Here I Go Again --Casting Crowns

Father, hear my prayer
I need the perfect words
Words that he will hear
And know they're straight from You
I don't know what to say
I only know it hurts
To see my only friend slowly fade away

Chorus:
So maybe this time
I'll speak the words of life
With Your fire in my eyes
But that old familiar fear
is tearin' at my words
What am I so afraid of?
'Cause here I go again
Talkin' 'bout the rain
And mullin' over things
that won't live past today
And as I dance around the truth
Time is not his friend
This might be my last chance
to tell him that You love Him

But here I go again
Here I go again

Lord, You love him so
You gave Your only Son
If he will just believe
He will never die
But how then will he know
What he has never heard?
Lord he has never seen mirrored in my life

But here I go again
Here I go, here I go

This might be my last chance
To tell him that You love him
This might be my last chance
To tell him that You love him
You love him, You love him
What am I so afraid
What am I so afraid
What am I so afraid of?
How then will he know
What he has never heard?

... blessed...

I am so blessed.

Smug? No. Gloating? Hardly. Blown away? Now that's getting close.

Delighted, contented, happily-surprised.

I am so grateful for the people God has put into my life, for whatever purpose, with whatever design. It's not quite to the point of being overwhelmed... just an acute awareness of God's compassionate favor toward me, always undeserved.

Yesterday afternoon, almost 50 people came by (about 10 of them kids) for a graduation-open-house thing... I was blown away! I guess I didn't realize so many would come. Or I didn't prepare myself for the noise level of multiple conversations happening at once, or the hubbub of arrivals and greetings and hugs and questions and laughter and talking and eating. It was really good. I enjoyed it immensely, and hope everyone who came did too. It's hard to keep track of people when there are so many of them... and it's hard to have interactions of substance with anyone, but it can be done, in spurts. I trust everyone forgave me for becoming distracted with new people arriving: "hi! thank you so much for coming! so good to see you! how are you? " with my typical perky self hopefully helping people feel at ease. The food, over which Mom and I labored the last few days, went smashingly, if I say so myself. Mostly desserts left over, which is nice... they're definitely freezable. I felt so stuffed afterward, most of my food consumption coming from the "cleaning up" and putting away of the food after everyone had left, not having much opportunity to eat while people were actually here. Good times.

I have to say, the funniest gift was for my memory, in case I get rusty being out of school and all... it was a 'Disney princess' variety of Memory, the game. This along with coloring books to help me brush up on my alphabet and spelling (also smothered with Disney princesses and pink). Too funny.

God is so gracious. He has used others to make me what I am today; and I hope people got the idea that the party wasn't really about celebrating me and all my "wonderful accomplishments." It's to rejoice at God's hand at work, to marvel at the process He uses to *make* people... not just create them initially, but form them, mold them, shape them over time through their circumstances, their education certainly, and their surrounding network of people. What a wonderful thing that is!

God is good.
God is real.
God is personal.
God is forever.
God is patient.
God is kind... and is already all the things He calls us to.
God is extravagant... going "above and beyond the call of duty" (whatever that is!)... sending His Son. He didn't have to. But He did.
God is oh so gracious.
God is tender.
God is Abba.
God is here.
God is always God.
God is thoughtful.
God is God.

I think I know what it means when it says, "cup runneth over." I feel like my heart is running over with an awareness of blessedness. I need to remember that feeling and remind myself of it whenever I start to feel less than blessed... or unfairly treated... or start to allow a complaining spirit to take root.

I take comfort in belonging to God. It's a very strengthening truth. Can't wait for the day when I will be perfectly obedient, perfectly complete in Him, and with Him.

M

Blear-jet

Bleary-eyed definitely describes me at the moment. I'm slouching at a computer in the library, grimacing a bit in order to keep my eyes open at all. It's 11:52 p.m., Monday of Finals Week. I have been here, excepting meal breaks and a mandatory loan consolidation seminar, since 9 a.m., which amounts to around 11 hours so far. (Lib's open til 2 a.m. during Finals Week.) 10 pages of my Milton paper have come into existence during that time, and the other 8 or so have been rearranged, pared, cut-n-pasted, and otherwise edited until they reach some semblance of coherence. I got stuck at several points, but passed a milestone or two along the way: at 12 pages, it became the longest paper I've ever written! I am, while being on the verge of groggily lethargic, understandably jumpy because Sean H has this wonderful habit of sneaking up behind me and growling in my ear. I'm not gonna lie, it gets me every time. I have two papers to turn in tomorrow morning, then I'm essentially done until Thursday, on which day I will study for my optional Foundations final and perhaps pack, but a definite part of the agenda will be hanging out with my parents, who will be arriving that afternoon. For Graduation weekend.

My wooden chair has become more uncomfortable by the minute. I'm starting to catch myself in random episodes of blank-staring.

I have no reason to complain about anything. Even when it's Finals Week and I have to do something "hard," it's so trivial. God is my rock, He is my center, the reason I do anything. I give shoulder rubs and read books and write papers and eat food and lay in the sunny grass because He enables me. Too often I forget that and think I run my own life. I presume to think I know what is best for me.

I learned today that Ecclesiastes is perhaps not the best book to read for your devotional time when you are dreading the ordeal of writing a huge paper. :) I was almost tempted to blow it off, quoting, "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity!" But I resisted that urge, and worked hard on the paper instead. And God helped me to finish it, notwithstanding one last entry for my bibliography.

It struck me today: Four days from today is Graduation. A day, a week goes by so quickly. It's almost here. Am I living well, to the end? (Or, the beginning.) There is no guarantee of tomorrow, for anyone. Life here is short; eternity is forever. But I don't live like it. I usually allow eternal thoughts to drift to the back of my mind, unheeding of the urgency of the call to 'live in a manner worthy.' Preoccupied with my own selfish thoughts about my own little life, I squander kingdom-time in favor of pleasing myself. I don't really want God to be glorified by my life; I just want to look like I want it, and I want to look like God is glorified by my life. Fighting the flesh is a constant in this life. But it's worth it when we dust off those "things above" thoughts and bring them into the light, for that practice yields the proper perspective.

Friends are awesome. Interpersonal relationships can be complicated. Saying goodbye is weird and hard. Life is about to change in a massive way... but it's not something I can't deal with, with God's help. It's inconsequential, in the truly grand scheme of things.

Press on, and rejoice always, as I will strive to.
M

I sat in the gazebo tonight...

I sat in the gazebo tonight, for a time, soaking up my surroundings. Hands folded atop a weighty Milton book, my inseparable companion of late, I looked around at the immaculately trimmed grass, the garden-green plastic tables and chairs comprising “Under the Oaks,” the row of international flags across the street near the baseball field. The buildings in my immediate frame of reference have been useful to me during my stay here: King Hall, home of Student Life; Vider Hall, of Registrar’s Office fame… the gym, functioning for chapel and home games. Can’t forget the guard shack, manned by a rotation of seminary students. On my way “home” to my dorm, I walked slowly up the steps by Hotchkiss, steps traversed so many times—skipping, plodding, tripping, bouncing; eyes closed once on a dare, or squinting in the sun-glare, now and then dancing with my moonlight-shadow after a night of studying. Right outside my dorm I witnessed teamwork between pine trees and streetlamps: shadows painted on the sidewalk, swaying slightly in a breath of air, creating collaborative night-time art. The air was half-fog, moist and mild, not terribly obscuring visibility.

With a brimming heart I offer myself to my God, so thankful for what He’s lavished on me here. The surroundings are precious to me because of the people, because of the way God has changed me during the time here. My heart is full of memories—stirring conversations near those steps there, a hug and a prayer by that tree, and on that bench, I once provided a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on. I can’t count the number of times I have walked down “the hill” to the caf, sometimes losing the shoes and going barefoot, just for fun. I’ve been exhausted and weepy and exhilarated and goofy and pensive and joyful and tickled and hurt and tense and frustrated and discouraged and elated: I’ve been me, here.

Will the europa bushes remember me, remember all the yellow daisy-like flowers I’ve plucked and adorned my hair with? Will the flagpoles miss my upturned eyes, searching, confirming all is well with the three flags snapping in the wind? Will echoes of my voice remain in the student center; do booths tell secrets? Will any of the pianos in the practice rooms notice my fingers are no longer tickling their keys, though others’ hands remain?

I’ll admit it’s silly to attribute longing and mourning to inanimate objects, but facing change can do that to a person’s imagination.

Tonight, Chorale gave their last full concert of the year. I didn’t cry the whole time, but Susie cautioned me against dehydration, a thought new to me. :) So what if I cried during the Baccalaureate Chapel yesterday? I was enjoying the sound of 1100 people singing holy, holy, holy to a worthy God. I was painfully aware of the fact that I am leaving soon, for good. And I will deal with it; I have to; it is my privilege to do so, because it is God’s plan for me.

He has an amazing plan, a good plan. He is good; why should I dread the future? I have no reason to be anything but excited about it, knowing what I do of His nature, He who does not lie or change or die.

I absolutely cannot complain, one iota. God has been so good and so gracious to me. I am utterly thankful for His grace on me, to allow me to be here for any amount of time at all. I think I’m just storing up these things in my heart, to cherish them with joy and thanksgiving. Isn’t that ok? So many people have encouraged me, and hopefully received encouragement from me. So many have borne my idiosyncrasies, and I theirs. So many times I’ve ignored others for my own interests and withdrawn in loneliness or selfishness. Yet God is forever; He is love; He is Savior to me. Unfathomable.

Tomorrow morning is Year End Show, the long-awaited day where we as a student body reminisce about the school year in a multi-media blitz of videos and skits, which our Chapel Media friends and ASB have worked so hard to produce. It is also the last time I will be assembled with “my group” at “our spot” on the bleachers. I must steel myself to say good-bye to that experience with peace and solid-tude, grounded in my faith in my God and content to follow Him wherever He takes me—for it might be anywhere. That’s the exciting part, and the terrifying part. I do trust Him, though. I have tasted and seen. Bless His name at all times, o my soul. My filled-up heart and mind: praise Him and forget not all His benefits.

M