There have been so many times in life when all I have wanted was "proof." Proof that God exists, proof that He is who He says He is, proof that I have a purpose, proof that I am loved, proof that I am even worth loving.
My feeble human heart demands proof, but what exactly do I expect that to look like? Do I expect for some giant man to float down from the sky and say, "Lauren, here is proof. I am God and I exist." That event would no doubt give me a heart attack and make me wonder what drugs I was on.
Do I expect to hear some voice telling me that I am loved or to get a love letter signed, "I love you. P.S. I am God"?
If I did, would I even believe it? Probably not. And, just because I am told those three words - I love you - doesn't mean my sin will allow me to take those words to heart, to believe them. In fact, more often than not, I have chosen not to believe them... at least about God. I have a hard enough time wrapping my brain around the fact that He is alive, let alone that He is personal and that He loves me.
But, the fact of the matter is, I have already gotten proof. I have just chosen to forget it.
No, it hasn't come in the form I would expect (giant man + love letters), but somehow my proof has gone deeper. The fact that I can see other people's brokenness is proof. The fact that I understand my own need for a Savior is proof. My suffering is proof. My joy is proof. The fact that I am no longer the person I once was is proof...
...In reality, my life has been split into two parts. A life of death and a life of the opposite. It's hard to believe that I once thought that my pain would never end - an endless cycle of sin, of darkness, of the hardships of life - with no hope for anything more.
My freshman year of college was my last year on earth in "Life part 1". I remember that I was 18 and hostile toward pretty much everyone in my life. That year, my beloved cousin had died. I felt abandoned by my friends. My family didn't understand me. I was literally drowning in sin. I couldn't breathe when I looked at myself in the mirror - hating everything about myself, from the inside out. I was experiencing the very definition of darkness and I was in it alone - fighting a battle I knew deep down that I would eventually lose.
And yet, I was pursued. I was sought after. I couldn't do it alone and after a time, I finally understood why. I knew that I was doomed from the start, not able to do it alone because I wasn't created to. I was created to be cared for, to be loved, to be guided.
If I stop and think about it, "Life part 2" is my proof. If I really stopped and remembered all that the Lord has done for me as the Bible calls us to do time and time again, I would feel stupid for ever desiring a giant man floating down from the sky or a booming voice. Of course God exists and of course He loves me. How could I ever forget how He brought me out of a deep, dark pit and set my feet high upon a rock? How could I ever forget the indescribable joy I felt the first time I realized that I would never, ever have to walk through life alone again?
And how could I ever forget what it was like to see for the first time - to see this world as He does... to love this world as He does... to understand that I was not created for this place, but for somewhere different entirely.
The truth is, as a child of God, I am called to have faith and believe no matter how much human "proof" I am lacking. God calls for us to believe what He says without proof, no matter the cost.
Even so, out of His mercy and grace, He gives it to us anyway.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I am found
....was blind but now I see.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Seasons
Somewhere in the last two weeks, things have started to make sense again. The sun in the sky warms the deepest parts of my heart and soul, chasing away the chill that has been inside my bones for the last year. The mountains are so beautiful that they take my breath away. I believe the right things again. I know without a doubt that my God loves me.
This last year with Christ has consisted of the hardest season I have had with Him to date. I have experienced deep pain and fear, yet at the same time, numbness and emptiness. Never have I experienced so many instances in which I wait expectantly for my heart to be stirred, only to be profoundly disappointed by my own body's lack of response. Gnawing thoughts have filled my head about how much has changed in my walk with Him.
"I used to be moved by this. I used to believe this."
Profound confusion about God's character and promises bombarded my heart and mind day in and day out, making me believe lies about our Savior - that He isn't good, that He doesn't care, that He isn't faithful. All of this only perpetuated more death, more confusion, more lies.
Yes, this last season was harder than my feeble human heart can really comprehend, yet I can fully and confidently say that I wouldn't take it back for anything. I love believing Truth again as if it is the first time I have heard it. I love learning new things, believing new things about the One who created and loves me so much - about the One who died for me. I love knowing who I am and who He is. I love believing what He did for me. I love seeing Him in my dear brothers and sisters here in Colombia. I love hearing him in each worship song we sing during chapel.
In some ways, I feel like a marathon runner after a race. I feel exhausted and worn out, completely and utterly perplexed as to what just happened to me - an out of body experience.
Was that even me running? It couldn't have been.
Oh, but it was. Paul wasn't kidding when He called this thing a race. It is an uphill battle of good and bad seasons, joy and pain.
Even though Colombia has no physical seasons to remind me of this cycle of life, I love that God has showed me the hope and growth that comes after a long winter in a different way - in my own heart. Before Christ, I experienced death. Yet in that same heart, I can now experience Life. For it is because He saw my brokenness and took the risk of insterting Himself right into the middle of it... in order for me to Live and know Him.
It is the seasons of our walk with Him that remind us of this. How else will we be reminded that there is Light without darkness first? How else will we know that His love for us is real, unless we know without a shadow of a doubt that He was the same God in the seasons of pain that He is in the seasons of joy?
And as this Psalm of Ascent describes so perfectly, if anything else, these "seasons" remind us where we should look:
"I lift up my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven.
As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of the maid look to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God till He shows us mercy."
Psalm 123
This last year with Christ has consisted of the hardest season I have had with Him to date. I have experienced deep pain and fear, yet at the same time, numbness and emptiness. Never have I experienced so many instances in which I wait expectantly for my heart to be stirred, only to be profoundly disappointed by my own body's lack of response. Gnawing thoughts have filled my head about how much has changed in my walk with Him.
"I used to be moved by this. I used to believe this."
Profound confusion about God's character and promises bombarded my heart and mind day in and day out, making me believe lies about our Savior - that He isn't good, that He doesn't care, that He isn't faithful. All of this only perpetuated more death, more confusion, more lies.
Yes, this last season was harder than my feeble human heart can really comprehend, yet I can fully and confidently say that I wouldn't take it back for anything. I love believing Truth again as if it is the first time I have heard it. I love learning new things, believing new things about the One who created and loves me so much - about the One who died for me. I love knowing who I am and who He is. I love believing what He did for me. I love seeing Him in my dear brothers and sisters here in Colombia. I love hearing him in each worship song we sing during chapel.
In some ways, I feel like a marathon runner after a race. I feel exhausted and worn out, completely and utterly perplexed as to what just happened to me - an out of body experience.
Was that even me running? It couldn't have been.
Oh, but it was. Paul wasn't kidding when He called this thing a race. It is an uphill battle of good and bad seasons, joy and pain.
Even though Colombia has no physical seasons to remind me of this cycle of life, I love that God has showed me the hope and growth that comes after a long winter in a different way - in my own heart. Before Christ, I experienced death. Yet in that same heart, I can now experience Life. For it is because He saw my brokenness and took the risk of insterting Himself right into the middle of it... in order for me to Live and know Him.
It is the seasons of our walk with Him that remind us of this. How else will we be reminded that there is Light without darkness first? How else will we know that His love for us is real, unless we know without a shadow of a doubt that He was the same God in the seasons of pain that He is in the seasons of joy?
And as this Psalm of Ascent describes so perfectly, if anything else, these "seasons" remind us where we should look:
"I lift up my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven.
As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of the maid look to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God till He shows us mercy."
Psalm 123
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Home.
Today is just one of those days when I have a hard time understanding. I have a hard time understanding my life, understanding my own heart, understanding my joy, understanding my pain, understanding my God and most of all, understanding my purpose.
Today, more so than most days, my heart goes out to the nomads of the world. My heart goes out to the missionaries in the deepest jungles of Africa or in the deserts of Sudan. My heart goes out to the soldiers fighting for their country 3,000 miles away. My heart goes out to those who have spent the last 2, 5, 10, 20, 50 years away from their home, undoubtedly missing their brothers, sisters, parents, and friends every single day. My heart goes out to those who, for whatever reason, the Lord has called away from the place that they call home.
My heart goes out to those people today because I am one of them.
I wish I could say that I weren't so homesick I can't breathe sometimes, but I can't. I wish I could say that I am an expert at dealing with this kind of pain, but I'm not. And, more than anything, I wish I could say that I didn't know very many people whose hearts bear the same painful marks of homesickness as mine, but I do - far, far too many.
As I sat in the park in Mirandela yesterday with a dear friend of mine (who happens to be a fellow nomad), I found myself trying to process with her sitting beside me why on earth being away from home is so painful. More than that, I also began wondering why it is that some of the people who probably love home the most are called away from it - sometimes for a couple of years and sometimes for a lifetime. While I don't yet know which of these two categories I fit into, I am convinced that the hurt is the same.
"God can use anybody on this continent, in this country to minister to these people... why use us?"
"I think it's not just for them. I think it's for us too."
As this dear friend of mine tearfully reminded me, this idea of God calling His children away from home to do His work is no new concept. This "nomadic family" has been made up of members such as Moses, Joseph, Daniel and even Jesus. Yes, even my savior Himself was ripped from His heavenly home in order to walk this desolate earth among us for 33 years - in order to save us.
"You know what?" she said, "I think He missed home too."
Perhaps God does something to us "nomads" during the time we are away from home in order for us to cling to Him more, love Him more. Perhaps He wants us to be reminded that He was thorough in becoming like us, in experiencing everything we experience so that we may feel safer in His arms, knowing that He has been where we are.
Or maybe, just maybe, He wants us to learn an even bigger truth:
"Home" is not here. It's not in Colombia and it's not in America. It's not on the gorgeous beaches or in the humble farmlands. You can sweep this entire planet and not find a place that is really, truly "home," because we weren't created for this planet in the first place. We were created for a place flowing with Light and Life. We belong in a place with music, celebrations, and dancing. We weren't created for sorrow, we weren't created for pain. We belong in a place where all we will do is live in the Glorious Light of the Lord, praising Him for eternity.
"It is there, Lauren, where we will never have to say goodbye ever again - no more sterile airport goodbyes and no more dread in leaving our families and friends behind. It is there where we will finally be home and we won't remember the pain we feel now - and we will never have to leave again."
And so, at the end of the day and despite all of the hurt and the pain, I know that it is in THAT place where I truly, deeply, long to be.
Today, more so than most days, my heart goes out to the nomads of the world. My heart goes out to the missionaries in the deepest jungles of Africa or in the deserts of Sudan. My heart goes out to the soldiers fighting for their country 3,000 miles away. My heart goes out to those who have spent the last 2, 5, 10, 20, 50 years away from their home, undoubtedly missing their brothers, sisters, parents, and friends every single day. My heart goes out to those who, for whatever reason, the Lord has called away from the place that they call home.
My heart goes out to those people today because I am one of them.
I wish I could say that I weren't so homesick I can't breathe sometimes, but I can't. I wish I could say that I am an expert at dealing with this kind of pain, but I'm not. And, more than anything, I wish I could say that I didn't know very many people whose hearts bear the same painful marks of homesickness as mine, but I do - far, far too many.
As I sat in the park in Mirandela yesterday with a dear friend of mine (who happens to be a fellow nomad), I found myself trying to process with her sitting beside me why on earth being away from home is so painful. More than that, I also began wondering why it is that some of the people who probably love home the most are called away from it - sometimes for a couple of years and sometimes for a lifetime. While I don't yet know which of these two categories I fit into, I am convinced that the hurt is the same.
"God can use anybody on this continent, in this country to minister to these people... why use us?"
"I think it's not just for them. I think it's for us too."
As this dear friend of mine tearfully reminded me, this idea of God calling His children away from home to do His work is no new concept. This "nomadic family" has been made up of members such as Moses, Joseph, Daniel and even Jesus. Yes, even my savior Himself was ripped from His heavenly home in order to walk this desolate earth among us for 33 years - in order to save us.
"You know what?" she said, "I think He missed home too."
Perhaps God does something to us "nomads" during the time we are away from home in order for us to cling to Him more, love Him more. Perhaps He wants us to be reminded that He was thorough in becoming like us, in experiencing everything we experience so that we may feel safer in His arms, knowing that He has been where we are.
Or maybe, just maybe, He wants us to learn an even bigger truth:
"Home" is not here. It's not in Colombia and it's not in America. It's not on the gorgeous beaches or in the humble farmlands. You can sweep this entire planet and not find a place that is really, truly "home," because we weren't created for this planet in the first place. We were created for a place flowing with Light and Life. We belong in a place with music, celebrations, and dancing. We weren't created for sorrow, we weren't created for pain. We belong in a place where all we will do is live in the Glorious Light of the Lord, praising Him for eternity.
"It is there, Lauren, where we will never have to say goodbye ever again - no more sterile airport goodbyes and no more dread in leaving our families and friends behind. It is there where we will finally be home and we won't remember the pain we feel now - and we will never have to leave again."
And so, at the end of the day and despite all of the hurt and the pain, I know that it is in THAT place where I truly, deeply, long to be.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Thoughts on Life (Original, I know)
Somehow reading deep things always makes me want to write deep things. Perhaps it's the fact that I, as the imperfect human that I am, need the reminder that life goes deeper than the mundane. Life means more than my routine, than my friends, than my family, than the fact that I can't for the life of me find any American candy in this country. My heart is more complicated than that, Praise the Lord!
It's times like these that I am thankful for the reminder that I am not a hollow, empty shell just going throughout life. I am created to think deeply, to feel deeply. I feel deep sorrow. I feel deep joy. I feel deep love. I feel deep excitement. I feel deep dread. This "deep feeling" might be the very thing I hate the most about myself, but also the thing I love the most. Usually, being the typical girl (woman?) that I am, my tear ducts are directly linked to the fact that I feel deeply. Thus, if you have known me at all in the last couple of years, you know that I am a cryer. 99% of the time I am deeply (there I go again) embarassed by this fact. Today, I find myself dwelling in that remaining 1%. That measly percent is the place where I feel the most free, the most alive, the most touched. I feel Jesus more powerfully than ever when I am content to just let it all out and cry until I have no tears left.
And yet, in the last couple of months, my heart has not operated this way. Perhaps it's the fact that I have been living in a new place, what with having graduated from college, and doing something that is completely out of the ordinary. Nothing about my life now even slightly resembles what it used to. Perhaps I just need to find things in this new life that can make me feel again. Back in Champaign, every time I heard prayer in a foreign language I would be moved to tears. Every time I heard a song of praise sung by over 20 people I would bawl my eyes out. Perhaps here, the Lord is teaching me that I can feel deep joy and love in a new place, with new people, doing new things.
Perhaps He's trying to teach me that HE, out of all of the possible things that can pull my heart strings, is unchanging. He is the same God in Colombia, Africa, and China that He is in the United States. Every time I open my Bible, His word says the same thing. He loves me the same way, and He wants me to praise Him and follow Him despite the fact that I live on a rollar coaster of these deep emotions.
It's times like these that I am thankful for the reminder that I am not a hollow, empty shell just going throughout life. I am created to think deeply, to feel deeply. I feel deep sorrow. I feel deep joy. I feel deep love. I feel deep excitement. I feel deep dread. This "deep feeling" might be the very thing I hate the most about myself, but also the thing I love the most. Usually, being the typical girl (woman?) that I am, my tear ducts are directly linked to the fact that I feel deeply. Thus, if you have known me at all in the last couple of years, you know that I am a cryer. 99% of the time I am deeply (there I go again) embarassed by this fact. Today, I find myself dwelling in that remaining 1%. That measly percent is the place where I feel the most free, the most alive, the most touched. I feel Jesus more powerfully than ever when I am content to just let it all out and cry until I have no tears left.
And yet, in the last couple of months, my heart has not operated this way. Perhaps it's the fact that I have been living in a new place, what with having graduated from college, and doing something that is completely out of the ordinary. Nothing about my life now even slightly resembles what it used to. Perhaps I just need to find things in this new life that can make me feel again. Back in Champaign, every time I heard prayer in a foreign language I would be moved to tears. Every time I heard a song of praise sung by over 20 people I would bawl my eyes out. Perhaps here, the Lord is teaching me that I can feel deep joy and love in a new place, with new people, doing new things.
Perhaps He's trying to teach me that HE, out of all of the possible things that can pull my heart strings, is unchanging. He is the same God in Colombia, Africa, and China that He is in the United States. Every time I open my Bible, His word says the same thing. He loves me the same way, and He wants me to praise Him and follow Him despite the fact that I live on a rollar coaster of these deep emotions.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
I don't know about you, but I want a deep dish.
Sometimes I feel like I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, "Oh world! If you only knew what you could be living for!!," only to feel like I'm choking on some thick syrup and drowning in the fact that everyone is ignoring me. I feel crushed by the weight of their brokenness and pain, pain that is unfortunately so skillfully masked by a false sense of love and security. The world is settling, that's for sure. Jesus said himself that the woman at the well was drinking from a stagnant water source when she could be drinking from "living water," the best water source of the time. He was of course speaking about himself, metaphorically. Why on earth would you settle for a frozen pizza when you could have a Chicago deep dish? (Somehow food items always make the best analogies)
The more I get to know Jesus and the more He has blessed me with discernment, the more I see the reality of the fact that I have been eating frozen pizza for the majority of my life. Sure, I was more than content by it, since it was all I ever knew. My source of joy (did I even know what that was?) came from friends, boys, whether I looked cute that day, if I got a good grade on a test, whether or not I was in school (weekends are greeeaaattt). And sure, most people would say, "well what's the matter with that? Aren't those things supposed to make you happy?" The answer is sure, I suppose. But what's wrong with them? Probably more than you think. What happens when I get a bad grade on a test? What happens when I somehow lose my willpower to eat lettuce and gain a pound or two? What happens when boys stop looking my way or when my friends are too busy to hang out? What then?
The answer is simple- I get depressed. I get angry. I wonder what the heck I am living for since all of things are so conveniently (or not so) faulty. The world is not equipped to give me joy! What then??? The answer is simple (or, depending on who you are, not simple at all). We were created for something more. I know what you're thinking... "oh, she's talking about God." Fine. But let's say that i'm not for a second. Wouldn't you agree that there HAS to be more? There just has to be! Were we just created with the intent that we will always be chasing after fleeting happiness, for things to fill us and give us a purpose when they really cant? I used to think that getting married would solve all of my problems. If only I had a husband... THEN I would feel beautiful. THEN I would feel accomplished. THEN I would be joyful. Right??? Wrong. My husband is human and is no more equipped to handle my insecurities than I am. Bless this unknown man's heart! What is a guy to do when he is responsible for my joy and security and he forgets to kiss me goodbye in the morning?? Lord help him.
I guess what i'm really saying is, I'd like to think that there is something more than the depressing idea that we were just meant to live for things that will constantly (and consistently, for that matter) let us down. And I would ALSO like to think that the pain and hurt and brokenness that I feel when I walk this earth is not all there is. How horrible would it be if someone told me at the end of my time on earth that I've lived all there is to live, I've loved all there is to love, and I've experienced all there is to experience?
My heart and soul cries out, "NO!!" that is not reality. That is not truth. That is NOT what life was intended for. You can't deny that it was intended for something more... and if you do, I am deeply, truly sorry. Real life and real love cannot possibly exist without something more. And that something is Jesus. He is the man who was manifested in the humility of God, a man who walked this earth brokenhearted about the perfection that could have been, replaced by the horrific atrocity that is our reality. He was perfect... a man who was fully God, sent from the kingdom, to save us from this world. He came to fulfill one mission, so that we may experience life and love and peace and joy outside what this world can provide. He came so that we may know HIM, so that we may one day escape this earth where we walk as foreigners and return to the place we were created for.
He came so that we may proclaim His hame and His grace, and not live for ourselves anymore. I can't possibly earn this gift. What have I to offer God for it? Absolutely nothing. I am just as foul as the world I live in, and therefore couldn't possibly do anything to deserve that big, beautiful, delicious deep dish pizza. Yet I stand in awe of the fact that somehow, in light of this world of frozen pizzas, my stomach is full with Chicago-style Jesus.
The only question is, won't you join me?
The more I get to know Jesus and the more He has blessed me with discernment, the more I see the reality of the fact that I have been eating frozen pizza for the majority of my life. Sure, I was more than content by it, since it was all I ever knew. My source of joy (did I even know what that was?) came from friends, boys, whether I looked cute that day, if I got a good grade on a test, whether or not I was in school (weekends are greeeaaattt). And sure, most people would say, "well what's the matter with that? Aren't those things supposed to make you happy?" The answer is sure, I suppose. But what's wrong with them? Probably more than you think. What happens when I get a bad grade on a test? What happens when I somehow lose my willpower to eat lettuce and gain a pound or two? What happens when boys stop looking my way or when my friends are too busy to hang out? What then?
The answer is simple- I get depressed. I get angry. I wonder what the heck I am living for since all of things are so conveniently (or not so) faulty. The world is not equipped to give me joy! What then??? The answer is simple (or, depending on who you are, not simple at all). We were created for something more. I know what you're thinking... "oh, she's talking about God." Fine. But let's say that i'm not for a second. Wouldn't you agree that there HAS to be more? There just has to be! Were we just created with the intent that we will always be chasing after fleeting happiness, for things to fill us and give us a purpose when they really cant? I used to think that getting married would solve all of my problems. If only I had a husband... THEN I would feel beautiful. THEN I would feel accomplished. THEN I would be joyful. Right??? Wrong. My husband is human and is no more equipped to handle my insecurities than I am. Bless this unknown man's heart! What is a guy to do when he is responsible for my joy and security and he forgets to kiss me goodbye in the morning?? Lord help him.
I guess what i'm really saying is, I'd like to think that there is something more than the depressing idea that we were just meant to live for things that will constantly (and consistently, for that matter) let us down. And I would ALSO like to think that the pain and hurt and brokenness that I feel when I walk this earth is not all there is. How horrible would it be if someone told me at the end of my time on earth that I've lived all there is to live, I've loved all there is to love, and I've experienced all there is to experience?
My heart and soul cries out, "NO!!" that is not reality. That is not truth. That is NOT what life was intended for. You can't deny that it was intended for something more... and if you do, I am deeply, truly sorry. Real life and real love cannot possibly exist without something more. And that something is Jesus. He is the man who was manifested in the humility of God, a man who walked this earth brokenhearted about the perfection that could have been, replaced by the horrific atrocity that is our reality. He was perfect... a man who was fully God, sent from the kingdom, to save us from this world. He came to fulfill one mission, so that we may experience life and love and peace and joy outside what this world can provide. He came so that we may know HIM, so that we may one day escape this earth where we walk as foreigners and return to the place we were created for.
He came so that we may proclaim His hame and His grace, and not live for ourselves anymore. I can't possibly earn this gift. What have I to offer God for it? Absolutely nothing. I am just as foul as the world I live in, and therefore couldn't possibly do anything to deserve that big, beautiful, delicious deep dish pizza. Yet I stand in awe of the fact that somehow, in light of this world of frozen pizzas, my stomach is full with Chicago-style Jesus.
The only question is, won't you join me?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
When a fresh breeze moves in...
It is officially fall.
Somewhere between last Friday at 2pm and Sunday at 6 the leaves decided to morph from their summer green to magnificent oranges, yellows, magentas, and reds. When I realized this (again, Sunday at 6pm), I just couldn't help but be overwhelmed with excitement. Fall is finally here! It is the season that gives the Midwest serious bragging rights (because honestly, who would want to be anywhere else?) as it encompasses everything great about this place- farms, barns, corn, hayrack rides, changing leaves, barn dances, bonfires, and award-winning Haunted Houses (you'd better believe it). Every year I so look forward to this season that will forever and always be my absolute favorite.
It is the season that somehow makes everyone want to be a country boy or girl- even the most unbelieving of the farming lifestyle. Somehow all girls find the need to get in touch with the flannel side of their wardrobe, while boys can be seen wearing grungier clothing as well. It is the season that is "All-American," with classic rituals like attending high school and college football games, apple picking, Halloween, and, of course, THANKSGIVING!
Yes. Thanksgiving. The mother of all American holidays. The one where thousands of calories are consumed in a matter of hours and without the slightest hesitation. Days upon days are spent celebrating this event, with classic "Fall-Type" rituals leading up to the actual day where the term "over indulgence" takes on a whole new meaning. Where I am from, it is also not uncommon to have multiple Thanksgivings, which include celebrating with friends, family, closer family, and significant others. I think I even had a 3-Thanksgiving year once. I didn't eat for a week afterwards.
But, let me not get too ahead of myself. Another significant holiday, though lesser in scale, includes one of costumes and candy- HALLOWEEN. This is a holiday that requires a month's worth of celebrating. With horror movie marathons running constantly on Cable T.V., pumpkin patches dwindling due to eager children, and Haunted Houses open the whole month of October, one cannot help but get in the spooky mood. People from all ages enjoy the ritual of figuring out their costume for the year- with college students being the craziest (why a "sexy" strawberry shortcake?).
So, as you can see, Fall is super, super great. What is a girl to do during the greatest 6-week period of the whole year?? The answer is simple- drink apple cider. And take pictures- lots and lots of pictures (shown below for your own enjoyment).
Somewhere between last Friday at 2pm and Sunday at 6 the leaves decided to morph from their summer green to magnificent oranges, yellows, magentas, and reds. When I realized this (again, Sunday at 6pm), I just couldn't help but be overwhelmed with excitement. Fall is finally here! It is the season that gives the Midwest serious bragging rights (because honestly, who would want to be anywhere else?) as it encompasses everything great about this place- farms, barns, corn, hayrack rides, changing leaves, barn dances, bonfires, and award-winning Haunted Houses (you'd better believe it). Every year I so look forward to this season that will forever and always be my absolute favorite.
It is the season that somehow makes everyone want to be a country boy or girl- even the most unbelieving of the farming lifestyle. Somehow all girls find the need to get in touch with the flannel side of their wardrobe, while boys can be seen wearing grungier clothing as well. It is the season that is "All-American," with classic rituals like attending high school and college football games, apple picking, Halloween, and, of course, THANKSGIVING!
Yes. Thanksgiving. The mother of all American holidays. The one where thousands of calories are consumed in a matter of hours and without the slightest hesitation. Days upon days are spent celebrating this event, with classic "Fall-Type" rituals leading up to the actual day where the term "over indulgence" takes on a whole new meaning. Where I am from, it is also not uncommon to have multiple Thanksgivings, which include celebrating with friends, family, closer family, and significant others. I think I even had a 3-Thanksgiving year once. I didn't eat for a week afterwards.
But, let me not get too ahead of myself. Another significant holiday, though lesser in scale, includes one of costumes and candy- HALLOWEEN. This is a holiday that requires a month's worth of celebrating. With horror movie marathons running constantly on Cable T.V., pumpkin patches dwindling due to eager children, and Haunted Houses open the whole month of October, one cannot help but get in the spooky mood. People from all ages enjoy the ritual of figuring out their costume for the year- with college students being the craziest (why a "sexy" strawberry shortcake?).
So, as you can see, Fall is super, super great. What is a girl to do during the greatest 6-week period of the whole year?? The answer is simple- drink apple cider. And take pictures- lots and lots of pictures (shown below for your own enjoyment).
Friday, August 27, 2010
My brain is officially apple sauce.
Do you ever have times when you aren’t feeling particularly creative, pensive or profound? I don’t know about you, but I often find that I marvel and dwell on the simplest of things, analyzing concepts and reaching levels of understanding that give me an amazing sense of being. The absence of this is just plain frustrating for me and I feel that this perfectly describes the week I have had. I feel sort of blah in a way. Not depressed-no that is an entirely different feeling. I have just been experiencing a great absence of the ability to think and feel. Can anyone relate? Am I making any sense at all?
This could be caused by a variety of things, number one being that because I am nearly broke I am trying to save money on food by not eating a lot, thus voluntarily plummeting my blood sugar. I have also not had the privilege of sleeping normal amounts as I have been frantically trying to mentally and physically prepare for this upcoming school year. Or maybe, just maybe I am long overdue in reading a good book or watching a movie that makes me think until my head hurts. Do you know what I mean?
[I personally can think of several movies off the top of my head that fit this category- though they are different for everyone. Examples for me include V for Vendetta (I swear every time I watch that movie I get something new and amazingly profound out of it), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Reader (Saddest movie on this planet), and the Prince of Egypt (Yes, the animated feature).]
I think I am also feeling this way because I have lately doubted my ability to think. I know that sounds weird, but if you were taking some of the classes that I am, you would absolutely understand. One such course is art history, and is really a class on the analytical and mental processes of understanding contemporary art in history. Yes, it is the same art that baffles so many on this earth, the kind that includes weird abstract sculptures and strings hanging from ceilings (“My, what a masterpiece!”). Frankly, I just don’t get it. I essentially spend those class times doodling in my notebook and wondering what made me so dumb that I just cannot understand the meaning of heteroglossia when it comes to communicating art (yes, that is a real word and fun fact: even spell check on Microsoft Word doesn’t recognize it as one). I often find myself looking around the room at my peers -who are nodding and smiling as if they understand it with every fiber of their being- and longing for that same understanding. I don’t know, maybe I am just not wired that way.
When all is said and done, however, perhaps the perfect antidote to all of this fretting about non-thinking is a nice weekend of sleep, Oreos and brainless chick-flicks. Yes, that sounds about right to me. So with that, I think I should just bid you a Happy Friday and leave all of this thinking to the likes of Aristotle and Pablo Picasso.
This could be caused by a variety of things, number one being that because I am nearly broke I am trying to save money on food by not eating a lot, thus voluntarily plummeting my blood sugar. I have also not had the privilege of sleeping normal amounts as I have been frantically trying to mentally and physically prepare for this upcoming school year. Or maybe, just maybe I am long overdue in reading a good book or watching a movie that makes me think until my head hurts. Do you know what I mean?
[I personally can think of several movies off the top of my head that fit this category- though they are different for everyone. Examples for me include V for Vendetta (I swear every time I watch that movie I get something new and amazingly profound out of it), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Reader (Saddest movie on this planet), and the Prince of Egypt (Yes, the animated feature).]
I think I am also feeling this way because I have lately doubted my ability to think. I know that sounds weird, but if you were taking some of the classes that I am, you would absolutely understand. One such course is art history, and is really a class on the analytical and mental processes of understanding contemporary art in history. Yes, it is the same art that baffles so many on this earth, the kind that includes weird abstract sculptures and strings hanging from ceilings (“My, what a masterpiece!”). Frankly, I just don’t get it. I essentially spend those class times doodling in my notebook and wondering what made me so dumb that I just cannot understand the meaning of heteroglossia when it comes to communicating art (yes, that is a real word and fun fact: even spell check on Microsoft Word doesn’t recognize it as one). I often find myself looking around the room at my peers -who are nodding and smiling as if they understand it with every fiber of their being- and longing for that same understanding. I don’t know, maybe I am just not wired that way.
When all is said and done, however, perhaps the perfect antidote to all of this fretting about non-thinking is a nice weekend of sleep, Oreos and brainless chick-flicks. Yes, that sounds about right to me. So with that, I think I should just bid you a Happy Friday and leave all of this thinking to the likes of Aristotle and Pablo Picasso.
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