The Blanket

I don't know how to sit still and be quiet.

Writing was my way to focus my thoughts, still my mind and quiet my soul. Once I had Karsten, I stopped writing. Not only did I stop blogging, I stopped journaling. I used to journal my prayers, my conversations with God. Now most of my conversatons with God are done on the freeway at 85 MPH, in between tasks and duties or while playing with my son, amazed at who he is.

Busy-ness is a poison that robs the soul of beauty. When I cannot take time to stop and reflect, to channel my emotions, impressions and feelings through to my Maker everything gets too busy. I get so busy that even when my son manages to get my attention and we are sitting on the floor without the TV on, two other projects playing out and things needing to be done, I suddenly have to go pee or I remember the forgotten load of laundry in the washing machine.

I do not rest.

It's not so much fixing the 100s of tasks I have to complete in a day. It's not reducing the amount of hours I work. It's not cutting out anything.

It is making time for something.

It's making time to sit in a place and rest. Rest with my weary thoughts, my heavy load, my joyful moments, my new experiences. It is feeding my roots so deep in the ancient path of the Word of God that will slow everything else down so I can grasp every moment in every task that is laid before me. If I try to do every task and then stop, I will continue to run, to pant and to grow weary. If I start off in the depth of ancient wisdom, seek out paths that my soul craves and explore the beauty of the life I have been gifted with, I will find rest. I will be at peace.

This is my pause. This is my break. This is what truly binds my life together, encompasses every detail. I must take time to acknowledge the Maker of it all and see the beauty in the weaving he is creating through my life. As I stop to see where He is taking me and watch how He pulls it all together, I can finally rest in the knowledge that I am right where I need to be.

Recounting SLIP: Part II

I met 'Boy with Sweaty Hands' and 'Creepy Sidekick' within an hour after being permanently left at SLIP forever. Well, if forever meant until Labor Day, then forever. At any rate, watching the brake lights to my dad's car before he turned onto the main road and drove way gave a sense of finality to the fact that I was starting a new journey in life. I was stuck. I think my parents established an 800# at home while I was away so I could call but there was no way I was wimping out. I'm way too tough. After my dad's car faded into a heat wave behind a wall of traffic, I turned to my dorm room.

I felt the walls closing in as I began to unpack my meager belongings. My roommate had shown up with her ultra-preppy belongings as if she had just come from the country club after finishing her tennis lessons and refreshing herself with a cool glass of iced tea with a sprig of mint. Looking back, I'm mildy surprised that an entourage of pool boys did not carry her well organized boxes, freshly done dry cleaning and down comforter in to the room. She reminded me of a 55 year old in an 18 year old body. Her parents lived in Malaysia for a lot of her teenage years as her dad was a "muckitymuck" for his company. She drove a Lexus with leather interior. She was a college student. I had no car. I would later find out that her car was nicer than even the staff and faculty at SLIP. I think she left her silver spoon at home. "Spoons" was my roomie.

After being in the same room with her for about ten minutes, I was ready for some fresh air. I decided to wander away from my dorm room with all the unpacked belongings. Procrastination becomes an art form in college. I started early.

I opened the door to the dorms and stepped into blinding, hot, white light. A heat wave rolled over me and instantly every pore of my body poured forth sweat. Luckily, I'm a girl and I only glisten and it smells rosy.

I descended the stairs and turned to my right. I know now I should have turned left. 'Boy with Sweaty Hands' and 'Creepy Sidekick' were about five paces to my right and closing in. There they were, physically looking somewhat like Laurel and Hardy. Their personalities were not nearly as cool or amusing. Creepy Sidekick started in by introducing himself. He had a weird smile plastered on his face and looked at me as if I were his long lost best friend. After saying "Hello" and giving my name, I felt like I was expected to say or do something more than the occasion called for. Awkward. I stood there with nothing more to say and they stood staring at me. They had the look in their eyes that boys get when they want to be dashing and daring but end up saying something like, "I'm madly in love with a school boy."

No exaggeration, as soon as I was able to extricate myself from the moment of great awkwardness and continue to peruse the grounds solo (not that they boys hadn't offered to escort me), I realized that my unnamed fears of not being able to relate to anyone at this Conservative Christian school may be very, very well founded.

Recounting SLIP: Part I

My dad drove me to SLIP. I think perhaps it felt a bit like summer camp. My meager belongings were crammed into his car for the drive to a new place where I had apprehensions about the people I would meet and what this would be like.

I vaguely remember as I arrived and registered, I was recruited to play volleyball. Growing up I vehemently opposed any form of action that required coordination. In high school, I was heavily recruited by the basketball and volleyball coach to play in sports. I am tall. I am not coordinated. I had a huge fear of making a fool of myself. I'm good at making a fool of myself without moving and having objects whizzing about. I tried to put the person at the registration desk off but they were having none of it. I figured I was trying something completely new in life, and as I had a new found respect for myself due to a good decision about eight weeks earlier, I decided "What the heck!". I agreed to at least show up for the first practice.

As I walked out of the main building with my room assignment and papers in hand, I felt a knot form in my stomach as I pondered what kind of person the school assigned me to live with and what it would all be like. I also realized as I read the list of college rules, none of my clothes fit into the school's dress code. Let's say I had a bit of a "working lady" wardrobe happening as I was quite fit, men liked me and I liked to be noticed. This was great when walking around my small hometown with the bottom of my butt cheeks hanging out of my shorts, barley concealed behind the ruffles sewn on the hems but not so much when a person joins a small Christian school. These are the things I did not really consider when deciding on SLIP.

I was committed. I had already paid the registration fee and filled out the FAFSA Forms. My dad was proud. There was no turning back.

Luckily, my first test of this resolve was not until after I had placed my belongings into my room and my dad took me on a shopping spree to deck out my dorm room and then left me there.

It was just after that that I encountered my first serious doubts about having decided upon this course of action for my life. I met 'Boy with Sweaty Hands' and 'Creepy Sidekick'.

To Be Continued.

Set the Stage

I have decided to undertake a writing project for as long as I'm interested in finishing it out and depending on how well I can recollect little stories from my past. My memory used to be razor sharp, now it is a bit more loose than that. I'll try to pull some gems out and dust them off and place them in a way you can appreciate. We will see how it goes!

I'm specifically targeting about 2 years of my life when I attended a small college in the U.S. We shall call it Small School with Lots of Interesting People. That's a little long. SSLIP? Haha. Yes. SLIP!


I think I will start at the beginning with SLIP: Day 1. Or maybe a prequel? Hmmmm....