I went away to the mountains for the weekend with the Young Adult group at my church. More reason to rue growing up: having to acclimate to a whole new age group, right when you find yourself comfortable in the old one. It actually wasn't that bad. I fit in. Not perfectly. But I fit. Somewhere.
We went for a hike on Saturday. "5.4 miles" and "strenuous" were the only words we could find in the guide books to describe our chosen destination... and we went anyway, most likely for the promised 70 foot waterfall at the end of the trail. Between the blisters, roots, rocks, and sweat, the way up was unpleasant at best. It took me an hour and ten minutes to make it 2.7 miles. The waterfall was awe-inspiring, though. The sheer drop off the rock face was spectacular, the mist refreshing, if not chilling.
Was it worth it? Yes. But not for the waterfall.
As we headed back down the mountain, I ended up in the lead group. Our pack of five spread out a bit as our paces changed. Eventually it was only me and one of the leaders. Then, odd as it was, we both started running. We caught up with the other three and they ran, too. Again, we spread out, and I was alone, bounding over the same rocks and roots I had stumbled over previously.
Never in my life have I felt so much energy, and never in my life have I felt more like a child of God, a wanted, accepted, delighted in daughter. He "renewed my strength" while amazing my eyes with the wonder of his creation. There's something about nature, mountains especially, that help you get focus. There's no crazy job, no confusing relationships, no college health forms, no roommate's facebook profile, no cell phone, none of the usual distractions.
So we talked. We hadn't done that in a while (that hadn't involved a meal, anyway). I asked Him to take the next few weeks to teach me. I know I'll be learning about God all my life, but there's a lot of stuff I'm missing, about who He is and who I am to Him, important stuff that I need to know. I desperately want to learn and perhaps... even be healed.
Hey, he got me running. Maybe I can still soar.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
This Can't Be Good...
The Roommate. The single most dreaded aspect of college life for many incoming freshman.
First, you get a name. In the mail, at orientation... somehow, the name comes. In my case, there was a phone number along with the name. But on the day that little paper of fate blessed my mailbox, I had little knowledge of it's importance. Instead of opening the envelope bearing "No, It's Not UGA" University's letterhead, I took a nap. Imagine my confusion when I was awakened by a phone call, from the roommate herself.
"Hello?"
"Hey... it's [name here]...?"
"Oh... Hi?"
"Your... roommate?"
"OH! Hey!"
"Didn't you get the little paper of fate in the mail today?"
"It's... possible."
[discussion follows about who would bring what for the room.]
No, she didn't say "little paper of fate." But she did ask. I felt stupid. And that was when [name here] learned her first thing about me: I like to take naps.
Next, thanks to the magic that is facebook, you are able to get a nice snapshot of who your future best friend exactly is. I was able to enjoy this experience tonight, and I can't help but wonder what it all means (or what she thinks about my profile).
Profile Picture: [name here] posing happily with two friends. That's nice. She has friends. Wait. What's that? Oh! They're drinking something. Good. I like drinking liquids, too. This is great. Oh, that's funny, her can is silver... and blue. Hm. Maybe it's... Pepsi? Oh, hold on. The friend in the middle's holding a huge QT style plastic cup of light brown liquid. That says "Big Ass Beer." Ah-HA! Yeah, that's cute.
Stats: Ah, looks like [name here]'s in a relationship. Let's hope they like to talk to each other every hour I'm sleeping. And... oh, boy. She's "Liberal." Better break out the Ann Coulter books. Seems she likes every kind of music (so she won't have a problem with Coldplay?) and has no favorite books, saying she "only reads magazines." Heck, I like books enough to be an English major.
I'm starting to think we're not so... compatible.
So what's the next step? Who knows. I wrote on her wall. I think we need a cabinet or something for the TV (that she's bringing), so I thought I might offer. It's just bizarre, really. This person who probably can't pronounce my last name will know intimate details about me and how I live by Labor Day.
Man, I love growing up!
First, you get a name. In the mail, at orientation... somehow, the name comes. In my case, there was a phone number along with the name. But on the day that little paper of fate blessed my mailbox, I had little knowledge of it's importance. Instead of opening the envelope bearing "No, It's Not UGA" University's letterhead, I took a nap. Imagine my confusion when I was awakened by a phone call, from the roommate herself.
"Hello?"
"Hey... it's [name here]...?"
"Oh... Hi?"
"Your... roommate?"
"OH! Hey!"
"Didn't you get the little paper of fate in the mail today?"
"It's... possible."
[discussion follows about who would bring what for the room.]
No, she didn't say "little paper of fate." But she did ask. I felt stupid. And that was when [name here] learned her first thing about me: I like to take naps.
Next, thanks to the magic that is facebook, you are able to get a nice snapshot of who your future best friend exactly is. I was able to enjoy this experience tonight, and I can't help but wonder what it all means (or what she thinks about my profile).
Profile Picture: [name here] posing happily with two friends. That's nice. She has friends. Wait. What's that? Oh! They're drinking something. Good. I like drinking liquids, too. This is great. Oh, that's funny, her can is silver... and blue. Hm. Maybe it's... Pepsi? Oh, hold on. The friend in the middle's holding a huge QT style plastic cup of light brown liquid. That says "Big Ass Beer." Ah-HA! Yeah, that's cute.
Stats: Ah, looks like [name here]'s in a relationship. Let's hope they like to talk to each other every hour I'm sleeping. And... oh, boy. She's "Liberal." Better break out the Ann Coulter books. Seems she likes every kind of music (so she won't have a problem with Coldplay?) and has no favorite books, saying she "only reads magazines." Heck, I like books enough to be an English major.
I'm starting to think we're not so... compatible.
So what's the next step? Who knows. I wrote on her wall. I think we need a cabinet or something for the TV (that she's bringing), so I thought I might offer. It's just bizarre, really. This person who probably can't pronounce my last name will know intimate details about me and how I live by Labor Day.
Man, I love growing up!
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Storm Clouds
I hate droughts.
The water bans. The not-so-flourishing flora. The sticky, humid mood that blankets the air as well as your skin the second you step out of air conditioned bliss.
This summer, like every summer, we're having a drought. Thus, we deal with frustrations, such as those listed above. But more than that, the oddest thing happens to us: We forget rain.
A few days ago, I was backing out of my garage when I heard the strangest noise beating the rear end of my car. I immediately applied the brakes, completely startled by the incessant tapping. Then I looked in the rear view and saw huge raindrops plopping on the back windshield. It had been so long, I didn't recognize rain.
I think one of the reasons I was so bewildered was the stark presence of the sun. You know that weather rarity when it's pouring rain, but the sun's still in full glory? It was bizarre, to say the least. It's sunny. There should be no rain. We're in drought. There should be no rain.
Everyone in my state would agree: the few showers we've been having recently couldn't have come sooner. The rain's been a gift, much needed and much appreciated.
The idea of gifts has struck me lately. In Bible study, we were discussing Hannah in 1 Samuel. She prayed for a child, though it was a distressing situation. She earnestly believed that God would give her exactly what she needed, when she needed it. Then, when she finally received her baby boy, she gladly gave the gift back to God.
When we ask God for something, I've realized our refining comes both in the waiting and in the receiving. Often, you wait so long for something, a drought of sorts, that it takes some time to recognize it for what it is. You begin to enjoy it and marvel at it, thanking God for its arrival.
Sometimes, gifts are only for a season. Then, you are called to give them back. You must, for this is the will of the LORD.
But what about the times when the gift is there, present in your life, but the circumstances seem wrong, like the rain in the sunshine? It's still a gift, but is it yours to have? I'm not sure, but I wish I knew.
The water bans. The not-so-flourishing flora. The sticky, humid mood that blankets the air as well as your skin the second you step out of air conditioned bliss.
This summer, like every summer, we're having a drought. Thus, we deal with frustrations, such as those listed above. But more than that, the oddest thing happens to us: We forget rain.
A few days ago, I was backing out of my garage when I heard the strangest noise beating the rear end of my car. I immediately applied the brakes, completely startled by the incessant tapping. Then I looked in the rear view and saw huge raindrops plopping on the back windshield. It had been so long, I didn't recognize rain.
I think one of the reasons I was so bewildered was the stark presence of the sun. You know that weather rarity when it's pouring rain, but the sun's still in full glory? It was bizarre, to say the least. It's sunny. There should be no rain. We're in drought. There should be no rain.
Everyone in my state would agree: the few showers we've been having recently couldn't have come sooner. The rain's been a gift, much needed and much appreciated.
The idea of gifts has struck me lately. In Bible study, we were discussing Hannah in 1 Samuel. She prayed for a child, though it was a distressing situation. She earnestly believed that God would give her exactly what she needed, when she needed it. Then, when she finally received her baby boy, she gladly gave the gift back to God.
When we ask God for something, I've realized our refining comes both in the waiting and in the receiving. Often, you wait so long for something, a drought of sorts, that it takes some time to recognize it for what it is. You begin to enjoy it and marvel at it, thanking God for its arrival.
Sometimes, gifts are only for a season. Then, you are called to give them back. You must, for this is the will of the LORD.
But what about the times when the gift is there, present in your life, but the circumstances seem wrong, like the rain in the sunshine? It's still a gift, but is it yours to have? I'm not sure, but I wish I knew.
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