Independent Study: This one is difficult to write.

When I checked my email this afternoon, I read the subject line of the first message in my inbox.
The way I read it, it said "How IS the project coming?"

This was like a punch in the gut. Read it out loud with the emphasis, and you might know what I mean.

 I now know that it actually says "How is the IS project coming?" This is an entirely different sort of question, carrying much less of a guilt trip. But you'll understand why I read it the way I did as you continue reading.

When I read that subject line, my face got how and I simultaneously wanted to cry, climb in bed and go to sleep, and go for a run. The tears would have been from shame. The desire to sleep came from the opportunity it would give to escape from reality. And I only want to run when I have something to run from. Fight or flight response. When I'm confronted with something that requires me to admit my shortcomings, I choose flight every time.

The project is not going well. The semester is not going well. I am in a pit that I dug for myself, and it's easier to just stay down here than to try to climb out. This, of course, is not the response that anyone wants from me. I've been squandering my potential my whole life, and I've said more times that I care to count that "it's time to do things differently."
Well, at the end of my time in undergraduate studies, I'd better figure out how to stick to that statement.

If this project is about lessons in doing a great work, I'm going to treat this project as a great work.
In the editing that I did this evening, after feeling terrible all afternoon, I learned that it fits many of the criteria for a great work.
If you want to know more about these criteria, you can read the book on your Kindle when it's published in May.

The manuscript is now two-thirds finished (as far as I'm concerned).
I'm further behind in my reading that I care to acknowledge (this is true of most of my classes at the moment).
And this is only the third of the ten posts I committed to writing.

The project, from now on, will get better.
My edits of the manuscript I have will be finished by Saturday. Dad, I'll give you the binder at lunch.
My reading will be done within two weeks.
I'll be writing multiple posts each week.

This will get done. I will finish well.
I have made mistakes, but I am not a failure. I refuse to defeat myself.

That's how the project is going.

Spring Break 2013

Last year, I was battling the flu for the first few days of break.

I ended up with a few hours of time with friends, but I was mostly either sleeping or studying.

This year, I've been perfectly healthy. I've spent almost no time with friends, and I don't feel as sad about that as I wish I did.

I love my friends. I miss them. I wish I was home more to be around them.

But this semester has cost me more social energy than I've had to spend. I'm overdrawn, and instead of a $25 fee, I'm paying in solitary recovery time.

To my dear friends from Fort Wayne who might be reading this, I apologize. I have neglected text messages, stayed home alone when I could be out with you, and more or less hidden from all social activity.

The introvert in me needed this week to save up for the rest of the semester.

I will be home this summer, and possibly after that. We will have time.

I'm sitting in my brother and sister-in-law's apartment in downtown Chicago.

It is 12:19am here, while my poor body thinks it's 1:19. I will certainly be able to sleep as soon as I finish this post and shut my computer down, but I'm still a college student and can pull an all-nighter if I need to.

We arrived around 7:30 and spent the evening eating dinner and talking. Mom and Andrew baked an apple pie to eat tomorrow night with homemade ice cream. Yes, my brother and I share a love of cooking and baking. I always wanted to be just like him, and now that we're becoming adults separately, I can see that we're more alike than we ever knew. I didn't need to try; I just needed to wait. And I love these times that we all get to spend together like this.

While the pie was in the oven, we sat in the living room. There were conversations that included two or three or five of us. We talked about our lives, where Allie is applying, what Andrew's clients are doing, how Mom feels now that she's done at the warehouse, the online class Dad is teaching right now. I usually keep pretty quiet during these conversations. I've always been the quiet one.

When I decided to write a post, I was sitting on the couch, flipping through Kinfolk Magazine, listening to Mom and Allie chat, drifting in and out of their conversation. The sounds of the city rise from the streets 15 stories down, the candle flickers, students in the studio on the floor above move easels. Dad and Andrew take Chevy for her late-night walk. I am with the people I love the most in a city that is familiar and yet always surprises me. I am home. Time with family is a deposit, not a withdrawal. These hours seem so rare, so precious, and I want to savor them.

In the middle of this city, where taxis are still on the streets and students are still upstairs in the studio, I find peace and rest. I am refreshed and restored.

"Inhale grace; exhale gratitude."

Facing the Finality of it All

This time on Friday, I will be sitting with my parents watching the late night news.
It will be about time for the first commercial break, during which my mom will head upstairs to go to bed.
I was just about to type that I would probably be receiving a text from her during the writing of this post as my phone lit up with that very text. "goodnight. love you."
Every night. I know to expect a text between 11:08 and 11:18.

Next week is my last Spring Break.
Then I have the last half of my last semester of undergrad.
It's starting to sink in.

I was heading into a meeting with Terry Linhart today, and Dr. Dendiu was standing in his doorway.
These two men have had a profound impact on my life. They have encouraged me and challenged me, and I am so incredibly thankful for them. For a non-major, I have spent a surprising amount of time in courses in the Religion & Philosophy Department. Of the fifteen faculty members on the R&P page on Bethel's website, I have had at least one class with seven. I'm in my fourth class with Brother Tim, my second with Chad Meister (and he is the leader of a discipleship group I'm in), I had my second class with both Dr. Dendiu and DB last semester, Cris Mihut was my advisor for StuCo, I'm on the Student Development Committee with Dr. Eby, and Dr. Gerber was on the trip to England in 2011. I've had interactions with a higher percentage of the faculty in this department than in the English department. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

All of that was a digression.
Terry and Dr. Dendiu joined in with the voices that have been telling me that Bethel will be losing a lot when I graduate.
Those were the first tears of the day, but not the first on this subject.
(The next tears were as Terry made me face a future that is wide open, while I have no idea what I want to do. I was feeling slightly overwhelmed.)
I've been hearing that from so many people whose opinions I respect and value, and who have no idea how much I will be losing when I graduate.

It's finally hitting me that I'm leaving. That I'm really leaving. That I might not ever come back.
And I can't stand it. I'm not ready to graduate.
I'm not ready to leave this place and these people.

As I'm sitting in the lab right now, in walks a freshman I helped as he was writing his final paper for Block 3.
I had taken a couple hundred cookies over to Oakwood on the Sunday night before Finals Week, and ended up talking to several members of this year's Block about whether The Taming of the Shrew was a farce or a story of abusive male dominance. I'm on the side of comedy, and pushed them hard to write it that way. But they all ended up writing on the other side. So I helped the kid formulate a strong argument, because I wanted him to do well, regardless of whether or not I agreed with him.
Then I got rid of the rest of my cookies and went on my merry way.

It's weird enough for a senior to be taking cookies to freshmen, but I definitely can't do it after I graduate.
Too far, Swanson. Too far.
I just like baking cookies, okay! "It's like being a mom without the responsibilities," as it was put so nicely by Casey Stump tonight.

I am leaving. I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing for the summer.
I know that I'm going on Choir Tour for the first week after graduation, so I've at least got that figured out.
Cool. Then what?
I have some options, but I'm not going to write about them yet. I've made that mistake before, and then had to take it all back.

Whatever I do this summer, I know it will be good. I'm looking forward to being done with the stress of going to class and getting reading assignments finished and writing papers and editing the Composition Manual and, oh yeah, I'm editing to Composition Manual for the English Department because apparently I'm into editing now even though I never really thought that I would use the English Department-related part of my major but, hey, it will look good on a resume when I finally get around to putting a resume together and it's all getting to be a little bit ridiculous because I still have three papers to write before I leave on Friday so I have no business writing this post and I really hope you're reading this really quickly and that you would be out of breath by now because that's how I feel and how's that for text painting?

Breathe.
Breathe.

I have two more months.
Then I will be done with classes, except for choir on the 26th of April, which I'm guessing we'll have because it's the day of Choral Showcase and we'll have our emotional time of saying "good-bye" to the seniors who aren't going on Choir Tour.
In two months, I will be finished with almost everything.
I might have one final.
I'll have a couple more events.
And then it's over. I'll walk across the stage, get my diploma, smile for the pictures, load up my parents car, and have my last night on campus.

It's coming at me so quickly and I don't know what to do but brace for the impact and try to keep my eyes open so I don't miss anything.

And now, for the first time, I'm in the Computer Lab as they're trying to shut it down.

That's the end.

Thanks for reading and letting me rant to you.
And to those of you who have had to listen to me rant in person, thank you/I'm sorry.

Good night.
I love you all.

How To Be My Valentine (for the hoards of guys who are wondering)

I have fully embraced the fact that I will not graduate with an engagement ring on my finger.
I'm fine with that.
I'm also comfortable with the fact that only two guys have ever expressed romantic interest in me over the past four years, that I have never in my life been on a proper date, and that this is not the first or second or third post about this subject.

Last year around this time, I wrote a post about how I never talk about Valentine's Day. I wrote about how much I dislike chick flicks and the idea of "love" that they present.
I stand by what I wrote then.

This post expands upon the last paragraph of that one. The part that lists a few things that I would really appreciate from the "Someone" I wanted to be my Valentine. To be honest, I'm not sure I even remember who that was.
I just really like gifts. Receiving a gift that I've talked about in a blog post is a dream of mine. That sounds so lame, but it's true. When people tell me that they enjoyed reading a recent post, it immediately improves my day. I don't just write these things for my own benefit. Even if it's just a challenge to you to be more open with people, I write to be read.

Let's be honest, I have never been the best Valentine. When I was in seventh grade, the guy who was my boyfriend gave me a box (covered in duct tape with inside jokes written on it) filled with various kinds of candy. It was awesome. I didn't give him anything.
In eighth grade, my Valentine gave me a bag of chocolate hearts. I didn't give him anything.
I don't like giving obligatory gifts. I will gladly bake something for your birthday if you want me to. But I would rather surprise you three months later with something I know you will appreciate or find amusing. Like a package of gumballs or a Justin Bieber singing toothbrush.

But, in case you have ever wondered, here are a few things that I would make me feel loved right now.

-Flowers. I have made it no secret that flowers are my love language. They just make me smile.
-If I walked outside tomorrow morning (at 6:55, because we have a Music Ministry Team performance at Beulah Missionary and are loading the trailer/vans at 7) to find that the snow had been cleared from my car, I would probably cry. Of course, the tears would freeze on my face and I would have to fix my makeup, but it would be worth it. (My car, a grey Impala, is parked in the Lodge/Shupe lot to the right of the car with the Chastity bumper sticker. That is my roommate's car.)
-White v-neck Hanes undershirts, size Small. I paint them. But I haven't had any new ones in a long time. I miss painting.
-Sushi. Specifically the Dynamite Roll from Soho Japanese Bistro in Granger. It is my absolute favorite food.
-"Stranger Than Fiction" on DVD. It is one of three Will Farrell movies that I actually enjoy watching, and I never get tired of it. (The others are "Elf" and "Megamind," in case you were wondering.)

I will not be disappointed if I don't get any of these things. I am an adult and I have other ways to feel fulfilled. I'll go bake 200 cookies and give them to people.
But I've been told that there must be a bunch of guys who have their eyes on me (though I have no idea who they might be). This is your chance. I'm not as intimidating as I might seem. Seriously. I'm usually either trying to be funny or trying not to embarrass myself.


This entire post is the result of wishing someone would clean off my car so I wouldn't have to.

Independent Study: I read Nehemiah last week.

Until last week, I had never read more than a few verses of Nehemiah.
Between Monday and Friday, I finally read all thirteen chapters.
Okay, I may have skimmed over the lists of names a little bit.
I think that's okay, although I'm guessing I'll write about those lists in a few weeks.

A long time ago, I wrote a post about Nehemiah and Ephesians 6. I talked about being the New Testament Nehemiah, putting on the full armor of God (Eph. 6:10ff) to protect against the enemies that attack.
It related back to Nehemiah 4:11-14. The enemies of the builders were coming to put an end to their work, so Nehemiah "stationed the people by their clans, with their swords, their spears, and their bows" (Neh. 4:13b, ESV).

My point in the post was that the historical books in the Old Testament can be applied to our lives today by way of analogy, and that the New Testament affirms the Old.

I still think that this is true, but I'm slower to make those comparisons. What I am quick to do is remind myself and others that YHWH is unchanging. He watched over the builders in 445 B.C. and He watches over me right now.

When Paul called the Ephesians to be vigilant, he said "we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places" (Eph. 6:12, ESV). He was not calling the readers/hearers of his letter to wage a physical war. He was calling them to be prepared to fight spiritual battles.

Nehemiah was old school, calling the people to prepare for a physical fight.
Okay, Nehemiah was facing humans who were coming to "cause confusion" in Jerusalem. This phrase has also been translated as "cause a disturbance" or "to hinder."
To put it simply, they were coming to bring the pain.
And Nehemiah wanted to be ready.
"But just in case they jump us/We're ready to mix/tonight."
(I needed to throw a little "West Side Story" in there.)

He called the people to arms: "Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your homes" (v. 14b).

I don't want to make statements about pacifism or holy war or just war or anything like that, but I suppose that in not saying anything, I would be saying something.
I don't like war. I wish that we could all just talk things out rationally and make allowances for cultural differences. I wish that peace could reign.
But I've lived long enough to understand that those wishes aren't going to come true. People are people, disagreements happen, and rationality doesn't always happen.

And I believe that when it comes to defending one's family, sometimes violence is the only option. If the life of one of my relatives was in immediate danger, I can say with confidence that I would commit some sort of violent act if it would save the life of my family.
I think that this is what Nehemiah was making sure the people were prepared to do. They weren't going to seek a fight, but they sure weren't going to sit around while their enemies attacked.

I just realized that this might seem like a timely post in regards to the various gun control debates that have been happening in the past few weeks (or the entire history of our country). Please do not read this through that lens. I have not been paying enough attention to that conversation to be commenting on it.

I'm not really sure what my point is in this post. More than anything, I think it was the realization that reading the entire book put those few verses in context and helped me understand why the people needed to defend themselves, who they were defending against, and what they were doing that caused such anger.

And I think the picture of the builders using one hand to work and the other hand to hold a weapon, just in case.
But they never used their weapons. The conspirators didn't attack, though they tried to trick Nehemiah into meeting with them.
"Remember Tobiah and Sanballat, O my God, according to these things that they did, and also the prophetess Noadiah and the rest of the prophets who wanted to make me afraid."

Nehemiah, though he prepared the people to defend with weapons, always knew that "the battle belongs to the Lord."  He had heard the stories of the preexilic kings of Judah, so he knew how God had defeated armies while His people watched. (I am now understanding why I took that Chronicles class last semester.)

Know God's power, and never forget that He is unchanging. But don't expect Him to behave the way you want Him to. Much like Miley Cyrus, He "can't be tamed." I'm only slightly ashamed of that reference.

Prepare for battle. Take up your sword and be ready to swing it. And know that "Our God will fight for us."
These are not mutually exclusive situations.

Maybe next week I'll actually talk about editing.

Inconvenient Causes for Praise

A cold has been brewing since Sunday night. I've been suspecting it for a while. I made it this far into the school year without much trouble, so I figured it would show up eventually.

It hit this morning. I'm expecting it to get worse over the next 24-48 hours, and then I'll be carrying tissues around for another couple of weeks.

I really do not enjoy being sick. I don't think anyone does, Munchausen syndrome aside. I hate being around people when I'm sick, I hate being bedridden, I hate how lazy I feel, I hate how raw my nose is right now, I hate how often I'm using hand sanitizer.

Not to mention the fact that we have a Music Ministry Team performance on Sunday morning, and another on Monday for Preview Day. This is not a good time to be sick.

My friend Rachelle found out just before school started that she had a cavernoma. It's raspberry-shaped bundle of blood vessels in the brain. Some people live with them for their whole lives and don't have a single symptom. Rachelle's had bled, and she'd had some tingling in the right side of her body. The doctors decided that it needed to be removed.

The beginning of one's final semester of college is not a convenient time for brain surgery.

And yet, all times are good times for God to be glorified.

My roommate came into the room, found out that I was sick, and very quickly left, saying that she needed to go to the story. She came back about and hour later and presented me with tea, soup, Kleenex pocket packs, and Emergen-C. Katie and I have a mutual love of giving and receiving gifts, so this situation, and much as I don't like it, has been a blessing for both of us. And yes, I will be spraying down the room with Lysol before Shupe Group to try to keep my sickness from spreading.

Rachelle went in on Monday morning, the cavernoma was removed, and she's home now recovering. She was talking, walking, and eating within a few hours of her surgery. (Granted, she didn't keep the food down for long, but the fact that she was hungry is a good thing.)

God is so good and I love the ways that He shows His power.

Independent Study: Introduction

In November, on a short trip to Chicago to pick up my brother and sister-in-law's dog, my dad and I were talking about the upcoming semester. I listed the classes I was taking and expressed concern at only having 13 credit hours. True, with Modern Philosophy with Dr. Meister and Romans with Dr. McCabe, they weren't 13 easy hours, but I've always gotten by on minimum requirements and I don't want that to be the way I finish college. I want to really be challenged.

Dad asked me what I wanted to learn this semester, and who I wanted to learn from. I had no idea how to answer the first question, but the second was easy. For the past couple of years I've wanted to take a class with Dr. Terry Linhart. He and Dad have become friends and through that he and I have gotten to know each other a little bit. The thing is, he doesn't teach classes that I'm interested in taking. And he decided not to teach the class that I had registered for with him last spring.

Dad and I came to the conclusion that I should come up with an Independent Study, and ask Terry to be the advisor.
But what should I study?
My father, in his great wisdom, had an answer to that, too: Nehemiah.
That's right. The book of Nehemiah. From the Old Testament. The story of a cupbearer who got the people to rebuild the wall of Jerusalem in 52 days.
Dad has been studying Nehemiah in-depth since July 2012 and he has slowly come to the conclusion that the end result will be a book. He's writing and re-writing and having conversations with Nehemiah and it is so cool to hear him talk about what he is learning.

But what does that have to do with me?
I'm spending the semester editing for grammar and for content, adding footnotes, and formatting the text so it's ready to publish for Kindles. I'll be meeting with Terry a couple times a month, posting here about my progress each week, reading books on editing and publishing, studying Nehemiah, and learning about doing a great work.

I'm excited to dive into this project, and I hope that you will join me on this journey. If nothing else, go read Nehemiah sometime this week. It's an amazing story in the history of the people of Israel, and I can't wait to learn more about it.