I wish I had written this blog last week when it was fresh and before I heard the sermon. First of all because the effect is not as strong as it was but also because I just heard Micah quote Pastor Phil almost word for word what I wanted to say. So for those of you who heard that, I promise I am not just copying him.
Last week my church did what we called the 3 for 3 campaign. We had three days where we were allowed only $3 worth of food per day to try to understand a little better what so much of the world goes through. I checked the box and did it and thought to myself that the hardest part would be no convenience food. Even McDonalds is too expensive for this if you want to eat more than once a day. I knew that I would have to give up sweets. (A can of pop at work is $.65, more than half the cost of one meal. A bottle is more than an entire meal.) I knew I would have to plan, because I wouldn't be able to stop by the store on the way to work to pick up a salad. (More than a day's worth in one mostly unsatisfying meal) I knew snacks like almonds were going to be off the list. (unless I could force myself to stop eating them after two) What I didn't expect was hunger. I know that sounds strange, to only have three dollars and not expect hunger, but I thought I could eat enough chicken and rice to be full. Surprisingly, that wasn't the case.
The first shock came when I figured out how much my homemade veggie soup cost per serving, almost $2! This is the meal that I make for myself in large quantities and freeze in order to save time and money. Even my cheap food was too expensive. If I had divided each of the frozen containers in half, I would have been okay, but I would have been hungry. I planned out my meals carefully, counting pennies. I had the three days planned out and was feeling good.
Until I ate lunch on the first day. Spaghetti. I was hungry long before dinner, which was strange because this is a common meal for me. I guess the more you think about food the more hungry you feel. Oh well, dinner came soon enough. Two slices of bread, two tablespoon peanut butter, ten carrots and sixty-five cents worth of salad. Don't forget to count the dressing too. I was hungry, but that made sense because I had budgeted some wiggle room for snacks. Problem was, I didn't think to bring any. There is a vending machine at work but everything in it would have put me over my budget. Snacks would have to wait until I could pick up some Ramen on the way home at 9:00. Ten cents. Piece of cake.
Strangely enough I must have caught my manager coming off of his break because he held out a cookie and said, "Want a cookie?" I accepted it without thinking but then reconsidered. Of course if someone was actually starving they would accept this gift without calculating how much it cost, but the point of the exercise was to live like the other half lives, not to see how much free food I could acquire. How much does a cookie cost anyways? I figured it was probably less than the forty-five cents I had left for the day and so I ate it, but I was more grateful for that cookie at that moment than I thought possible.
I went to bed hungry. Why is it that on any normal day a pb&j with carrots and a salad would have been just fine but the day that you are told you cannot have anything else is the day that you are suddenly obsessed with food? In the morning I decided to skip breakfast so that I could have more food for lunch. I've never done that before. Okay well, I do every year for Thanksgiving I suppose, but that's only so I can be even more of a glutton by the time the turkey gets done. I've never had to decide whether or not eating this food now would be better or skipping this meal so the next one could perhaps be big enough to be satisfying. Reality check #1.
I became more and more aware of what other people have to go through when each meal became less and less satisfying. Its one thing to have one meal that is slightly too small, but every meal? That is something I've never experienced. I've fasted before and so I've been so hungry that you can't quite see straight and your head begins to hurt, but to feel that way after three days where I could still eat, just not enough? I never imagined I'd feel that way. And then when Thursday rolled around and I could eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted I realized just how spoiled I am. The people who have to live on less than three dollars a day don't have any clue when or if their hunger will ever end. They don't always know when their next meal will be and they would be willing to bet their life that it won't be satisfying. I was counting down the meals to Thursday while they are just trying to find something to eat today.
I don't really know how to end this post, only to say that if you want an idea what many other people go through, you should try this challenge. Just remember though, much of the world lives on even less. Can you believe it? Feel spoiled yet?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Action vs. Inaction.
Action vs. Inaction. That's a question that I struggle with a lot. Most of the time in my life I don't come to a fork in the road and have to choose between one direction or another, most of the time I have the choice to stay on this current path or turn off. Does that make sense? Sometimes I've hit that first option, where things cannot stay the same and you have a pair or list of choices to make. Graduating college was one of those. I could not continue doing what I was doing. I had to leave. Continuing down that road was not an option. Even if I had chosen to continue my education right then and there, things would have looked very different.
But usually I find that this is not the case. An opportunity comes up in life, or I have the chance to create an opportunity for myself and I have to decide; continue doing what I am doing? Or chose this other thing? Usually, the easy route is to do nothing. A missions trip opportunity comes up? Probably totally worth it to go, but definitely easier to stay. Potential new job? Still easier to stay, even if you hate it. Less effort, less learning curve.
Now, those two examples are probably bad because the way that I colored them. I made it seem like the action was more beneficial than the inaction. In those examples any excuses you come up with to remain inactive are just that, excuses. But right now I am struggling with some decisions that are not so cut and dry. Not to me, not to anyone whose advice I've sought on this. Can't you people just tell me what to do? For example, I am trying to decide whether to talk to a friend about something. If I say something, I can never take those words back and words get me in trouble. A lot. In fact I've already had to apologize once today for something I've said and I've only talked to two people so far. So do I keep my mouth shut and continue going crazy or say something and make the whole thing blow up in my face? In different situations, I've done both, and neither actually went well.
Or what about when following your dreams looks so good and wonderful and you have a million images of motivational posters of people on top of Mt.Everest cycling through your head but then when you sit down and do the math, it turns out that the dream may just be next to impossible. Is it really worth it in the end? Is it even possible?
I make, or fail to make, a lot of decisions in my life based on fear. Which of these options is less scary? Which is more prudent? It causes a lot of people to call me wise. Little did they know that if you always act on your fears and blow it off as nonchalance, it appears to be wisdom. Its not too hard to fake. And its not always a horrible way to live life. I am alive with never a broken bone because I've never actually acted on my dream to jump off our third floor balcony into the bank of snow below. But it can be a boring way to live life. And not always the best. And I'm tired of making decisions based on fear. So incredibly fed up with it. But I still want to be wise. How do I do that? Is it wise to take a very scary leap and really, really hope that God catches me? Or is it more wise to be shrewd? Shrewd with my money, with my words, with my actions? I know the answer cannot be found in the information I've given, or possibly even in the information I have but these are the things I wrestle with.
The thing that is so difficult about inaction vs. action decisions is that you can usually put off the decision for a long time. You can unintentionally make a decision by refusing to make a decision and not even notice that you're doing it. One of my dilemmas does not need an answer for several months yet. If I choose to act, I cannot act for some time so perhaps I should just delay the question until it needs an answer. I am certain, however, that the other has a timeline, that there is perfect timing and imperfect timing with this one. I just don't know what it is.
So if you're the praying type and you happen to pray for me at all, pray that I have the wisdom to know what to do and the courage to act on it.
But usually I find that this is not the case. An opportunity comes up in life, or I have the chance to create an opportunity for myself and I have to decide; continue doing what I am doing? Or chose this other thing? Usually, the easy route is to do nothing. A missions trip opportunity comes up? Probably totally worth it to go, but definitely easier to stay. Potential new job? Still easier to stay, even if you hate it. Less effort, less learning curve.
Now, those two examples are probably bad because the way that I colored them. I made it seem like the action was more beneficial than the inaction. In those examples any excuses you come up with to remain inactive are just that, excuses. But right now I am struggling with some decisions that are not so cut and dry. Not to me, not to anyone whose advice I've sought on this. Can't you people just tell me what to do? For example, I am trying to decide whether to talk to a friend about something. If I say something, I can never take those words back and words get me in trouble. A lot. In fact I've already had to apologize once today for something I've said and I've only talked to two people so far. So do I keep my mouth shut and continue going crazy or say something and make the whole thing blow up in my face? In different situations, I've done both, and neither actually went well.
Or what about when following your dreams looks so good and wonderful and you have a million images of motivational posters of people on top of Mt.Everest cycling through your head but then when you sit down and do the math, it turns out that the dream may just be next to impossible. Is it really worth it in the end? Is it even possible?
I make, or fail to make, a lot of decisions in my life based on fear. Which of these options is less scary? Which is more prudent? It causes a lot of people to call me wise. Little did they know that if you always act on your fears and blow it off as nonchalance, it appears to be wisdom. Its not too hard to fake. And its not always a horrible way to live life. I am alive with never a broken bone because I've never actually acted on my dream to jump off our third floor balcony into the bank of snow below. But it can be a boring way to live life. And not always the best. And I'm tired of making decisions based on fear. So incredibly fed up with it. But I still want to be wise. How do I do that? Is it wise to take a very scary leap and really, really hope that God catches me? Or is it more wise to be shrewd? Shrewd with my money, with my words, with my actions? I know the answer cannot be found in the information I've given, or possibly even in the information I have but these are the things I wrestle with.
The thing that is so difficult about inaction vs. action decisions is that you can usually put off the decision for a long time. You can unintentionally make a decision by refusing to make a decision and not even notice that you're doing it. One of my dilemmas does not need an answer for several months yet. If I choose to act, I cannot act for some time so perhaps I should just delay the question until it needs an answer. I am certain, however, that the other has a timeline, that there is perfect timing and imperfect timing with this one. I just don't know what it is.
So if you're the praying type and you happen to pray for me at all, pray that I have the wisdom to know what to do and the courage to act on it.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
This place is holy ground.
I know what you may be thinking. "That looks like an old train bridge. It doesn't appear to be holy at all. And its not even ground. In fact you aren't even suspended above ground. That's water, that is. And please don't tell me that you actually walk on that thing." You would have a point but the truth is you would be wrong. This is holy ground. This is where heaven meets earth and God talks to his people. Or at least talks to me. And the sun always, always shines here.
This sanctuary was discovered by accident. One day I followed an old set of train tracks. It is more difficult than you might expect because railroad ties are not spaced evenly apart, or at least these are not, and walking the rail takes more coordination than I have the patience for. As you take each, uneven step with care, the surroundings seem to slip away and the journey to the holy place begins. Even in the midst of a park with baseball diamonds near, something feels different.
Soon you come to a tunnel. Its an underpass, really, and you can hear the cars pass overhead. The metal walls and ceiling reflect the sound of your steps back to you and the tracks begin to sink into the mud. At the far end of the tunnel trees and bushes seem to block your path until you spot the narrow footpath into the brush. You realize that you are not the only pilgrim who has traveled this way. As you step into the bushes you feel as though you have stepped into another world. The tracks have all but disappeared and the ground falls away on either side of you.
It seems that every step becomes more and more overgrown and difficult to navigate. Several times trees have grown up in the path and you are forced to circle around. Finally you pass one last set of trees and it lies before you. The bridge. It is a place of peace, a place of rest, a place to commune with the creator. It is not so far secluded that you cannot hear the cars on the road you walked under, but theirs sounds are muffled and distant. Fish swim the water beneath your feet and deer occasionally come for a drink. It is a place of stillness. The air is fresh and each breath is full and begins to calm the pitter-patter of a rabbit-heart.
There was something about this place today. Something so much more significant than it ever had been. Perhaps because I came here, alone, with the sole purpose of prayer. I prepared my heart to meet with God on the way and by the time I reached the bridge, I felt the need to remove my shoes and feel the sun-warmed planks beneath my feet because this was holy ground. Too often I talk with God without preparation and it seems rushed, unsatisfying. Today was slow and as I stood up to leave, I felt filled. I prayed for my church and our building; for my future and the decisions I need to make; for babies recently born and those still on the way; for relationships and guidance. I got no answers, but I did find peace, and a little Vitamin D, and that is enough for me.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Friendship
I think that one of the hardest things about leaving college was the lack of deep friendships here. I didn't realize it at first because I was always surrounded by such great people and because I still had my roommate, but the truth was that no matter how much I liked my new friends or how much they liked me, we didn't share a history. We might have shared interests, or hobbies, or enjoying the company of each other, but we didn't really know what the other had been through. We had never seen the other truly hurting, nor did we know what made the other deliriously happy. For a time all these friendships were endlessly good, but lacked a certain depth.
In school, this depth came quickly. When you see each other daily, it doesn't take long to get to know each other. When you feel like you miss someone because you didn't run into them for several hours one day, you quickly learn to value them. When you live down the hall or across the pond from them, you learn to forget about the fights and forgive easily. When you eat lunch in the same place, with the same people, every day, you begin to consider them family. All this happens quickly. Before the shininess of a new friendship wears off, the roots of a deep, meaningful relationship have been set. Not so much in what we like to call the "real world." In this world outside of dorm life, things take longer. Sometimes the excitement of the newness wears off before unconditional trust kicks in. In that gap is where forever friends are won or lost. Its harder to get past this point, and lonelier.
This weekend, however, I was reminded of something. I know some great people. And the great part about them is that I have realized that two years have passed and these friendships have gone deep. I feel a sense of family-ness when I am around them, just like in college. But unlike college, I also have ample opportunity to meet new people constantly. The trip I went on this weekend had every stage of friendship imaginable. My roommates, who I trust completely. Friends I've known longer that two years, but only since moving here have become close. Two year old friends who have become brothers and sisters. One-year old friends who have passed the shallow-friend stage. Months old friends who are a delight to be around. Even a brand new friend who I met as we loaded the cars to leave. My grandpa had the chance to meet these people and kept telling me what an awesome group of friends I have. I have to admit that I agree completely.
So thank you to all my friends. Whether you went on this trip or not, or if you are a stage 1 friend or a stage 47 friend, thank you. You make my life so much richer and more wonderful and I look forward to seeing where our friendship will take us.
In school, this depth came quickly. When you see each other daily, it doesn't take long to get to know each other. When you feel like you miss someone because you didn't run into them for several hours one day, you quickly learn to value them. When you live down the hall or across the pond from them, you learn to forget about the fights and forgive easily. When you eat lunch in the same place, with the same people, every day, you begin to consider them family. All this happens quickly. Before the shininess of a new friendship wears off, the roots of a deep, meaningful relationship have been set. Not so much in what we like to call the "real world." In this world outside of dorm life, things take longer. Sometimes the excitement of the newness wears off before unconditional trust kicks in. In that gap is where forever friends are won or lost. Its harder to get past this point, and lonelier.
This weekend, however, I was reminded of something. I know some great people. And the great part about them is that I have realized that two years have passed and these friendships have gone deep. I feel a sense of family-ness when I am around them, just like in college. But unlike college, I also have ample opportunity to meet new people constantly. The trip I went on this weekend had every stage of friendship imaginable. My roommates, who I trust completely. Friends I've known longer that two years, but only since moving here have become close. Two year old friends who have become brothers and sisters. One-year old friends who have passed the shallow-friend stage. Months old friends who are a delight to be around. Even a brand new friend who I met as we loaded the cars to leave. My grandpa had the chance to meet these people and kept telling me what an awesome group of friends I have. I have to admit that I agree completely.
So thank you to all my friends. Whether you went on this trip or not, or if you are a stage 1 friend or a stage 47 friend, thank you. You make my life so much richer and more wonderful and I look forward to seeing where our friendship will take us.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Strange Day
Today was a weird day. I woke up this morning wondering why my alarm was going off on a snow day. That's right, I thought it was a snow day. As I woke up, I realized that I had been dreaming that I was at home and my mom and I were cleaning out my room on our surprise snow day off.
I got to work and felt strangely energetic for that time of morning. It probably had to do with the free pop we currently have in our break room. So much caffeine is surging through my veins right now. I worked on getting freight put out and apparently was having so much fun that before I know it I look at my watch and realize that its 2:00 PM and I was supposed to go on break half an hour before. I never miss break. Weird I tell you.
And then it got really slow and so the last two hours went so much slower than the first several. And when I went outside it was 86 degrees. I had a jacket on coming into the store and was sweating on the way home.
Okay, so three weird things happened and it wasn't a super weird day after all. I just wanted to tell you that I dreamed it was a snow day when the high nearly hit 90. In September. In South Dakota.
Oh, and we also found one of these at the store today:
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
So its midnight and I should be getting to bed if I want to try to maintain some sort of normal sleep pattern, but when the urge to write comes, it is not wise to let it go to waste. And here I am.
I just read an article. And I mean just. Maybe thirty minutes ago, tops. So my thoughts may be convoluted and not quite there yet, but here goes nothing.
This article was in Relevant magazine. (someone with better English skills remind me, are magazine titles italicized or underlined? Or maybe neither. I forget. Italicized it is.) It was an article about "How to prepare for your dream job without quitting your day job." Or something like that. Quotes are not exact. Too late to go and look them up. Sleep beckons.
Anywho... this article discussed the challenges that we face when we think about, dream about, or go for, our dream job, our One Thing. The article ended with the point that we often let the voices talk us out of doing what we dream of doing. Now, everyone has voices, most have negative voices. Some people listen to these voices, some don't. So I'm not saying I don't have these voices. I'm not even saying that I don't listen to these voices, because sometimes these voices win. Especially the voice that says, "Why quit a job you are good at to pursue something you could fail at? Why throw success away for a dream?" What I'm saying about these particular voices is that I'm not quite there yet. Meaning, these voices are not what keeps me from doing what I dream of doing.
The point previous to this one talked about fear. The fear of failure, of not being good enough, of not being ready. (Also, this article said Ready is a myth. No one is ever really ready because in order to do something that you've never done before you, well, have to do something you've never done. Practice makes perfect but buying a guitar is the first step of practicing. And that guitar may end up being a waste of money because it sits gathering dust in your room. OR, you may end up learning that one song that you've been dying to learn and find yourself dancing with the guitar around the room singing slightly off key but you feel like you're in a rock band. But you never know until that beautiful Mitchell is yours. Worth every penny. Moving on now.)
Aren't you all lucky? I'm too tired to actually think through what I say before I type and so I'm writing like I think. It makes me afraid to ever look back at any of my college papers knowing how many of them were written this late at night. And back to the train of thought. Where were we? Ah, yes, Fear. Fear of failure, mostly. And again, this is something I do face. I'm afraid of going for that One Thing and ending up flat on my face in the mud as people point and laugh. But again, this is not what is holding me back. One day it might, but I haven't reached that door, that wall yet.
I realized, reading this article, that the thing holding me back is not simple fear. Fear is involved, but not yet fear of failure. I think I'm afraid I'll go for that One Thing and pursue it and get so invested in it that its pretty darn tough to back out and then realize that I don't really want to be that at all. The thing that is holding me back is that I don't know what the One Thing actually is for me. I'm 24 years old and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. (As another side note, is it weird that I sometimes still refer to people at the "next stage in life" (read that, married with kids) as "adults," even if they aren't even older than me?) I think that if I knew without a shadow of a doubt what my One Thing was, I'd give up anything to get it. I think I just want someone to tell me, because despite the fact that a certain friend of mine insists that she loves the fact that I'm decisive, when it comes to this, I'm not decisive at all. I'm still a little lost.
Maybe its just like that guitar. I spent hard earned money on that guitar and on picks, strings, tuners, stands, lessons and countless other things. Maybe if I go for it, I'll end up letting it gather dust and "not-quite dirty enough for the hamper, not clean enough for the hanger" clothes. Or maybe I'll end up a rock star on stage. Even if the songs are cheesy, the stage tiny, and the audience third graders.
I think I'll take that chance.
I just read an article. And I mean just. Maybe thirty minutes ago, tops. So my thoughts may be convoluted and not quite there yet, but here goes nothing.
This article was in Relevant magazine. (someone with better English skills remind me, are magazine titles italicized or underlined? Or maybe neither. I forget. Italicized it is.) It was an article about "How to prepare for your dream job without quitting your day job." Or something like that. Quotes are not exact. Too late to go and look them up. Sleep beckons.
Anywho... this article discussed the challenges that we face when we think about, dream about, or go for, our dream job, our One Thing. The article ended with the point that we often let the voices talk us out of doing what we dream of doing. Now, everyone has voices, most have negative voices. Some people listen to these voices, some don't. So I'm not saying I don't have these voices. I'm not even saying that I don't listen to these voices, because sometimes these voices win. Especially the voice that says, "Why quit a job you are good at to pursue something you could fail at? Why throw success away for a dream?" What I'm saying about these particular voices is that I'm not quite there yet. Meaning, these voices are not what keeps me from doing what I dream of doing.
The point previous to this one talked about fear. The fear of failure, of not being good enough, of not being ready. (Also, this article said Ready is a myth. No one is ever really ready because in order to do something that you've never done before you, well, have to do something you've never done. Practice makes perfect but buying a guitar is the first step of practicing. And that guitar may end up being a waste of money because it sits gathering dust in your room. OR, you may end up learning that one song that you've been dying to learn and find yourself dancing with the guitar around the room singing slightly off key but you feel like you're in a rock band. But you never know until that beautiful Mitchell is yours. Worth every penny. Moving on now.)
Aren't you all lucky? I'm too tired to actually think through what I say before I type and so I'm writing like I think. It makes me afraid to ever look back at any of my college papers knowing how many of them were written this late at night. And back to the train of thought. Where were we? Ah, yes, Fear. Fear of failure, mostly. And again, this is something I do face. I'm afraid of going for that One Thing and ending up flat on my face in the mud as people point and laugh. But again, this is not what is holding me back. One day it might, but I haven't reached that door, that wall yet.
I realized, reading this article, that the thing holding me back is not simple fear. Fear is involved, but not yet fear of failure. I think I'm afraid I'll go for that One Thing and pursue it and get so invested in it that its pretty darn tough to back out and then realize that I don't really want to be that at all. The thing that is holding me back is that I don't know what the One Thing actually is for me. I'm 24 years old and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. (As another side note, is it weird that I sometimes still refer to people at the "next stage in life" (read that, married with kids) as "adults," even if they aren't even older than me?) I think that if I knew without a shadow of a doubt what my One Thing was, I'd give up anything to get it. I think I just want someone to tell me, because despite the fact that a certain friend of mine insists that she loves the fact that I'm decisive, when it comes to this, I'm not decisive at all. I'm still a little lost.
Maybe its just like that guitar. I spent hard earned money on that guitar and on picks, strings, tuners, stands, lessons and countless other things. Maybe if I go for it, I'll end up letting it gather dust and "not-quite dirty enough for the hamper, not clean enough for the hanger" clothes. Or maybe I'll end up a rock star on stage. Even if the songs are cheesy, the stage tiny, and the audience third graders.
I think I'll take that chance.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Horror
I've never liked horror movies. I hate to be startled, for one. I can't stand the gore either. I know its fake, but even when I know there is no way that the scene would be possible (think Monty Python when the guy gets his arms chopped off) it still bothers me. Add to these reasons the fact that in horror movies, at least one good guy dies and the good guy is never supposed to die. I just don't like them. Never have and, especially after this weekend, never will.
This weekend I experienced a scene straight out of a horror movie. My roommate and I were heading home Sunday night, driving down a road we often take when we see this lady on the side of the road waving her arms. She begins to run out into the middle of the street and stops in front of us. I put on my brakes, locked my doors, and concluded that she must be drunk. As we got closer, I realize that she may not be simply drunk after all, but that she is begging us for help. It was dark and my memories are muddled but as my headlights shone on her, I realized that head to toe, this woman was covered in blood. And I don't mean just a little. I mean more blood than I would think would be possible to be on the outside of someone's body and that person still be alive, let alone walking. I specifically remember it dripping from her face. I'm sorry, its gruesome, I know.
What happened next is jumbled in my brain. It didn't last long, but I remember her pounding on the passenger window of my car, calling 911, fumbling with my door lock, and flashing my lights at the car coming towards us to stop and help. We didn't even have any real time to react before the other car pulled over and opened the door for her to get in. I look back at it now and realize that I never even thought to take her to the hospital. I was fully prepared to grab the blankets from my back seat to try to stop the bleeding once 911 had been called, but it never crossed my mind that the hospital was only a few blocks away. I'm glad that stranger was thinking a little more logically than I when he pulled over. For all I know, she could have died as I waited for an ambulance.
They pulled away, leaving my roommate and I stunned and flustered for a few minutes before her boyfriend and his roommate arrived. We had only just left their place so they made it there faster than the police did. Its a strange thing, waiting for the police to arrive, sure a psycho-killer is just around the corner. I was glad the boys were there. We stood off to the side as the cops investigated. I kept trying to stand in a place where I couldn't see the blood dripping down the side of my car and also from the pool of blood in the street, but it was tough. I've never seen that many police cars in one place before, never given a statement to police about a crime. Let me tell you, it is nothing like any detective show you've ever seen.
They had to take my car to document the blood as evidence for the investigation, so we left and came back at three in the morning to pick it up again. Did you know that the PD doesn't clean up evidence on confiscated items when they return them? My roommate and I had to don our rubber cleaning gloves and fill a bucket with water and do it ourselves. I stopped by the car wash on the way home as well. The next morning I took some Windex to it as well, which I'm sure isn't good for the car but lets face it. A few more rust spots isn't going to change the value of that thing much.
It turns out the woman will live, thank God. She was attacked by an acquaintance, another woman, with a box cutter. There was alcohol involved. She had emergency surgery as soon as she arrived at the hospital to fix the deep cuts on her face, neck, and back. The woman who attacked her has been arrested.
Now this next confession is breaking down walls that I put up to look strong and put together, but I'll admit, the experience shook me up. Being out when its dark is creepy these days and I lock the door to my car whenever I'm alone or someone is walking to close to my car when I'm stopped. I've successfully avoided the road this occurred on because the blood puddle was still there when I went to get my car and I'm not interested in seeing how a week with no rain affects something like that. I hear someone say "box cutter" and I shudder a little. I have no interest in seeing violent movies any time soon.
I know from experience that these affects will pass. I did eventually get to the point where I could see a big white truck coming toward me on the road without instinctively wanting to swerve the other way, but until that point, I could be having a perfectly normal conversation while that moment replayed itself over and over again in my head. That is how this, too, will be. Eventually I will get to the point that I don't think about this every hour, or even every day. Already, the shock is fading.
What struck me about this, what I can't get over, is how random it was that we were there. If we had been heading straight home instead of to pick up my roommates car, we would have never even known that this had happened. If we were there five minutes later, we would have come upon a police road block. Five minutes earlier, we would have been oblivious to the horror happening inside the building next to us. A whole string of events led to that point. So why us? Was it random, or was there a purpose? That is the question that still haunts my brain.
This weekend I experienced a scene straight out of a horror movie. My roommate and I were heading home Sunday night, driving down a road we often take when we see this lady on the side of the road waving her arms. She begins to run out into the middle of the street and stops in front of us. I put on my brakes, locked my doors, and concluded that she must be drunk. As we got closer, I realize that she may not be simply drunk after all, but that she is begging us for help. It was dark and my memories are muddled but as my headlights shone on her, I realized that head to toe, this woman was covered in blood. And I don't mean just a little. I mean more blood than I would think would be possible to be on the outside of someone's body and that person still be alive, let alone walking. I specifically remember it dripping from her face. I'm sorry, its gruesome, I know.
What happened next is jumbled in my brain. It didn't last long, but I remember her pounding on the passenger window of my car, calling 911, fumbling with my door lock, and flashing my lights at the car coming towards us to stop and help. We didn't even have any real time to react before the other car pulled over and opened the door for her to get in. I look back at it now and realize that I never even thought to take her to the hospital. I was fully prepared to grab the blankets from my back seat to try to stop the bleeding once 911 had been called, but it never crossed my mind that the hospital was only a few blocks away. I'm glad that stranger was thinking a little more logically than I when he pulled over. For all I know, she could have died as I waited for an ambulance.
They pulled away, leaving my roommate and I stunned and flustered for a few minutes before her boyfriend and his roommate arrived. We had only just left their place so they made it there faster than the police did. Its a strange thing, waiting for the police to arrive, sure a psycho-killer is just around the corner. I was glad the boys were there. We stood off to the side as the cops investigated. I kept trying to stand in a place where I couldn't see the blood dripping down the side of my car and also from the pool of blood in the street, but it was tough. I've never seen that many police cars in one place before, never given a statement to police about a crime. Let me tell you, it is nothing like any detective show you've ever seen.
They had to take my car to document the blood as evidence for the investigation, so we left and came back at three in the morning to pick it up again. Did you know that the PD doesn't clean up evidence on confiscated items when they return them? My roommate and I had to don our rubber cleaning gloves and fill a bucket with water and do it ourselves. I stopped by the car wash on the way home as well. The next morning I took some Windex to it as well, which I'm sure isn't good for the car but lets face it. A few more rust spots isn't going to change the value of that thing much.
It turns out the woman will live, thank God. She was attacked by an acquaintance, another woman, with a box cutter. There was alcohol involved. She had emergency surgery as soon as she arrived at the hospital to fix the deep cuts on her face, neck, and back. The woman who attacked her has been arrested.
Now this next confession is breaking down walls that I put up to look strong and put together, but I'll admit, the experience shook me up. Being out when its dark is creepy these days and I lock the door to my car whenever I'm alone or someone is walking to close to my car when I'm stopped. I've successfully avoided the road this occurred on because the blood puddle was still there when I went to get my car and I'm not interested in seeing how a week with no rain affects something like that. I hear someone say "box cutter" and I shudder a little. I have no interest in seeing violent movies any time soon.
I know from experience that these affects will pass. I did eventually get to the point where I could see a big white truck coming toward me on the road without instinctively wanting to swerve the other way, but until that point, I could be having a perfectly normal conversation while that moment replayed itself over and over again in my head. That is how this, too, will be. Eventually I will get to the point that I don't think about this every hour, or even every day. Already, the shock is fading.
What struck me about this, what I can't get over, is how random it was that we were there. If we had been heading straight home instead of to pick up my roommates car, we would have never even known that this had happened. If we were there five minutes later, we would have come upon a police road block. Five minutes earlier, we would have been oblivious to the horror happening inside the building next to us. A whole string of events led to that point. So why us? Was it random, or was there a purpose? That is the question that still haunts my brain.
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