Memories

There are moments when there are so many memories that come at once that they all blend together into this collective unit. These sights and smells and pictures, sometimes snapshots, sometimes extended scenes that flash in front of my visual cortex, and I'm back there, living it again, smelling it, experiencing it again.

My grandma passed away a few years ago after many long battles with cancer. She was light and happiness and strength and celebration all wrapped up into this package with soft hugs and white hair; in the pink house with the brightly colored front door.

She could cook.

My memories of her are so tied up into the taste of her food; I can feel that familiar comfort when my mom makes one of her signature dishes. She knows that not one of our bellies will go away hungry when she makes one of grandma's recipes.

While I was home on spring break a few weeks ago, my family went to go visit my grandpa because he wanted to take us to lunch. My grandpa was such a wonderful partner for my grandma; their personalities fit each other so well. He is strong and has certainly gone through his share of heartache, but seeing the smile on his face helps us all forget that as we share stories over our lunches. The house that they both lived in is quite large and it was time for him to move on from it. We helped him sort through the it and find things that he graciously let us take back to our house. Some things for practical uses (like this sewing kit that I can use at school) and some because they remind us of grandma; a wall decoration or a rug that she had made. She could work with her hands, and I believe that she was happiest making things. She decorated the house, crocheted, painted, designed. The house was filled with her touches everywhere you looked and it just added to the comfort of it all.

While gathering up the items that we would take back, I was flooded with memories. I was always happy in that house, looking and learning from grandma and grandpa. Parts of both of them will be with me always, weather it is the bracelet of grandma's that I am currently wearing, the joy I feel when I smell that familiar casserole cooking, or when I think back and remember how much they both love me. I can only image the flood of memories that my mom was experiencing at that moment. Misty-eyed while looking at grandma's cookbooks, I ask her if this is hard. She admits to being a little sad but I think the grieving is over for my her even though the memories at that moment were rushing back. Grandma will forever be with her in so many ways, I can see similarities in their personalities; their laugh, their soft hugs, and their capability to love. I hope that I can provide moments of joy for my grandchildren the same way grandma and grandpa did (and do) for me and my brother.

Grandpa is happy in his new place. It sounds great from what I've heard of it. He has touches of my grandma throughout and my mom told me that it smells the same way the house did.

There was so much joy in the pink house with the blue door in the harbor town. Family is for life.

Lord, thank you so much for blessing my life with an amazing family. Thank you for the joy and the memories. You created each of us with the capability to love each other and although she is missed, I know that grandma is with you, happy and comfortable in your arms. I will see her in time, because you love me so much that you gave up your life for me, so I can be in your arms as well.
Amen

Moments and Music.

It was one of those moments.

Yeah, it was a hard quarter.
Yeah, a lot happened.
A lot of words were said, good and bad.
Conversations were had,
Complaints,
Conversations of questioning, of uncertainty, of fatigue, of heartache, and of sadness.

But.

There were conversations of hope.
There were moments of intense peace, of connection, of Love in just about every sense of the word,
Of joy and silliness, and of friendship and community (which is something that I had taken or granted).
There were so many laughs; more laughs than tears.
Comfort, safety, repair, release, refill, refresh.
Moments of nonstop chatter, moments of stillness.
Words and prayers filled the air in moments.
Smiles, hugs, clear eyes and sunshine.

It was a really hard quarter.
But.

There was a moment yesterday.
Sitting in the back seat of the car watching the mountain farms pass, trying to let go of what I was leaving on the road behind me in Athens, I hear Aaron Marsh sing words that He gave him to sing for me at that moment, and they fill my voice, fill my ears, my brain, my lungs...

"It's been a long two years
It's time to smile
We've made it this far
Just like you said
just like you said we would.

There are no more tears
We've used them all
So now we'll rely on our laughter
And the faith that pain brings joy.

I hope that you can see
The strength that pulled us through..."

No words could have been more true in those minutes watching the sun turn the sky orange, then pink behind the outlines of horses and fences on the mountain tops.

I'm home now, sitting in the large recliner, Sigur Ros floating in the air around me, and there is mending, as there always is when I return home.
Next quarter might be hard. The sunshine will help. But I'm growing and I will keep growing through the sunshine.


Lord, you provide the Joy that pain can sometimes bring. You are what mends me, you bring me home safely, you give truth and beauty to the conversations, the moments, the music.
You save me each morning as the sun breaks over mountains.

TWLOHA~

www.twloha.com

So I've fallen in love with this organization. Even though I personally haven't struggled with suicide, a lot of people who are close to me have. It's wonderful that this organization, that is so tied into an scene where people are often hopeless and looking for meaning,for something more, is spreading the word that there is more. There is hope. There is no reason to think it's too late. There is someone who loves you no matter what. There is someone willing to listen even when it seems there isn't. There is love and beauty in this world. There is life beyond today and it's easy to find it.

Recently, it feels like my little bubble of safety here on my campus has been popped. I know there is nothing for me to really worry about, but it seems like there is something goin' on 'round here. I think I have gotten into the all-to-common rut in my faith where I feel like nothing can shake me; I can handle anything that's thrown at me...I forgot that there is spiritual war constantly raging; one that we can't really see, but we can feel, and we can see how it affects people. A couple of weeks ago, I caught a glimpse of what the evil side is capable of. The whole week, I had been feeling really weird. I can't really put my finger on it, but there was just something in there air. An uneasy feeling that wasn't being resolved; something was going to happen. Thursday night, there was a assault/abduction (the story isn't really clear) of a girl who was just walking back from a late class. Thankfully my roommate called my at 1 am to tell me to be careful. Friday, in the student center, a university employe was attempting to commit suicide by sitting on the railing of the fifth floor inside. He approached a few people and told them to get out of the center, and a few minutes later, people saw him sitting on the edge. Thankfully, people came together and just covered him and those talking to him in prayer. A friend thought of the idea to write him letters, so a few of us outside wrote him letters of hope and after a few hours, the police read them to him. By the grace of God, he came down. He actually got in contact with a friend who spoke with him about God and His love.
Friday night, I was walking to a friends house and was followed by a car on a dark side street. It shook me up a little.
A few days ago the man threatened to jump again, off the top of a parking garage.
There was a shooting in Illinois.
There is war going on.
There are wars going on in people's heads every day.
A friend and I were talking outside of the student center while we were waiting for the outcome, and he brought up that the people who sit next to us in class everyday could be thinking that they aren't good enough. They could be thinking that they don't need to live. They could be listening to the lies that the evil side has put in their heads.

God is working here on this campus. It's good that I've been shaken up because I forget that there is a constant battle raging.
There is love
and beauty
and grace
and fun
and life
and laughter
and hugs
and hope
and eternal life
and peace waiting for everyone.


TO WRITE LOVE ON HER ARMS by Jamie Tworkowski

Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."

I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her.

Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.

She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm.

The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.

She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her.

I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes.

Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show.

She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Travelling Mercies.

On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope.

Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired.

After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff.

She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life.

As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope."

I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly.

We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.

We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home.

I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember.

God is love.

To Do

List (for this week):
1. Mail out that scholarship form.
2. Fill out that other scholarship form for TCOM.
3. Return the mics, cables, stands to my professor.
4. Read through James again before tomorrow (Im leading bible study and Im excited).
5. Write my History of Rock paper.
6. Write my religion paper on vodou.
7. Heat up the stuffed shells my mom lovingly brought me from home for dinner tonight.
8. Start work on my audio compilation project
9. Finish editing the three recitals I recorded this weekend and last week.
10. Find out what to take next quarter and schedule on thursday.
11.Do my physics homework and study for the exam on friday... I am so lost in there, ick.
12. Go to The Great Porn Debate on thursday after crusade.
13. Go to that dance performance thingy for class.
14. Record the voice stuff for my compilation.
15. Find relief from my perpetually itchy body... not sure... TMI (too much info?)
16. Actually finishing the book about vodou before writing the paper would be good too.
17. Go to class.
18. Other misc. things that are on my schedule....

I apologize for the really boring entries lately, something exciting will happen soon, I promise.
It's been a really crazy couple of weeks here at my beloved campus, a lot of which has shaken things up and unhinged a few things... but God is really working here in big ways... and I pray that I can be used here however He needs... Ill write about it later, no worries.

Out of the Boredom that is PSC

1-5-08

Im falling asleep. My very German physics professor is putting me to sleep. I was falling asleep in my religion class this morning while we watched a video about vodou priests in Haiti. I was tired and disgusted from watching the live animal sacrifices. Is that necessary? Jesus loves you vodou priests, please stop brutally killing goats and chickens...

I always, everyday feel like Im going to be late to my 2:10 class. I don't know why.

I keep having these realistic dreams each night, and I wake up really confused as to weather I really did have a baby, or fell off a skyscraper, or am dating a certain boy, or rear-ended the truck that was in front of me.

My next class might be a challenge to pay attention to. I love my professor and it's a really exciting class because it directly pertains to my major but my eyes often start drooping from staring at a screen for 2 hours, it lulls me. Why did it take me so long to write that paper last night? Oh well, it's finished now, I kept getting distracted. "pressure is defined as force per area..."

I never thought I'd have to think about physics again. I was so relieved when high school was over those years ago, because I thought I'd never have to worry about velocity or anti-nodes... I parted ways with my calculator after my freshman year math class (good thing my roommate still had hers). .. Im not the only one nodding off in here... "can produce a big force when keeping the plates together..." It's almost done, my walk in the rain will start again soon.

Current (not the berry)

Currently...

Watching: Hot Rod on TV.
Listening to nonstop: Mason Proper, especially the songs 'Raise the Line' and 'Friendship.' They came to OU last weekend and played twice in the same weekend. I've been keeping in touch with the drummer.
Doing: sitting in my room relaxing, which is rare
Thinking: that it was really fun last night with my friend from OSU and that I need to keep track of my phone better and not leave it in cushions at coffee shops.
Eating: a muffin from donkey coffee.
Needing: to buy waters and food, paint my nails, practice piano, read.
Embarrassed about: a couple of things that happened yesterday... :)
Not embarrassed about: my crazy awesome dancing skills (kidding). I think I've forgotten how to dance normally.
Missing: my family, my friend in Minnesota.
Classes Im taking:

Intro to Religion- we are reading a book right now about the snake handlers of Appalachia, its fascinating.
History of Rock n' Roll- really hilarious professor, huge class, but a lot of fun.
Modern Dance- very basic... but I need to work on some basic stuff.
Color, Light, and Sound-basically the same physics class I had junior year of high school... with a lab.
Intro to Audio Recording- learning how to use recording software and equipment. I know most of it already from my job;
it's fun, we had to record a sound effect and ambient sound this week... we did a zipper and
basketball court.
Independent Study- getting credit hours for working on the tech crew for campus crusade, its great.
# Hours: 20

Learning: about grace, about patience, about judgement, my future... lots of things...

" To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it careful round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable...The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love…is Hell.
--C.S. Lewis

~Last Weekend~
I went to my friends show at a bar and Mason Proper was there and I got to talk to some of them and hang out a little. I fell in love with their style, their stage presence, everything...
Then the next night, Mason Proper was playing with my friends band (which I got there to late to see) and it was in his living room, and the floor was bending and con-caving so much. I felt like I was going to fall through it any minute. It turned into a giant dancing extravaganza which caused the floor to move even more. The speakers that were set up around the room were falling over, and someone had to hold the TV on the table so it wouldn't slide off. it was crazy. Then after that I went to my friends band's cd release show (Dead Will Rise, a grind-core athens band). It was fun, but people started setting off bottle rockets inside the place. Pretty intense... It was a really fun weekend.

Travel Log

This is a detailed description of what I did in New York city. It's not very interesting, but there are a couple of embarrassing stories about me.

Day 1
Ate pizza at Vezzo's, this cute little place. Our waiter was a little impatient, but the pizza was delicious.

Went to Grand Central Station.

Went to Rockefeller plaza.
-Saw the NBC studios.
-Saw the tree and the ice skating where a few brave sould were attempting to skate in the freezing rain.
-Saw the sacks windows which you have to wait in line to see.

Walked through time square in the pouring rain.
-My brother talked to this rapper who asked him to listen to his demo.

Went into St. Patrick Cathedral, where you could pay two dollars to light a candle and buy souvenirs for visiting, hmm.

Day 2
Went shopping in the village. There were a lot of really unique stores, one had really great vintage stuff and while I was trying stuff on, my mom was looking around and I guess there was really dirty stuff on the ceiling. I bought something and brought it out in a bag that had the 'f-word' on it a bunch of times and I didn't realize it until I walked out and my mom pointed it out. All the people working there could hardly speak english... it was interesting.

Ate at Katz's, the deli where a scene from "When Harry Met Sally" as filmed right next to where we ate. There were so many people in there, and if you wanted a table, you had to stand next to one until the people were done eating. You could either stand in this huge crazy cluster of a line or you could pounce on one of the service tables and have a waitress who would yell 'coming through' to you if you were in her way.

Shopped more in soho, all the stores were so busy, you had to practically wait in a line to get in them.

Saw Spring Awakening on Broadway. It was really controversial (some of the topics were sex, homosexuality, suicide, illegitimate pregnancy, abusive parenting and school administration, etc...) but really amazing.

Ate at John's Pizza which used to be a church with this amazing ceiling.

Day 3
Went to central park
-Went in this castle
-Saw the John Lennon memorial and where he was killed. There were people camped out there and lots of flowers on it.

Ate at Whole Foods which was really good.

Waited for Hannah Montana outside of the Trump Tower; we didn't see her.

Saw some break-dancers.

Went to the Charmin bathroom. So we really had to go to the bathroom and the only place was this place where there were dancing Charmin bears outside of it. We had to go up this escalator and down this windy hallway all the time hearing this awfully cheesy song about toilet paper and watching this music video with people dancing to it. There were about thirty doors and a man with a megaphone directing people to which door (bathroom stall) they should use. There were staff who would wait for the stall to be empty and would clean it after whoever was using it was done. This one guy was in there a while I guess and the man with the megaphone said in front of everyone "whoa, you were in there a long time, must have been a good one..." everyone laughed.

Went to The Museum of Modern Art or 'MoMa' and saw Van Gogh's Starry Night, which was breathtaking.

Ate at Penelope's which was this really cute little place with really good food and good looking staff. One of them, who was like a bus boy or host or something was kind of giving me the eye. You know, the smiley kind of eye. So I was smily a little too. Why do I flirt with people I know nothing about? I was seriously considering giving him my number just to see what would happen for a good story or something. We left and he said goodbye to us.

Day 4
Took a ferry to staten island; went past lady liberty.

Walked through battery park and saw the statue that once sat outside of the twin towers. It was ravaged; there were a bunch of holes in it, it was quite a site.

Went to the World Trade Center site. It was surrounded by a fence and a tarp and people were crowded around the small openings in the tarp. The place where they are doing construction was so deep... it was intense seeing that and picturing the dust and debris that covered the whole area six years ago. There was a fire station right next to it and one of the chiefs was talking to people about what happened. There was also a memorial museum thing next to that but to see anything in it was ten dollars so we didn't go in it.

Went back to Penelope's for dinner and to see if that person was there again kid of as a joke. He wasn't, so we asked our waiter, whose name was John, if the thin blond guy form the night before was around and he proceeded to do some detective work to find out who was working and who it could have been. There were two possibilities. We rationed it down to one and John, in all sincerity, patted me on the back and apologized meaning to say that the boy who was giving me the eye was in fact, a homosexual. I was a little embarrassed. John went and told the other people working, but he liked us so it wasn't making fun... that was actually a really fun time. John was awesome.

Went to Magnolia Bakery which is famous for its cupcakes and long hours. There was a bouncer of sorts at the door regulating how many people could be in it at once and letting people from the line outside into the place. The cupcakes were something. I am usually not a cupcake fan but I'm a believer now.


It was such a good trip. I could see myself living there; the atmosphere was amazing and I felt safe the whole time.

I hope you all had a good new years!