouse. *Listening to Bloc Party’s “Hunting for Witches”*
12:48 p.m.
Sitting in Engine House Pizza and Subs which claims to have the best pizza in Salem. We ordered the Fire Chief’s Special—and it’s pretty darn good. Even Bernard (Haley’s gnome) thinks so. J
I woke this morning feeling pretty good, but now I’m hitting the midday slump: my head is all stuffy and pounding, and my voice is waning. L Maybe HOSG and the Custom House will make me feel better?
5:15 p.m.
We climbed Clifford’s secret stairway in the HOSG! Actually, the staircase was added long after Hawthorne wrote HOSG in order to draw in more tourists, to make the house more like the one in Hawthorne’s’ novel. Still, it was fun to pretend to be Clifford for a moment—stealthily slinking betwixt the dining room and attic! Headed back to the hotel tonight, then going to see the new Harry Potter movie in IMAX 3D! Yippee!
Travel Journal 1
Saturday, August 1, 2009
7:30 a.m.
Waking up in Annapolis is a beautiful thing—even after a rough night. I think I only slept for about 3 hours. Ugh.
I woke up thinking about the verse in the Bible where it talks about God enlarging one’s borders. I feel like my borders are being expanded. God’s broadening my horizons so that I will eventually be confident enough in Him to go out into the wide, wide world. Truly, he’s already at work—a continuous process that I have really begun to recognize over the past three years.
9 a.m.
We’re on the road again—headed to Baltimore to see Poe’s grave!
10:15 a.m.
We’re in Baltimore! I still can’t believe we’re on our way to Boston. Leaving Poe’s grave—our first literary stop.
10:33 a.m.
Harvin’s driving, Haley’s reading Anne of the Island, and I’m sucking on cough drops. Since we’ll be in Salem tomorrow, my reading material for the day will be The House of the Seven Gables. Appropriate, yes?
11:50 a.m.
Got a text from Dr. Thompson. I wish she were with us. I just connected the name of the journal she gave me (Explore New Boundaries) with what I wrote this morning. Another affirmation from God that He is indeed at work. What an adventure!
(We’re in Delaware now.)
1:27 p.m.
We just stopped in Bellmawr, NJ for lunch on the run at Subway. People in this town are CRAZY. Lots of angry, cursing motorists are vying to get back on the turnpike. Lord, help.
And it’s official—I’ve entered the land of unsweet tea. Apparently, these northerners think green tea is an appropriate substitute. Uh, wrong; they’re just plain wrong.
2:47 p.m.
We hate New Jersey and its bloody turnpike. We’re currently stuck in ten miles of backed-up traffic. Ugh. In order to pass the time, Harvin and Haley are playing with the GPS’s settings. Instead of a car icon rolling along the road, we now have a colorful beach ball bouncing along the turnpike—and a British voice to add a bit of cultural flair. J
3:54 p.m.
Passing Newark airport (and IKEA)! Still hating New Jersey though we did finally get out of the traffic jam. I’m ready to leave this state behind and see New York. After seven hours on the road, I’m finally feeling a bit better. Hallelujah! HopefullyI’ll be able to sleep tonight and be ready to roll in the morning.
4:35 p.m.
We’re in New York—driving over the Hudson River on the George Washingotn Bridge, looking out at NYC.
5:23 p.m.
“Connecticut Welcomes You.” This state has some beautiful scenery. Hooray! We’re only one state away!
7:40 p.m.
We’ve crossed the Massachusetts state line!!! 64 mile to Boston! Stopping at Cracker Barrel for dinner (yes, southern food for our first meal in MA).
10:55 p.m.
Checked into our hotel...crashing now. Good night!
7:30 a.m.
Waking up in Annapolis is a beautiful thing—even after a rough night. I think I only slept for about 3 hours. Ugh.
I woke up thinking about the verse in the Bible where it talks about God enlarging one’s borders. I feel like my borders are being expanded. God’s broadening my horizons so that I will eventually be confident enough in Him to go out into the wide, wide world. Truly, he’s already at work—a continuous process that I have really begun to recognize over the past three years.
9 a.m.
We’re on the road again—headed to Baltimore to see Poe’s grave!
10:15 a.m.
We’re in Baltimore! I still can’t believe we’re on our way to Boston. Leaving Poe’s grave—our first literary stop.
10:33 a.m.
Harvin’s driving, Haley’s reading Anne of the Island, and I’m sucking on cough drops. Since we’ll be in Salem tomorrow, my reading material for the day will be The House of the Seven Gables. Appropriate, yes?
11:50 a.m.
Got a text from Dr. Thompson. I wish she were with us. I just connected the name of the journal she gave me (Explore New Boundaries) with what I wrote this morning. Another affirmation from God that He is indeed at work. What an adventure!
(We’re in Delaware now.)
1:27 p.m.
We just stopped in Bellmawr, NJ for lunch on the run at Subway. People in this town are CRAZY. Lots of angry, cursing motorists are vying to get back on the turnpike. Lord, help.
And it’s official—I’ve entered the land of unsweet tea. Apparently, these northerners think green tea is an appropriate substitute. Uh, wrong; they’re just plain wrong.
2:47 p.m.
We hate New Jersey and its bloody turnpike. We’re currently stuck in ten miles of backed-up traffic. Ugh. In order to pass the time, Harvin and Haley are playing with the GPS’s settings. Instead of a car icon rolling along the road, we now have a colorful beach ball bouncing along the turnpike—and a British voice to add a bit of cultural flair. J
3:54 p.m.
Passing Newark airport (and IKEA)! Still hating New Jersey though we did finally get out of the traffic jam. I’m ready to leave this state behind and see New York. After seven hours on the road, I’m finally feeling a bit better. Hallelujah! HopefullyI’ll be able to sleep tonight and be ready to roll in the morning.
4:35 p.m.
We’re in New York—driving over the Hudson River on the George Washingotn Bridge, looking out at NYC.
5:23 p.m.
“Connecticut Welcomes You.” This state has some beautiful scenery. Hooray! We’re only one state away!
7:40 p.m.
We’ve crossed the Massachusetts state line!!! 64 mile to Boston! Stopping at Cracker Barrel for dinner (yes, southern food for our first meal in MA).
10:55 p.m.
Checked into our hotel...crashing now. Good night!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
A Quarter of a Century--and Counting
I can't leave for the night without reviewing how lovely and amazing the past few days have been. My birthday was Thursday (the 23rd)--my 25th birthday. It was a little bit of a shock to my system to realize that I've reached this age, especially as a LUL summer staffer (Tessa) turned twenty on Thursday as well. Tessa was celebrating the demise of her teenage years while I sat thinking about how long ago twenty seems to have been for me. So much has happened in the past five years that have shaped me into someone I never dreamed of becoming.
As I celebrated my birthday throughout the week, I realized how many loving, caring, amazing people I am surrounded by. They are family friends who've known me since birth, new friends that I've met at NGU; they are family, and they are like family; they are mentors and counselors; they are listeners. They are mine--and I am blessed continually by them, through them, and because of them.
The first great birthday treasure I received was from someone who has pushed, prodded, encouraged, and inspired me through my four years at NGU. Dr. Drummond called me Wednesday morning (yes, a day early) to sing "Happy Birthday" to me. (Mind you, the woman hates singing, so I must be very special!).
On Thursday, I worked breakfast and Lunch at LUL. Every year during the week in which my birthday falls, a certain church rents the camp. And every year they (all 350 of them) wish me a "Happy Birthday." This year was no different as 50 Carmelites sang to me at breakfast and 200 Carmelites sang to me at lunch. I used to hate it, but I'm kind of used to it now. If you've never had hundreds of people sing to you on your birthday, you should find a way to make it happen--it's pretty cool. Anna B. also brought me Reese's Pieces and cupcakes at lunch. She's such a sweetie!
Thursday night, Jess, Dr. Thompson (another driving force behind my success at NGU), and I went to World Market before meeting Harvin, Haley, and Mom for dinner at P.F. Chang's. We had an awesome time of fellowship around the table--complete with flowers from Mom shielding our views of one another and Jimmy the balloon (courtesy of Dr. Thompson) swaying high above our heads, announcing to everyone the reason for our celebration. After dinner (which was delicious!), I got to open gifts from Harvin and Haley (Harry Potter in IMAX 3D in Massachusetts!) and Dr. T (which included a moment that Jess will NEVER let Dr. T and me live down!). And, oh how I love musical cards--even though I had to wait to hear it at home--too much noise pollution in the restaurant. After leaving P.F. Chang's, we went downtown for fro-yo from Blueberry Frog. On the way home, Dr. T and I had an exciting on-the-verge-of-hysterical discussion of the places Harvin, Haley, and I will visit on our trip later next week. To have a conversation with someone who really understands the magic of this trip is priceless. All in all, it was the perfect ending to a pretty perfect day.
Friday was a LONG workday, but Saturday was "only a day away."
Jess, Kick, JP, and I drove to Columbia to meet Morgan and Luke to go to the zoo. It was bloody hot, so we went through quickly, headed to the mall, ate lunch, and did a little shopping--mostly to put off the parting of ways. It's always sad to see the Georgetown kids head home, because it usually means we won't see them for another six months at minimum.
Long story, short: my birhtday was incredible. I'm just not so sure about the whole quarter-of-a-century milestone. But more on that later.
G'night!
As I celebrated my birthday throughout the week, I realized how many loving, caring, amazing people I am surrounded by. They are family friends who've known me since birth, new friends that I've met at NGU; they are family, and they are like family; they are mentors and counselors; they are listeners. They are mine--and I am blessed continually by them, through them, and because of them.
The first great birthday treasure I received was from someone who has pushed, prodded, encouraged, and inspired me through my four years at NGU. Dr. Drummond called me Wednesday morning (yes, a day early) to sing "Happy Birthday" to me. (Mind you, the woman hates singing, so I must be very special!).
On Thursday, I worked breakfast and Lunch at LUL. Every year during the week in which my birthday falls, a certain church rents the camp. And every year they (all 350 of them) wish me a "Happy Birthday." This year was no different as 50 Carmelites sang to me at breakfast and 200 Carmelites sang to me at lunch. I used to hate it, but I'm kind of used to it now. If you've never had hundreds of people sing to you on your birthday, you should find a way to make it happen--it's pretty cool. Anna B. also brought me Reese's Pieces and cupcakes at lunch. She's such a sweetie!
Thursday night, Jess, Dr. Thompson (another driving force behind my success at NGU), and I went to World Market before meeting Harvin, Haley, and Mom for dinner at P.F. Chang's. We had an awesome time of fellowship around the table--complete with flowers from Mom shielding our views of one another and Jimmy the balloon (courtesy of Dr. Thompson) swaying high above our heads, announcing to everyone the reason for our celebration. After dinner (which was delicious!), I got to open gifts from Harvin and Haley (Harry Potter in IMAX 3D in Massachusetts!) and Dr. T (which included a moment that Jess will NEVER let Dr. T and me live down!). And, oh how I love musical cards--even though I had to wait to hear it at home--too much noise pollution in the restaurant. After leaving P.F. Chang's, we went downtown for fro-yo from Blueberry Frog. On the way home, Dr. T and I had an exciting on-the-verge-of-hysterical discussion of the places Harvin, Haley, and I will visit on our trip later next week. To have a conversation with someone who really understands the magic of this trip is priceless. All in all, it was the perfect ending to a pretty perfect day.
Friday was a LONG workday, but Saturday was "only a day away."
Jess, Kick, JP, and I drove to Columbia to meet Morgan and Luke to go to the zoo. It was bloody hot, so we went through quickly, headed to the mall, ate lunch, and did a little shopping--mostly to put off the parting of ways. It's always sad to see the Georgetown kids head home, because it usually means we won't see them for another six months at minimum.
Long story, short: my birhtday was incredible. I'm just not so sure about the whole quarter-of-a-century milestone. But more on that later.
G'night!
A Poor Excuse
Okay, so I suck at posting regularly. Want an excuse? Camp is taking every bit of energy I have this year--but I say that every year, don't I?
Whatever. If there's one thing I really need to learn, it is that I will never be perfect--at ANYTHING. Perfectionism rules me sometimes. I can't start a task because I'm afraid I can't complete it without blemish. I try to do everything myself because others may not do so and so like I would. Lucky for me, God can overlook my OCD control issues. Now, if only I could learn to do the same. Well, maybe I should learn to RELAX a bit, let go a bit, instead of overlooking said issues.
Anyway, I'm hoping (AGAIN!!!) that I will use this outlet as I continue my journey through the crazy-beautiful intricacies of life. And maybe, just maybe, my upcoming trip to Boston will prompt me to do so.
Whatever. If there's one thing I really need to learn, it is that I will never be perfect--at ANYTHING. Perfectionism rules me sometimes. I can't start a task because I'm afraid I can't complete it without blemish. I try to do everything myself because others may not do so and so like I would. Lucky for me, God can overlook my OCD control issues. Now, if only I could learn to do the same. Well, maybe I should learn to RELAX a bit, let go a bit, instead of overlooking said issues.
Anyway, I'm hoping (AGAIN!!!) that I will use this outlet as I continue my journey through the crazy-beautiful intricacies of life. And maybe, just maybe, my upcoming trip to Boston will prompt me to do so.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Distracted & Disconnected
A commitment to write, huh?
Four and a half months later, I'm back after falling into an endless state of distraction. I've felt disconnected. Has it shown? Survival mode shifted into overdrive. My motto became "just push through this," a phrase my mind left on repeat. I lost touch, but I wore the mask, as Paul Lawrence Dunbar's poem "We Wear the Mask" illustrates.
I haven't written as a means of catharsis in ages--and I feel it in my soul. I've got to make time for this outlet.
The past months have been fraught with good days, bad days, and those pesky in-between days (perhaps the worst with an ambivalent aura about them). I've learned a lot, but have yet multitudes more to learn. For the beginning of my return to writing I will review the time that has passed. Hopefully, the review will bring back a fresh perspective, new lessons, and a chance to make sense of life's distractions.
Four and a half months later, I'm back after falling into an endless state of distraction. I've felt disconnected. Has it shown? Survival mode shifted into overdrive. My motto became "just push through this," a phrase my mind left on repeat. I lost touch, but I wore the mask, as Paul Lawrence Dunbar's poem "We Wear the Mask" illustrates.
I haven't written as a means of catharsis in ages--and I feel it in my soul. I've got to make time for this outlet.
The past months have been fraught with good days, bad days, and those pesky in-between days (perhaps the worst with an ambivalent aura about them). I've learned a lot, but have yet multitudes more to learn. For the beginning of my return to writing I will review the time that has passed. Hopefully, the review will bring back a fresh perspective, new lessons, and a chance to make sense of life's distractions.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
How Shall I Begin?
I've always loved to write--stories in elementary school, letters to friends in middle school, journals
throughout high school, and essays and research papers in college. (Yes, I really do enjoy writing papers!) Yet, as much as I love the process of writing, of transferring my thoughts to paper, I've lost my commitment to record the everyday things that make my life uniquely mine. Required essays papers, and journal assignments have become an excuse for not taking time to solidify the events of my life for the sake of posterity.
What made me start a blog, then?
I hope that having a blog will encourage me to write more often. Ultimately, I know it is because I want to leave something personal, something tangible behind. And I believe writing is one of the most effective ways of doing so.
I'm taking Composition Theory this semester, and honestly, I didn't think I would enjoy the material all that much--it was just an excuse to take another class with one of my favorite professors. But as I was sitting in class on Thursday, I realized not only that I am genuinely interested in the theories of composition, but also that I don't want to lose the compulsion to write. I want to remember all the seemingly insignificant events that make me who I am.
So, here's to my commitment to write--may it stay strong.
throughout high school, and essays and research papers in college. (Yes, I really do enjoy writing papers!) Yet, as much as I love the process of writing, of transferring my thoughts to paper, I've lost my commitment to record the everyday things that make my life uniquely mine. Required essays papers, and journal assignments have become an excuse for not taking time to solidify the events of my life for the sake of posterity.
What made me start a blog, then?
I hope that having a blog will encourage me to write more often. Ultimately, I know it is because I want to leave something personal, something tangible behind. And I believe writing is one of the most effective ways of doing so.
I'm taking Composition Theory this semester, and honestly, I didn't think I would enjoy the material all that much--it was just an excuse to take another class with one of my favorite professors. But as I was sitting in class on Thursday, I realized not only that I am genuinely interested in the theories of composition, but also that I don't want to lose the compulsion to write. I want to remember all the seemingly insignificant events that make me who I am.
So, here's to my commitment to write--may it stay strong.
Inspiration
441
This is my letter to the World
That never wrote to Me--
The simple News that Nature told--
With tender Majesty
Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see--
For love of Her--Sweet--countrymen--
Judge tenderly--of Me
~Emily Dickinson
"A written word is the choicest of relics. It is something at once more intimate with us and more universal that any other work of art. It is the work of art nearest to life itself. It may be translated into every language, and not only be read but actually breathed from all human lips;--not be represented on canvas or in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself." ~ Thoreau
This is my letter to the World
That never wrote to Me--
The simple News that Nature told--
With tender Majesty
Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see--
For love of Her--Sweet--countrymen--
Judge tenderly--of Me
~Emily Dickinson
"A written word is the choicest of relics. It is something at once more intimate with us and more universal that any other work of art. It is the work of art nearest to life itself. It may be translated into every language, and not only be read but actually breathed from all human lips;--not be represented on canvas or in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself." ~ Thoreau
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