Inspired

My sister is an inspiring person. Years ago I started this blog and never even told anyone it existed. I wrote things but never shared them. J started a blog and in the process discovered mine. I read her blog and have become inspired to continue my own and maybe tell some people about it this time around. I think the reason the last time was such a flop was that most of the people I knew were near or I had the ability to call them up. Now I have so many friends and family members spread so far out across the country that keeping up is hard. So here I am, writing again in order to share my life with all of you! Don't get to excited. It's bound to be pretty boring.

The most important thing that you need to know, if you don't already, is that I now live in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. If you are wondering why the heck I live in South Dakota, don't worry, I wonder that all the time. I never would have imagined that I would have ended up here, but if you think about it, it was sort of destiny. My mom, after all did get the inspiration for my name from the wonderful, booming metropolis of Chelsea, South Dakota. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am named after a town that, as of the 2010 census, had a total of 27 people. Destiny I tell you!

I started this post thinking I wouldn't have enough to say and now I have all kinds of this ideas, like explaining why I really am here, or why I've stayed, or about all the wonderful people here, or about my vendetta against the overuse of the word "yet," or how it actually felt the first time I experienced -30 degree weather. All in time, my little blog reader. For now I will leave you this and the realization that I need to take more pictures.

Isn't she beautiful?

Almost Popular

I'm not popular. Not really. I mean, I go to a small school. Everybody knows everybody and hardly anyone hates me, actually I can't think of anyone who does. But I guess that doesn't mean they don't. So if being known and not hated is your definition of popular, maybe I am popular. But I don't really think so.

But I am almost popular. I get nominated for a lot of those "popularity contests" at OWU like the whOWU awards and homecoming that everyone claims to think are dumb as they are filling them out, but I never actually win. I'm almost cool enough to count as one of the cool kids.

That sounds cocky, doesn't it? I don't mean it to be. I just am amused that I am in this position. I've never been one of the actually popular kids. In fact, I usually hang with the nerdy, weird kid crowd. It's just that this is the very crowd that is cool here. To be a cool kid at OWU, you have to be borderline nuts at least. But I don't really fit in with them either. Well, maybe I fit in, but I'm not really one of them. I look like a leader, but in reality, I fit in with the leaders. It's their shadow that makes me look important. I'm better at encouraging leaders to be who they are than I am at being a leader myself I think. Or at least I feel that way. I don't really like to take control, believe it or not and I don't have to have my way. I'm just often the only one willing to take control. What does that make me?

I'm okay with where I am in life and who I am. I'd be interested to see what my position as "almost popular" looks like to other people.

Pointless?

I wonder what the point of having a blog is if I never tell anyone that it exists? Perhaps so I can pontificate on all the thoughts that I like to think are super-intellectual and feel like someone is listening even though no one is. Maybe I'll tell someone about it some day.

Gosh, now I just realized I am talking to myself.

At least I'm listening to music so ridiculous it's awesome while I waste time. Like "I like to Move it" by Crazy Frog and "Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler.

Bad day

Ever just have a bad day? The kind of day where you wake up because you have to even though you really don't want to and something small but not good happens right away? And then something else happens, just a little bit bigger and a little bit worse. And then something else and something else again, until by lunch you're in a huge fight with a friend and you don't even know what happened? Ever had that kind of day where it seems that the only solution to the problem is if the day itself was just over right now?

I'm having that kind of day.

Healing all Wounds

I have this scar on my finger.

I got it while we were on vacation once and I tried to open a banana with a serrated knife. Yes, you heard me, a banana. It was too green to open easily and I didn't want to make it all mushy by trying to pry it open. As it turns out, it doesn't take much force to open a banana this way. The knife slid right through the banana and into my skin. I dropped the banana and the knife and stuck my finger in my mouth and tasted the blood as it filled my mouth. I suppose in the grand scheme of things, I didn't bleed that much but it sure seemed like it as I almost passed out on the bathroom floor from the sight of the blood.

That happened probably five, six years ago? I've tried to point this scar out to people, to prove that it's there, but unless the light is just right, no one can ever see it. But trust me, it's there. I can see it, it just barely interrupts my fingerprint, and if I run my fingernail over it, there is this strange sensation of both ultra-sensitivity and numbness. It doesn't affect me very often, but sometimes it gets in the way. Like when Jenna tried to teach me to play the guitar and I had to press the string right where this scar was. It burned like it was bleeding all over again. I know the wound is healed, but I seriously doubt that my finger will ever be completely back to normal.

They say that time heals all wounds. They say. They say to give it time and every grievance that you have will eventually just disappear. But I doubt that's true. Maybe it's a stretch to compare my scarred finger to a human soul, but I think that I see similarities there. There are things in my past that I don't think about every day, that I don't feel every moment, that don't bleed continuously. But they are still there, and I've had a good life, a really good life. I subconsciously avoid situations that could repeat these past events, just like I subconsciously avoid hurting my left pointer finger. These things were wounds, and now they are scars. On the other hand, I see healing there. In elementary school I had a friend who treated me so badly that for years I found it hard to get close to anybody or to trust the motives of anyone who claimed to be my friend. Since then I have had three wonderful people who came into my life who have really gone above and beyond to prove to me that such a thing as loyalty is real. I admire loyalty when I see it and try to emulate this loyalty to the people around me.

So does time heal all wounds? It might seem that way, but I still have to say no. The past can haunt us. It doesn't just go away. Like a wound left uncovered, uncared for, it can fester and ruin the present. I've seen it happen too many times. But I worship the Great Healer. Yes he can and does heal our physical bodies, but he is in the business of healing our souls. Sometimes, actually usually always, when I think about Benji it still hurts. I still feel that on that night, when my prayers mattered more to me than any I had ever muttered before, I was abandoned. But then God shows himself faithful. He grants my requests much more often than I give him credit for. He helps me to slowly have faith again. He is healing my wounds. He might be using time, but time on it's own does nothing.

Two Years

It's amazing what can happen in two years. You can travel for two summers with some of the best people you've ever known and spend over 300 hours in a car traveling cross country. You can come 61 credit hours closer to finishing your college degree. You can build a new friendship, only to see it destroyed and then get the joy of watching it mend itself once again. You can see new classes of freshmen come in and watch some of your closest friends graduate. You can attend multiple weddings and be excited with so many girls with shiny new rocks on their hands. You can encounter countless joys and deal with countless frustrations. You can rejoice watching new believers come to the Lord and watch in pain as others walk away. In two years, memories are made and days are forgotten. In two years I have seen things I've never seen, gone places I've never gone, done things I've never done. I have achieved life goals and made new ones. I've had passions defined and a few of my questions have been answered. I have lived a lot these past two years.

Two years. Two years ago today, December 10, 2006 a dear friend of mine got up for the morning, put on his skiing gear and took off for what he hoped would be a great day of skiing. By that evening, Benji had quit living his life here on this earth. No one really knows exactly how it happened, because no one saw him crash, but somehow, the best skier I ever knew hit a tree. It killed him instantly; even though his heart continued to beat for several hours, he would never wake up again.

I still remember that day so clearly. Every moment of it seems etched into my mind. From the very first phone call telling me about the accident that I didn't understand to the last to tell me he was gone and on into the night when my last thought was the prayer, "God, let me sleep, I don't want to feel anything anymore." I remember the car ride to the airport and the light conversation moments before we heard the news. I remember laughing and tickling my youngest cousins, thanking God for the chance to take my mind off of the realness of my reality. I remember the moment that I realized he wasn't going to make it and the anguish I felt. I remember two little hands on my knees as my littlest cousin asked me why I was crying. I told him, "because I am sad." He said, "does your tummy hurt?" and asked if he could get me a drink of water. I remember the two words that told me, "he's gone." I remember how my heart broke. All I wanted to do that night was sleep, but I couldn't. I laid in bed curled up looking at pictures and watching videos of him.

The next day, everything reminded me of him. Someone tried to tell me a joke and it reminded me of him. He told the worst jokes. They made no sense, but he laughed so hard, you knew they had to be funny and eventually you laughed too. Benji was a part of our group and we thought he always would be. Instead of watching him graduate and hugging him goodbye, I watched his parents accept his honorary degree and wrote letters to him he would never read.

I miss Benji. In the grand scheme of things, I didn't know him for very long, but I miss him. I realized sometime this semester that I only knew him for three semesters and tomorrow finishes the fourth that I've lived without him. It doesn't seem possible that he has been absent from my life for longer than he was in it. That's the kind of person Benji was, that's how big of an impact he made. Our campus was so quiet after he was gone, life was sucked out of it. For months, I would have given anything to hear some of my friends laugh again, to think of skiing without being scared, to go away for a weekend without wondering if I would ever see everyone again. Benji's death is a constant mark on my life.

It changed everything. Some of my friends were driven closer by it, some were driven apart. Sometimes, I will have freshmen look at my pictures on the walls and tell me they hope their friends get as close as we were. I wonder, if they know what it took for us to be that way, would they still want that? It's been hard, it's been painful, but God is good. I couldn't even begin to list all of the good things that God has brought out of this situation, it would never do it justice. Every day, I realize more and more how much good has happened because of this terrible situation. Knowing God is there makes life bearable, livable. He came so that we may have life, and have it to the full.

Rest in peace, my friend. You are loved.

And Friday makes 8

The past two months have been a crazy hectic time for our little campus here. People often tease about how many people come here to get married and crack jokes like "I'll be lucky if I get out of here alive." Translation: "I'll be lucky if I get out of here not engaged." It's always been funny, but never before has it been this true, at least not as long as I can remember. In the past two months, eight couples have been engaged and two of the girls are dear friends of mine, and most of the others I know well too. This last week was especially crazy. Three girls got engaged in three consecutive days. It was almost as if the campus held its breath on Saturday waiting to see who number four would be. It turned out that three was the magic number this week. In addition two close friends from high school have gotten engaged recently, as well as my cousin. Not to mention all my friends who have already gotten married since I first knew them. In the month of May alone, I have, on consecutive Saturdays, my own graduation, my cousin's wedding, a wedding in which my friend asked me to be a bridesmaid and a wedding in which my friend asked me to be her 'personal attendant.' It's going to be a busy month.

I was talking to a friend and joked with him that I feel as though I know enough about wedding planning from these friends that I could go into professional wedding consulting. I think I missed my calling. Surely it is wedding planning and not the ministry.

On top of all this, three of my closest friends from my freshman year dorm have been married and are already pregnant. The first one is due in three weeks. As if it wasn't enough to feel as though I can't relate with a married woman when I have never even had a relationship, I now have to learn how to be close to a new mama.

Please don't misunderstand. It's not that I'm pining away for a husband, or that I want the way that my life is now to change, it's just that things are changing. In high school, it was a sign of maturity that I had never had a boyfriend, or at least that's what people told me. Now it just makes me feel like a Toys-R-Us kid saying "I don't want to grow up." I'm not jealous, and I'm not just saying that because I want people to think better of me. I know what jealousy is like. I've felt it before. What I feel now is not that. It's something new, something different. If it's anything negative at all, it's the feeling of fear. Fear of being left behind. Fear that my friends and I will become so different after graduation that we won't understand each other. On one hand, I know that we are friends and nothing will ever change that fact, on the other, I know that even though we will remain friends, things will be very, very different, whether they are married or not or moms or not.

I understand that it almost seems like I am feeling sorry for myself. I'm not, don't worry. But I am thinking through my life. I am struggling to live here and now. I have a hard enough time with not daydreaming and with loosing touch with reality. It only gets more difficult when my dreams are my friends' reality.