classic.

Look what I found:

How cute was I?  Check out the moon boots...

christmas.

I'm from Colorado.  Therefore, by definition, Christmas = cold.  Snow, blankets, hot chocolate, ice, heavy jackets, and sledding are all a central part of my favorite holiday.  Generally, Christmas morning outside my window looks something like this:

This year, however, Christmas was a little bit different.  For one thing, it was about 85 degrees on Christmas day.  For another thing, I spent the day riding wave runners around the Sea of Cortez and laying beside the pool on a giant cruise ship.  Warm, swimming suits, margaritas, sun, salt water, and sand were the defining features of this Christmas.  Christmas morning outside my window this year:

A little bit different from the Christmas's of my childhood.  But wonderful all the same.

When I was younger, Christmas was the most exciting day of the year.  And I still love it now (a whole lot, actually), but it doesn't hold the same weight for me that it once did.  The thing is - I should be unspeakably grateful for the gift of life found in Jesus every day.  Not just on December 25th, squeezed somewhere in between presents and large amounts of food.  So I suppose that Christmas day is special for family and happiness and comfort, but it is the same as every other awesome, marvelous, beautiful, unbelievable day that Jesus gives me all my life.

So, merry belated Christmas.

But here's to making every day like Christmas day, and to remembering that God's gift of love didn't end on that one night with the birth of that beautiful baby.  No...that was just the beginning of His ever unfailing love.

Christmas sunset:

...just a tiny glimpse of the majesty of our dear Heavenly Father and Friend.  May He make His face shine onto us and hold us always in His arms.

end.

Thoughts on the end: I wish I had some.

I feel like I should be feeling more.  Instead I am feeling quite ordinary.  It is just the end of a semester like any other.  Except for that it isn't.  At all.  It is the END.  The end of the best years of my life, thus far.  My years at Westmont have been everything that college should be.  I can't imagine anything getting better than this (although I hope it does...), and now these years are done.  I should be feeling sad.  Or freaked.  Or exhausted.  Or anything, really.  Anything other than this state of complacency and normality in which I find myself.

Someone slap me - make me realize the significance of this day.

Today is an ending.  But, through my rose colored glasses, today is a beginning.  It is the beginning of the next thing, whatever that may be.

And today, the next things is a week long cruise to Mexico with my family.

So farewell, for now.  Worrying can wait for a week.

finals.

I'm closing in on the end.  

Three relatively short tests are all that are standing between me and "the rest of my life."

God give me strength to finish well...

identity.

I feel an identity crisis coming on.

I’m sitting in the library – a place that has become a consistant companion this semester. Studying at home is too difficult – there are fun things and couches and beds and lots of food there. The library is ugly, and has weird tempature spots, which makes me want to get out as soon as possible and therefore is the perfect spot for inspiring production. Anyway, I’m sitting in the library about to finish my last paper of college. And I can’t bring myself to write the last paragraph. Not because I don’t want to be done, because I DO. But because once I finish this paper, I’m finally going to realize that I’m done with college in 2 weeks. 

My whole life I have been a student. School is what I do. I study, I go to class, and then I study some more. The past 21 years have been spent in the same way. Obviously there have been some big differences between say, 2nd grade and senior year of college, but for the most part, 21 years centered in the same basic principle – learn stuff. And now, well, that’s about to be done. No more tests, no more papers, no more studying until I’m so tired that I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. So who am I once that is done?

In August, I wouldn’t have been able to answer that question.

But now, I think I know. I’m more than school, more than my grades, more than even my friends and family and people I love. I am me. And right now, me has no idea what comes next. I am actually surprised that I’m not freaked out by that. But I think that maybe the last three weeks came at the best time possible in my life (if there is such a thing as a good time for a devastating fire…).  I suppose you could say that I've had a bit of perspective shift.  Maybe I don't know what's coming next, but I know that it's going to be amazing, whatever it is.

Hmm...that was nice...

Crisis averted.

painting.

...And this heartbreak world

Of just imagine

With it's tired talk of better days

And this heartbreak world

Where nothing matters

Come on lets make this dream

that's barely half awake come true...

~ Matt Nathanson, "Heartbreak World"

I've been thinking about dreams.  I think Matt is on to something, talking about a world focused on "tired talk of better days" and "barely half awake" dreams.  I don't want to live my life with dreams barely half awake.  I want dreams alive and vibrant.  

I want to be alive and vibrant.

I have a very real fear of living my life in a state of complacency.  It is so easy to let myself dwell in loneliness, in settling, in just good enough.  It's easy to convince myself that everyone feels the same, so this must be the best it can be.  However, I know those are blatant lies that I am telling to myself.  I have been given life and life abundantly.  I have a life, a blank slate, ready to be painted.  There can be brilliant colors of joy and triumph and completely happy moments.  There can be the deep, dark tones of heartache and sorrow.  There can be the pastels of peaceful moments and the muted tones of moments that were not quite enough.  My life is ready to be made beautiful.  So why am I sitting back expecting someone else to paint it for me?

Life is for living.  It isn't about painting perfect lines.  It's about getting my hands dirty and covering the canvas with the colors of every beautiful day I've been given.

fire.

At about 6:00 on Thursday night, my friend Juliann called me and frantically asked me where I was and if I was safe. I was confused by her question until she explained to me that there was a fire up above Westmont and that the students were being told to move to the gym. I was a little worried, but didn't think a whole lot of it, because there are small brush fires in the hills behind Westmont all the time. So, Emily and I continued on our mission into Costco. However, when we left, we saw flames shoot up from exactly where Westmont is located and that's when we realized that it was serious. Em and I both started calling what felt like everyone we know who could possibly be up on campus. We were assured that everyone was okay in the gym and confused about what was happening. They were surrounded by flames, but safe, and thinking that most of campus was burning down around them.

We got back to apartment only to be greeted by tons of smoke, no power, and friends who had already been evacuated from their homes. We quickly packed up some bags, anticipating our inevitable evacuation. As we were driving away from our apartment towards my cousin's house, we could see flames licking over the hill behind our complex, glowing ominously orange all around us. We got to my cousin's house and planted ourselves in front of the tv and stayed there for the rest of the night, watching the news. I don't think my phone has ever worked that hard - calls and texts - questions of safety from friends, trying to figure out where everyone was, and trying to get updates on the status of our school.

Throughout the rest of that sleepless night we heard every imaginable rumor - Westmont was fine, Westmont was completely gone, and everything in between. By morning, though, it started to be certain what buildings were fallen and what were still standing. The final list of damaged buildings included 3 academic buildings, 3 dorm buildings, and 15 faculty houses. My heart breaks for everyone who lost their homes, but thank God for everyone's safety. The students who were on campus spent the night there, and once it was safe for them to leave campus in the morning, they were shuttled down to the grocery store down the hill and then were free to leave. I picked up three of my friends there and took them home to LA area, where I spent last night with one girl's family.

Now I am back up at my apartment, which is completely fine, and waiting to hear what our next steps will be. The earliest we will start classes is Wednesday morning, and that is only under the most ideal of circumstances. Students have lost their rooms and need to have housing for the rest of the semester, so we may have a refugee or two on our couch in the coming days. The school needs to be cleaned, gas and water pipes need to be repaired, and professors who lost their homes and/or offices need to be taken care of and prepared to teach again. We will see what the future holds.

The past two days have been...emotional. Exhausting, terrifying at moments, and a huge reminder of what is important. Buildings can be rebuilt, possessions can be replaced....but the lives that are irreplaceable were protected every second. I have no doubt that God had his hand over Westmont. There is no question that this is a tragedy, and my heart breaks for those who lost their homes, but I have to be grateful for God's faithfulness. By anyone's standards, someone should have been injured or killed in these fires, but every single person is safe, accounted for, and cared for right now. Our community is hurting, but will be stronger for this.

I ask for your continued prayers, even as the fire is being contained and the drama ends. Pray for those who lost their homes and possessions, those who are trying to rebuild their lives. Pray for the people at Westmont figuring out the next steps in the lives of the students and faculty. Pray for the Westmont community and their continued reliance on God in the coming days and weeks. Pray for the Santa Barbara and Montecito communities and the 100+ families who lost their homes. Pray for the firefighters who continue to risk their own lives to save ours. Pray for the city officials, insurance companies, and safety workers who have a lot to figure during the coming weeks. And most of all, praise God for His faithfulness and His goodness that has been over us all.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

God bless you all.

blessings.

These are my best friends.

Juliann, Vanassa, and Emily.

They are the most wonderful women.

I am blessed beyond belief to have them in my life.

I would love to go into detail on all of them - tell you all about the wonderfulness that is each of these women, but there aren't enough words. I hope you all get the chance to know each of them Your lives would be bettered for it.

Rachelle.

I am an only child. Therefore, by definition, I don't have any brothers or sisters. However, somewhere during the past 21 years of my life, the line between "best friend" and "sister" got blurred, and the same woman has filled both of those roles in my life. Her name is Rachelle Dawn Lundy, and she's my favorite person.



Rachelle's mom was my daycare mom (aka second mom) - I spent just as much, if not more, time at the Lundy's house as I did at my own while I was growing up. That whole time, Rachelle was there. We didn't always get along very well - I recall many instances involving screaming fights, hitting each other while pretending to be asleep, hitting each other while very much awake, being made to run after a bike on the way to school, being left at school, and other various sibling-like issues throughout the years. However, I also remember so many wonderful games, shared secrets, giggles, and moments of true friendship. And yes, we may have been friends by parental influence as children, but the bond that exists between us now is very real and very voluntary, and the love of the best of friends and sisters.

Rachelle has been there for every single significant event of my life. She has been there supporting and loving me through all of it - a constant figure, even in the midst of absolute confusion and chaos. When a mutual friend died in a car accident during high school, Shell was there to comfort. When I got into Westmont, Shell was there to celebrate. When I was frustrated with life, Shell was there to drive around with and listen and give much-needed advice. When I moved to California, her consistent emails, phone calls, and letters were my lifeline. She is a pillar of consistency in my life, and I love her for that.

However, there is so much more that I love about Rachelle. Her giggle, her genuine care for those surrounding her, and the fact that she thinks I'm really funny are just a few of her wonderful qualities. She is intelligent, insightful, and honest. She is perceptive and says the right thing at exactly the right moment. She remembers important things and asks about them at just the right moment. She takes a genuine interest in those around her. She's one of the sweetest people alive, but in a very real way, not in an annoying way. She is strong and independent and has the whole world at her feet. She's going to do great things and change the lives of so many, and I am so honored to know that I am going to be there for all of it.

She is my constant support, the consistent presence in my life, my best friend in the whole world, my sister.

God blessed me beyond belief when he caused our lives to intersect.

Berlin.

One year ago today, I was in Berlin.

This is crazy for multiple reasons. First of all, because Berlin is really far away. Like, on the other side of the world Far Away. Second of all, this is crazy to me because I am having such a hard time believing that it has already been a year since I was there. A year ago I was halfway through my European semester. It was probably the best semester of my life, and it's already been almost a year since it ended. Crazy.

Anyway, since Berlin was one of my very favorite of the 17 cities I visited in Europe, I thought I would post a few pictures in its honor.


Me with part of the Berlin Wall.



Weird artwork in the middle of Berlin.


Ryan looking out over the Memorial to the Murdered Jews.


Mikey, Ryan and I at the Brandenberg Gate.



Janelle and I at the Berlin Zoo - far away from home!

Colorado.

The fam in the mountains.


fall in Colorado. There's really nothing better.


Mt. Evans...absolutely stunning.

autumn.

There is this place. It is comfortable and warm and completely safe. Tucked back into the corner, surrounded by pillows, pushed up next to the window - here I am content. The evening autumn sun is angled in, throwing its perfect golden rays across my lap and just touching the corner of my eye. The leaves outside are shining a radiant red, reminding me of the fact that my heart belongs here, tempting me to throw in the towel on the whole California adventure and return to my roots. The mountains are glittering; the last few rays of the sun make the freshly fallen snow sparkle and shimmer underneath snow-dusted pines of the deepest green.

The cat purrs at my feet, warming me more effectively than any conventional pair of slippers could. My parents are here, watching TV, talking about nothing and everything all at the same time. Even though I'm not engaging them in conversation, I can feel their joy at my simple presence in the room. The smell of dinner lingers on and the thought of cookies and tea is edging in to the back of my mind.

I love it here. This place is home. The snow and leaves and bright blue sky are the most beautiful sights in the world. Maybe I won't always live here, and maybe my address won't always end with '80127', but this place will always, always hold my heart and be my home.

Allyson.

There are people in your life who just really...matter. You know what I mean? Those people that are shaping the person you are becoming, that change the course of your life simply by their very existence. And it's not to say that everyone doesn't matter, because everyone does. But in my life, not everyone matters.

But I have been blessed with a number of those special people. Some old friends, some new. Maybe I'll tell you about some of them sometime. But today I am going to tell you about the newest special person in my life. Her name is Allyson Arendsee. She promised to blog about me and then didn't, but I'm going to blog about her right now.


This is me and Allyson at the Robot Food dance at school. Probably not the most flattering picture, but I think it captures us pretty well. She's pretty.

Allyson is an amazing woman. She's smart and funny and pretty and wonderful. She is beautiful, inside and out (could I be any more cliche?!?) But her humor and intelligence and beauty are not the things that I love most about her. What I love most about Allyson is that she is so uniquely...her. She is sarcastic and silly and spastic and sincere all at the same time, and she is real. She listens when I talk to her. She tells me how her day really was, not that it was "good" or "fine" or "okay". She has a loud laugh that comes from the deep down source of joy within her, and when she thinks something is funny, there is no question. She loves sweaters. She has the most beautiful voice, but she isn't afraid to sing like a complete dork to Cher in the backseat on the way back from LA. She isn't concerned with hiding herself in order to please those around her, but rather puts herself out in the open from the beginning. She has brightened my life in a way that few before her have, and few after her will. She understands me in an almost creepy kind of way. She makes me smile and she's willing to cry with me, and I feel like she is a soul sister sent to me at the most essential moment.

Allyson Arendsee is the kind of woman that men dream of, mothers-in-law adore, parents boast about, and friends can only wish to have.

She is an absolute blessing.

beach.

awesome, epic beach day today.

volleyball, blenders, sun, sand, salt water, amazing friends....this is why i love santa barbara.

good day.

apartment.

I'm currently sitting at my "dining room" table. (I use the label "dining room" loosely, considering that the dining room, living room, family room, office, and unofficial storage space are all really one relatively small room in our little apartment.) However, in theory at least, this is our dining room, and the table is in it, so I suppose that makes it the dining room table.

As I'm sitting here staring at the candle I lit to keep me company in my reading, I realize that this is home. I don't love it right now...there are still things that need to be unpacked. We need another couch. We only have two chairs at our table right now because Emily and I have each stolen one to serve as our desk chairs. One of our lamps doesn't have a lightbulb. We haven't perfected our kitchen cleaning/sharing strategy and we haven't developed a foolproof method of chore-splitting and bill-paying. But I'd better get used to it. Because this is home, whether I like it or not. I just crossed the barrier between "extended vacation" and "place where I'm living for the next 8ish months" and I'm kind of freaking out.

Don't get me wrong - my roommates are amazing. And my apartment is great, especially for the amount I am paying for it. I guess that I'm just starting to realize how very real my future is, and how quickly my future is becoming my present.

However, there is no avoiding it. So first things first, I suppose. I will go in the kitchen, put away the leftover pizza, take out the trash again for what seems like the 7th time today, and continue to settle in. Because this...well, for now, it is home.

craziness.

It's been quite a while since I've last written. I guess I could say that life has gotten in the way. School, friends, the craziness that was Orientation....life. It all got busy and I've found myself back in the old pattern of falling into bed absolutely exhausted at the end of the day, never taking a spare minute to sit and think, let alone write, because every minute "wasted" writing is a minute that isn't spent sleeping.

But that's changing now.

I'm going to figure out a way to get my priorities straight.

Orientation was absolutely, insanely, wonderfully amazing. It was so busy and so exhausting, but totally worth it. It was great being involved in something that really mattered. And I learned a lot about servant leadership through my role on the Orientation Team - turns out that about 90% of our work wasn't recognized or appreciated. But that was okay. Because it wasn't about us, and we managed to pull off an incredibly successful orientation that hopefully gave the incoming students a feeling of confidence and acceptance before starting their first year. Plus, our team was AMAZING. I miss them already - 18 hours of working together every day to never seeing someone is hard! Actually, we are having a little reunion get together this evening, and it's pretty much been the only thing I've been looking forward to all week.

Classes are already incredibly hard, but I love them. I can't believe that these are my very last classes of college! Where did the time go?! I'm glad that I'm ending my college career this way, though, with difficult classes that I love. It just doesn't seem like it would be right any other way.

I also have a very part time job babysitting this semester. I pick the kid up from school every Tuesday and Thursday and hang out with him until his parents get home from work. I wasn't planning on having a job this semester, but they were desperate for a babysitter, and it's a good number of hours for me, so it'll work out well. So far it's been a lot of fun.

Add to this the whole trying to have friends thing and maintaining some semblence of a social life, and I'm already exhausted.

I could use a break, and I'm only 4 days into the semester.

However, life is good. God is good, and my heart feels full, and life goes on, whether or not I worry about it.

So, my resolution is this: time for ME. Not for homework or friends or working or busy-ness. No....time for me and God to sit in silence and be friends.

Yes....it already sounds amazing.

humanity.

Coffee shops have become my lifeline in the past week. Coffee shops with free wireless internet, that is. The internet that I'm paying for in my apartment isn't working, so I drag my butt out of the house and go sit somewhere else and steal their internet. It's given me interesting perspective, though.

I've always come to coffee shops in order to study - as a reprieve from the monotony of my desk at home or the bright, lifeless lights of the library. Being here with no true intention, however, it is a nice change. To be able to read or blog or simply just sit and watch people...I'm quite thoroughly enjoying it.

I'm currently tucked back into a corner, sitting in the table that is basically an afterthought. It's as though the owners saw a spot that might possibly be able to hold a table and decided to put one there, even though it's actually in the hallway, right next to the kitchen, constantly being bumped into by passing trashcans and busy workers carrying boxes of supplies. It's a wonderful spot to sit and watch. There are the diligent students - laptops out, headphones on, books spread out everywhere, desperate for a few hours of productivity that seem so hard to come by. Then there are the struggling artists or authors, enjoying their coffee, sketching, writing, basically fully embracing the stereotype that has been built surrounding them. There are the busy people - only stopping in to grab a drink in the chaos of their daily lives. And there are those like me - simply here to relax. They read their papers, sip their drinks, have meaningful conversations with their friends, or just sit and watch.

There is so much that is so human in this one little room. Each person here has a story, a family, a background, a whole life that I know nothing about. Part of me desires to take of my headphones and go meet them, hear a little part of their story, make some sort of connection with those people with whom I have shared the same air for the past hour. But I know that I will stay here, tucked in my corner, observing. Because in observing, it's like I get to know them in a different way.

I know the woman in front of me, because I see the way she hunches over her computer and gets closer to it when it seems like she's concentrating. The man next to her runs his hand through his hair while he reads, and, when his phone rings, he holds it against his shoulder and attempts to read, even while he has a conversation. And it makes me wonder - what do people see when they observe me? Do they see someone with a sense of peace and joy surrounding her? Does she look happy, friendly? I hope she does...

And the most interesting thing to me is that, despite the vast differences of every single person in this room, we are all so very human. And here's the thing about humans: everyone needs compassion and love that never fails...everyone needs forgiveness, kindness of the Saviour, the Hope of the nations. The song those lyrics come from has become one of my favorites lately. God is so mighty to save...

Everyone needs compassion
A love that's never failing
Let mercy fall on me
Everyone needs forgiveness
A kindness of a Savior
The hope of nations

My Savior
He can move the mountains
My God is Mighty to save
He is Mighty to save
Forever
Author of salvation
He rose and conquered the grave
Jesus conquered the grave

So take me as You find me
All my fears and failures
Fill my life again
I give my life to follow
Everything i believe in
Now i surrender

Shine your light and let the whole world see
We're singing for the glory of the risen King...Jesus

~Mighty to Save by Hillsong

home.

Well, here I am. Back at home. Well, one of my homes, anyway. It's strange to feel this mix of sorrow and joy when I arrive back here. Sorrow for what I have left behind, but joy for what is so very present in this place. The joy is quickly winning out, however, and I am so excited to be here. With each new person I see and familiar place I visit, I am reminded of how very much this place truly is home. I am so blessed.

The drive out here was long, but basically uneventful. The main attraction was my dad and myself having a punching war while I was driving. The phrase, "you can't touch the driver!!!!" was yelled many times, and I think some bruises may show up later. We stopped last night in Thousand Oaks and spent the night with my cousin, Len, and his wife, Aimee. They are just genuinely wonderful people, and time I get to spend with them is always a joy. It was a nice break from sitting in the car, and their "dog" Moxy (who I suspect is actually the bat from Anastasia come to life) always provides infinite entertainment.

Today we drove to Santa Barbara and got all moved in. Moving is always an adventure, but today's adventure wasn't too crazy. Tonight we had dinner with another of my cousins, Shane, and his wife, Anna. Again, wonderful time with family. My parents take off tomorrow, but for tonight it's just me and the parentals, hangin' in the apartment.

It's good to be home :).

courage.

There is so much to be afraid of in life. It would be easy to lock myself away in the name of self-preservation; to avoid the fear and darkness and sorrow of life. But with that fear and darkness and sorrow comes triumph and light and joy and absolute beauty. To lock myself away, to escape from the fear, would be to keep myself from the beauty of life.

Here's to no more hiding.

Here's to the brave, adventurous, humble, fully, bright and shiny woman I aspire to be. God grant me the strength and courage to become her...

change.

Two weeks. Two weeks from tomorrow I head out once again, into the rest of my life (if I'm feeling dramatic) or into the start of my last school year (if I'm feeling realistic). Either way, it's two weeks until yet another time of change. I'm really excited, but as always, there is a part of me that dreads saying goodbye. This is home. And saying goodbye to home is never an easy thing. It's tempting to spend the next two weeks wallowing in the impending uncertainty, being sad about going away. Instead, I'm choosing joy. I'm going to enjoy my remaining 15 days fully, and then I am going to embark upon this new adventure with arms open wide, ready for whatever will be thrown my way.

This is a day never to be lived again. I'm going to live every second of it.

diane.

I just dropped off Diane at the airport and on the way home I realized that I only took one picture while she was here. Oh well, I guess it will serve as proof that she really was here, even if it wasn't for nearly long enough.

Yesterday was a fantastic day. We started out with great breakfast in downtown Littleton, walked around looking at all the cute antique stores, and then headed to Red Rocks. It's always fun for me to see Red Rocks through someone else's eyes. I get so used to it that I forget how cool it really is. It was stinkin' hot, but there was a nice cool breeze, so we survived. We then went to the pool and basked in the sun for a few hours, before we went downtown. After an amazingly good dinner at the Cheesecake Factory (always a favorite) we wandered around downtown Denver until we found my new favorite bar, a little place called alto. There we not only enjoyed a great martini, but the company of the bartender, Johnny. Johnny is a semi-finalist in the bartending world cup. I mean, I didn't even know that was a real thing, but last night I was lucky enough to meet the self-proclaimed favorite in the competition. If he wins he gets to be in GQ. Yeah...he's kind of a big deal. But the combination of live jazz music, lovely black and lime pillows and white flowers, and the company of Johnny was enough to endear alto to me as a new favorite spot.

Even though Diane's visit was short, it was wonderful. This is the last time I will see Diane for a long time - she's getting ready to move to Seattle in a couple of weeks. I'm sure our paths will cross again someday soon - it has a funny way of working out like that for forever friends - but this weekend was our last planned get together for anytime soon. She has been a blessing through and through, and every moment I spend with her is just purely happy. What a great friend!

awhoohoo.

I'm leaving in about 8 minutes to go pick up my dear friend Diane from the airport :). She's coming to visit me and I couldn't be more thrilled!

Today was a great day. The kids were well behaved, the time passed quickly, and I actually had fun all day today! And to top it off, my boss paid me an incredible compliment. Perhaps she could tell that I was disappointed in myself and struggling a bit this week. Whatever her motivation, her kind words came at exactly the right moment.

And now it's the weekend!

awhoohoo.

job.

I am good at my job.

I know I am good at it. And there are moments of uncertainty, fleeting thoughts of "I should have handled that differently" or "I could have done a better job on that project," but for the majority of the day, I am confident in my ability to do well at my job.

Except for yesterday. Yesterday was a bad day. It felt like every decision I made was the wrong one. I was off my game, and I knew it. And it was the most frustrating thing I could imagine.

So here's to hoping that today I rock it.

life.

I recently purchased a bluetooth headset. I walk around work talking on it while I do other things and feel very official.

Yesterday my mom showed me my investment statement. She wrote me a check for tuition money and the last money I will recieve from my parents to pay for room board. I started budgeting to pay rent, utilities, and buy my own groceries.

I sign paperwork on the "Supervisor" line, I have my own company credit card, I am a boss.

When did I become an adult? And how do I make it stop?

This morning a little boy grabbed my hands and started spinning in circles around me, singing, "spinning very fast with a girl named Kelsey" in his perfect little innocent voice. No inhibitions, no fears, no concern with whether or not those around him approved or joined in. He just sang and spun, simply because he wanted to. I wish I could get back to that place - the place with no fear.

I like to think that I'm a person who does what I like to do, because I like to do it. I like to think that the only approval I seek is the approval of God. And while I do strive for that, I'm human. I seek human approval every day. And that seeking leads to inhibitions, fears, and concerns. Fear of rejection, concern about the reactions of those around me, and inhibitions in what seems like every arena plague me constantly.

The really ironic thing is that the moments when I feel most like a child are the moments I'm happiest. Carefree is a good thing. So why do I make it so hard to be carefree?

I think I'm getting better, though. I've always been good at finding joy, even in the smallest of silly moments. But the difference is that I'm no longer self-conscious about that. So what if people think it's silly? I like to think that God smiles when I smile at each moment He gives me.

Life is a gift. Sometimes its a difficult, scary, heartbreaking gift. But it is the most beautiful gift I know. I pray that I always find joy in this gift my Father has given me.

This is where I am today:

Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I'm supposed to be. The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie.
- Priscilla Ahn

and I'm so thankful to be there.

God has answered my questioning. Not in a concrete way. I don't have any more real answers than I did last week. But I have been answered all the same. In the smiling stars and the silent reverie of my God.

I'm lovin' life today. That's all there is to say.

rain.

I claim that I hate rain.

But that isn't entirely true. In fact, it isn't true at all.

What I hate is the incessent drizzle that people call "rain" all along the west coast. The grey skies, humid air, and continuous wetness is not my favorite thing. It gets the cuffs of my jeans wet, makes me change my shoes and socks at least five times a day, and don't even get me started on my hair. One day of rain and my hair looks like I should be thanking someone for my country music award. I don't like not seeing the sun, and I really don't like carrying an umbrella everywhere.

But I love rain.

I love the storms that roll in over the Rockies, cooling off everything just as it starts to get to hot to bear. The billowing clouds turn an ominous grey, the sky that was bright blue only seconds before turn black, and then it happens. The sky opens. This is the kind of rain that you try to avoid, because if you get caught in it, it's all over. An umbrella doesn't matter, neither does a rain jacket. If you're outside, you're drenched. There are thunder claps and lightning and lots of wind. And then, it's over. Almost as soon as it began, the rain ends. The clouds move on, and the bright blue skies and sun appear once again. And everything is exactly as it was before, except for a little bit cooler, a little bit brighter, and a little bit fresher. And it smells amazing.

That is rain.

I think that rain like that, it's like God. He comes in quickly, just when we can no longer bear the heat of life. He pours his love over us, drenching us completely, covering every part of us with it, overcoming every defense we try to put up against him. And then he pulls back, not as loud, not as forceful, but always present. He may not always been seen or heard, but he is always present. And the effects of his love are what keeps us alive. Just like the rain, he restores us - makes us cooler and more vibrant, he makes our lives fresh.

A silly metaphor? Maybe.

But I like the idea of using God's creation as a representation of him. I know that God is like the mountains, he's the rain and the sun and the grass. I see him in the sunsets and the rainfall and the smallest breeze. And I see him in laughs and smiles and tears.

Something I've been realizing lately is that life is for living. And part of living life is seeing beauty. Not trying to capture it or justify it or explain it, but just to see it.

And so I will continue to watch the rain. Maybe next time I will go out and play in it - splash in some puddles, let the water fall on to my tongue, get completely drenched.

Because in that rain, in that stunning beauty, that's where I see Love.

six.

The kids downstairs at my work just finished making a "campground" out of couch cushions, chairs, and towels. Now they're going to tell "scary" stories and make microwave s'mores.

I wish I was still six.

vacation.

I just got home from an amazing weekend vacation to Santa Barbara. It's funny when you reach a point in your life where "vacation" means traveling from one home to another. My, how we're growing up.

It was a weekend fully of friends, fun, and lots of sunshine. Highlights included lunch at Padaro Beach Grill, beach cruisers and ice cream for lunch, amazing homemade dinner, drunken Irishman at Dargan's, and a sunset catamaran cruise. Really I could have done absolutely nothing for four days and enjoyed my time thoroughly, just by being in the same room as my best friends, but this all just made it better.

Last night, as I sat in the Santa Barbara airport, trying not to be upset about leaving again when really all I wanted to do was find some way back to the apartment, snuggle back up with Emily, and watch Grey's Anatomy for the rest of the night, I thought about how blessed I am. Having two homes is really difficult. But having two homes as wonderful as mine are is a blessing beyond belief. No matter which direction I'm traveling, I'm going towards home. What could be better than that?!

Here are some pictures from my lovely vacation :)


Kellie, Em, and I riding our beach cruisers :)


sea lions on an old boat during our sunset cruise


my beautiful best friend

It was a great four days!

joy.

Isn't it amazing how the littlest things can bring the greatest joy? How even the smallest shining moments can blow away the darkness of even the worst of days?

Today I am experiencing that joy.

Chocolate chip cookies.
A couple of great kid moments.
A good hair day.
And most of all, a very needed 20 minute conversation with my best friend (who also happens to be my person...).

That's all it took to make today a wonderful, happy, joyful day.

extraordinary.

This summer, along with other things, has brought a new addiction into my life: the show Grey's Anatomy. And although some of you will find this hard to believe, what draws me to this hour-long hospital drama is not, in fact, the drama. The relationships and romance, while entertaining, could be found elsewhere on television. No, what draws me in time after time, is the incredible surgeries performed week after week. And sure, I have no doubt that there are more staged dramatic medical emergencies in each single hour of the show than what really occur in a week in a real hospital, but I am impressed none the less. There is something captivating in the life and death balance, the romance of the high-powered job, and the constant state of uncertainty in which these "surgeons" live.

It makes me want to be a surgeon.

Of course, then I turn off the TV and remember that (a) I don't like blood, (b) I don't like science, and (c) I need at least 7 hours of sleep every night to function and realize that perhaps surgery isn't the road for me to take.

But I like the idea of being something extraordinary. Of being important.

And so I think - what is "important"? Isn't my job, the care and upbringing of 65 young children, important?

I think so.

So why don't I feel extraordinary?

Maybe extraordinary isn't about what we do to earn our paycheck. Maybe it's about the way we go about our vocation, whatever it may be. Because, let's face it: being a daycare worker isn't exactly a romantic job. There is nothing captivating about being called "giant gorilla" and having yogurt drooled on your shirt. It isn't glamorous.

But maybe it is time for me to reevaluate.

Every day, I walk into a room of children who are smiling and laughing and happy to be alive. They are innocent. They are vulnerable. And they trust me. And I'm starting to believe that I can change their world.

It may not be brain surgery, but it's pretty extraordinary all the same.

praise.

"Where morning dawns and evening fades you call forth songs of joy." - Psalm 65:8

Qumran.

The fact that we were 1500 feet below sea level did absolutely nothing to alleviate the wheezing caused by pushing my very out of shape body into doing things that no one should ever do. Scaling the side of this seemingly vertical rock wall at a breakneck pace in the 110 degree heat is not something I would normally call a good time. We paused at the mouth of a cave, gasping for breath and sucking down water that the desert sun had heated to the point of boiling. If I had stuck a tea bag in my water bottle, I could be drinking tea in a matter of seconds. However, the temperature of the water did nothing to phase me – the usually highly sensitive buds on my tounge were too enamored with the moisture to care that it was about 50 degrees warmer than it should have been.

As we stood there waiting for the stragglers to make it up, I gazed into the cave where they found the Dead Sea Scrolls. That should have shocked me. I should have had my camera out, taking a thousand pictures to document that moment, that place. But after a week of countless experiences like that one, I was finally over trying to fit the world inside a picture frame. I snapped one quick photo, just to have something to show everyone at home. But I knew that those experiences were being burned into my heart. Pictures truly were not necessary.

We took off again before my body had recovered – it wasn’t too many more scrambling steps before my calves were screaming again. I finally stumbled to the top. There were thorns inside my shoe, the beginnings of a blister, incredibly sore muscles, and the ever present wheezing.

But it was worth it.

I was surrounded by a beauty I'd never seen before. It was unpolished beauty – the kind you have to stare at for a while before you see it. The dust in the air combined with the evening light to cover everything with a hazy, golden glow. The earth there is brown, shades of tan and red and chocolate. The green is in patchworks, the grey of the olive trees contrasting with the sage of the bushes and the dark green of the cyprus. And the water that was below us is strange in its salty, deadly blue. But it is beautiful. Beautiful in its imperfection, in its difference from any beauty I have ever known before. And as I stood there, pouring sweat and covered in dust, I heard the voice of God in the wind. “Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you for coming and seeing and smelling and feeling this place.”

And I shouted into the wind, for all the world to hear, that the Lord is my God, the Lord alone. Shema, Israel!



It was all worth it.

connections.

Something on my mind lately is connection. The way that we, as humans, strive desperately for connection with those around us. We look for things to relate to, moments to share, secrets that can be conveyed with only a smile.

Since being at home this summer, I've found myself more and more searching for these connections. Perhaps the fact that my closest friends are no longer living in the same building as me has caused me to feel the loss of connection. Perhaps the days spent around others but not with them is the source of this newfound desperation. And maybe it's just the growing apprehension at my impending future, which is cloudy and frighteningly uncertain at this point.

I'm graduating from college in December - less than 6 short months from now. My college career will be done. Where on earth did the time go?! Just yesterday I was graduating from high school, terrified of moving to California and starting a new life with people I had never met. Now, I'm on the brink of another transition. And while I have a head full of information and a heart full of passion to prepare me for what is to come, something about this moment feels familiar in its mix of fear and excitement. God only knows what the future holds for me. And while that does scare the side of me that wants to plan and organize and be confident in what is to come, the majority of me is thrilled at the idea of throwing worry to the wind and trusting in the perfect plan of my all-knowing Savior.

So, what does all of this have to do with connections?

I'm not entirely sure.

All I know is that the connections I have made with people throughout my brief 21 years are the things I remember. Whether it is the life-long connection of best friends or the simple fact that a friend I haven't spoken to in years is reading a book by my sophomore year Old Testament professors, connections are what are important to me.

So I will continue to strive for those connections, and to build relationships. I will trust in the relationships set before me. I will be confident in the future planned for me by my Father, and I will look forward to the connections that are inevitably a part of that future.

home.

Phil Wickham is, in a word, genius.

This song is so beautiful, so poignant, so perfect...

I for one need to have my calloused heart stripped away...it is time for me to come home. If there is one thing I have learned, it is that, as wonderful as it is, human love is flawed. It is imperfect, incomplete, never enough. But the love of God, it is unfailing, perfect, more than enough. His heart is where all love starts...it's time to return.

Home.

Come riding on a rushing wind
Blow through our hair and touch our skin
I want to feel You now like I felt You then

Strip away my calloused heart
Set Your arrow hit Your mark
Bring me back to where love starts
Bring me back to where You are

Father I’m running Father I’m coming home
I cannot go on
Your child is running, Father I’m coming home
Back where I belong

I know You’ve heard this all before
When I’m down and crying on the floor
Saying I want You and nothing more

But I’m breaking in my heart tonight
I’ve tried to stand I’ve tried to fight
But I cannot see without Your light
No I cannot breathe without You

When I saw you I was ashamed
You were pure and I was stained
But You ran to me and You called my name
There were tears of joy upon Your face

It will never cease to amaze me, that I have a savior who runs to me, calling my name with tears of joy streaming down his face. What a love...

I pray that you would feel this love...that you would return home.

israel.

I know, I know - I've been home for almost a week, and I haven't written about Israel yet. There is a reason, I promise.

It's too hard.

I don't know how to put words to what I experienced during my time in the Holy Land. It was awe-inspiring, passion-kindling, life-changing...God is so good.

We (our flock of 49) spent two weeks hiking around Israel in HOT (usually 100+) weather, walking in the footsteps of Jesus and the disciples, standing in the land of God's chosen people, being inspired by the faith of those who have preceded us in this beautiful journey with our Lord.

There aren't words to capture this:


...scaling a cliff in order to stand in the wind where Jesus stood and prayed for his disciples...


...gathering a stone from the valley where a faithful little boy defeated a giant...


...singing amazing grace in a beautiful chapel, surrounded by those who were family for a little while...


...pledging to love God with all my heart, all my soul, all my might, and then being plunged into the rushing waters of the Jordan to symbolize that newly restored commitment....

I am still processing, and don't even want to attempt to capture this experience in words yet. I think I'll post little blurbs as I feel ready.

God did some impressive refining work on my heart in Israel...I pray that I never return to the person I was.

Thank God for his faithfulness!

For more pictures, you can look here and here.

bless you all...

harold.

a couple of weeks ago my grandpa died.

he was a wonderful man. compassionate, faithful, funny. i truly loved him, and i know that he loved me, too.

however, the grandpa i knew and loved had been gone for a long time. alzheimer's. over the past few years he had rapidly slid down a path of confusion and frustration, quickly losing the ability to recognize those he loved. and it was tragic. no words can capture the pain of having your grandfather, the man you know absolutely adores you, no longer know who you are or what your name is. however, the pain that i felt quickly transitioned from sorrow for myself to sorrow for my father. as my grandpa got worse, he stopped being able to recognize my dad. and despite faithfully taking care of him, visiting him, taking him out to lunch, i know it was hard on my dad. and that was heart-breaking to me.

but now, i find great joy in the fact that harold (or 'old hal'; as we often affectionately called him) is livin' it up in heaven. my mom and i like to think that he and all of his relatives that went before him are having a potluck right now. because that's what the quinlan family does - potlucks and home-made gift exchanges.

i will never forget the day my grandma died, the summer before my freshman year of high school. we were all at the hospital, and there was a nurse in there with us, trying to be comforting. she said something to my grandpa about hope for seeing his wife in the future. and his response has always stuck with me. "its not hope," he said, "its knowledge. i know i will see my wife again someday."

and now he has.

so now, it is with great joy that i think about my dear grandpa, finally happy and remembering all those he loves in the presence of his dear savior.

running.

This week I embarked upon my summer fitness mission - to get in shape. Sounds simple, right? And in theory it is. Wake up at 7:00, go run for half an hour, come back and get ready, go to work feeling healthy and refreshed. However, that does not take into account the immense amounts of motivation necessary to make myself roll out of bed at 7:00 am and go run.

I've done it, though. For 5 whole days. Go ahead...be proud of me.

Every morning I've taken off down the path behind my house, bathed in the soft light of morning. The air is still cool and fresh, untouched by the heat that will inevitably come later in the day. The path winds through the greenbelt, and I look at all of the backyards as I pass. Each one is a little glimpse into a life. Swing sets, swimming pools, hammocks, patio furniture, gardens, and dog toys all give a hint as to the lives encased in each of the small green areas. The shade from the trees and the houses falls across the path. The dappled sunlight that comes through the aspen leaves is my favorite. Not completely sunny, not completely shady - it's the perfect balance.

Every morning, right before I get to the main street I have to cross, I've passed power-walking lady. She wears a mint green sweatsuit every day, and a khaki bucket hat. The temperature doesn't seem to matter - every day is the mint green sweatsuit and the khaki bucket hat. She walks quickly. This is obviously not just a pleasure stroll for her, but a mission similar to mine. As we pass every morning I smile through the quick breaths caused by my lack of practice in the realm of exercise combined with the lack of oxygen in this very mountainous climate. Generally when you smile at someone you pass on the path, they return the favor. Not power-walking lady. No way. The response she gives me is a look of absolute disdain and disgust. Maybe she thinks I'm insane for running by choice. Maybe she's disturbed by how clearly out of shape I am. Or maybe I've disrupted her routine. Maybe I've interrupted her time of solitude and quiet before yet another day of chaos begins. And, honestly, I can respect that. So, while I won't stop smiling (to stop smiling simply isn't in my nature), I will try to keep our interactions brief and let power-walking lady enjoy the solitude and the peace of a quiet Colorado morning.

I cross the street and suddenly I'm in the midst of a beautiful area of open space. The Rockies are directly in front of me, and the gold morning light is illuminating what seems like every individual blade of grass and every leaf on every tree. The whispy white clouds of the morning are floating above the mountains. The world seems right at this moment. I come to the end of the path and approach Sarah. I've taken a cue from a dear friend, and I've begun to forge a friendship with this bench, planted here in the memory of Sarah. She has a small garden of flowers planted around her, and she sits on the top of a hill, facing the majestic mountains. The flowers aren't in bloom yet, and Sarah looks rather desolate. But as I approach her and take a moment to rest on her black metal slats, I'm amazed by the beauty that surrounds her. And right there, sitting on Sarah, still wheezing from a run that really shouldn't have been that hard for me, I feel at absolute peace.

After a few moments I stand and start back home. Another day of chaos is awaiting me, and I can avoid it no longer. But as I run back home, passing children walking to school and moms standing on the back porch waving goodbye, I know that tomorrow all of this will be here, waiting for me. The dappled sunlight, the abandoned toys in backyards, power-walking lady, Sarah, and that feeling of peace will be here for me. Maybe that's what keeps getting me out of bed at 7:00...

mom.

Also...my mom asked me today if I'm depressed about being home. A legitimate question, to be sure. Her reason for asking, however? My hair was dirty.

Oh, silly parents....

how much i love them.

love.

I'm sitting in my rocking chair (a recent acquisition in my room) next to my wide open window, enjoying the first of many summer evenings to come. The last rays of the sun just disappeared behind the mountains, and now the sky is a canvas of varying shades of blue. The breeze coming in the window is blowing in scents of summer - freshly mowed grass, a neighbor's barbeque dinner, and the smell that I can't really describe - the smell that is Colorado. Clean and fresh and comfortable. I can hear the neighbors in the backyard, finishing up their dinner. My parents are downstairs talking, and somewhere in the neighborhood kids are playing a game of baseball. It's all so familiar and so comfortable.

Each house on my cul-de-sac houses a family. Obvious, I know. But take a moment and really think about that - each house is a network. All over the world there are people who know and love those inside each house. And maybe those networks will never cross. But they exist.

I remember when I flew back from home at the end of spring break this past semester, I was sitting on the plane when this idea struck me. To my right was a mid-thirties advertising executive from New Jersey whose main goal for the two hour flight was to get me to explain the "basic plot" of Moby Dick to him. (A big white whale bit of a guy's leg, now the guy is mad and is trying to kill the whale in revenge. Profound, I know). And to my left was the window. And as much as I tried to maintain focus out the window, Thomas won out every time. You see, as annoyed as I was with him, I just kept thinking about the person waiting to greet him. All the people so excited for him to be visiting. People who love him in California, and people who inevitably miss him in New Jersey. Just like I had people excited to see me in California and people missing me in Colorado. Maybe it should have been an honor for me to meet this man, Thomas, who had people loving and missing him all over the United States.

I wonder what it would look like if I always considered it an honor to meet someone new. If I always thought about how many people love and respect those I interact with every day, how different would those interactions look?

I'm not sure...I guess it's just another thing to think about.

I pray for you today, that you would see beautiful sunsets and skies of wondrous colors, and that you feel just as loved as you are.

home.

I have recently been inspired to start keeping a blog again. I don't know why I've had such a negative "blogging" connotation in my mind before. Perhaps it was the fact that friends of mine had online journals in high school that were closer to a Mean Girls status burn book than anything else...and I found myself the one being burned just a few times too many. Yeah...that's probably it! But I've come to realize that, as an adult, this is a place to reflect, to share, and to keep in contact with those I love. Not that I think my thoughts are overly important...but hey, what better place to share my mediocre thoughts then in the midst of the world wide web?!

So here I am...at "home." I use the phrase tentatively now, not because I don't consider this home anymore, but because it is one of multiple homes. It has taken me a while to get settled in. I've found myself longing for the sun-filled days of Santa Barbara, spent lounging with my best friends. Instead, I've been weathering the weather of Colorado with the company of my parents, my dog, and my overly-vocal cat. My two homes are so very different. Life in Santa Barbara is faster, more social, more stimulating. Life in Littleton is quiet, calm, solitary. Neither one is bad...they are just so very different. My challenge right now is learning to be content no matter where I am.

When I got home last week after a 19 hour drive with my mom, the rest of the summer stretched before me very much like the roads I had just travelled. At the outset they were incredibly daunting...the drive seemed that it would last forever. But now, only one week in, things are seeming much more manageable. I believe that, like the drive I just completed, this summer will be over much more quickly than I anticipate. As I lay here on my blue and yellow comforter, looking out the window past the newly budded aspen leaves towards the Rockies that burst out of the ground only about a mile from here, I am realizing that I am content. Today I have chosen joy in this place, and have allowed a small bit of peace to enter in.

I pray for you today - that you would find new green aspen buds, snow dusted mountains, and warm chocolate cake. And I pray for peace in the place where you are.