colorado rocks.

hello friends,

i am spending the week in colorado with my family and it has been ever so wonderful thus far. we are filling the days with hiking and exploring, two of my most favorite things. i do not want to waste this precious time out west updating this blog but i thought i would just give you the smallest of tastes. hopefully when i return i will have thoughts to match the size of these mountains... (haha)

today we hiked through eldorado canyon and as i lifted weary feet and sore knees up and down the trail my mind played and replayed this song by sufjan stevens. when i saw sufjan play in october he said that this song was inspired by the times he stands on things so vast and great and incredible that he does not know what to do. the inspiration for the song came from those breath-taking moments when you realize just how big (oh how small that word is!) the world is and how tiny tiny, microscopic we are in the grand scheme of things. this is how colorado makes me feel, small. on the way down i asked my mom if she thought maybe people out west would be less prideful because they are constantly being reminded of how small they are. (haha...) we discussed it but reached no solid conclusion. maybe i will do a behavioral study someday and figure it out --- that would give me a reason to return to this place.
is anyone really satisfied after one visit to colorado?

that's all for now, friends. i'll be back in a week or so with thoughts and perhaps some more photos of this glorious trip. hopefully before then i will get to see a mountain goat! (she said with hopes high.)  i hope you are enjoying wherever you are, soaking up all that is normal and outrageous and beautiful right in your backyard.

they say it's a deadly game.

trust, courage, and fear. these three things are often on my mind these days. i admired the courage of my not so little cousin the other week. we were boating on the susquehanna and the two of us took a ride on the big round tube. as we climbed in i told her the signals for faster, (thumbs up) slower, (thumbs down) and stop (pretend you're slicing your throat...haha). i expected a calm little ride.

no sooner had we begun and she stuck her little thumb up in the air, and in the air it remained for the entire ride. she could not get enough speed. a contagious giggle stumbled out of her mouth as we rode over each bump and flew out of our seats.

as i (finally) watched the lord of the rings series with jonah i marveled at the courage it takes to go into battle, especially a battle you are expecting to lose. i thought about death and the fragile state of life. i hate watching battle scenes. i hate knowing that they are not just fiction.

sometimes when i think about my fall semester, my heart trembles. sometimes when i think about hiking around in california for a month with people i hardly know on a knee that is often sore, a fear fills my soul. i wonder if i can do it, i wonder if i'll make it. i wonder if i'll drag the team down. i wonder if i am really cut out for this whole outdoor education thing. i fear i won't be qualified, i fear i won't be equipped with the right gear. i know that this is outside of my comfort zone, i know that alone i cannot do it - and this is partially why i want to do it. but that is also precisely why at times everything in me does not want to do it. i think it's important to take risks and do things that we know we can't do alone. i have a lot to learn when it comes to depending on God, when it comes to trust...

it always comes back to trust.

last week we biked to the park and quickly found ourselves playing the bridge game. (the bridge game is a made up game - it is played on playground equipment. one person closes their eyes and the rest of the players hide somewhere on the equipment. then the person with their eyes closed continues to keep their eyes closed and walks around trying to find those in hiding. the people hiding cannot touch the ground, they must stay on the equipment....think marco polo, minus the call and response, minus the water - plus obstacles and danger. . . (ok maybe don't think marco polo, haha.)) i digress.

of course, they choose me to be the first one it. (as babysitter i cannot complain.) i step carefully and slowly with my arms outstretched. it's crazy how quickly even the most familiar place seems foreign as soon as my eyes close. (is this where the slide is? or the monkey bars? is this the fire pole or am i suddenly on a mountain about to stumble off a cliff? my mind races.) i listen closely for little breaths exiting the chests of children. i strain to hear stifled giggles that give hints to where they are. as i close in on one i can feel both of our hearts racing - mine at the prospect of (finally) opening my eyes, hers at the fear of closing...

often my trust in God looks like that deadly game. i walk slowly and with caution, uncertain that God will tell me what to do next (next summer, in 2 years, even tomorrow...) i strain to hear the voices of others and envy their open-eyed adventures. (instead of training my ear to hear the one voice that knows me best.) God, have mercy. Help me in these busy days to trust in you.

irony that this is one of the hymns that i decided to try to learn this summer? i think not.

...sometimes the journey feels long. sometimes i can almost hear God asking in a low, loving voice: "Do you trust me? Do you trust me still?" and with eyes tightly closed and hands held out, a feeble and broken 'yes' stumbles off my lips. 

oh, increase my capacity to trust and to follow!

"He guides the humble in what is right

and teaches them his way.

All the ways of the LORD are loving and faithful

for those who keep the demands of

his covenant."

Psalm 25: 9-10

too much.

summer is passing quickly. 


yesterday evening was summer to a "T." I drove with the sunroof down, windows open. The air smelled like cookouts. A deep, lush green wrapped the curling roads up in a snug blanket. Broken Social Scene's song, "World Sick," played loudly in my ears - words like globalization and colonization swept through my mind, closely followed by Wendell Berry and images of emaciated children. (thank you kindly, documentary.)

we watched the fireworks with open mouths.
the bursts of light were fireflies playing tag,
peacocks showing off,
dazzling shimmering fountains of radiance.


i could write about a lot of things right now. i could write about the weekend spent with family at the cottage or the moments spent with my dear cousins last week. i could write about working and finding joy and purpose in mowing grass, or about the books i am reading and the people i am meeting. i could write about today's weather and the way the sunsets are always different...but my words are tired and my thoughts have yet to catch up with my days and so instead i will just include this little snippet that i scribbled down after a lovely moment of silence on tuesday. it is not much; i apologize.

Last night I decided to bike up and down the street a few times before heading to karaoke night. My muscles complained slightly as I began to peddle. (and increased in sound as I forced them uphill.) The air felt cool on my face, thick with emotion. Biking after a twelve hour work day is a good plan. As I looped back and forth past the neighbor's house I stared intently at the charred remains of life. I thought about how deer used to live in the backyard, and a trampoline after that. I thought about the people that never open those doors anymore, never park in the driveway, never catch my eye as I speed up the road. It seems so normal now. The sight barely makes my heart sad. (this frightens me, for the darkness and death remain.) I thought of my soul and how cold and dead parts of it are - I fear that has become normal too.

My stamina grew and I circled up through the development off Ironville Pike, still growing I faced Pitney Road next. I did not make it. I had to walk. At the top I debate, Indian Head or the old church and cemetery loop. At first I lean towards Indian Head but the ever brightening pink sky convinces me otherwise. The road says closed but I slide through finding myself on an empty and familiar pass. My legs fill with gratitude as the road slopes downward. I circle through the church parking lot and think of the time we road tandem bike for the first time last summer - zach, dad, kayla and I rotating through. I loop down through the cemetery and think about walks and runs with mom when the loop seemed so long. Looking at the names of the people who now exist only in the past tense of thoughts, my mind wanders. I thought about flying off my bike and smashing my head on a tombstone, dying in a cemetery...(sounds like the name of an emo band's song.) I thought of that woman we met on the Rails to Trail, the one on the nice tandem bike who thanked me and Jonah for wearing our helmets. I felt guilty. (my helmet was left in the garage, safely on the shelf - on purpose.)

After each loop through the vacant parking lot I thought about stopping, considered biking home - but with each turn the sky grew more beautiful. The pink sky pleased my eyes and reminded me of God's faithfulness; how beautiful his unfailing love. Though I close my ears to his voice, spit in his face, and turn my thoughts to everything but him - still he remains. And his remaining is not passive, but full of passionate pursuit. (God have mercy.) 






[in smaller news:]
Summer means,


1. eggs for lunch
2. bon iver 
3. playing (...memorizing) hymns on harmonica
4. zucchini everything 
5. thinking a lot about the future 
6. going to the library
7. playing tennis 
8. discipline

the llama won't stop dancing.

i have been hanging out with a lot of children these days. yesterday i took a few moments simply to acknowledge the fact that i was getting paid to pick strawberries on a beautiful cool day, to make grilled cheese sandwiches, go to the library, spend way too long feeding goats at a petting zoo, and play at a park. today i got paid to hide in a closet with a seven year old and tell "ghost stories" in only the glow of a flashlight (my stories weren't so scary on account of i hate scary stories. and by closet i mean a wooden box about 2 feet deep and 3 feet long - my neck hurt. i thought they might have to cut me out of there, haha)

aside from my family, this summer i will probably be spending more time with children than anyone else. the three kids i babysit are champs. they're adventurous and silly and for that i am so thankful. (granted, yes. they drive me crazy sometimes, they fight and disagree and whine - but who doesn't? i have a lot to learn from them.)

so yesterday we found ourselves at Longs Park on the big wooden playground. we played tag for a bit but that turned out to be a terribly huge task. after a lot of running and not much success in tagging the correct children, i recommended that we play hide and seek. not the regular hide and seek however, i told them about the hide and seek we used to play when i was little - the kind where you hide, but then you all try to return to starting base without being seen. it's hide and seek with a curve ball, it gives a little more purpose and challenge to a game that can sometimes get lonely. (i mean really, who thoroughly enjoys hiding in the same dark, tight space waiting to be found? i don't. i get bored. i'm always that kid who switches hiding places and is then accused of cheating, lame.) after explaining the game they agreed that it sounded fun enough to try, so try we did. i counted first. after spotting everyone fairly quickly (hiding spots always get better as the game progresses) it was my turn to hide. like an excited child i searched for the perfect spot. when the counting stopped and the seeking began, i slowly began creeping back towards base, forgetting however - that i am taller and easier to spot than i used to be. (especially in a wooden playground with so many children who fit so perfectly into the cracks and crevasses.) the first time kelsea spotted me easily  - she saw my blue shoes sticking out. even though my head was hidden, i forgot about the rest of me. in the attempts that followed i was continually struggling to fit my 20 year old self into 5 year old hiding places. as i attempted to hide behind small wooden poles i forgot that my shoulders are broader, my hips wider than when i was five. i crawled and scampered as low as possible, but always peaked my head up at the wrong time. confidently i stepped into the game, feeling the familiarity of playing it years before rush over me - and shamefully i walked back to base each time i was found. not once did i make it back to base without being seen.

not only have i stepped into a game of hide and seek with far too much confidence, i have also stepped into the familiar circles of home with too much as well. the familiarity of home always presents a challenge to my heart's desire to seek God's guidance. this place is known to me; the roads i drive are the same, the room i sleep in is still cold and dark, and the people i love are still here. i know how to live here, i know how to go from this to that and back again. i know how to handle myself and get through a day, or at least that is the foolishness i buy into. like my confident footsteps to the perfect hiding spot, i easily buy into thinking that i can live these days on my own. i quickly forget that i am different, that i do not fit easily into the crevasses and cracks that i once filled in this place - my role has shifted and i do not quite know what that is anymore. i have grown and changed. not only this, but i tend to forget who gives me breath. i forget who made this whole game up to begin with. so i trudge through my days on my own strength, i step out with confidence and shamefully hang my head each time my strategy does not quite work. (why this continues to surprise me, i know not.) 

it is always hardest to follow God in the most ordinary of settings, to seek his face and his truth when you are pretty sure you know how to live well where you are all on your own. it's hard to ask him where the best hiding place is when you know the playground like the back of your hand. i believe it's important to step outside of our comfort zones into territory when we have no option but to trust God, but perhaps it is harder to force ourselves to trust and seek him in the most comfortable of settings. this is the tension i find myself in these days. 

but even the familiar is full of surprises, and God reminds me that i do not know this place as well as i think - a lot of times the lens through which i look is the problem. afterall, kelsea saw a llama doing ballet moves when i just saw a llama scratching its foot. 

God's joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,

from cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flowerbed.

As roses, up from ground. 

Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,

now a cliff covered with vines,

now a horse being saddled.

It hides within these,

till one day it cracks them open.

-Rumi

practicing the presence.

it's funny how quickly we forget things that we promise ourselves to always remember. it's funny how we can be so convicted by something, and then stumble into the very same mistake the next day. it's frustrating, troubling, and funny being a human with a spirit so willing and a flesh so weak.


since returning home i have found myself doing very different tasks than what i have been accustomed to for the past nine months. and although when i was at school writing papers and studying for tests i could not wait to get home and do "manual labor" as opposed to studying, now that it's here - i kind of miss the paper writing. maybe it's the heat combined with the humidity combined with a restless heart that wants to do whatever it pleases but i have been wrestling with discontentment and so far this week, i'm losing. it's a painful fight.

this week my mornings and late afternoons have been filled with weeding, raking, mowing, leaf blowing, etc. and although it is true that in the spring i raved about this work and how much i enjoy seeing such tangible results, this week i have been swallowing my words and they are not going down easy. it's hot and most days i don't want to do it. yesterday as i was walking up and down the driveway picking up sticks (SO many sticks.) my mind wandered to everyone who has a job in air conditioning, my mind started circling in familiar patterns of envy and pessimism. as soon as i started dwelling in the cycle of cynics however, God brought to mind something i poured myself over in the spring. a small little collection of letters and conversations by Brother Lawrence, a monk who washed dishes for a living and spent his life practicing the presence of God. he disciplined himself to see even the most menial and seemingly unimportant tasks as acts of love and devotion to God. he trained himself to live constantly in God's presence.

"We need only recognize God intimately present with us and address ourselves to Him every moment. We need to beg His assistance for knowing His will in things doubtful and for rightly performing those things which we plainly see He requires of us, offering them to Him before we do them, and giving God thanks when we have completed them...Our sanctification did not depend on changing our works. Instead it depended on doing things for God's sake which we commonly do for our own...We ought not weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed." 

as i continued to pick up sticks and occasionally wipe the sweat from my brow, i tried really hard to find some great metaphor for what i was doing. 

i failed. no metaphor came to mind. no poetry or story or lighthearted revelation. it was just me and the sticks and a tractor panting on the driveway. 

but sometimes we just have to pick up sticks because we love God and we know that he is present with us always. sometimes God provides blessings wrapped up in boxes that we do not recognize and we do not particularly want to open, but we must. and we mustn't pretend to be grateful for those boxes like we pretend to smile when we open a really ugly sweater from our great grandmother. we must truly really sincerely and genuinely be thankful for that which God provides us with, knowing that all we have is a gift. all, everything, every single thing i have is given to me. and he knows us better than we know ourselves, he knows what we need - which means no room remains to complain. and yes, i suppose that even picking up sticks and getting poison ivy and hoping the groundhog that lives under the playhouse doesn't bite you can be a gift. because all of these things are signs that God is providing for me in ways that i could not have imagined. 

so i'm learning again what it means to practice God's presence. to every moment practice being in the presence of God, to do all things out of love for him, to do all things for him. i'm praying for mercy and trying to discipline myself in gratitude, attempting to be thankful for that which is far easier to complain about. like the parable of the talents, i want to be faithful to that which has been given to me - to invest all i am in what i have, multiplying that which God has entrusted to me. . . 

"The man who had received the five talents brought the other five. 'Master,' he said, 'you have entrusted me with five talents. See, I have gained five more.' 

His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your Master's happiness!'" 

Matthew 25:20-21

if you want to... google search "Brother Lawrence, practicing the presence of God" - print it out and read it read it read it. 

a wanderer's wonderings.

i'm remembering now why i try not to go more than a week without updating this thing...when more than a week passes it becomes that much harder to attach words to events and places and people. oh well. it's been a busy and rich past week-ish and i will do my best to articulate some of the thoughts circling in my head these days. 

i am home now, summer has finally arrived and i am welcoming it with open arms. it came rather abruptly. the goodbyes and finals and end of everything familiar seemed to sneak up on me even though my soul has been longing for the rhythm of summer for what seems like an eternity. 

on sunday i said goodbye to these lovely people and i am going to miss them a lot more than i realized. saying goodbye hurt more than i anticipated. they have each blessed me and taught me so much. we shared the year being RAs together and for that i am so thankful. 

leaving Gordon was extremely bittersweet. again this year God took my breath away time and time again with all that he accomplished through me and in me and with me. i am astonished at how he works through us even when all we see is failure and brokenness. it's incredible how he redeems our intentions and mistakes and miss-spoken words. 

after leaving gordon i spent some time in philly with nina. we stayed with my childhood friend hannah in her house of friends. :) it was so wonderful seeing hannah and meeting her house mates.

and philly? well philly was great. that place never ceases to intrigue me. nina and i walked all over philly, literally walked from one end to the other taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of a place that at times felt like a foreign country. on tuesday particularly, we were strangers in an unknown land and it was a really good thing to experience.

hannah had to work on tuesday so nina and i were left to explore on our own. we had a destination and some scribbled directions. unfortunately we could not even find the subway station we were looking for (probably because we were deep in conversation and walked right past it...) so the walking excursion ended up being a little bit longer than we anticipated. after asking for directions and looking at a map we found our way not to the subway but to the trolley, an underground trolley - i had no idea those existed. we were perplexed as we realized we did not see a ticket booth and had no idea how to pay for our ride. we debated whether or not we should just get on and see what happened (haha) or try to figure out the ticket system. we decided to go for it, and turns out you have to pay as soon as you get on and you need exact change. i forgot my wallet and nina only had enough to pay for herself in exact change so we got a discounted rate... as we stumbled to our seats i quickly realized that we were the minority. the only young white girls on the trolley. the only ones who did not understand the culture of philly and public transportation, dang it.

we rode the trolley to the subway and then found our way to front street. as soon as we reached front street i remembered that front street was the part of town that ben had warned us about when we were in philly earlier last summer. unsafe could have been the word he used...but what were we to do? we walked. we weaved in and out of side street vendors, mostly all males, all of a different ethnicity, speaking various languages. we were suddenly very aware of our position; i felt vulnerable and uncertain. my heart raced a little bit and i felt guilty for bringing nina to that part of town. the subway roared overhead. we kept our eyes  glued on our imaginary destination and walked briskly, ignoring the various shouts and stares. we said little to each other, we tried to look like we had a purpose and knew what we were doing. as we came out of the chaos we quickly realized that we totally missed the street we were looking for and when i saw a sign for Temple University i knew we had definitely missed the mark. as we were standing on the street corner trying to gain our bearings a man asked us for directions. i laughed and told him that we were lost too. we turned the corner and asked some young women how to get to frankford and norris; they looked shocked and pointed in the direction from where we came. "you're walking?" she said. we nodded with a smile and turned back, gearing ourselves up for sore feet.

eventually we reached our destination and laughed when we realized how close we were when we stepped off the subway station. the trip would not have been the same without the exploration, however. getting lost and remembering that you know little is good. relying on others is humbling. walking in circles is patience.

and as i felt like such a stranger in philly, (a stranger longing so badly to belong) i remembered how Jesus was a stranger to this world, even though he created it. and i remembered that we are all strangers in this land. we belong, and yet we do not. our hearts beat for things that are so foreign to the majority of this world. our souls long for redemption and wholeness in a place where everything seems to be falling apart. we see in part what one day we will see in full.

the great now and not yet, it always comes back to that, does it not?


philly always inspires me.
getting lost, eating ice cream on the steps of a corner store, stumbling upon urban gardens, using public transportation and meeting new friends... the experience is always rich.
someday perhaps i can know philly in every sense of that word.

and now i'm home and summer continues to be everything my heart longed for. i'm soaking up these free moments and days before babysitting begins - filling them with strawberry picking, playing whiffle ball, going to bouncefunplex, mowing grass, reading books, writing, dreaming, exploring,... it's grand. i'm cutting off my jeans and not brushing my hair, going bare foot and eating strawberries for breakfast. perfection.



also. if you have a summer reading list, please add something by Wendell Berry to it:

"But even the unknown past is present in us, its silence as persistent as a ringing in the ears...You work your way down, or not so much down as within, into the interior of the present, until finally you come to that beginning in which all things, the world and the light itself, at a word welled up into being out of their absence. And nothing is here that we are beyond the reach of merely because we do not know about it. It is always the first morning of Creation and always the last day, always the now that is in time and the Now that is not, that has filled time with reminders of Itself."

-an excerpt from Pray Without Ceasing.

deceit.

if given the option

 of water colors,

baking cupcakes, 

riding tandem bike, 

watching fantastic mr. fox,

searching for a bridesmaid dress,

watching a theological debate,

playing music,

or studying 

------

i'm not sure what i would choose. 

but i definitely would NOT choose studying.

if i told you it was nearing the middle of may would you believe me? 

would you believe me if, when i told you that i was wearing my hat and scarf (and thinking about going to get my mittens.. haha) ?

or what if i was drinking tea and thinking about boiling hot water and drinking it straight just to stay warm? 

(and also because i am trying to ration out my favorite tea until the end of the year and there are only   f o u r bags left!) 

it's finals time and i think i'm getting sick.

and although it is a little bit chilly for may...

i'm freezing.

it's springtime.

cool, real cool.

but that doesn't keep me from making colorful tables and charts and flash cards. hopefully even though i feel like i'm living in a cloud some of this information will choose to stay inside of my brain until monday. that'd be great. i'd really appreciate it.

on the bright side, on thursday while at the greenhouse i heard this song for the first time in a looooooooong time, hurray! i had forgotten all about it.

i hope you enjoy this clever little video as much as i did.