How did I get here?

6:30 am.  Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  Snooze.  6:35 am.  Pink sky.  Chirping birds singing melodies.  Out of bed.  Dressed.  Mini Wheats.  Studying.  And, as I wash the green bowl that once held my Mini Wheats, I wonder how I got here.  In less than 9 weeks from now, I will have a college degree.  I will be a college graduate.  All of this schooling that has been the only way of life I have ever known will be over.

1:30 pm.  Rush into the elementary school.  "Miss Erin! How long have you been gone?" "2 Weeks. It was my spring break!" "What?! It feels like its been 2 whole months!"  This, accompanied by hugs and "We missed you!" by numerous 1st and 2nd graders reminds me why I love this place.  And yet, this too, will end in 9 short weeks.

4:30 pm.  Reading.  4 articles. 6 book chapters. 3 textbook chapters.  Daunting.  Reading.  Highlighting.  Note taking.  Writing.  2 papers.  Its only the first Monday of class.  Two years ago, I would have hated every minute of it.  This year, however, amidst the business and complete exhaustion, I have loved it.  Most days, I have just been trying to stay afloat; winning the race isn't even a thought.  But, staying afloat has become okay for the first time in my life, because, I love my classes and I wouldn't want to drop any of them.

10:30 pm.  Here I sit.  I can't help but look back on this year and be reminded of how constantly chaotic and overwhelming this year has been.  18 and 19 credit quarters, 13 hour work weeks, daily trips to the library, and a sleep schedule that has been functioning on less than 5 hours per night has been my senior year.  Ice cream study breaks and 30 second dance parties with my roommates and best friends have become normal.

Part of me is relieved that this year of overwhelming stress is almost over, but part of me is incredibly saddened.  Where am I supposed to go from here?  I still don't know; it really is too bad there isn't a manual for life, because it would come in handy right now.  But, as I am forced to imagine what the future may hold, I am reminded of how heartbroken I was throughout my India experience.  It was hard.  There were days I hated it and there were days I loved it.  That is how college has been - some days I just want it to be over, and some I wish it would last forever.  But, just as the season of my time in India came to a close, so my time in college is about to come to a close.  I know that it will be happy and sad and wonderful and difficult all wrapped into one very mixed up and torn Erin, but I know that whatever is next is a new season.  New seasons bring new fruit, new flowers, and new activities.  What a beautiful life I live.  

old.

"What are you going to do after you graduate?," they all ask.  With a grimace on my face, I always respond with, "I have no idea!"  I try to laugh and make the situation seem more lighthearted than it really is.  I know that people ask that question out of genuine interest, for the most part, because they care and they really want to know.  The truth is, however, I really do know.  The constant, dull pangs of my beating heart always tell me the same answer when that question is asked: I want to make a difference.  But, I can't say it out loud.  I know full well how naive such a statement would sound.  Majoring in sociology has taught me that one person changing the world is impossible.  The problems of a fallen people in a fallen world are wrapped in political, economic, and even religious systems with so many layers and such complexity that it seems impossible to make even a small impact.  But, even with the knowledge that I have, my answer remains the same.  I want to make a difference.  I don't know how, I don't know where, and I don't know when.  But, I want to change something, somewhere, or someone, for the better.  I want to die having left a mark, not because I want to be remembered, but because I want to die knowing that I did all that I could for this beautifully broken world.  I want to make a difference.

Alas, I am quite aware that my quest to change the world is not possible nor feasible.  But, the fear of the future is very real.  In a few months, I will be a college graduate who is broke, homeless, and jobless (unless things fall together before then); but, I will have a degree in hand and knowledge in my head.  I guess that makes it a little bit less scary.  There's been a restlessness deep in my soul for quite some time - a desire to see it all, experience it all, and take the whole world in.  Wanderlust.  Those who know me well at all know that if I had the chance to hop on a plane headed really anywhere in the world tomorrow, I would do it.  That terrifies people and there aren't many people I know that would do the same.  One of those stupid movies that no one really likes, but I love, is New Year's Eve.  Its corny and has a bunch of different story lines that meet at the end, giving you a heart-warming feeling and an overwhelming sense of optimism for the future.  In the middle of the movie, a teen girl named Hailey says to her mom, "The world doesn't scare me, okay?  Its just getting good.  I wanna start living in it!"  Thats how I feel.  This has resonated with me so much as the reality of the "real world" coming so quickly has begun to sink in.  If I could do anything and money was no cost, I would move to the Philippines or India and just love orphans for the rest of my life.  And honestly, it is hard for me to imagine living in the United States for the rest of my life at a 9-5 office job, driving from one place to the next.  But, my dream is not really an option at this point in my life.  So, as I try to plan my years after graduation, I feel nothing but confused.

Do you ever hear a song that sounds as if it was written for you at that moment in time?  This week, I've had that experience twice.  I truly believe that there's a reason I heard both of the songs when I did. Because they have calmed me and reassured me that everything is going to be okay.  Yesterday, I heard a song called "Help Me Find It."  Its one of those very mom-esque songs that plays on K-Love in the van on the way to the grocery store.  The style of the song alone is something I normally would have skipped right past, but the lyrics pray something profound and beautiful.  "I don't know where to go from here; it all used to seem so clear; I'm finding I can't do this on my own...I will trust in You; I'm finally letting go; You've never failed before...If there's a road I should walk; help me find it; If I need to be still; give me peace for the moment; whatever your will, can you help me find it..."  Beautiful, right?  I can put up with the cheesy and cliche tune for those words.  I usually find myself scheming to travel, and maybe that's God's will, but maybe its not.  Maybe just being still is something I need to learn to teach my restless soul to do.  One of my favorite bands, Rend Collective Experiment released a new album this week and one of the songs, titled "Movement" sings:  "I'm running fast and free to you cuz you are the movement and fight in me; I'm running fast and free to you cuz you are my hope where I wanna be, come move in me...I won't walk away, I won't walk away." Exodus 14:14 reads, "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still."  I don't need to pave the way for my future.  God has given me gifts that I don't even notice and wherever He leads me, He will equip me.  He will fight for me and be the movement within me.  No matter where the future brings me, it doesn't need to be scary.  I'm beginning to see it as exciting, rather than daunting.  There is so much potential in the world and in life.

I don't know what the future holds right now.  I don't know what I'm going to do after graduation.  Maybe it holds a lifetime of travel.  Maybe it holds a 9-5 office job.  Maybe it holds something else.  Whatever it does hold, though, I can be excited for it.  And, no matter what the future brings, I will keep believing in the naivety of my dream:  I will make a difference.

I should be studying.

Finals are only a few days away and I really should be studying like a good girl.  But, I have realized that thoughts are only fleeting and when I don't write them down, they leave my mind as quickly as they enter.  So, before I hit the books, take a trip with me.

Let me set the stage.  The bus stop on 3rd and Pike is a microcosm of city life.  It is filled with such a diverse group of people: old and young, black and white, educated business owners and uneducated homeless people, drug dealers and students from private universities.  Most of the time, this particular bus stop is a scary place to be.  I have been offered drugs on multiple occasions and have found that the safest bet is to just put in my headphones and block out the world until bus 13 pulls up to the curb so I can scan my bus pass and ditch the terrifyingly diverse crowd of people.  Today, however, was different.  After minimal sleep and a couple too many "snoozes" of the alarm, I was running late to catch my bus.  I forgot my headphones.  This wasn't a problem on the early morning bus ride because there are less people out and about, and less people means less to worry about.  But after my internship, however, I realized I had to brave that bus stop for a whole 20 minutes without headphones.  It may sound silly, but I was legitimately worried.  After walking a few blocks from the building in which I work to the bus stop, I realized that I would have to try to blend in.  So, I slunk against the wall of the building behind me, along with a few other stragglers.  Pretending to be in my own little world, I heard and saw the most interesting things.

Scene 1.
A disgruntled man, probably in his 50's approaches me.  "Ayy miss, you got a smoke on ya?"  I kindly reply, "No, sorry, I don't smoke," all the while thinking to myself, "Seriously?  Do I look like I have a smoke in my purse that I am going to hand over to you?"  With sad eyes, he turned the other way.  Out of what seemed like nowhere, one of this man's old friends appeared (or at least it sure seemed like they had known eachother).  "Man, you got a smoke?" the first man asked.  The newcomer replied, "Nah, I don't do that anymore.  I got clean."  "You got clean?" a shocked voice inquired.  "Yeah.  I have a granddaughter now.  Did it for her."  "You got sponsors and all that?"  "Yeah.  Yeah I do."  "I'm proud of you man.  I'd love to meet your granddaughter some day."  Then, the conversation was done.
It seemed like something out of a movie; it just didn't seem real.  I couldn't stop thinking about their conversation all day.  On one hand, I felt so much sadness for that man's child who grew up with what seemed to be a very absent father.  On the other hand, though, I felt so much gladness that his grandchild will know a grandfather - a clean and sober grandfather.  And in the confusing array of emotions brewing inside me, there was hope.  Hope for the man, his child, and his grandchild; but, also hope for the first man, because you never know what it will take to spark a change.  Maybe seeing his old friend get clean is the spark he needed.  All I can do is hope and pray.

Scene 2.
An old man with a walking stick used by the blind was slowly walking down the sidewalk.  He was all alone.  Nobody was moving out of the way or offering assistance.  It was as if he was invisible.  He looked lost and was walking so very slowly as if he was hoping that someone would help him out.  But, nobody did.  I knew I should.  Inside, all I could think about was how unfair it was that I could see and he couldn't.  I did nothing to deserve sight, and he did nothing to deserve not having sight.  But yet, the reality was that I had vision and he didn't.  I knew I should help, but it was as if something deep down in me was paralyzed; all I could do was silently watch as tears welled up in my eyes.  Why was no one helping?  Why was I not helping?  And, as slowly as he had walked on to the block, he disappeared around the corner.  The minute he disappeared, I was stricken by an almost painful sensation of guilt.  Why did I just stand there and do nothing?  I realized then, that I had missed my opportunity and at that moment, all I could do was pray.  So, I prayed, choking back tears (I don't know why it moved me so much to see this blind man, but it did).  I prayed that he would be guided and that someone would offer this man help if that is what he needed.  A couple minutes later, the man rounded the corner that he had just disappeared behind with a woman that I would never have thought would think twice about a blind old man.  She was clearly homeless, probably in her high 20s or early 30s.  She was guiding the blind man.  Eventually, they walked past me and I there was no doubt in my mind that this homeless woman would help this blind man find the place he was looking for.  The whole thing was nothing short of beautiful; and yet again, I was filled with hope, because I had seen that even in a world with so much sadness, people do care.  And it shook my world to see that the person that cared this time was the person I had never expected.

Scene 3.
Finally, the bus pulled up.  It seemed as though I had waited eons in the cold and rainy dampness that is Seattle for that bus.  I waited in a line at the front door while the bus driver lowered the lift so that a woman in a wheelchair could exit at this stop while the rest of the passengers exited at the back door.  I saw a grungy looking woman sneak on the back of the bus while others were exiting, knowing that it was not allowed and that she was trying to skip out on her fare.  When the wheelchair lift retracted into the bus, the whole line realized that the bus driver had seen the woman sneak on too.  He would not let all of us who were lined up on the bus.  Instead, he began to yell at this woman, telling her that she needed to pay her fare or find another bus that would let her slide on unnoticed.  She pretended to ignore him for a while until his loud voice and obvious relentlessness moved her to come to the front of the bus.  She apologized for the confusion and pulled a couple of dollar bills out of her backpack and paid her fare.  She proceeded to sit in the front seat of the bus and ask the bus driver if he stopped on Mercer.  He ignored her for a while but she persisted.  As all of us in line finally found seats, he said that the bus did stop at Mercer and 1st.  She asked if that was close to Seattle Center.  He said that it was in the same general area.  The bus stopped at Mercer and 1st and the woman did not exit the bus.  She asked the driver if she could be informed where the closest stop to Seattle Center was.  A few stops later, he told her that it was the Seattle Center stop.  She chose not to get off and wanted to wait until the Key Arena stop.  The driver was getting frustrated and told the woman, while the bus was approaching the Key Arena stop, that this was the stop she should get off at.  At this point, the woman seemed very overwhelmed.  She said that she was looking for something that was by Seattle Center and Key Arena.  "I can't help you, but this is your stop," the driver said firmly.  A man from the back of the bus, quite a ways away, with a cane and some very large glasses stood up at the stop and told the woman that he was familiar with the area of town and would help her find what she was looking for.  The man with the cane and the woman with the backpack exited the bus and disappeared toward Key Arena.  I don't know what prompted the man with the cane to help this woman find what she was looking for, but there is no doubt in my mind that she was grateful he did.  Yet again, help for this woman came from the most unexpected place.

Finale.
I can't stop thinking about these three situations I encountered today.  I still am not sure what to make of them.  All I know is that when I finally got off of the bus, I felt an overwhelming sense of hope.  I saw that help comes when it is needed the most, and that, today at least, it came from the most unexpected people in the most unexpected places.  And, I know that there is beauty in this broken world and that God is at work.  If these kind of beautiful interactions can happen on this earth, just imagine the beauty that is yet to come.  

drip drop

Here I sit, in the science building in between classes, watching almost microscopic raindrops lay mist on all who come in their way, trying to decide if I really do want Starbucks bad enough to make the trek to my car and the 2-mile drive to the coffee shop.  Somehow, somewhere along the road, I have slunk back into comfort.  But as I watch the mist in the air, I can think of nothing but monsoon season in India.  The heavy raindrops that could flood streets in a matter of minutes have somehow managed to flood my mind.  There is something so beautiful about the monsoon: it is completely unpredictable.  You never know when the rains will hit, or for how long they will last.  The only thing you really can know is that they will affect your day.  You will be stuck and stranded.  But in that moment of the first monsoon rain that I ever experienced, I discovered that in the moment of finding out that the rains were coming down, you have the choice to be nothing but inconvenienced by the rain, and wait for the streets to become clear and accessible  or you can simply be thankful for the rain and embrace the spontaneity of the rain with open arms and a smile.  Because, who doesn't like dancing in the rain?  Life is so much like the rain.  There is always going to be rain, but getting lost in the beauty of the rain can make all the difference.   Its so easy to be comfortable; our culture has taught us that fighting for comfort is of utmost importance.  But when we are accustomed to comfort and the monsoon rains begin to fall, they throw us off track and keep us off of the roads.  So why not take time to rejoice in the rains as well as the sunshine?

"When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider:  God has made one as well as the other.  Therefore, a man cannot discover anything about his future." (Ecclesiases 7:14)

In the sun, and the rain, I will realize that I am blessed.  I choose joy.  

Dear Joshua,

You are impossible to forget, my dear boy.  You touched my life in a way that no one else has.  You were such a small child when I met you and had grown so much bigger when I saw you for the second time.  Now all I have of you are pictures, and I see that you are growing up so fast.  I wish I could see you and play games with you again.  I hope that you know that you are not and never will be forgotten.  You changed my life, my worldview, and my heart.  Jesus' love shined through your silly laugh and goofy jog.  I hope you know how special you are and how much you are loved.  I have faith that there is a family out there just waiting to adopt someone as special as you; so, keep waiting until that day.  It will take a special family to receive a special son like you.  You are always in my thoughts and my prayers, Joshua.  I hope to see you again, soon.  You are loved.  

they say that home is where the heart is...

Its a strange time of year when I prepare to pack up my possessions and leave home to go...to my other home?  I remember franticly putting what seemed to be my whole life into boxes before my freshman year of college prior to moving away from the place I was born and raised, the place where my family and friends were, the place I loved, and the place I called home.  As my parents and I drove away that day, I remember feeling numb - not happy, not sad, not excited, not scared (or maybe I was just too happy, sad, excited and scared that I couldn't feel any of them) - and my dad told me that in a few months, Bozeman wouldn't feel like home anymore and that in a few years, Seattle would feel like home.  It took less time than I anticipated for this to become true.  I was thrilled and overjoyed to be home for Thanksgiving and for Christmas, but nothing was the same.  It was wonderful to catch up with high school friends, but all the while, I missed my college friends.  Throughout the years, the pattern has continued.  Each time I return to Bozeman, a little piece of me is missing that can only be found in Seattle.  

The cities of Bozeman and Seattle are near and dear to my heart and they both hold a very special place.  Yes, its the landscape; its those quiet and peaceful mountains and rivers and spaces that Bozeman has to offer, and its the busy and bustling sounds of downtown Seattle and the aroma of salt water and the crisp west coast air.  But, its also the people; its my parents and brothers and the friends I grew up with (who feel more like sisters), its the friends I've met who come from places as different from my hometown as they come.  It seems almost as though the cliche saying, "home is where the heart is," is true.  In that saying is where I get lost in the mucky waters of confusion and perplexity.  My heart is in so many places.  It is, of course, with my family in MT, my friends in WA, and other friends and relatives located all over the country.  But, my heart is in other places around the world too.  It is in the Philippines with the beautiful orphans who have blessed and touched my life more than they will ever know.  It is in Vietnam with the friends I made amidst the language barrier, who taught me that laughing and loving need no spoken or written language, as they speak for themselves.  It is in India with the neglected and orphaned children, the friends, teachers, mentors and role models that have impacted who I am as a person in more ways than one.

So, I guess, as I sit here in my living room at home, trying to determine where home actually is, I have yet to find an answer.  Maybe home can be wherever I want it to be, where I can see the landscapes that make my heart smile, where I can feel the warm embrace of those whom I love, where my nostrils are filled with those familiar aromas that bring happiness, where I recognize the noises around me, and where I can fill my stomach with foods that bring flooding back memories.  Maybe home will be continually changing throughout my life.  Maybe home, to me, will always be in more places than one.  Or, maybe, I can't fully grasp "home," because someday, I truly will be home, in a home that is perfect, a home with a family that is forever and a Father who holds the world in His hands.  So maybe home isn't something to be fully understood until that day, when I finally get there.  And when I do, I believe, without a doubt, that I will truly be home, and there will be no doubt in my mind that I have found a place that is home.

[ r a w ]

I don't know about you, but the world and all of its brokenness have a way of getting me down.  Innocent people being massacred in a movie theater (a movie that I was watching at the time it all happened).  Young girls being sold into prostitution because they are in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The ever growing gap between the rich and the poor.  Dozens dead from a bad rainstorm in Asia.  The real issues, the things that matter seem to be constantly slid under the carpet and ignored; after all, it is more fun and much easier to hear about the upcoming olympic athletes and all of the great things that the presidential candidates have to offer.  But it seems that whenever I'm not thinking about the world, I'm focused on my own loneliness, which shrivels in comparison to those around the world who may be truly alone.  But, I blame it on the devil.  I've been casually flipping through and re-reading parts of C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters and it is terrifying just how Screwtape tries to steal humanity away from Christ and His goodness.  The scary thing is that the devil is like that and I've seen his handiwork all over the world; this summer, it seems like making me feel completely alone is the task.  Scarily, it usually works.

For some reason, though (I suppose I don't really believe in coincidences, making it more of a God thing than anything else), today I thought it would be a good idea to flip through old sermon notes; there was no reason for it, I just wanted to.  As I was turning the pages of my journal, something that I had written down jumped out at me and I was reminded of one of Mark Driscoll's sermons that I had heard a while back in Seattle.  He said, in reference to fear and suffering, "They can take everything from you, but they cannot take your Jesus."  Things flew back into perspective. The world is going to continue to be broken - I can spend my life working for the Kingdom and making it a little bit of a better place, but things are going to continue to be terribly messed up until the beautiful day when Christ returns.  The devil can strip everything from me - my friends, my momentary happiness, all of it.  But you know what satan?  You can't take my Jesus.  And after all, He's really all that matters.  He is joy and peace and love and all that is good in life.  My Jesus can get me through, and no one can take my Heavenly Father from me.  How cool is that?