My roommate can attest to the fact that I'm having trouble surviving without a siesta. After lunch, you'll find me lying on my bed, relaxing, without a care in the world--until about twenty minutes later when the thought of looming homework and impending failure in class if said homework is not completed jolts me conscious enough to at least roll over and glance at the cover of a book. Then, the guilty feelings take over, impel me to sit up, change out of the comfy sweats I most likely donned in order to rest, and to finally get down to business.
This semester I μελέτη ελληνικά und Deutsch y español. And it's getting mildly confusing! Greek hasn't yet become familiar enough to invade the modern languages I speak, but I ramble on in Germpanish all the time. My made-up name for that language is about as ugly as what it sounds like when I unconsciously combine the two in one sentence.
And since my dear, kindly German professor absolutely refuses to sign my drop card (I expressed serious concern about my future in the class and he preemptively said he wouldn't sign it), I suppose I shall be stuck struggling along for the next few months. My professor, the epitome of a European gentleman, has this stubborn belief in my intelligence and German capabilities. Maybe one day his optimism and faith will manifest themselves in my fluency...I can only hope. I did discover the secret to calm my heart so that it doesn't palpitate in such a dangerously rapid manner each time I enter the classroom: I told him that I had a) forgotten all of my German and b) was nervous! It's funny how simply telling someone you're uncomfortable practically alleviates all discomfort. Anyway, I now boldly speak like a German toddler.
I generally understand what he's saying, but six months in Spain will really clear your mind of any remaining German vocabulary you once had, so speaking requires slightly more effort.
I've been back at Hillsdale for almost exactly one week, and the happiness of this sweet reunion has yet to fade! Despite the fact that as a senior at a mere week into classes I am somewhat behind in the work--but really, who isn't--I am glad to be here! I am surrounded by precious friendships, new acquaintances to befriend and exciting challenges. I love living in the Pi Beta Phi house, I love the boisterous tea times at our neighbor's, I love running into friendly faces all over campus and having a moment to exchange a genuine greeting! We are blessed to be here.
And in those moments that the hateful German book becomes my indecipherable enemy, or the miserably failed Greek quiz taunts me, or friends are no where to be found, I'm blessed to be here.
Learning Greek is a humbling experience. It's also an exciting and frightening one--it's one small step toward the future. Will I use this knowledge to assist in Bible translation? Perhaps. At the very least, I've mastered an entirely new set of characters that compose an alphabet and they're fun to draw. I can write them phonetically and anyone who knows Greek pronunciation will understand. It will be like a secret way of communication--cool. In other news, Lauren told me today that I'm a "language junkie."
My life in Spain seems like a dream to me. It's really an unusual feeling and almost unpleasant. Those 180 days were a part of my life, but they're fading into the distance. The life lessons haven't though--and for that I'm thankful.
Sep 7, 2011
Aug 29, 2011
Photos of "the cutest girl in the world"
...and I quote. A man walking his two dogs in the park said that about her just this afternoon. I can't say I disagree--nor do her parents. Follow this link to see more photos from my unexpectedly prolonged visit to my sister's house. Thanks Hurricane Irene for stranding me in NY two-and-a-half days more than planned.
Aug 26, 2011
The two-year-old & the iPhone
My niece turned two yesterday and is probably more adept at using her mom's iPhone than I am. To see that little thumb deftly scrolling across the screen in search of new games to play is a cute and almost disconcerting sight. I remember in either eighth grade or freshman year of high school when my friends and I all started to get digital cameras. We developed the instinct of taking photos and then crowding around the little screen to see the photo, i.e. to see how we looked.
Well, for Kathryn, that habit has already developed. She smiles for cameras, acts when she's on video, and then promptly asks "I see? I see!"
On her second birthday, at just few minutes into the day with "afrackers" to munch, she's ready with an endearing, sleepy grin for the camera.
That evening, she devoured a scrumptious cupcake and then stuck her fingers in four more merely to eat the frosting and fun sprinkles. Of course it was all captured on camera. And the fun didn't stop there: the mountain of gifts provided many minutes of sheer delight.
And even though she had just personally watched her mom enter with the lighted cupcakes and heard us sing "Happy birthday," viewing it on her dad's iPhone again was just too good to pass up-- "I see!"
It's fascinating to observe her behavior that's unrelated to technology too: "owies" are healed by a kiss, an exhaustion-induced crying fit is soothed by a hug and a song (even by her aunt!), and the moments when her love is apparently just over-flowing, a run-into-your-legs-super-hug is just the thing to express it. I admire the simplicity and purity of her emotions. She's sad or clingy or scared or proud for a time and when the situation changes--the plane has passed, the new, exciting contraption called a toilet has been flushed, etc--she is back to her happy norm. She is, of course, beginning the typical human behavior of selfishness: "mine" is a frequently shouted word. Sometimes she correctly applies it: when she's eating and her daddy teasingly reaches for a strawberry, for example. But really, Kathryn, that entire playground cannot be yours, let the little boy step on the play structure too.
I've seen her sprint about screaming with delight and then be still and calm, cheerfully panting for breath. She doesn't have the typical anxiety so unfortunately common in adults. It seems small children like her can be perfectly at peace when they have the blessing of loving parents. The confidence she has in her own astounds me--I watch her fly about in her dad's arms or sit on high shelves or pet a hissing cat without a care as I await the worst, tense and fearful. She entirely trusts her mother and father.
So this is what faith like a child looks like. I'm glad to be reminded.
Well, for Kathryn, that habit has already developed. She smiles for cameras, acts when she's on video, and then promptly asks "I see? I see!"
On her second birthday, at just few minutes into the day with "afrackers" to munch, she's ready with an endearing, sleepy grin for the camera.
That evening, she devoured a scrumptious cupcake and then stuck her fingers in four more merely to eat the frosting and fun sprinkles. Of course it was all captured on camera. And the fun didn't stop there: the mountain of gifts provided many minutes of sheer delight.
And even though she had just personally watched her mom enter with the lighted cupcakes and heard us sing "Happy birthday," viewing it on her dad's iPhone again was just too good to pass up-- "I see!"
It's fascinating to observe her behavior that's unrelated to technology too: "owies" are healed by a kiss, an exhaustion-induced crying fit is soothed by a hug and a song (even by her aunt!), and the moments when her love is apparently just over-flowing, a run-into-your-legs-super-hug is just the thing to express it. I admire the simplicity and purity of her emotions. She's sad or clingy or scared or proud for a time and when the situation changes--the plane has passed, the new, exciting contraption called a toilet has been flushed, etc--she is back to her happy norm. She is, of course, beginning the typical human behavior of selfishness: "mine" is a frequently shouted word. Sometimes she correctly applies it: when she's eating and her daddy teasingly reaches for a strawberry, for example. But really, Kathryn, that entire playground cannot be yours, let the little boy step on the play structure too.
I've seen her sprint about screaming with delight and then be still and calm, cheerfully panting for breath. She doesn't have the typical anxiety so unfortunately common in adults. It seems small children like her can be perfectly at peace when they have the blessing of loving parents. The confidence she has in her own astounds me--I watch her fly about in her dad's arms or sit on high shelves or pet a hissing cat without a care as I await the worst, tense and fearful. She entirely trusts her mother and father.
So this is what faith like a child looks like. I'm glad to be reminded.
Aug 23, 2011
Aug 20, 2011
Time is not on my side
I'm not sure that I've yet adjusted to being back in the States (though really I should be by now). Yesterday I woke up at 5 AM after a mere four hours of sleep. I knew I needed more but my body resisted; the thing hates me, I swear. Today, I slept in a whopping six hours later than that and rolled out of bed at quarter to 11. Yesterday I dragged Raleigh to the beach for a romantic sunrise stroll and today, he had to wait for me to actually wake up before I took him for a run.
My memory also has a mind of its own--for lack of a better expression--forgetting and recalling things on a whim, generally leaving the important things for me to remember too late. My brother and his girlfriend were up visiting and I had planned to go to our grandparent's camp with them for just one night. At eleven-thirty on said night, I slapped my forehead in dismay--I had entirely forgotten! He mercifully pardoned me the next day with a chuckle and a roll of the eyes, "Oh, Boogs." (That is my family nickname--maybe I will explain it to you one day. It certainly is better than what he used to call me: Chubbers. And with his speech impediment it was more like Chubbews. Good times.)
Anyway, I've been rapidly cleaning my room (and house and dog and and car, too) and while glancing about my closet on Tuesday, I saw a stack of my yearbooks. The outer binding listed the title and the publication number: in this case they were numbers 96, 97, 98 and 99. I confess that I literally muttered out loud to myself, "I was in high school in the nineties?..." Moments later I recalled that, no, in fact not only did I graduate in 2008, in '96 I was six years old. I have no excuse for myself, it's just too ridiculous--but wait, there's more:
On Wednesday I flew to Minneapolis! That was so much fun, but the funny story of my absurdity occurs the day before:
It was Tuesday evening and I was sitting at my computer doing who knows what. I did not know that I had never changed my calendar application back to EST time; it was still in Europe/Zurich time. Therefore, in the evening on Tuesday, my calendar told me it was already Wednesday. Now, I had been planning to visit two of my best friends in Minneapolis on Wednesday in the late afternoon. I did a double-take, and I saw that it was already Wednesday! What a shame! I had so wanted to go. I put my head down on my desk in disappointment. It literally took me a few minutes to convince myself that something was amiss. You can imagine the thrill of gaining an entire day of time and the opportunity to see the friends I thought I had missed! I corrected the time zone and was very glad.
While these are rather hilarious, they concern me: I am determined to think better and more clearly, speak more slowly and live purposefully. These moments become funny stories, but I don't want to find a few months of time gone with my life zooming by crazily like this.
1 Peter 4:7 says "The end of all things is near; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober spirit for the purpose of prayer."
I find that being of sound judgment and sober spirit is good not only for prayer, but practically useful too, and even relationally. First, I am not going to haphazardly speak with the Lord. Second, I don't want to do things poorly: I'd like to fold the laundry well or wash the dishes until they gleam, or get an A on that essay (but who am I kidding, at Hillsdale, we hope for B's or C's). There's no reason not to strive to do things well, and every reason to actually do so: do all things to the glory of God. And third, in relationships with friends, family and the rest of the world, having good judgement is essential.
It is great to think rationally in all areas, accompanied by our natural emotions. I think the two working together won't generally lead us astray. And love, both as a decision and an emotion, is of course the substance of any good relationship and a source of joy. There are times though, when for any variety of reasons, that I find the natural emotion of love stifled and practically smothered--then I have to become mechanical about love, a robot going through the motions. Doesn't that sound terrible? It isn't really. As soon as I decide to do that, real love replaces my right decision to love. And, voila! Does that make it sound too simple or too stupid or too fake? It's hard to communicate. I just want to follow Jesus Christ's teaching to love my neighbors and even my enemies. No one escapes my responsibility of love. Therefore I must choose to love them. So, this choice and others require sound judgement and a calm, gentle spirit. I don't want to slap my forehead at the end of my life realizing I've forgotten to love some people.
I'm graduating college in nine months, and for goodness' sake, I want to finish well and glean every bit of knowledge and chance to grow that I discover at school. After that, it's off to new adventures!
My memory also has a mind of its own--for lack of a better expression--forgetting and recalling things on a whim, generally leaving the important things for me to remember too late. My brother and his girlfriend were up visiting and I had planned to go to our grandparent's camp with them for just one night. At eleven-thirty on said night, I slapped my forehead in dismay--I had entirely forgotten! He mercifully pardoned me the next day with a chuckle and a roll of the eyes, "Oh, Boogs." (That is my family nickname--maybe I will explain it to you one day. It certainly is better than what he used to call me: Chubbers. And with his speech impediment it was more like Chubbews. Good times.)
Anyway, I've been rapidly cleaning my room (and house and dog and and car, too) and while glancing about my closet on Tuesday, I saw a stack of my yearbooks. The outer binding listed the title and the publication number: in this case they were numbers 96, 97, 98 and 99. I confess that I literally muttered out loud to myself, "I was in high school in the nineties?..." Moments later I recalled that, no, in fact not only did I graduate in 2008, in '96 I was six years old. I have no excuse for myself, it's just too ridiculous--but wait, there's more:
 |
| Time flies and I pretend to. |
It was Tuesday evening and I was sitting at my computer doing who knows what. I did not know that I had never changed my calendar application back to EST time; it was still in Europe/Zurich time. Therefore, in the evening on Tuesday, my calendar told me it was already Wednesday. Now, I had been planning to visit two of my best friends in Minneapolis on Wednesday in the late afternoon. I did a double-take, and I saw that it was already Wednesday! What a shame! I had so wanted to go. I put my head down on my desk in disappointment. It literally took me a few minutes to convince myself that something was amiss. You can imagine the thrill of gaining an entire day of time and the opportunity to see the friends I thought I had missed! I corrected the time zone and was very glad.
While these are rather hilarious, they concern me: I am determined to think better and more clearly, speak more slowly and live purposefully. These moments become funny stories, but I don't want to find a few months of time gone with my life zooming by crazily like this.
1 Peter 4:7 says "The end of all things is near; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober spirit for the purpose of prayer."
I find that being of sound judgment and sober spirit is good not only for prayer, but practically useful too, and even relationally. First, I am not going to haphazardly speak with the Lord. Second, I don't want to do things poorly: I'd like to fold the laundry well or wash the dishes until they gleam, or get an A on that essay (but who am I kidding, at Hillsdale, we hope for B's or C's). There's no reason not to strive to do things well, and every reason to actually do so: do all things to the glory of God. And third, in relationships with friends, family and the rest of the world, having good judgement is essential.
It is great to think rationally in all areas, accompanied by our natural emotions. I think the two working together won't generally lead us astray. And love, both as a decision and an emotion, is of course the substance of any good relationship and a source of joy. There are times though, when for any variety of reasons, that I find the natural emotion of love stifled and practically smothered--then I have to become mechanical about love, a robot going through the motions. Doesn't that sound terrible? It isn't really. As soon as I decide to do that, real love replaces my right decision to love. And, voila! Does that make it sound too simple or too stupid or too fake? It's hard to communicate. I just want to follow Jesus Christ's teaching to love my neighbors and even my enemies. No one escapes my responsibility of love. Therefore I must choose to love them. So, this choice and others require sound judgement and a calm, gentle spirit. I don't want to slap my forehead at the end of my life realizing I've forgotten to love some people.
I'm graduating college in nine months, and for goodness' sake, I want to finish well and glean every bit of knowledge and chance to grow that I discover at school. After that, it's off to new adventures!
Aug 18, 2011
Come smoke the peace pipe with us
We've built an amazing teepee at my friend's house. And when I say we built it, I mean we really built it. Last fall we chopped down trees, we dragged them to our selected plot of grass, we hoisted them into the air after lashing them together, we somehow managed to get the canvas (5 painter's canvases stitched together) around the whole thing. And now, the real fun begins.
When I am inside it, I am at peace with the world. Relaxing in there with friends gathered around the fire gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "sitting Indian-style."
And this friend of mine is an excellent photographer, check out her stuff here.
She snapped this one too. Not only do I sit Indian-style, I dance Indian-style:
When I am inside it, I am at peace with the world. Relaxing in there with friends gathered around the fire gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "sitting Indian-style."
And this friend of mine is an excellent photographer, check out her stuff here.
She snapped this one too. Not only do I sit Indian-style, I dance Indian-style:
Aug 15, 2011
A few more photos!
 | |
| Awaiting a bus in Sevilla |
Everyone laughed at my disposable camera. I think some of the photos turned out okay!
...but yes, it really was ridiculous. That's what I get for losing not one, but two, cameras in Spain. That's what you call despistada.
See the conglomeration of photos from sketchy Lisbon, the beach in Cádiz and the last photo from a hiking trail in Marquette here.
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