Showdown in AC220 (The Story of 12/19/12)

I didn't sleep last night. Every time my eyes would start to close, I'd remember what was coming and I'd snap back to attention. I had been looking toward this day with dread for months.

And it was finally here. I walked into the classroom at 8:55, offering homemade soft pretzels to my fellow fighters. We needed all the energy we could get. It was going to be a long hour.

The exam walked in just after I did, carried by our professor. He'd been preparing us for this moment. He believed in us. He'd watched us learn and struggle and finally comprehend. He'd been arming us. He'd poured into us for weeks.

But now, it was time for him to let go. It was time for him to let us find out just how much we could do on our own.

He passed out the test papers. I stared down at it and it stared back up at me. The strange alphabet swam before my eyes. I closed them for a moment, clearing my head of distractions, trying to summon all that I had studied.

I picked up my pencil and wrote my name. "There, at least they'll know that I tried to fight."
I flipped through the pages, hoping for words that looked familiar, hoping that the extra credit would be enough, hoping that I would stay awake to finish this.

I did what I could. I wrote furiously. I did the easy parts first. "Mood: Indicative." Every time. Then I looked for the present tense. That's simple enough. I looked for nouns and verbs that I knew. I looked for prepositions.

I did what I could. I really did. I tried my best, and gave up when I knew I couldn't fight any longer.
I walked over to the professor and put the papers down in front of him, shaking my head. He'd believed in me, and I felt I'd let him down. I'd let myself down.

I walked into the hall to join my classmates. We stared at each other in shock. We'd had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. We had tried. All that was left was to wait until the grades were posted.

It didn't take long. That night I checked and saw the result.

Elementary Greek I: A

I had won. I had been victorious. I had not been defeated.

Not as great as you'd think.

People tell me that I would be a great mom.
Actually, they tell me that I'm going to be a great mom.
I laugh every time. There are few things that make me laugh every time I hear them.

I first laugh because it seems like a foregone conclusion that I will be a mother someday, like I have no choice in the matter, like it's the game of Life and I have to stop to add children to my car.
Now, I'm not certain, but I think that children are optional. And I'm pretty sure that marriage is optional.

As of this moment, right now, 6:30pm on 29 December 2012, I, Hope Elizabeth Swanson, do not want to have children. Before you start to question me, before you start to cast judgment, before you whisper to me through your screen that "you'll change your mind," keep reading. If you have any love or respect for me, please, keep reading.

It's true that I love to bake and to take care of people and I am objective (which is a great asset for mothers of teenagers), but have you ever seen me around a young child? Probably not, because I tend to avoid them.

Until humans reach late adolescence, they are nearly incapable of thinking logically. They cannot step outside of situations and see the perspective of another person. I have a hard time not doing that. And that's one of the traits that people who know me really struggle with. I push back against arguments and question everything. I'm not trying to be difficult, I'm just trying to make you really believe what you say you believe. And if you find that I'm poking too many holes in your argument, you had better figure out how to patch them, or you're not going to have anything to stand on. People hate that, and I totally understand them, because I hate it, too.

So imagine the children I would raise. Because, let's face it, my husband had better be a superb arguer or I'll just get bored. I don't mean that I want to fight with my husband. I don't like to fight. I like to be difficult, because I believe it's that kind of difficulty that helps make people better. That's what works for me, so I need a life partner who can match me in that skill. The people I like the most are the ones who push back against what I say. That's the conversation that I love. That's what I need from my husband.

What would happen to the children raised in that household? They would become great arguers, maybe even politicians or diplomats or negotiators. I'd probably push them to study psychology in college, because they would be naturally good at it. They would be capable of disciplines requiring abstract thinking, like philosophy, and anything requiring logic, like mathematics. I'd make sure they were structured, but free to explore their interests. They would accomplish great things with their lives. But in the meantime, they would be in public schools, trying to argue with their fellow students, with teachers, with principals. I would be on the school's speed dial, if speed dial still exists in fifteen years. They would know the pain of ridicule. They would hurt people with their words, like I have. On their way to the top, they would accidentally trample those who should rise with them. They would miss opportunities to help others, because to help is too often to hurt.

The world doesn't need more children like that. The world doesn't need more children like me. There will be enough difficult children, raised by others who are arguers.

It isn't often seen now, but I have had problems with controlling my emotions, especially anger. I was terrible in middle school. So much screaming. It was awful, and I'm ashamed of it. Not many people see me angry now, whether because of brain development or because I've learned how to manage it. It's more likely to manifest in tears now, though I've been known to throw a punch or two. And that's where the problem arises. What happens when my children make me angry? I am so against spanking children, because I believe there are other ways that are at least as effective. (But raise your kids how you want. Seriously. You are the parents of your own children, and I have no right to criticize how you discipline them.)
I would never feel as guilty as if I hit my child in anger. Even as I think about it, I feel the shame. I would hate myself. I can't do it. I won't do it.

And finally, a trait that I like that would make being a parent difficult, although it's a little bit selfish: I'm a traveler. I hate being settled. When I get settled, like I am right now, I have to live up to certain expectations that I don't think are actually "me." I have changed so much in the past four years, I changed in the four years before that, and I expect to keep changing. I want to be able to pack up and move if I need to. That might mean that I won't get married. It will definitely mean that I will have few close friends. It will mean that I won't have much of a career. (I won't go somewhere if I don't have a job. I'm not that free-spirited.) If I don't get married, I probably won't have children. I just don't think that moving around like that is very good for children. My childhood was close enough, having my best friend move away at age 5, having another best friend switch schools, and having another best friend literally talk about me behind my back. Losing connections like that is not healthy. At least, it wasn't for me. Ever notice that most of my close friends are from elementary school? It takes a long time for me to build that kind of connection. So I'm not going to put other human beings through that if I can help it.

Friends, I believe that I can be fully human, fully female and feminine, fully myself, and not have children.
I also believe that God is good, is stronger than birth control, and will help me be the best mother I can be if He decides that I should have children. He won't leave me alone. Ever.

But, for now, I don't want kids. I'm happy to bake cookies for college freshmen and to hold babies whenever I get a chance and to smile at toddlers at the grocery store and to cheer on the girl at the bowling alley being tormented by her older brothers. I'm happy to play the role of big sister, aunt, grandma, and yes, even mother at times. But I like not having to take the kids home with me. (Okay, I live on the same floor as some of them, but that's beside the point.)

And yeah, I know that I might change my mind. I know that all of those traits can be managed. I know, I know, I know. Shut up and let me live my own life. I say that in the most loving way possible.

The "Lasts."

I'm at the end of a semester.
I have three final exams to take, plus a portfolio.
And then I get to go home for my last Christmas Break.

I'm currently sitting on a couch in the Science Building, waiting for the next band to arrive.
This is my last time judging Battle of the Bands auditions.
This is my last Battle of the Bands.
This is an event that I helped create. I have been a judge for every audition. I love this tradition, and I am so thankful that I've been a part of it.

This is my last Fall Semester Finals Week.
I went to my last Christmas chapel on Wednesday and sang "Silent Night" by candlelight with my fellow Bethel students, led by our president and his wife for the last time on Friday.
I dressed as an elf for my last Campus Christmas Party on Thursday.
I went to my last class with DB on Monday.
I celebrated my last first snow at Bethel on Monday, too.

Winter is always a melancholy time for me, so the heartache of these lasts is amplified by the usual funk.
I feel like I could cry at any second, and I do. Often. And without shame.

I'm beginning to tire of realizing that I'm leaving.
I live with a bunch of freshmen, and I'm not going to be around to see them "grow up."
(Ladies, I don't mean to make it sound like you're children, but I really do feel like a mom or a big sister or something when I think about how much you're going to change over the next three and a half years. You're already so different than you were when we first met in August, and I can't wait to see what next semester will bring.)

I just don't feel like I've gotten any older. I'm still that shy, awkward kid with social problems that I can't quite figure out.

So here's my last chance. I want to leave this place better than it was when I got here in 2009.
I want to leave a legacy when I graduate, and I want it to really matter.
I want to be proud of what I've done during my time here.
And I don't want to forget the lasts.

A word from your friendly neighborhood cynic...

I'm in one of those "I hate love but I want it so badly" kinds of moods.
My dad called me out on one of my silly crushes a while ago. Has that ever happened to you? It's weird, right? But it was necessary.
I've been wrestling quite a bit lately with my singleness.

It seems like everyone around me is either "talking to someone"/dating/engaged or is happily single and surrounded with supportive friends. I know that this is not a realistic picture, chill out.

There's so much talk about singleness being a "season." I hate that word. Seasons are predictable. We know what to expect from summer, autumn, winter, and spring. We have a general idea of when they will begin and end. And they happen every year in approximately the same way.
LIFE ISN'T LIKE THAT!!
Before you freak out again, I totally understand what people mean when they talk about "seasons of life." But I don't think it works as a metaphor. Seasons are cyclical. Yeah, yeah, yeah, so is life. But I would prefer to think of life's cycles as more of an upward spiral. That each time we come back to a similar "place" (another word I would like to remove from this usage) we are closer to where we should be than we were last time. (This is influenced by Sy Rogers's chapel/Vespers talks last fall.)
I would much prefer if we talked about "chapters" or "twisting, intertwining plot lines."
And my biggest frustration with the use of "seasons" to describe phases of life: Seasons always end.

Here are the kinds of things people say about singleness that make me want to scream.:
"Sometimes God is keeping us single so that we will draw closer to Him."
"He's just keeping you single until just the right guy comes along."
"The apostle Paul was single. He said that singleness is a high calling."
"Just be patient, love might be right around the corner."
"Being single is great! You get to flirt with anyone!"

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!

You have known each other for two weeks. You are not in love.
You have been dating for two months and you are a freshman in college. You do not need professional portraits.
Just because we call you "little baby freshmen" doesn't mean you get to act like infants.

Of the dozen or so Bethel weddings that took place in the past year, approximately two of them were couples who started dating the first semester of our freshman year. In fact, more couples who started dating at the beginning of freshman year broke up within a year than lasted longer than that. The relationships that have lasted, the ones I respect, the engaged couples I'm excited for are those who were friends first, those who took time to get to know each other, those who waited to really understand what they were getting into.
I'm just not convinced that a few months is long enough.

There are anomalies, I know. But don't try to be one. You just can't force love like that.

I'm single. I have been since I was sixteen years old.
There have been "almosts." There have been serious conversations.
And it has crashed and burned every time.
This is when I start to wonder what's going on.

I know that you're out there rolling your eyes thinking "Is she REALLY writing another post about being single? Come on! We get it. You're forever alone. Move on." Yeah, I know. But I don't journal, and this is something that is often on my mind. At least I'm not pretending that everything is fine. And it's not going to help either of us for you to sit there judging me like that. No one is forcing you to read this. Go away. I love you.

You see, we cynics are usually just bitter and jealous. Not of your gross profile pictures of you kissing, but of the fact that you're willing to put your heart out there like that. I have never been able to do that and have it end well. So here I am with trust issues and rejection issues and coping mechanisms that push people away. I hide behind sarcasm. I desperately need love and affection, but I can't show it unless I know it's going to be returned.

Don't give me platitudes. That will only make me angry, and I don't like me when I'm angry. Platitudes mean nothing on their own.

I'm not proud of the fact that I'm not over this. But I don't think I will ever not be frustrated with being single. I will be the happiest married woman or the bitterest spinster who ever lived.

Good night

Is it too early for this?

I have clothes to put away from Thanksgiving Break.
I have a paper to write before 11:00 tomorrow.
I have two essays to write before 5:00 on Friday.
I have 10 reflections to write before 5:00 on Monday.
I have two books to read in the next two weeks.
I have a total of six essays (including the two for Friday) to write by the end of the last week of classes.
I have a Prayer Partner to shop for.
I have a haircut to find time for.
I have songs to memorize.
I have three concerts to sing.
I have finals to think about.

I don't have time for a blog post.
I don't have motivation to write anything else.
I don't have a topic for the paper that's due tomorrow.
I don't have any desire to go to class in an hour.

And I definitely shouldn't be thinking about Christmas Break yet.
But hey, a girl's gotta have something to look forward to, right?

Here are my goals for Christmas Break:
1. Sort through everything my parents took out of my bedroom before painting it.
2. Finish reading The Chronicles of Narnia.
3. Make at least three of the recipes and four of the crafts that I've pinned on Pinterest.
4. Read at least one of the SEVENTEEN books that I'm required to read for next semester.
5. Create a sleeping and eating schedule.
6. Pick a song and arrange it.

I think there are more items that could go on this list. In fact, I started writing this post with something in mind, and have completely forgotten what it was.

(Edited 11:02PM on 11/29/12: Baklava. I want to make baklava over break. I remembered at lunch with Melisa today.)

Time to go print stuff and head to class.
Happy Tuesday, everyone.

One Last Night.

Two and a half years ago, I wrote a post about my little table at Sufficient Grounds.
Two and a half months ago, I walked in and saw that my table was gone.
And now, I sit at a different table on the last night that Sufficient Grounds will be open at its current location.

The new building is all but finished.
It will open on the Monday after Thanksgiving Break.
And you had better believe I will be there.

But right now, I'm grieving a little bit.
I know how strange that sounds, but it's the only way to describe how I'm feeling.

I've spent more hours within these four walls than I care to know.
I've written posts, papers, letters, poems, rants, stories.
I've had countless conversations on every topic from theology to fashion.
I've watched couples fight and I've watched couples fall in love.
I've watched the menu change and I've watched people get used to it.
I've watched new baristas fail miserably and I've forced my barista friends to make me creative drinks.
I've laughed and cried and shouted and whispered and sung and played ukulele.

I have fallen in love with this place and I don't want it to change.
I don't like these kinds of changes.
I don't like that I can't come over here at 7:00 tomorrow morning to do my Greek homework.
I don't like that I have to adjust to a different place on campus.

By the time I graduate, I'm sure I'll be used to it.
Right now, though, I'm feeling nostalgic.
I'm feeling sad. I might be feeling lonely, but I think that's a separate issue.

It's time to write one last paper here in the old Sufficient Grounds.

Have a great night, friends.

People I Respect: Josh Hartsell

I'm starting a new project here on this blog of mine. I thought of it this morning when I was mentally composing an email to the Residence Life staff and included a line about how thankful I am for them. I started thinking about how true that is, and what specific things each of them has done.

I realize now that I've started writing this that the whole project might seem a little creepy.

It's meant to be encouraging. It's meant to show that what these people do doesn't go unnoticed.

(Anything that sounds really creepy is simply due to my weird, super specific memory.)

Josh Hartsell, Resident Director of Oakwood-Slater Hall.

King of Freshman Guys, according to a student he overheard.

Three-year intern at Grabill Missionary Church.

Fan of Justin Bieber and Twilight.

Loyal friend. Wise advice giver. Lover of God and people.

Tool. And I mean that in the best possible way.

I met Josh just before the end of my junior year of high school. I had just gotten back from a choir trip to Florida, and it was the interns' first night at youth group.

Most of that summer is a blur, but I remember one of Josh's sermons very clearly.

He gave us each a small rock and a little bit of Play-Doh. He talked about Ezekiel. Who talks to teenagers about Ezekiel? Recent Bethel grads, that's who.

"'Therefore say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord GOD: It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am about to act, but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations to which you came. And I will vindicate the holiness of my great name, which has been profaned among the nations, and which you have profaned among them. And the nations will know that I am the LORD, declares the Lord GOD, when through you I vindicate my holiness before their eyes. I will take you from the nations and gather you from all the countries and bring you into your own land. I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules'." (Ez. 36:22-27 ESV)

He talked about a prayer that he had heard from a professor or mentor or chapel speaker or someone.

"Lord, break me, whatever the cost."

It changed my life. I'm not just saying that because it seems like the right thing to say. It's true.
It had an immediate effect, changing my plans to go to Europe the following summer to plans to go on the mission trip.
And I keep on praying it, and it has drawn me closer to God and has kept me seeking His will for my life.

I don't remember much about the second summer, other than Josh teaching me the proper technique for applying caulk when sealing windows. (Lick your finger and smooth it out.) After trying it, I read the label. "This product contains chemicals known to the State of California to cause cancer and birth defects or other reproductive harm." This lead to a discussion of all the things that can cause cancer, and now I can't microwave something in a Styrofoam container without remembering that conversation.

Then I got to Bethel and I started to see firsthand his ministry on campus. For the past three and a half years I've seen how he has helped guys adjust to college life, how he has mentored and discipled, how he has been a friend and a brother and a leader. He has brought together great RA teams and has strategically invited guys to return to Oakwood after their freshman year to build relationships with the new students.

Following several tweets about the Biebs, I finally caved and bought "Baby" and "Somebody to Love."
(This is pretty much the only communication we have.)

Here's the thing that secured Josh the honor of being the first People I Respect post.
This year, two of the guys he met his first summer at Grabill are RAs.
That's the kind of relationship building he does. He's known these guys for over five years and has maintained that relationship in such a way that they have partnered with him in the leadership of Oakwood.
He also invited three guys from the Grabill area to be those returning residents.

Josh and I don't talk on a regular basis, and that's fine. But I've seen the impact he has at Bethel, and I think it's so cool.

Joshua, you're great. Keep doing what you do. Thanks for letting God use you.

Early November Reflections: Part Two.

I would have put all of this in one post, but that would have been a very long post and I don't want to do that to you.

This part of my reflections comes out of a difficult, painful, frustrating, and slightly awkward relationship situation.
As always, I'll be as non-specific as I can. But for those of you who know parts of the story, here's some more insight.

There's this guy who liked me for a while.
I kinda had this figured out, and wasn't sure what to think of it.
We were friends, and always had good conversations.
Sometimes I thought, "hey, maybe I could like like him."
But I never got that far.

Certain events this summer culminated in a conversation at the beginning of the school year.
We came to the vague conclusion that we would remain friends.

We hardly spoke to each other for two months.

And then we had another conversation.
It seemed that it was all or nothing.
And if I had let myself make an emotional decision, it would have been all.

I'm glad I didn't let myself make that decision, because it would have broken too many hearts, including ours.

I'm not sure that I'm ready for a relationship.
I want to be. I wish I could be. And perhaps, with the right person, I could learn how to be.
But with him, knowing what I know now, I don't think it would have gone well.

And this has led me to think about my romantic history.

Earlier today, one of my professors was telling us the premise of the movie "Ladyhawke."
He's a wolf during the night, she's a hawk during the day, they only have the twilight hours to spend together, but they somehow manage to be in love.
I sat there and muttered "that's not love."
My friend Zach said "Stop being so jaded."
"I've earned my jadedness."
"I could argue, but I won't."

If we hadn't been in class, I would have told him my stories.
Yes, he has his own reasons for being jaded about love.
And yes, I'm making my life sound more dramatic than it really is.
But I've let my heart get broken so easily because I want so badly to be able to trust.
And then I remember that my trust issues came from very real situations.
Which throws me into this cycle of hermit-status to desperately seeking human interaction to misjudging conversations to facing reality to getting hurt and back to retreating into my shell.
(These are not the kinds of situations that helped lead to problems with trust.)
(I'm also aware that Zach was probably not really looking for any kind of argument. But this is the mood I'm in right now. I'm just feeling a little sensitive about this topic. And when you add that to my love of discussion and storytelling, I had the perfect opportunity to externally process the situation with someone who has a fresh perspective. I didn't. I probably won't.)

The point is, I suppose, this doesn't seem to be my year, as I predicted. I can sit around all I want, wishing someone would ask me out. I've wasted plenty of time with these kinds of thoughts. Just today I was craving sushi and thinking about how wonderful it would be to go on a date to my favorite sushi restaurant.

Let's be real, though. If I'm still writing here about this subject, dropping less-than-subtle hints, I'm clearly not actually ready to go on a sushi date. Not a "real" date, anyway. I don't even know what that means. And if I was asked, I wouldn't be surprised if I either rejected the guy I want to go with, or felt so bad I agreed to go with someone I might not want to spend that kind of time with.

I just need to stop and go back to studying Greek.

Good night.

Early November Reflections: Part One.

I am now less than six months away from graduating from Bethel College.
That is crazy.

And it seems like every time I tell someone that I'm a senior, I'm asked what I'm going to do after graduation.

"Well, I'm hoping to spend the summer in Czech Republic, and after that I'm not sure."
"Oh, are you thinking about missions?"
"Yeah, kinda, but probably not what you're thinking of."
"So, what are you thinking?"

And then I have to explain that I just want to live in Europe. I don't want to be a "missionary." I want to be a person.

I got to talk about that today to people who understand.
Representatives from Josiah Venture were on campus today. Gord Nickerson spoke in chapel and I was able to talk to him, Laura Hash, and Josh Howard during the hour after. Yes, that means I skipped class. This was absolutely worth it. I mean, I was talking about my future. I think that's a perfectly acceptable excuse to not go to class.

I smiled through the entire chapel service this morning. I got to see the beardy face of Tim Pedersen and the back of Melanie North's head. I got to hear part of the song that we heard several times a day for the whole trip. I got to remember why I loved my time there and why I want to go back.

Because here's the thing: the Great Commission isn't necessarily a a command to "go."
It's a command to make disciples wherever you are.
This means that I'm called to make disciples here in Shupe Hall, at Bethel, in Mishawaka, in Indiana, in the United States. It's a "bloom where you are planted" kind of thing.

But what if I moved to Europe.
Not as a "professional missionary," but just as a Christian who lives and works in Europe and builds relationships with my neighbors and baristas and language teachers (and English students?). As one who has been filled to be emptied. As a fellow learner and journeyer. As a friend, rather than as one who has an agenda. Because coming in like I have all the answers isn't my style.

This doesn't excuse me at all from doing Kingdom work right now.
But it's what I think about when I think about my future.

Election 2012

This was the first time I could vote in a presidential election.

I didn't vote today.

It would have been easy enough for me to get an absentee ballot or to drive home for the day to vote at my polling place.

But I couldn't, in good conscience, have voted for either candidate.
And I won't regret this decision.

I live in Indiana. My vote, either direction, wouldn't have mattered much.
Romney seems to be taking the state.
(If that's the case, it's interesting that Joe Donnelly is currently ahead in the Senate race.)

My responsibility is to pray for our leaders, whoever they are.
If the President keeps his job, I will pray for him.
If Mitt Romney takes over, I will pray for him.

I'm watching Huffington Post coverage online, and keeping track of the AP map.
It's strange to not be with my parents and to not be coloring a map of the country to turn into my Social Studies teacher tomorrow.

It's going to be a close race.
I don't think we'll have a final answer for a couple days.

I'm a little bit proud that I didn't vote.
And I love thinking that I might be living in a different country for the next election.

Good night, readers.
Have a great Election Night!

Disciplinary Success.

Here I am, one month caffeine-free.
(Except for the .02% left in decaf coffee.)

Tomorrow morning, I have a coffee date with my dear friend Melisa, to reintroduce that sweet drug to my system.
I fully expect to be buzzed for a few hours and then to crash completely.
As long as it happens a few hours before class, I'll be fine.

It was a difficult month.
The first two weeks were the worst.
Week One included Service Day, for which I was a group leader.
Gosh, that seems so long ago. Has it really only been a month?
Week Two was an interesting and awful week.
I'm not sure whether it was still withdrawal or something else, but my ability to stay focused on a task was gone. I just felt like I couldn't pay attention or get anything done without serious effort.

After that, it was easy.
I've had headaches, but no more than is normal for a stressed college senior.
I've been sleepy, but I'M A COLLEGE SENIOR.

Late nights haven't been an option, because I couldn't make regular coffee to wake me up in the morning.
Friday afternoon naps became a tradition.
Visits to Starbucks were just less fun.

But I made it. And I'm proud of myself.

And I just shaved my legs for the last time until December 1.
(I might be more forgiving about this one, because I really, really hate not shaving. Although it would be a stricter lesson in discipline. We'll find out in about two weeks.)

[A couple weeks ago I mentioned a little girl who needed to be brought home from Ethiopia. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the situation, I'm going to send you to the Hatches' blog. If you don't want to take the time to read Meg's posts (which is ridiculous, because they will fill you with joy), I'll tell you that Megin and Rob are in Ethiopia, with their daughter, who is officially, in every way, forever a Hatch. Praise the Lord for His unfailing love.]

Blur.

The days, the hours, the weeks.
Dreams and daydreams and reality.
Seconds, episodes, seasons, people.
It has all become a blur.

I struggle to catch my breath,
To keep my feet on the ground,
To keep my head on straight,
To get everything done,
To read it all,
Write it all,
Pray it all.
To love through it all.

Not since its inception has my blog's URL been so fitting.
When I first created this place, I was in three different choirs,
I was a leader in my youth group,
I was a senior in high school.
I was busy and I loved it.

Now I am in two music groups,
Student Council,
Campus Activities.
I live in a freshman dorm with an RA who I want to be able to support.

I don't see most of my friends,
I haven't been home since August 24,
I haven't had a moment without obligation in weeks.

I spend hours running from event to event, and on the days when I only have one class, I try to catch up on everything else but I just can't ever get anything finished.
I don't know how to shut down and shut off.
I'm afraid that if I close my eyes to my obligations for just a second that I won't open them again.

I don't love the busyness so much anymore.
It's killing my spirit.

And yes, I understand the irony of taking time to write a post about everything I need to get done instead of spending this time doing it.
But it's called a study break.
I'll go back to studying for my Chronicles midterm as soon as this is posted.

But, if you think of me this week, please pray for me.
For my attitude, for my heart, for my tests, and for my drive home.
For everything that I need to do over break.
For whatever the Spirit leads you to pray.
Thank you.

I want to punch the asphalt.

I should be studying Greek verbs.
I should be studying School Age Growth and Development.
I should be practicing for a solo audition.
I should be reading Confessions.
I should be getting ready for bed.

But I don't want to do any of those things.

I want to cry.

I wrote this poem today for Literature and Confession.

Two Hours

I want to hit the road.

Literally,

I want to punch the asphalt.

That stretch between

Home

And here.

It makes me angry.

And deserves a beating,

Because it keeps me

From all that I love.

But in the figurative sense,

Too.

Because it has been

Too long.

And I want to

Drive.

I have never been more homesick than I have been this year.

I had a bit of a breakdown on Thursday because all I wanted to do was get in my car and go home.

And if we weren't a week away from Fall Break, and if my aunt, uncle, and cousin weren't visiting that weekend, I would have. I would have packed a bag and cranked the tunes and broken my caffeine-free streak (still going) and driven the two hours home on that horribly boring stretch of road.

But I'm still here. And I had a great time with my family on Saturday. And chatted with my mom on Sunday night.

And in just over a week I will be watching TV with my parents, drinking coffee from the mug with cherries, one that I got from my Grandma a few years ago.

I will be preparing for a day of homework at Starbucks.

But homesickness isn't the only reason I want to cry.

There is cancer to be fought by loved ones and strangers,

There is a little girl to be brought home from Ethiopia,

There are boys I love who seem to be loved by girls far more winsome than I,

There are assignments to finish and solos to audition for and tests to study for and interviews to have and time cards to remember to fill out, and it all seems like it's piling up and I don't know when I'm going to get it all done and I just want to scream.

And then He reminds me that He knows.

And that He sees the big picture,

And that He has me here for a bigger purpose than unrequited love and auditioning for solos (I think I just talked myself out of auditioning. Every time. Because getting the solo means going on choir tour which means less time with my parents before leaving for the Czech, assuming I get the internship, which I honestly feel is more likely than getting the solo. Yikes. How's that for using my God-given gift of reason, with His guidance, to make decisions that make sense for both my personal life and for the Kingdom? I love it when this happens.)

And that He's going to let me go through the tough stuff because it's how He draws me to His heart.

Tears aren't falling, and continuing to write would probably help them along, but I have to go study.

Worship with your mind.

And then go to bed.

I leave you with "Let It Be Me," by Ray LaMontagne.

Much love.

More Discipline.

This is Old Lady October.
That means that I'm going to bed around 11:00 each night and getting up at 7:00 each morning.
This forces me to get stuff done in the afternoons.
And it gives me time to get stuff finished in the mornings.
Like today, I studied and translated Greek while straightening my hair, and still had an hour to get dressed and put on makeup.
It was really nice.

The thing is, I'm also going off caffeinated beverages for the month.
I am caffeine-dependent.
I'm addicted.

And I quit cold turkey.
Except for decaf coffee, which has a minimal amount.
Not enough to keep me from getting headaches.
Not enough to satisfy my craving.

I've been drinking coffee for as long as I can remember.
Seriously, I have distinct memories of walking into our kitchen in Goshen and drinking the last drops from my parents' cups from that morning.

I didn't drink coffee during elementary school.
I don't think I had much caffeine at all during those years.
And probably not much in middle school either, or it was always heavily sweetened.
In fact, I didn't drink black coffee regularly until Christmas Break of my first year of college.
Now, I can't add anything to hot coffee.
(I still love coffee-drinks, and would gladly accept a Salted Caramel Mocha from Starbucks on the first of November.)

I've also had to give up most of the teas that I like to drink, as well as my favorite soda (Dr. Pepper).
If I were really getting serious, I'd give up chocolate.
But that's just crazy talk.

So far, it's going well.
I accidentally bought decaf Gevalia this summer, and now actually have a reason to drink it.
Like, right now.
Because all this talk of coffee has made me want some.

I have a problem.

Stay tuned for No Meat (and No Shave) November and Dairy Free December!

September Photo Challenge Finish

Okay, I haven't done as well as I'd hoped.
I posted every picture, but not always on the day I was supposed to.
However, I have continued to make my bed every day, as much as a top bunk can be made.
I have only walked on sidewalks.
And most of my homework has gotten done.

Here's the last photo.
Me, 30 days later.

Quantity AND Quality.

There is a stark contrast between where I was a week ago and where I am now.

For one thing, I'm in Mishawaka instead of Walkerton.
And I'm not at church.

Yes, that's right. It's Sunday morning and I'm sitting at Starbucks.
*GASP* Is she even a Christian?
You know you asked yourself that question.
I have chapel three times each week (I know that chapel doesn't replace church.)
I have Shupe Group each week.
I'm in a discipleship group with a wise, learned, and well-respected professor, which meets every other week.
I have a Bible class and Senior Experience with Dr. Bob.
And I live in Shupe, where I get to pour out the knowledge that I receive.
I'm not lacking in teaching.
I'm not lacking in Christian community.
I get to make this decision for myself.
And I have.
I'm not saying that Sunday morning church attendance is necessarily a bad thing,
or that anyone else should base his/her decision on mine.
It doesn't work that way.
And I'm not saying that I will never attend church on Sunday mornings.
I have plans to go to several churches in the area.
It's my life. It's my relationship with God.
And it's not suffering.

So, this morning, I'm at Starbucks.
I have my Greek book to study, some essays to write, and this post to finish.
Worship with your mind.

And now I'll write something that relates to the title of this post.
(I write titles before I write the post.)
Last weekend was a whirlwind.

I had two retreats and they overlapped.
The first was a Student Council Retreat, which hasn't happened in the memory of any current Bethel student.
It's my fourth year on StuCo, and I'm the Shupe dorm rep.
A retreat was the perfect way to start the year. We got to know just about everyone on the Council, we talked about visions for the year, we did training on how to use MyBethel, we ate together, prayed together, slept near each other, learned about how we relate to others (because Tom loves personality tests), played Star Wars Mafia for hours, and inspired a Campus Activities event (NERF Zombies).
Usually, StuCo members have minimal conversation and feel uncomfortable during meetings.
This year I see things being different. Now that we're on our way to being friends, we can have honest conversation in meetings. We can better understand how to work together. We can actually get excited about going to meetings.

The StuCo retreat was from 5:30 on Friday until 1:30 on Saturday, and there was a dinner at the President's house in Michigan.
Unfortunately, I was not able to attend the dinner.

I left The Oaks (30 minutes south of Bethel) at 1:30, went back to campus to get my contacts case and glasses and use my last swipe on a raspberry mocha at SG.
Then I got a text from one of my fellow Anchored members giving me the address to the cabins at Swan Lake resort.
I plugged it into my GPS and was on my way to 24 hours of singing, laughing, sleeping, eating, and more driving with my Music Ministry Team family.

The second part of the weekend was incredible.
I missed a few hours of hanging out at Jill's and working on our combined song, but I didn't feel left out when I got there. I wish I could have been there, but the welcome I received when I arrived showed me that this year is going to be amazing. We love each other, all ten of us. We are brothers and sisters, and we don't have to know each other well to know that we are responsible for each other. We take care of each other. We support each other. We know that we will only be successful as a group if we work together to help each other be successful as individuals.
Sure, we joke around and make fun of each other. We laugh at each other. We get frustrated with each other. But at the end of the day we know that it's not serious. We're crazy about each other, and I am so pumped to see what the rest of the year has in store.

There is no way to say that a short amount of time is fine if it is used well. I don't believe in quality over quantity, except when it comes to junk food. Or coffee. I will drink a half cup of really good coffee over a full cup of cheap hotel coffee. Any day.
But when it comes to time, I think that both quantity and quality are important, especially when it comes to things like last weekend.
The difference between a few hours at Dr. Cramer's last year for StuCo members to get to know each other and sixteen hours this year was huge.
For the MMTs to get off campus and spend two days together gave us time to be together without rehearsing. We got to just hang out and have fun. (Not that rehearsals aren't fun. I think we proved that false.)

We need time. And we need to use it well. We can't just spend a few hours together each week and expect our relationships to happen. We made so much progress last weekend. We might not all know each other well, but we learned about each other. We are starting to understand each other.

Spend time together, my friends. Use that time to learn about each other. Find out the dynamics of your relationships. Take care of your friendships, if you want them to last.

This is what I'm learning.

September Photo Challenge: 24-29

Favorite Color Scheme: Michigan moonrise.

Whatever You Want:
My aunt and uncle's dog.

Playing With Shadows.

Natural Light.

Incorporate movement.

Clouds. And Chicago.

September Photo Challenge: 21-23.

Sunset. Prague, CZ

This isn't going as well as I'd hoped, but I have an excuse for this three-in-one. I was gone all weekend and didn't have time/energy to take care of this. I did, however, make my bed.

Someone you love. Or two someones.

Childhood Memory.
Blue Moon ice cream from The Chief in Goshen.
First time in 16 years.

September Photo Challenge: 19 & 20

Landscape. The grounds at Blenheim Palace. 

Freshman year. We went to see a play. Good times.

September Photo Challenge. Catching up.

Black and White

Same shot

Different Light

Photo Edit You Like

Focusing on Eyes.

Whatever you want.

Experimenting with Light

Streetlights. London, UK.

Depicting Emotion.
Last night with my puppy.

September Photo Challenge Day 10

Whatever You Want.
Leaf.
Mishawaka, IN.
Fall 2010.

September Photo Challenge Day 9

I somehow missed day 7, so here's a silhouette.
The Ready Set.
The Bottom Lounge.
Chicago, IL.
6 April 2011.

The Post About "Ring By Spring."

Katie (Roommate) was talking this morning about how much she is helped by journaling. She takes all of the thoughts that are weighing her down and puts them on paper. The burden becomes lighter.
This is what blogging does for me. So, this is a post in which I get really honest about what's going on in my heart.

"Ring by spring is a goal set by some Bethel women to get engaged by the end of spring semester of their senior year. Some women even make it a competition among their lady friends to see who can get engaged first and finally claim that MRS degree they've been working so hard for. Some girls figure that college is just one of those prenuptial hoops they have to jump through in order to reel in their husband. Sounds pretty desperate to me." -Robby Rasbaugh in Stuff Bethel Students Like (Page 71)

A few years ago I wrote a post about why I (probably) wouldn't date in college. I really enjoy looking back to 18-year-old me and seeing how smart I thought I was.

So that you don't have to read the whole post, here's where I ended:

"I came to school planning to not date first semester.my mom's Aunt Ellen and my Grandma (Dad's mom) told me, independently of each other, that we'd be planning my wedding in eight years.I'm not much for signs but I think I can accept that as reasonable.I know, it seems to me that that's an awfully long time to wait.but now it seems to make sense.especially if I'm not going to date for the next four years. 

I'm not saying that I'm giving up dating.or that I won't want to date.or that anyone shouldn't pursue me. (ha! right. it's only the third full week. please don't pursue me now. if anyone was planning to.)I'm only saying that God is enough for me.and if He doesn't want me to date, I won't date."

And I haven't dated. I've come close and had it fizzle. I've been interested in more guys than I care to acknowledge. I've had a few guys show interest in me.

I wasn't trying to stick with that pseudo-decision I made on 16 September 2009. In fact, I've spent a significant amount of time and energy trying to get the opposite to happen. They tell us that the "best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." I've been baking since freshman year, and it has gotten me nothing. Not that getting a man is the only reason I bake.

But, alas, I remain single.

I've thought off and on for the past three years about the idea of "ring by spring," but not until this year did I realize that the pressure's on.

Here's the "Average Experience of an Average Bethel Student."

For those who are just starting on their Bethel career, breathe. Stop that panic attack before it even starts.
For those like me, who are entering their final year, breathe.
I mean, some of you are already married.
Some of you followed this timeline pretty closely.

I didn't.
Some of the events that were supposed to happen freshman year didn't happen at all.
I didn't get a car until this summer.
I've never really had a job.
I'm not a super impressive human being.

But I would like to direct your attention to the end of the timeline.
The summer after senior year.
When 17 of your Bethel friends get married and you, as a single person, realize that your time has run out.

I've been annoying Stephanie (and a number of freshman girls) all week with my complaints about a stupid boy who won't love me.
I sound like a 16-year-old.
But I'm frustrated, because I've been trying for too long to make this happen and I already feel like I've lost any hope that I might have had.

Just to be fair to a certain someone who might be reading this going "you had a chance with me and you blew it!," yes, I did have a chance. And if God changes my heart, I'll let you know. For now, it kills me that I might have hurt you, and I can't see you without wanting to cry. So, that's out there.

Here's the deal: I don't really know what I want to do with my life.
Maybe I will go overseas.
Okay, I'll probably go overseas.
I don't know where or when or what I'll do.
I don't know whether I'll be an official "missionary" or just someone who loves Jesus and wants to influence the culture for Him.
(I'm leaning toward the latter.)

And yes, there's a guy I'm interested in. Is it worth it? I doubt it.
Especially since Aunt Ellen and Grandma have given me a few more years.

I don't know.
But now you know that I'm feeling the pressure.

Because I'm a girl and I'm living with freshmen who are freaking out because it's the third weekend that they've lived here and they do or don't have guys to invite over to Shupe for open dorms.

Because I've heard the stories about how difficult it is to meet guys when you don't see them in class and chapel and at every meal and on the sidewalks and at Tradewinds and at Kroger and everywhere else in this ridiculous town. I'm not the kind of person who is going to go to bars to meet guys (after I graduate).

Because, although I know there's a disclaimer at the beginning of that timeline, I also know that there's some truth to it.

Because that's just who I am.

Welcome to my life.

Sept. Photo Challenge: 6-8

I'm not so great at this one.

From a low angle.

Something Close Up
five days of armpit hair growth in the CZ.

Something From a Distance.
This is Canada from 40,000 feet.

September Photo Challenge Days 4 and 5

Day 4: from a high angle.
Photo Credit: Almost August Photography

Day 5: Whatever You Want
I want to share this picture of me with a trash can
that looks like an ice cream cone.

Day Three: Your Favorite Place to Be.

Malenovice, CZ

Photo 2: What you wore today.

How about what I'm wearing now.

Team Snuggie.

Concerning Discipline.

This is my senior year of college.

Unless I make the crazy decision to go to grad school, or to return for a second degree, I have started my final year of formal education.

I am terrible at self-discipline.

I always have been.

I want to get better.

So I'm starting some new exercises in discipline.

One of them started about a month and a half ago.

Mom decided that she'd put a dollar in my "Wedding Fund" jar for every day that I made my bed.

Yes, I'm 21 years old and my mother has to bribe me to make my bed.

And it's working.

I've made my bed every day since I moved in.

Another is thanks to Pinterest.

It's a 30 day photo challenge that I will post here through the month of September.

Here's the list of photos I'll be taking.

And finally, I'm going to make more of an effort to get my homework done, especially reading assignments.

I've spent the past three years settling.

I haven't done my best; I've only done just enough.

And I know I can improve.

Day One: A Photo of You

Well, here's the picture of the day.

The First Post About Life In Shupe

I'm sitting at my desk in Shupe 314.
I'm still working on conquering the clutter that is my part of the room.
My trunk is already full of stuff that's going home with me in a few weeks, and there's still more here in the room.

I moved in on Friday morning and very quickly discovered that I had brought WAY too much stuff.
I always do, and I've gotten used to having more space (living in Eby and the apartment this summer ruined me for dorm room life).
I spent most of Friday afternoon and Saturday working on condensing, and then yesterday everyone was in Chicago so I was able to work without bothering anyone.
I still need to figure out what I'm doing about my desk, and I probably need to bring in my third metal cabinet from my car so I have a place to put my food.

It's been hot this weekend, and the building doesn't have air conditioning.
That hasn't been much fun.
But it's pretty much my only complaint about living here right now.
I'm sure there will be other frustrations in the coming weeks, but we're not going to let them go unresolved, so I'm not too worried.

I'm loving these first few days.
Saturday night we came back from the ice cream social and the RAs were still cleaning in the DC.
Stephanie and I were the "grown ups" here to answer questions.
We ended up sitting in the hallway with a few girls from our floor just talking about life at Bethel.
I told them to not even think about dating for at least the first few weeks, but probably the first year.
We talked about how Orientation is like summer camp, but that reality will set in as soon as classes start.
We talked about Shupe Shopping and boys serenading us during the first week of our freshman year.

It was a great start to those kinds of conversations.

Then last night we played Apples to Apples for a couple hours.
That game is so perfect for this time of the year.

I think we have a great group of girls here in Shupe this year.
And I know we have a great team of RAs.

I don't have much more to report, because Orientation is a busy time.

Now I'm going to straighten my hair, just because I can.

#Czech2012: Part Five: The Return

Before I really get started, I want to thank any new readers I gained while I was gone. This is the first time since I've been home that I've taken time to look at my stats and I was absolutely shocked to find that my total view count was over 10,000. There were 865 in the last month. I count this among one of my proudest blogging moments.

(I still can't figure out why people say that they are "humbled" by the praise and admiration of thousands. Humility seems like a choice to me, and it's pretty dang difficult when you realize that thousands of people have read your work. Or that a few people have read it a few thousand times. I am proud of this.)
I have my family to thank for this. My mom regularly reposts my links on facebook and my dad, whose blog goes out to a huge number of people each morning, links to mine from time to time. Like this post about hope and rest and God. Read it. It's really good.

But having that number of readers means that I have a responsibility to follow through on follow up posts.
That's what this is.

"The Return."
That's what this part of the trip is called.
The Return home, which pretty much just means that I've returned to my parents.
The Return to dealing with what I left hanging three weeks ago.
(A conversation, a messy room, housing details, and life in general.)
The Return to American culture, which will be discussed in this post.
The Return to "normal," which will never actually exist.

The Return to the slowness of daily life.
I realized last night that I had only been home for a week.
It was strange to think that a week earlier I had been asleep, and two weeks earlier I had been trying to sleep but might have had a bladder infection that had me running to the bathroom every couple hours to pee. It was a long night. And, because I regularly tell you these things, I was on my period at the time. Yeah, that makes six countries (US, Canada, Jamaica, England, Scotland, Czech Republic).

Lesson #1: Drink plain water, not just "tea" or water with syrup. Drink water. Every day. Don't wait until Hike Day to switch after two and a half days. Your kidneys and bladder will thank you.

So, here I am.
Where, exactly?
The Starbucks at Dupont.
I used the free drink I earned in Detroit right before we left.
(Extra shot mocha, two pumps caramel, three pumps vanilla.)
This is the place I come to write.
It's my SG in Fort Wayne, without all of the Bethel students.

I'm listening to my Summer Soundtrack playlist on Spotify for the first time in three weeks.
"Taylor the Latte Boy" just started playing, which would bring a smile to my face if I didn't feel so awkward about smiling in this setting.
I like this song so much.

But I'm stalling, because getting to the point is going to be painful.

I've been back for a week.
I went to Cleveland for the weekend, because two of my dear friends were getting married.
Because I've been gone all summer, my parents and I haven't had much time together, so we turned it into a mini-vacation. We took the scenic route over and found a great ice cream place in Sandusky (Toft's. Go there. Get the Java Chip, Coconut Cream Pie, Cake Batter, or Rocky Road.).
We saw Lake Erie. I ended up waist deep in the lake, which was definitely not intentional.
We stayed in a suite.

It was a three-day delay of my return to normal life.
I was glad to go and spend time with friends and with my parents, but it was difficult to be fully present.
I was still working through jet lag. I was starting to process. I was missing the people I had spent two weeks with. I was missing mountains.

This is where it gets painful. Fight the tears, Swanson. You are in a public place.

Let's start with the jet lag.
I got home and talked for a couple hours, but by 8:30 I was in bed. I slept until 11:00 on Thursday, which was not as late as I expected.
But on Thursday night I stayed up late and woke up at 6:30. I was wide awake with no chance of falling asleep again.
At the hotel on Friday, I fell asleep around 9:30 and slept until 9.
At this point, I think I was back to normal. We stayed up later that night and woke up around 8 or 8:30 on Sunday. Maybe later than that.
Now I'm feeling pretty good.

My stomach was a little bit more difficult to adjust. I got used to eating three meals a day at set times.
This was okay for breakfast and lunch coming back, because it was close enough to lunch and dinner for my body. But by 4:00pm each day, I was ready for a feast.

Everything has pretty much worked itself out now. My body is getting used to eating dairy and fruit again.
Breakfast is something other than rohliky with butter.
Lunch and dinner are not pork in some kind of sauce.
There's no soup before lunch.

Processing.
It's been eight months since I told Kyle I was interested in going on this trip.
And now it's over.
Those two weeks flew by like they were nothing.
We were leaving Granger and then we were at training and then we were at camp and then we were in Kyjov and then we were saying "good-bye" to every one and then we were in Prague and then we were home. No trip has ever felt that fast.
I want to go back and do it again. I want to re-live it. I want to savor every moment.
Hindsight is a kick in the teeth sometimes.
If I had known how much I would value each day after the fact, I would have spent more time valuing each day in real time.

Lesson #2: Assume that you will always value each day when it's gone, whether because it was good and you want it back or because it was terrible and you learned a lesson from it. So pay attention to each moment, but not to the point that you can't enjoy each moment.

I want to go back right now. Our intern team is at camp, probably talking to students because it's Gospel Night and they just went through Labyrinth and are doing their own processing.
God, be present. Break down the language and cultural barrier. Let their words be Your words.

I want to go back next summer. So much.
Not in the same way that I want to go back to England, because that's a selfish thing.
This is the kind of "want to go back" that comes from feeling like my work there isn't finished.
I felt that as I left camp, as I said "good-bye" to my students and the interns and the Czech team, as I walked around Prague and had very little desire to spend money on souvenirs, as we got on the plane and I cried as we took off.
I just wanted to either be back with my camp family or home with my biological family to tell them about how badly I want to be there next summer.

I haven't thought seriously about God calling me to long-term, overseas missions in a while. To be honest, it's terrified me. I've hated the idea of being away from my family and friends and language for more than a few weeks.
I don't like to think about the fact that life goes on and people change, whether I'm around or not.
Going to England last year and coming back to find out that two couples had gotten engaged was a little overwhelming.
If I go away for three months next summer, I will miss weddings and babies and possibly deaths.
I will miss another opportunity for a summer fling (not that I've ever had one anyway, or that I would be likely to have one if I stayed here).
I will miss so much life that will happen here.
And I will change and be a different person when I come back.

I went through this thought process five years ago when I got back from Jamaica.
Someone had talked about how life was continuing at home without her, and I realized how much I would hate that.
But I started thinking about it and realized that if God was calling me to overseas missions, He would be there with me.
He knows what I will miss next summer, if I do the internship.
He has always known.
And I know that He will provide peace and comfort for me.
I am not one to use cheesy quotes, but I can't think of a simpler way to put it:
"If God brings you to it, He'll bring you through it."
He has proven to me His faithfulness.
It's the theme of my life, of my very existence.

I don't know whether I will be in the Czech Republic next summer.
I think that I will be.
I don't know whether I will leave this country for the long term.
But I think I will.

And now the part where I talk about my team.
We spent seven months studying Romans, praying, thinking.
We spent the beginning of the summer talking about teaching English.
We spent the last couple weeks before leaving actually spending time together and getting to know each other.
And then we left. We spent two weeks with each other. We had very little time apart, and I can't say that I was happy with that.
I should have been. I started thinking about this pretty early in the trip.
I should have been making the choice to want to spend time with these people.
They are my brothers and sisters.
It's easy to say that I was loving them by taking time to be away from them to re-energize, but I was really being selfish.
It's tough to be the awkward middle child.
Not as tough as I made it seem sometimes, but still tough.
I didn't know how to relate, I didn't feel like I was supported, I did feel like an outsider.
So I didn't try.

Lesson #3: Always try. And yes, there is a "try." You can't always do. Or, to be more fair to Yoda, maybe trying is a form of doing. Or maybe that line is only relevant when it comes to using the force. Anywho. Make an effort. In everything.

We studied Romans and got to chapter 12. But I suppose I forgot about the part where it says "If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all." (Romans 12:18, ESV)
I could have done so much more than I did to live at peace with these brothers and sisters of mine.
I was selfish. Oh, so selfish.

Someday, I might learn how to empathize.
It's been so long since I was homesick that I don't remember quite how it feels.
And it was always treated with tough love, so that's how I am tempted to treat people who are homesick.
And we had four homesick girls the night before camp started.
I completely understand. Jet lag was hitting at full force, they were about to meet a bunch of complete strangers who were at unknown places on the spectrum of English knowledge, we had an intern leader whose style of humor was familiar to me but a bit frightening to them, and the ideas of teaching English and of sharing the Gospel when you have no experience are terrifying.
But I was at a total loss when it came to comforting them. And I was frustrated, because I thought that they were being selfish.
But they were being human, being 16-18 years old, being out of the country for the first time, etc.

Lesson #4: Let people be people. They will deal with situations differently, and that will probably be a good thing. If they're being completely irrational, that might be the time to step in with reason or tough love. If they're harming themselves or others, that is definitely the time to intervene. But if they're just working through the emotions of international travel, let them do it.

Now, I miss them dearly. I got a text yesterday about plans to go see the new Batman movie. I wish so much that I lived closer, because I wanted to see them and hang out with them. I'm glad that I move back in just over two weeks and then will be close enough to go to movies or continue our Bible study or just spend time talking about the trip. Oh, man I miss them.

American Culture.
I've always known that we're a pretty self-centered country. We think we have all the answers to the world's problems, we think that being loud is the right way to be, we seem to have lost all sense of respect.
But when we travel to other countries, we discover that we're the only ones who are like that.
Let me be clear, I'm using "we" loosely. I am not a "typical American." Sure, I can be materialistic with the best of them. I've covered the selfishness thing in this post. But I'm quiet. I'm reserved. I don't get too familiar with strangers. The person in front of me in line at the grocery store is just another person, not a potential friend. I am not outgoing. Part of that stems from insecurity. But I also know that I don't really like it when people just start up a conversation in line at the grocery store.
(Evangelism is a different thing. If the Holy Spirit prompts me to talk to someone, I'll do it. But I don't consider it common courtesy to talk to people. In fact, just the opposite. It's weird and uncomfortable for me. Live and let live.)

I discovered very quickly, between interaction and education, that I would fit in very nicely in Czech culture.
There is a sense of respect of privacy.
Their history has made them somewhat pessimistic and self-sufficient.
They are a quiet people, for the most part.
Children are taught to respect their elders.
They are not taught that they can be anything they want.
They are disciplined when they do something wrong.
They are not told that they are special or perfect or invincible.
Basically, most of the things that I hate about the way Americans in general raise their children are seen as ridiculous to Czechs. At least to the one I talked to about it. And I trust her.

I feel like I was redeeming their view of Americans in a way.
It was well acknowledged that I am not a normal American.
My team made that clear. Kyle and Jonathan are about six times louder and more enthusiastic than me.
I get excited about things, I really do. And I have fun.
But I don't show emotion the way I'm "supposed to."
And I think that quiet conversation can be very fun.

I roll with the punches. I put up with a lot. I don't complain about being too hot or too cold or other silly things that I don't control.
I complain, for sure. But if you really knew all of the things that I don't like but don't talk about not liking, you wouldn't believe it.
That assumes you are a typical American who embraces our culture.

I'm just tired of it.
I'm tired of how we overindulge, overspend, underappreciate, and disrespect.

Okay. I think I'm done for now.
With both my rant about American Culture and this post.

It's time to go home and spend time with my parents, because I decided yesterday that I was moving in early (hooray for having that option!) which means fewer days with them.

Holy cow, this was a long post! If you've stuck with me all the way through, I commend you. And I thank you. And I apologize for talking about peeing and being on my period. And for reminding you of that, because you've probably forgotten by now. Welcome to my life.