Friday, December 25, 2009
Due to the lameness of my URL...
Go ahead and check out my new blog for new posts - denialin.blogspot
Sunday, June 21, 2009
02/15/09
02/15/09
At Vespers I was randomly seated beside an older woman in our huge university amphitorium. While we were waiting for the ‘show’ to start, the woman started an interesting conversation with me.
“Are you a dorm student?” she asked with wide, kind eyes.
“Yes. I live in Sunday.”
“Ah! Nell Sunday! I lived there for 2 years!”
“When you were a student?” I prodded.
“Yes. I had the room that had 6 windows, right in the middle of the hall on third floor.”
“I’m on third floor!”
She continued,“Nobody wanted that room because the middle room had to answer the one phone on the hall.”
“Wait, there was only one phone? For the entire hall?”
“Yep.”
“So I imagine that was crazy with boys calling girls all the time.”
“Oh, no! Boys never called the girls! That phone was just for calling home! No, boys would send us notes through note mail.”
“Note mail? Like the P.O. box?”
“No, note mail.”
“Oh, like night mail! Wow, nobody sends notes anymore. Generally people send candy and dating invitations.”
“My {the name of the old gentleman seated next to her} wrote me a note every day.”
“Aw, that’s really sweet. How did you two meet?”
“Dining Common. Back then we had required seats in the Dining Common and we were served family style. Then when dating couples would walk back from the dining common they would follow the date line.”
“The date line?”
She nodded knowingly, “Or they called it the snail trail. Back in that day couples weren’t allowed to loiter after dinner. The boys were to walk their dates back to their dorms and then say goodbye. So dating couples would walk that treck real slow.”
I never caught the woman’s name.
Right after the show ended and I bidded the woman adieu, I ran to Nell Sunday where I was supposed to wait for my extension ride to a Nursing home.
I went with my friend Katrina, who confessed she was nervous because she worried that people down south didn’t like people with brown skin and wouldn’t like her, a native of Guam, in the nursing home. The minute we walked in, I wanted to laugh, because a huge white woman in a white chair right in front of the door was holding a black baby doll. As we proceeded through the crummy, run-down nursing home, I saw Katrina’s eyes brighten as she saw that most of the nurse’s were African American.
A little service of people collected in the dining room of the Nursing Home and we were almost immediately greeted by a woman who insisted ‘we girls’ give her a big hug. I was the second to hug the woman, which meant that when the hug broke off Katrina had moved on, but I asked her what her name was. She gave me a long drawn out name and from that I remember only ‘Julie’. She was such a character. Not very old. “Guess how old I am?” she was excited to ask.
“41,” I teased.
“Hah. I wish. 57.”
Really quite young for a nursing home. I learned later that she had been abused by her husband who pushed her down the stairs and gave her brain damage.
As we sang, she leaned over and solemnly said, “You and I, we make quite a team.”
Then, from her messy little compartment underneath her walker, she pulled out a small ziploc bag of candy and said, “Here.”
“Did you want me to open it for you?”
“Naw it’s fer you, hun.”
She had a southern accent.
The preacher got up, a young seminary guy full of wind and pomp, and began to preach on the role of the Church. I looked around at the drooling faces sagging in every possible way – all shadows of the past – and wanted to laugh that the sermon was about Peter and the role of the Church.
But Julie didn’t seem to mind. She raised her hand to share with us a poem about Heaven being a beautiful place that she was going to some day. She ended her “free verse poem” with some comment about the wonderful Bob Jones University students. The seminary leaders of the extension squirmed before her simple words, looking uncomfortable and impatient, like little boys getting scolded.
As the sermon progressed, she got out her pictures and showed me a picture of her and a startlingly old woman.
“This,” she pointed with delight, “Is my roommate!” I had a sudden picture of me and my roommates and found irony in her joy over a 96 year old woman and my attitude toward my young roommates. “Here, you can keep this picture.”
My collection of things from her was beginning to grow.
She leaned over half-way through the sermon and asked me, “Are you datin a boy?”
I laughed, “Nope, I’m as single as they come.”
“Whal, I have me a man. His name is Marvin. He’d be here but he’s upstairs because his left side is paralyzed. But he told me the other day that he loves me.” She held my hand as she said this and I didn’t really mind.
“It’s nice to be loved,” I added impartially.
“You pray for me and Marvin and I’ll pray that you will find yourself a man.”
All of this, said so solemnly, so slowly, with that sweet southern drawl. And yet, she had fire in her. She had a desire to live and I heard it in her voice when she told me she was divorcing her husband.
But then she was sweet again when she held up her Bible and said that some students of BJU had gotten together to get that for her and she never forgot it. I noticed it didn’t seemed to be used much, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she used another Bible for reading since the print in that one was so small.
“I’ll bring my glasses next time,” she told me reassuringly.
As we left, Katrina nudged me and whispered, “You coming back?”
“Yeah, if you are.”
“We have to! Did you hear that woman’s poem?? Oh, they need us!” Her blind enthusiasm made me smirk and our ride home was much more animated because there was actually something to discuss that we all had in common.Indeed, the ride home is always more animated.
At Vespers I was randomly seated beside an older woman in our huge university amphitorium. While we were waiting for the ‘show’ to start, the woman started an interesting conversation with me.
“Are you a dorm student?” she asked with wide, kind eyes.
“Yes. I live in Sunday.”
“Ah! Nell Sunday! I lived there for 2 years!”
“When you were a student?” I prodded.
“Yes. I had the room that had 6 windows, right in the middle of the hall on third floor.”
“I’m on third floor!”
She continued,“Nobody wanted that room because the middle room had to answer the one phone on the hall.”
“Wait, there was only one phone? For the entire hall?”
“Yep.”
“So I imagine that was crazy with boys calling girls all the time.”
“Oh, no! Boys never called the girls! That phone was just for calling home! No, boys would send us notes through note mail.”
“Note mail? Like the P.O. box?”
“No, note mail.”
“Oh, like night mail! Wow, nobody sends notes anymore. Generally people send candy and dating invitations.”
“My {the name of the old gentleman seated next to her} wrote me a note every day.”
“Aw, that’s really sweet. How did you two meet?”
“Dining Common. Back then we had required seats in the Dining Common and we were served family style. Then when dating couples would walk back from the dining common they would follow the date line.”
“The date line?”
She nodded knowingly, “Or they called it the snail trail. Back in that day couples weren’t allowed to loiter after dinner. The boys were to walk their dates back to their dorms and then say goodbye. So dating couples would walk that treck real slow.”
I never caught the woman’s name.
Right after the show ended and I bidded the woman adieu, I ran to Nell Sunday where I was supposed to wait for my extension ride to a Nursing home.
I went with my friend Katrina, who confessed she was nervous because she worried that people down south didn’t like people with brown skin and wouldn’t like her, a native of Guam, in the nursing home. The minute we walked in, I wanted to laugh, because a huge white woman in a white chair right in front of the door was holding a black baby doll. As we proceeded through the crummy, run-down nursing home, I saw Katrina’s eyes brighten as she saw that most of the nurse’s were African American.
A little service of people collected in the dining room of the Nursing Home and we were almost immediately greeted by a woman who insisted ‘we girls’ give her a big hug. I was the second to hug the woman, which meant that when the hug broke off Katrina had moved on, but I asked her what her name was. She gave me a long drawn out name and from that I remember only ‘Julie’. She was such a character. Not very old. “Guess how old I am?” she was excited to ask.
“41,” I teased.
“Hah. I wish. 57.”
Really quite young for a nursing home. I learned later that she had been abused by her husband who pushed her down the stairs and gave her brain damage.
As we sang, she leaned over and solemnly said, “You and I, we make quite a team.”
Then, from her messy little compartment underneath her walker, she pulled out a small ziploc bag of candy and said, “Here.”
“Did you want me to open it for you?”
“Naw it’s fer you, hun.”
She had a southern accent.
The preacher got up, a young seminary guy full of wind and pomp, and began to preach on the role of the Church. I looked around at the drooling faces sagging in every possible way – all shadows of the past – and wanted to laugh that the sermon was about Peter and the role of the Church.
But Julie didn’t seem to mind. She raised her hand to share with us a poem about Heaven being a beautiful place that she was going to some day. She ended her “free verse poem” with some comment about the wonderful Bob Jones University students. The seminary leaders of the extension squirmed before her simple words, looking uncomfortable and impatient, like little boys getting scolded.
As the sermon progressed, she got out her pictures and showed me a picture of her and a startlingly old woman.
“This,” she pointed with delight, “Is my roommate!” I had a sudden picture of me and my roommates and found irony in her joy over a 96 year old woman and my attitude toward my young roommates. “Here, you can keep this picture.”
My collection of things from her was beginning to grow.
She leaned over half-way through the sermon and asked me, “Are you datin a boy?”
I laughed, “Nope, I’m as single as they come.”
“Whal, I have me a man. His name is Marvin. He’d be here but he’s upstairs because his left side is paralyzed. But he told me the other day that he loves me.” She held my hand as she said this and I didn’t really mind.
“It’s nice to be loved,” I added impartially.
“You pray for me and Marvin and I’ll pray that you will find yourself a man.”
All of this, said so solemnly, so slowly, with that sweet southern drawl. And yet, she had fire in her. She had a desire to live and I heard it in her voice when she told me she was divorcing her husband.
But then she was sweet again when she held up her Bible and said that some students of BJU had gotten together to get that for her and she never forgot it. I noticed it didn’t seemed to be used much, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she used another Bible for reading since the print in that one was so small.
“I’ll bring my glasses next time,” she told me reassuringly.
As we left, Katrina nudged me and whispered, “You coming back?”
“Yeah, if you are.”
“We have to! Did you hear that woman’s poem?? Oh, they need us!” Her blind enthusiasm made me smirk and our ride home was much more animated because there was actually something to discuss that we all had in common.Indeed, the ride home is always more animated.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
02/11/09
02/11/09
Two Words: Annoyance, Spanish
I’m about to shoot the mouth of the next person that speaks the spanish language. Don’t get me wrong. I love speaking spanish. HOWEVER, in my spanish class there is this one guy who REALLY get’s on my nerves. I think it has something to do with the way he laughs extremely loudly over stupid things, and then looks around at everybody with this ridiculous notion that he is popular. The girl beside him has taken to laughing the exact same way – and it grates on me like a wickedly sharp knife.
This day is the second day I have been disturbed over this. Have I no endurance? For this guy? No. It might help matters if he was a nice person to me, but he’s not. He’s a complete airhead and hits on me when he thinks everyone is looking. He is one I save the word ‘stupid’ or ‘loco’ for.
And that’s putting it kindly.
En serio. I left Spanish today despising people. He made me DESPISE people! Me! I love people! I was so very cynical I began mocking the weather. The wind was warm and wild and made me feel like I was some kind of Irish maiden in the hills, and I knew the two girls sitting on the benches outside the library were probably feeling beautiful as they looked off into the distance with misty eyes. The problem was, I was in the mood where I didn’t think they were beautiful, so I myself suddenly had a silly image of myself standing with a hunched back and ‘feeling beautiful’ with the wind whipping around me.
I suppose I should be sorry for my rotten mood. I simply couldn’t abide any one. Even the guy with stylish hair poking up towards the sky annoyed me, because he looked especially snobby. I didn’t like the look of the ‘bojes’ because they seemed especially sloppy and self-righteous. I frowned at the strange poof of hair on a girls head, grimaced at the masses of happy people, and felt altogether estranged from my people.
Interestingly, I wonder if I’m annoyed because I need sleep. This could be the case. Possibly, I need food as well, seeing as how today was another one of my days to skip lunch.
Okay. All is good. I still might shoot the guy next time I see him. But it will probably be with a rubberband or a scathing expression, so rest easy.
Note to self: A knife is for cutting cheese.
Two Words: Annoyance, Spanish
I’m about to shoot the mouth of the next person that speaks the spanish language. Don’t get me wrong. I love speaking spanish. HOWEVER, in my spanish class there is this one guy who REALLY get’s on my nerves. I think it has something to do with the way he laughs extremely loudly over stupid things, and then looks around at everybody with this ridiculous notion that he is popular. The girl beside him has taken to laughing the exact same way – and it grates on me like a wickedly sharp knife.
This day is the second day I have been disturbed over this. Have I no endurance? For this guy? No. It might help matters if he was a nice person to me, but he’s not. He’s a complete airhead and hits on me when he thinks everyone is looking. He is one I save the word ‘stupid’ or ‘loco’ for.
And that’s putting it kindly.
En serio. I left Spanish today despising people. He made me DESPISE people! Me! I love people! I was so very cynical I began mocking the weather. The wind was warm and wild and made me feel like I was some kind of Irish maiden in the hills, and I knew the two girls sitting on the benches outside the library were probably feeling beautiful as they looked off into the distance with misty eyes. The problem was, I was in the mood where I didn’t think they were beautiful, so I myself suddenly had a silly image of myself standing with a hunched back and ‘feeling beautiful’ with the wind whipping around me.
I suppose I should be sorry for my rotten mood. I simply couldn’t abide any one. Even the guy with stylish hair poking up towards the sky annoyed me, because he looked especially snobby. I didn’t like the look of the ‘bojes’ because they seemed especially sloppy and self-righteous. I frowned at the strange poof of hair on a girls head, grimaced at the masses of happy people, and felt altogether estranged from my people.
Interestingly, I wonder if I’m annoyed because I need sleep. This could be the case. Possibly, I need food as well, seeing as how today was another one of my days to skip lunch.
Okay. All is good. I still might shoot the guy next time I see him. But it will probably be with a rubberband or a scathing expression, so rest easy.
Note to self: A knife is for cutting cheese.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
02/07/09
Runners arrived at 8 a.m. for an 8 mile or 10 mile race held at Furman University today. 30 students from Bob Jones University (BJU) volunteered their Saturday mornings to hand out hospital-gown-thin jackets, cotton gloves, Panera bagels, Grapes, and Yogurt to the racers.
These students were also dropped off at specific points in the course to direct runners the right way. Director of the race, a tall man wearing a frightening black ski-mask, said that it was important runners knew which way to go so that the race would run efficiently.
One student of BJU, Andrea Stanford, said of the race, “People were beyond enthusiastic about the race – even the two women from Furman University that helped us direct AK (8 mile) and 10K (10 mile) racers could not stop encouraging and praising the runners to keep doing a great job!” Their enthusiasm, she went on to say, was contagious.
The two Furman women volunteers were vocal in encouraging the runners because they were runners themselves. One of the women, Carrie, said, “I know what it’s like to be running ragged and someone comes along side you and says you’re doing great, keep going! That extra push means the world!”
Winner of the race, Orinthal Striggles, was an African American wonder of muscles and easy sprinting. He told reporters that this was his second race of the year. Beyond being sponsored to run races, Striggles coaches runners for a living. “You gotta pace yourself,” was the common advice for the day.
Awards, uniform clear glasses with blue writing, were handed out in each racer category up to the 5th place. A small ceremony of recognition stilled the energetic running-disco music as names of the winners were called out over the speaker system.
One volunteer commented that runners feel very good about themselves after running a race. She added, “It gives them a sense of accomplishment and starts their day off in an awesome way.”
Furman University volunteers wanted to thank BJU volunteers for “coming out.” Students were encouraged to participate in more community races, which one woman gushed were always in need of young people’s help.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
2/6/09
2/6/09
Why do they force us to learn computers? I don’t mind reading a book about them, and I don’t mind “blazing away” (as they so coyly coined) on my computer, but spending hours clicking a button on certain spots on the screen? My mind just isn’t wired like that.
Oddly enough (here we go, the point of these little articles), the guy that sits in the seat to my right is worse at computers than me! Where I couldn’t do 23 assessment questions in 23 minutes, he couldn’t find the button to do his homework assignment! This seems laughable to me, but I had pity on him because in the time it took me to do my exam, he was struggling over the concept of format highlighting in his third question. I would be saying, “Aw, poor guy,” except that he is my partner for the rest of this course. God have mercy on both of our souls.
Why do they force us to learn computers? I don’t mind reading a book about them, and I don’t mind “blazing away” (as they so coyly coined) on my computer, but spending hours clicking a button on certain spots on the screen? My mind just isn’t wired like that.
Oddly enough (here we go, the point of these little articles), the guy that sits in the seat to my right is worse at computers than me! Where I couldn’t do 23 assessment questions in 23 minutes, he couldn’t find the button to do his homework assignment! This seems laughable to me, but I had pity on him because in the time it took me to do my exam, he was struggling over the concept of format highlighting in his third question. I would be saying, “Aw, poor guy,” except that he is my partner for the rest of this course. God have mercy on both of our souls.
2/3/09
2/3/09
Tonight was the dreaded night when all students were required to skip in their finery to the Amphatoreum and watch a performance of the Dublin Philharmonic Orchestra. I enjoyed it, even though seated amongst my roommates as opposed to the preferred male gender. Mostly I tried not to laugh when the gangly band director tripped over something on the floor when he entered the stage left. His face blushed an intense red and he wavered a bit like a bean pole caught by a fish hook. After that, every time he exited and entered to bow, he stepped very gingerly over some small, unknown object on the floor. I also wondered how much the triangle payer got paid to travel with the orchestra. Every ‘ting, ting, ting’ caught me up in the excitement, and I found myself wanting to take up the triangle and join right along with them. Thankfully for the sake of my roommates seated beside me, I refrained.
Tonight was the dreaded night when all students were required to skip in their finery to the Amphatoreum and watch a performance of the Dublin Philharmonic Orchestra. I enjoyed it, even though seated amongst my roommates as opposed to the preferred male gender. Mostly I tried not to laugh when the gangly band director tripped over something on the floor when he entered the stage left. His face blushed an intense red and he wavered a bit like a bean pole caught by a fish hook. After that, every time he exited and entered to bow, he stepped very gingerly over some small, unknown object on the floor. I also wondered how much the triangle payer got paid to travel with the orchestra. Every ‘ting, ting, ting’ caught me up in the excitement, and I found myself wanting to take up the triangle and join right along with them. Thankfully for the sake of my roommates seated beside me, I refrained.
Monday, May 11, 2009
01/30/09
01/30/09
A Bobcat was sighted for the second time tonight behind the girl’s dorms at Bob Jones University. Rumors suggest that the bobcat escaped from a zoo, wandered in from the mountains, or simply escaped from being the mascot of some unknown team.
One Korean girl in the popular University Snack Shop asked, “What is a bobcat?” When this question was posed, one girl wickedly responded that a bobcat was, ‘a large lion that would only attack if it was hungry, and – don’t worry – bobcats are only hungry 60% of the time’. The Korean who had asked the question was then heard quoting the information to someone else who was equally curious about the bobcat sighting on campus. The information given was, of course, bogus.
Bobcats are, in fact, about the size of a large house cat or a small dog. This species of cat is nocturnal, which means humans rarely see bobcats in areas that are heavily populated with them. An average male bobcat weighs about 25-30 pounds, with the female’s weight close behind. Estimates put Bobcats at around 1 million in the US alone.
Bobcats, when hunting prey, can jump 10 feet and inflict a killer pounce. But generally, bobcats are appreciated for their good fur and are known for being solitary animals.
So, no, bobcats are not large lions, and the bobcat reported to be on campus will probably not be seen by very many students, much less attack one of them.
If a bobcat is sighted, the University has requested that the sighting be reported to the Safety Patrol (864) 251-5100, ex. 1111.
01/29/09
01/29/09
Two Words: Sun, Shadow
This afternoon it was the oddest thing to hear a little girl’s voice. I came upon her after a long Thursday, with a seemingly endless day ahead of me. There she was, sitting on a bench, swinging her legs happily. She was yelling, “Acorns for sale! Acorns!” I turned the corner and couldn’t get her out of my mind. She hadn’t a care in the world. Somehow her declaration seemed silly but sweet, like music to a tired college student’s ears. All day, the only sounds had been the sound of heels on the sidewalk, the church bell ringing, and teachers lecturing.
I hadn’t quite noticed the sun before that little girl.
Two Words: Sun, Shadow
This afternoon it was the oddest thing to hear a little girl’s voice. I came upon her after a long Thursday, with a seemingly endless day ahead of me. There she was, sitting on a bench, swinging her legs happily. She was yelling, “Acorns for sale! Acorns!” I turned the corner and couldn’t get her out of my mind. She hadn’t a care in the world. Somehow her declaration seemed silly but sweet, like music to a tired college student’s ears. All day, the only sounds had been the sound of heels on the sidewalk, the church bell ringing, and teachers lecturing.
I hadn’t quite noticed the sun before that little girl.
A New Look
If anyone is still out there... Hello to the void. Believe it or not, I survived my first year of college! I imagine some of you have been curious about what it's like to attend a conservative Christian college. Well as a now successful freshman I can admit to being equally curious before I came to BobbyJU. My first semester I was so crazy busy and stressed out that I didn't think to write anything but the occasional pathetic email to my mother. Anyways my second semester I obviously became MUCH wiser and started applying my new journalistic skills to articles based on every day life things.
You may not find it interesting - but that's okay, because I'm mainly just uploading them so they will be forever 'out there' in the eternal void of the internet. Just in case I ever lose it on my laptop and am ever curious.... what was it like back then?
Prepare yourselves.
You may not find it interesting - but that's okay, because I'm mainly just uploading them so they will be forever 'out there' in the eternal void of the internet. Just in case I ever lose it on my laptop and am ever curious.... what was it like back then?
Prepare yourselves.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Journalism at Work
Andi....
....
....
To Amy Turner
Panera Bread of Iowa
1241 Park Place NE Suite C
Cedar Rapids, IA 52402
Dear Amy Turner,
I am a struggling college student who is delighted to say that the Panera Bread restaurant is one of the few restaurants my meager bucks are always worth spending on. I love your fresh breads and the clean atmosphere of your stores. Every Panera Bread location I have been to in Wisconsin (my home town) has had an excellent family environment.
The incident I am about to share is not meant to trace back to any on individual. I am merely sharing a recommendation to improve the services of the Panera Bread corporation.
Last week, I was with my family at a Panera location, when I purchased a bagel and cappuccino for a light dinner. Not a big deal. Cinnamon bagel was delicious, by the way. But it was a little ridiculous when I shelled out my college bucks for a $1.69 bagel and was then told that I had to buy my own cream cheese.
Please understand that a bagel without cream cheese is a violation of my taste buds entirely.
Obviously, I needed cream cheese. But, more ridiculous yet, the cheapest plain cream cheese available at this Panera location was $1.25. I didn’t have an extra quarter to add to my last dollar bill, so I paid with debit. I paid for cream cheese with a debit card. Either I knew I had reached a really low point or I knew that the price for the smidgen of cream cheese I wanted was ridiculous.
I understand that the cream cheese container offered was larger than most cream cheese containers, but would it break the budge to ask for smaller cream cheese containers that are included in the price of the bagel? Would you not say that it is misleading to sell someone fries but make them pay additionally for ketchup?
For the complete satisfaction of your supporting families, cream cheese should be included without charge and without question in the purchase of bagels. I beg of you, please do not Scrooge-it-up like the rest of those corporations!
Thank you for your time and consideration on this small, but important matter.
Sincerely,
Andi....
....
....
To Amy Turner
Panera Bread of Iowa
1241 Park Place NE Suite C
Cedar Rapids, IA 52402
Dear Amy Turner,
I am a struggling college student who is delighted to say that the Panera Bread restaurant is one of the few restaurants my meager bucks are always worth spending on. I love your fresh breads and the clean atmosphere of your stores. Every Panera Bread location I have been to in Wisconsin (my home town) has had an excellent family environment.
The incident I am about to share is not meant to trace back to any on individual. I am merely sharing a recommendation to improve the services of the Panera Bread corporation.
Last week, I was with my family at a Panera location, when I purchased a bagel and cappuccino for a light dinner. Not a big deal. Cinnamon bagel was delicious, by the way. But it was a little ridiculous when I shelled out my college bucks for a $1.69 bagel and was then told that I had to buy my own cream cheese.
Please understand that a bagel without cream cheese is a violation of my taste buds entirely.
Obviously, I needed cream cheese. But, more ridiculous yet, the cheapest plain cream cheese available at this Panera location was $1.25. I didn’t have an extra quarter to add to my last dollar bill, so I paid with debit. I paid for cream cheese with a debit card. Either I knew I had reached a really low point or I knew that the price for the smidgen of cream cheese I wanted was ridiculous.
I understand that the cream cheese container offered was larger than most cream cheese containers, but would it break the budge to ask for smaller cream cheese containers that are included in the price of the bagel? Would you not say that it is misleading to sell someone fries but make them pay additionally for ketchup?
For the complete satisfaction of your supporting families, cream cheese should be included without charge and without question in the purchase of bagels. I beg of you, please do not Scrooge-it-up like the rest of those corporations!
Thank you for your time and consideration on this small, but important matter.
Sincerely,
Andi....
The Innocence of A Reflection
I'm reflective right now. Most new years days do this to me. I remember one new year where I thought for sure I was not going to live to see the dawn of 2000-something or other. I wrote feverishly in my journal (yes, I was a believer in those old notebook pages) about how I would like my funeral conducted and what lucky shirt I wanted to be buried in. This feeling of impending death may have had something to do with my sleeping on the floor of a lonely old room in my grandparents house, lost in the middle of Michigan farm land. Midnight hit and I whispered to myself, "I'm still alive. Yes."
Last night was a little different. For some reason I always seem to have quiet New Years Eves. No one in my life cares to stay up until midnight and cheer, "Yay! A New Year!" Which, if you ask me - this is the height of optimism (as opposed to going to bed early and groaning about the upcoming tax season). But Abigail, my kitten, loyally stayed up with me and when I suddenly looked up from my reading old journals and saw that it was past midnight, I whispered, "Happy New Years, kitty." She yowled bravely from under the blanket I had trapped her under and, feeling she had sufficiently warmed the blankets up for me, I let her go.
So it is a New Year. Resolutions? Bah. Those can be made any time. For me New Years is my one big day to look back on the year, not forwards into the unknown. Right now, the future looms so huge in front of me. Life suddenly seems to have gotten so very complicated. But when one breaks it down, I'm still the same person. Time is the only thing that has happened to me. This kind of reminds me of a little girl at my church, who was so excited to see me when I came back from college, and scrutinized me carefully to see if I had changed. And if you thought my name couldn't get shortened any more, well think again. She calls me 'A'. Finally at the end of the first evening I was back, she jumped up and down excitedly and said, "A's not grown up yet! A's not grown up!" I think this had something to do with me giving her a piggy back ride in church. Not sure if she expected me to come home all stiff and proper or what, but I wickedly agreed with her that I had arrived at NeverLand.
"Oh," she said, "Like Peter Pan!"
"Oh, honey. We're the best of friends, Pan and I."
I love the sparkle in the eyes of children. I never grow tired of seeing kids excited over small things. For a while there, everything seemed so huge and overbearing to me. Kind of like a new year. Kind of takes the joy out of the small things. The only way I'll make it through, is to take it one step at a time. One moment by moment. One innocent minute with my kitten at 12:01 a.m. after another. How can I not enjoy the small things when the big things are broken down?
This last year Baby Ben was born, and while I was at college, I got the sad news that he passed away. The family is still grieving, as you can imagine, but I was talking with his grandmother last night and she told me something remarkable. "It's amazing how one little boy could bring so many people together. Ben served his purpose. His mother especially misses him so much. Not a day goes by. But we were so blessed to have him for the time we did." I got to see Ben the day before I left for college. He was so tiny and cute! But he seemed like he was in such pain. In many ways, it is a relief for him to be in heaven now. That is one place where there is no suffering and there is no new year that he must struggle through. Can you imagine? God truly is good.
This last year I started college. That felt huge. I wouldn't have wanted to be doing anything else. The challenge was good for me, although I did miss keeping up on politics and debating all the ins and outs. ;) But, ah, the people were spared. Heh.
I learned, basically, over this last year, that I have so much still to learn. That thought is exhilerating. If I was done learning, I believe I would be bored stiff. God knew when he created me that if I truly did know it all, I would lead a very bland life. So, instead, I go through life pretending I know it all until I truly do. ;) Nah, I'm always open to learning new things. The innocence of children, no?
Happy New Years to all of you.
Last night was a little different. For some reason I always seem to have quiet New Years Eves. No one in my life cares to stay up until midnight and cheer, "Yay! A New Year!" Which, if you ask me - this is the height of optimism (as opposed to going to bed early and groaning about the upcoming tax season). But Abigail, my kitten, loyally stayed up with me and when I suddenly looked up from my reading old journals and saw that it was past midnight, I whispered, "Happy New Years, kitty." She yowled bravely from under the blanket I had trapped her under and, feeling she had sufficiently warmed the blankets up for me, I let her go.
So it is a New Year. Resolutions? Bah. Those can be made any time. For me New Years is my one big day to look back on the year, not forwards into the unknown. Right now, the future looms so huge in front of me. Life suddenly seems to have gotten so very complicated. But when one breaks it down, I'm still the same person. Time is the only thing that has happened to me. This kind of reminds me of a little girl at my church, who was so excited to see me when I came back from college, and scrutinized me carefully to see if I had changed. And if you thought my name couldn't get shortened any more, well think again. She calls me 'A'. Finally at the end of the first evening I was back, she jumped up and down excitedly and said, "A's not grown up yet! A's not grown up!" I think this had something to do with me giving her a piggy back ride in church. Not sure if she expected me to come home all stiff and proper or what, but I wickedly agreed with her that I had arrived at NeverLand.
"Oh," she said, "Like Peter Pan!"
"Oh, honey. We're the best of friends, Pan and I."
I love the sparkle in the eyes of children. I never grow tired of seeing kids excited over small things. For a while there, everything seemed so huge and overbearing to me. Kind of like a new year. Kind of takes the joy out of the small things. The only way I'll make it through, is to take it one step at a time. One moment by moment. One innocent minute with my kitten at 12:01 a.m. after another. How can I not enjoy the small things when the big things are broken down?
This last year Baby Ben was born, and while I was at college, I got the sad news that he passed away. The family is still grieving, as you can imagine, but I was talking with his grandmother last night and she told me something remarkable. "It's amazing how one little boy could bring so many people together. Ben served his purpose. His mother especially misses him so much. Not a day goes by. But we were so blessed to have him for the time we did." I got to see Ben the day before I left for college. He was so tiny and cute! But he seemed like he was in such pain. In many ways, it is a relief for him to be in heaven now. That is one place where there is no suffering and there is no new year that he must struggle through. Can you imagine? God truly is good.
This last year I started college. That felt huge. I wouldn't have wanted to be doing anything else. The challenge was good for me, although I did miss keeping up on politics and debating all the ins and outs. ;) But, ah, the people were spared. Heh.
I learned, basically, over this last year, that I have so much still to learn. That thought is exhilerating. If I was done learning, I believe I would be bored stiff. God knew when he created me that if I truly did know it all, I would lead a very bland life. So, instead, I go through life pretending I know it all until I truly do. ;) Nah, I'm always open to learning new things. The innocence of children, no?
Happy New Years to all of you.
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