Catching Up

What up yo? (That's my new thing...)

So, I've been meaning to write this for a while, but school is happening. A lot.

So, this edition is going to be about my adventurous ride back to school after spring break. It started out fine, you know, just talking and listening to music with my friends Josh and Matt with whom I hitched a ride, and right as we put in by far, my favorite album at the moment, we hear a weird chunking, and smell a weird smell. Josh pulls off the side of the road so we can assess the damage and no joke (see the picture), it looks like someone took a knife and drew a circle about an inch from the hubcap all the way around the tire.

We proceed to unpack the trunk to get the tire-changing equipment and the boys start the whole process. Josh has changed tires on this car before, but this tire really isn't coming off. Really not coming off. So we are calling parents to think of the next step we should take, when we see some people walking toward us on the side of the highway. Thankfully, my friend Alex and two other people happened to by driving by us on the same highway (in boonies Ohio), and recognized me, so they pulled over to help!

One of the guys that was in his car has a AAA card so he calls and find the mile marker and they tell us it's going to be 40 minutes or so. We settle into a nice posse by the side of the freeway waiting for AAA to come rescue us, when a pickup truck with a 4-wheeler in the back pulls over and one of the two people in the truck gets out and asks us, with a think country accent, if we need help with the tire. We explain that the tire will not come off, but he wants to try himself, so he's kicking and whacking and swearing just as hard. I can't help but notice the harley boots, tight white rolled-sleeved t-shirt (in the cold drizzle) and the harley tattoo among others. He was nice as he tried to help. He called to the other person in the truck for him to bring out his 'steel-toes.' Te other person, who was equally as tattooed and booted up, with a little more facial piercings, brings out the boots and looks around at our group. He says something along the lines of "...Five guys and one girl? That don't seem right to me... which one do you belong to?" referring to me... All I could say is "uhhhhh..." and he laughs and says something like "oh, I get it..."
There were more comments made, one about how I should make him dinner after he sees one of Josh's cookbooks on the ground... After guy #1 decides that he can't get the tire off, and after telling us that we should have gone a different way to Athens, and about how they were out 'beer-hopping,' they decided to leave. They both shake all our hands and when guy #2 gets to me, holds onto my hand for a little second, gives me this look like he was assuming I was something that I definitely I am not, and makes me a tad bit uncomfortable. They get into the truck, throw out a couple of empty beer bottles, and drive away. I was stifling laughter the entire time. It was a ridiculous situation.

So AAA comes a few minutes later and doesn't have a hammer, which is what we really needed t get the tire off. The find a piece of wood and knock at the tire until it pries loose. Someone made the comment about how, only in southern Ohio does AAA come with a piece of wood. It had completely rusted to the whatever it is that is connected to the tire... so we get the tire changed and drive 50 mph to the closest Walmart (is that one word?). The tire center at the nearest Walmart was closed so Josh patiently drove the rest of the way to OU in the dark and rain, on the spare. We left at 3:30, and got back at school at about 8:00... but God is good, so we stayed safe.

God is SO good. My life has been so wonderful lately....

But more on that later.

Some Words

Recently I've been feeling this amazing Joy, just knowing that my sin is taken care of, and that I don't have to be perfect, and that everything in my life is being taken care of. It is unspeakable how wonderful that feeling is...
We sang these words in church this morning... None could fit better...

It Is Well With my Soul

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

This Is My Father's World

This is my Father's world,
And to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world:
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father's world,
The birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white,
Declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
He shines in all that's fair;
In the rustling grass I hear him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
Why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!


Wow, it is His world; God reigns.
Thank you Lord.

Another Current:

So right now, I am sitting at my desk after a night of bible study with some amazing women of God. I am so blessed to have them in my life.

After bible study, my friend, who I haven't really hung out with in quite a while due to the busy-ness of both of our winter quarters, drove me back to my dorm. On the way back, as a side note, I asked her about her dating situation and asked her to pray about mine. It turned into her turning around to her apartment to get me this book that helped her with giving her love-life up to God, which is one of my biggest struggles, even though it's a really important and fulfilling step to take. We prayed together about it and I'm excited to experience that step.

Alright, back to the task at hand.

The classes I am taking this quarter are as follows:
-Statistics (I added a business minor so that it the one and only reason I am taking this class...)
-History of Folk Music (You know you're in for a ride when the professor starts the first class of the quarter with delving into the meaning of life, it's supposed to be history of folk music right, did I miss something??)
-Management (Once again, business minor)
-Industry Recording Survey (looking at the history of recorded music and reading music blogs is pretty sweet for a class, plus I love being in class with audio people, they're a fun breed)
-Independent Study (Recording Campus Crusade for Christ's weekly meetings is a pretty sweet way to ear some credit hours, I would be doing it if I wasn't because I love it)
Total Hours:18!!!!! (YES, Im so happy it's not 20)!!

So it's pretty sweet that my hardest class is statistics; it's going to be a good quarter, I can feel it in my bones.

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.