+Tenth Kingdom with Kelsey A yearly tradition that never goes out of style
+Lefse baking all day
+Almost time to leave for Sierra Leone
+MJ can stick out her tongue, shake her head, and almost walk. She’s adorable.
-Haven’t started packing for SL whoops
-Threatening inclement weather
-I’ve misused the word ‘commiserate’ for years
-BRITTANY MURPHY IS DEAD!
Blessed are you when you ache because the world isn’t how its supposed to be. Blessed are you when you come to the end of yourself. Blessed are you when you get frustrated enough to throw up your hands and say “God, I can’t do this.” Blessed are you when you can’t make the tension go away, no matter how hard you try. Blessed are you when you run out of will power, ideas, self-control, hope, fortitude, and energy because it is in that place, in that space, in that pain, in that ache, in that longing, in that desire, in that awareness, in that hunger, and in that thirst, that Jesus announces “God is with you.
Here’s the deal. It’s the seventh inning stretch. Some big plays coming up. Some big hitters. But I’m going to throw some curveballs. Mariano’s got nothing on me. Actually, this seventh inning stretch should have been over a while ago. Swing and a miss. Okay, back to studying for my for real last science class probably until I change my major again. (Just kidding. I wont do that again. We’re sticking in this.) But really, Bio Exam, then History exam, then this semester is over.
I’m ready for Christmas.
I am NOT ready for Africa. Emotionally: ready. Practically: not. I need to figure out my clothes, packing my suitcase, visual aids for presentations, lots and lots. But I’m excited. Bush babies, here I come.
I’m making plans. And woah buddy, I’ve got a lot to make. Lots of information to research, emails to send, and people to talk to. And then decisions to be made. Dear Jesus, take the wheel. Just not in the Carrie Underwood way. Kthnx.
Why can I not focus and just get this knocked out of the ballpark? Or at least hit a line drive? I’d just like to get on base. Or storm the pitcher’s mound. Or something. Some baseball metaphor that means my essay about the recurrence of limited war is done. I can really sum it up in one sentence. We returned to limited war because all of a sudden we realized our capacity to blow the enemy to smithereens would also put us in a pickle. Dear Prof Dobbs, or Charlie as I call you on my own time, Good enough? You seem like the kind of guy who would like the word smithereens. Lets go.
I’m currently reading Amazing Grace: The lives of children and the conscience of a nation by Jonathan Kozol.
It describes the lives of children growing up in the South Bronx.
Please read it.
Here’s the deal. I’ll be in one hundred degree weather in two weeks and a day. But today, classes were canceled for snow and there is a drift just out my back door that is taller than I am. My winter wonderland is covered in a soft blanket of white. And its perfect, because the weather is so bad that very few people have been able to travel or make it outside yet, which means, snow is yet to be scooped or cleared. Its drifting and undisturbed. It hasnt gotten dirty yet from snow plows or shovels. Its just white and sparkling. Blowing and drifting. All on its own. Soon, I’m sure, the plows will get out, making the streets safer to drive. Sidewalks will be scooped. Kids will build snowmen. And that will be nice too. But for now, I’m enjoying the undisturbed beauty, that is just a little bit dangerous.
Today my roommate and I have listened to this song all day.
I made corn bread. Just pulled it out of the oven. I had to use a slighly bigger pan than called for in the recipe and water instead of milk. It could be good? We will see soon. Apparently the spoiled milk in my fridge was not an appropriate ingredient. I guess I figured maybe the high temp cooking would kill the spoilage? Nixed. Luckily water never goes bad. At least in my middle class American world.
Dead week officially has had an actually dead day. Thanks snow. I’m going to go do a take home final now. Stinkin 12 more pages of writing. Gross. Although…I am in school. And I love to learn. Okay…grateful.
(Also today: cut my hair and spent 20 minutes figuring out how to embed a link in this post.)
My heater sounds like a demon. It starts with a low, breathy growling. Chugs along for a while. You are on the edge of your seat, waiting for the moment. Knowing it will pounce any second now. And it keeps breathing and growling and breathing and growling. Then suddenly, with an awful death rattle, it SPRINGS TO LIFE.
Confidence is sexy. Jesus gave us no context and no excuse for worry. Every day passes and leads to another. And a day is both too short and too long to encompass anything we feel. So when we move past our clocks and our calendars, our ideas and our iteneraries, when we abandon ourselves to beauty, we live. Its the only time things really happen.
Shake off the rest of the dead leaves, get ready to be covered in a blanket of snow, world. Its Christmas time, finally.
Head Over Feet by Alanis Morissette.
I think this song reminds me of Jesus. And me.
I’d like to be head over feet again.
I think he’s trying. Knocking relentlessly even?
I really like Alanis Morisette’s music. It makes me think of being unconventional. Getting rid of expectations. Just letting things be what they are. Letting whatever is be beautiful. Its therapeutic.
Back to my paper.