The Fault in Our Stars

“But it’s not a cancer book, because cancer books suck. Like, in cancer books, the cancer person  starts a charity that raises money to fight cancer, right? And this commitment to charity reminds the cancer person of the essential goodness of humanity and makes him/her feel loved and encouraged because s/he will leave a cancer-curing legacy. But in [An Imperial Affliction], Anna decides that being a person with cancer who starts a cancer charity is a bit narcissistic, so she starts a charity called The Anna Foundation for People with Cancer Who Want to Cure Cholera.”

-John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

* * *

The above quote occurs early in the fourth chapter of the young adult novel The Fault in Our Stars and is a good indication of how the rest of the book will go. The narrator is Hazel, a teenaged girl who has had cancer for three years. She carries an oxygen tank everywhere she goes, she attends a Support Group that seems highly unhelpful, she loves her parents, she reads poetry from Eliot and Ginsberg, and she meets (early in the novel, at the previously mentioned unhelpful Support Group) a cancer survivor named Augustus Waters, with whom she eventually falls in love.

This, too, is not your typical cancer book. Throw every comparison to A Walk to Remember or Lurlene McDaniel out of the window. Instead, think of the Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank. In fact, John Green sends Hazel and Augustus to Amsterdam, where they have an incredible moment in the Anne Frank Museum, and I was reminded of why I loved and lamented Frank’s diary so much: I knew how the book was going to end. I got to know the characters, but I, the reader, understood that I could not be with the characters for long, even within the pages of the novel.

The beautiful thing about this book is that you know tragedy will occur. Hazel is very grounded, very accepting of the fact that she has a terminal cancer. She knows there is no cure; she knows the drugs she’s taking are only prolonging her life, not ending the cancer. She can, however, still lament the brevity of life. She can seeks to understand life in the short time she has.

Cancer is not portrayed as romantic, as in other novels. It is heartbreaking and devastating in so many ways. Hazel and Gus, and I and everyone else who’s read this, understand that.

* * *

In spite of the sadness, this book is funny and alive. The dialogue is fabulous–Hazel and Gus are quirky and intelligent, and their conversations often reminded me of conversations I’ve had with my best friend.

Green is also great at metafiction–reminding the reader that this is a novel, not reality. In the book, Hazel’s favorite novel is An Imperial Affliction, which Gus also reads. This novel drives a lot of the plot of the story as Gus chooses to use a “Wish” from a nonprofit organization to take Hazel to Amsterdam to meet the author of the novel. Hazel, in all her rereadings of the book, has hoped to discern what happens to the character after the book’s abrupt end. When she finally meets the author–who is a total jerk (to be nice)–he explains:

“But to be perfectly frank, this childish idea that the author of a novel has some special insight into the characters in the novel…it’s ridiculous. That novel was composed of scratches on a page, dear. The characters inhabiting it have no life outside of those scratches. What happened to them? They all ceased to exist the moment the novel ended.”

This tirade, combined with Green’s author’s note that the novel is a work of fiction, serve as a reminder of the power of a story: we can care so much about characters, be driven to powerful emotion, travel around the world just to discover more of the story.

This reminder made it easier on me to finish the book. I don’t remember the last time I cried so much while reading a book. And while I lamented losing characters who had become dear to me, I also remembered that their stories actually did end when I turned the last page, and I remembered that my life continues beyond the close of the book. And while I continue to live, I remember what I’ve learned from stories: that life and love matter, even when they’re oh-so-difficult.

26: A Playlist for the Alphabet

Tomorrow is my 26th birthday. While last year seemed like such a milestone, this year, I’m not sure I’ll even celebrate. Maybe that’s because I’m busy and tired, or maybe it’s because most of the people I want to celebrate with are out-of-town or busy. Probably, though, it’s because 26 just doesn’t seem like a special number. (25 = 5 x 5. I like everything to be in multiples of 5, so last year, 25 just seemed like the absolute perfect number and the perfect age to be. Weird, huh?)

However, 26 is the number of letters in the English alphabet, so that’s kind of cool. To celebrate, I decided to make a new iTunes playlist–one of my favorite songs for each letter of the alphabet. You’d be surprised how difficult that was–do you know how many of my favorite songs start with the letter W? A lot. But here’s what I came up with:

A: “Awake My Soul,” Mumford & Sons.

My most-played track on iTunes. My current favorite song, period. Is it wrong to tell you that I cried when they played this live Tuesday night in Asheville? I don’t have words to explain how much I love this song. Watch this video and smile because not only is the song beautiful, but Mumford & Sons are also just SO DARN  CUTE.

B: “The Ballad of Love and Hate,” The Avett Brothers.

The song that made me love The Avett Brothers. Also a beautiful song.

C: “C’Mon, C’Mon,” Switchfoot.

Like so many Switchfoot songs, this one is about purpose and fighting for a life worth living. It’s from one of their EPs, and I actually only acquired it a few months ago.

D: “Drift Away,” Dobie Gray.

Old-school rock ‘n roll. Music about music. Wonderful. Also, this video is Dobie Gray singing the song in 1974.

E: “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues,” The Gaslight Anthem.

My favorite song from the fantastic album The ’59 Sound. I love this song because it’s slow and nostalgic and it still rocks. This is a song that makes me want to be young and idealistic and never really grow up.

F: “Fields of Gold,” Sting.

One of the songs I grew up hearing on the radio that I realized as I got older I really, really loved. But then again, how could you not love Sting?

G: “Gold Digger,” Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx.

No, this isn’t a joke. This actually is one of my favorite songs–so much so that it was easy to pick out a track for the letter G. I can sing all the words to the song. Harvin finds this fact to be the absolute most intriguing thing about me.

H: “Head Full of Doubt / Road Full of Promise,” The Avett Brothers.

Sometimes, this (along with “Awake My Soul”) is just what I need to give me the energy to walk out of the door and face a new day: “If you’re loved by someone you’re never rejected / Decide what to be and go be it.” Also, the video is just wonderful.

I: “I Will Follow You Into the Dark,” Death Cab for Cutie.

Now, for something completely different. Melancholy and a bit emo, but I love it anyway.

J: “Joy to the World,” Three Dog Night.

Do I really need to explain why this song is awesome?

K: “Kiss Me,” Sixpence None the Richer.

This song came out when I was 13 and obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who, at the time, was attending the prom without her vampire boyfriend Angel. This song is everything a romance-minded 13-year-old girl could love, and I (not so secretly now) still love the song.

L: “Let Me Back In,” Explosions in the Sky.

From their newest album Take Care, Take Care, Take Care. The first time I heard this, I was on the way to work (I had woken up early to download the album on the release day). And I realized when listening to this track that I was grinning like crazy because this song is so crazily-beautifully-wonderfully fun and hopeful that I could not control my smile.

M: “Mr. Jones,” Counting Crows.

I never get sick of this song. I can’t even explain why it’s so good; it just is. I love Counting Crows, but this is unarguably the greatest song they’ve ever written.

N: “Next to Me,” Civil Twilight.

This was also a difficult letter to choose, but in the end, I had to go with one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands. This is one of Civil Twilight’s newest songs (from the re-released album that actually came out about a year and a half ago), and it’s my current favorite CT song.

O: “One Headlight,” The Wallflowers.

Oh, the 90s. Weren’t they great?

P: “Pinebox,” The Winter Sounds.

If you’ve never listened to The Winter Sounds, go look them up right now. They’re amazing. They’re also great live, and this is such a phenomenal song.

Q: “The Queen of Lower Chelsea,” The Gaslight Anthem.

Not many songs start with the letter Q, but fortunately, there’s at least one great one. From The Gaslight Anthem’s last album, American Slang, released last summer. They grew up some after The ’59 Sound, and if that album made me want to stay young and idealistic, this album makes me realize that, even if being an adult brings changes, it’ll be okay anyway.

R: “Ready to Start,” Arcade Fire.

From The Suburbs, which rightfully won Album of the Year at the Grammys this year. Good heavens, this album is amazing from start to finish, and even though this song wasn’t my favorite in the beginning, I’ve found myself listening to it more and more lately as I’ve realized how brilliant it is. The song is edgy and even a bit defensive; it’s about recognizing that we often do things because of what other people we think, and it’s about being intentional in saying we’re not going to live our lives a certain way just because other people do to. Example: “All the kids have always known / That the emperor wears no clothes / But they bow down to him anyway / Because it’s better than being alone.”

After Arcade Fire accepted the Grammy, Win Butler set the trophy on an amp and proceeded to play this song as everyone started asking, “Who is Arcade Fire?!?”

S: “Stand By Me,” Ben E. King.

“When the night is young / And the land is dark / And the moon is the only light we’ll see . . . ” Come on, you know you love it, too.

T: “Teardrop (Live),” Civil Twilight.

I discovered the band Massive Attack because Civil Twilight almost always covers this wonderful song at their shows. The lyrics are a little different, and I prefer Civil Twilight’s version (probably because I just love them so freakin’ much.) Also, aren’t they adorable? Yes, yes, they are.

U: “Uprising,” Muse.

Epic. So epic.

V: “Virgin,” Manchester Orchestra.

This song makes me want to fight somebody. I get sort of twitchy and restless when I listen to it. That’s actually just what I expect of Manchester Orchestra. I don’t really know why that’s a good thing; it just is. Here’s the band performing on Letterman just a few weeks ago:

W: “We Used to Wait,” Arcade Fire.

Although a ton of great songs start with W, this was the obvious choice. I like to listen to this song on repeat while I read T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” Expect a lengthy blog post about that soon. In the meantime, go to the website The Wilderness Downtown and be amazed.

X: “Xanadu,” Olivia Newton-John.

I almost cheated and chose Moby’s “Extreme Ways” for this, but then I decided not to break my self-imposed rules. I chose this one because Xanadu is a ridiculously awesome movie, just like the 80s.

Y: “Your Hand in Mine,” Explosions in the Sky.

My favorite Explosions song. So beautiful. [Note: This almost lost to my favorite Switchfoot song "Your Love is a Song." But in the end, I decided this was even better to start closing out the playlist.]

Z: “Zephyrus,” Bloc Party.

I had one song that starts with Z in my entire iTunes library. Fortunately, it’s a great song by a great band.

After the Storm

I met my family in Columbia for dinner tonight, and I left the restaurant around 8:30. As I pulled onto I-26, the last rays of sunset illuminated the sky just enough for me to see an ominous cloud sprawled across the horizon. As the sky darkened and I started the long drive back to Greenville, I realized the drive was going to be intense.

I couldn’t gauge how far away the storm was. The lightning lit up the cloud almost constantly, growing stronger and stronger as I continued my drive. Traffic was scarce, and once Columbia was behind me, the road was dark and empty. The massive cloud was always just ahead of me, and eventually, I realized I was paying more attention to the lightning–so powerful and mesmerizing–than to the road. With the trees rising on either side of the interstate, and with little else to distract me, I could only focus on the impending danger ahead. The white lines became a secondary concern to the brilliant streaks of light. For 50 miles, I could only watch the sky, wondering when the rain would come.

As the split to I-385 approached, a few raindrops began to hit my windshield. I turned on my windshield wipers on low speed as the road curved left, and suddenly, the storm hit with little other warning. The rain was so heavy that my wipers, now set on their highest speed, did little to combat the water. The reflectors and white lines of the interstate disappeared under the flowing rain. And I leaned forward as far as I could, desperately praying that I didn’t run off the road and telling myself not to cry because, really, is a raging thunderstorm in the dark when I’m alone really the time to lose it? I also knew that there was no point in pulling over to wait out the storm; I knew I would just have to drive right back into it if I did attempt to wait it out.

Sometimes, the storm is so big and terrifying that I spend ages watching it approach, knowing that the only way out is through, and praying that I reach home on the other side. And when the storm passes, I watch it fade away in the rearview mirror, and I still see the lightning in my peripheral vision; I try to convince my hands to stop gripping the steering wheel so tightly and my heart to stop beating so quickly, and I search the dark, empty road for light or some other sign of civilization to convince myself that the worst has passed. And when I arrive at my destination, I breathe a sigh of relief and I pray that some time will pass before I have to face another challenge like that. I tell myself that the next drive will be better, and I try to embrace hope instead of fear. And I also recognize that the lightning, with all its power and terror, was actually beautiful.

Fighting the Good Fight

This morning, I found comfort and strength in some very familiar words from the Apostle Paul:

Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected: but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me. Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 3:12-14

As an undergrad, these verses often came to mind at the end of the semester when I was exhausted and wondering where I was going to find the time and energy to finish up those last projects. The goal of my calling always seemed to be the end of the semester.

Now, several years later, it’s interesting to see how my perspective has changed. Yes, in some ways, this does still apply to the academic semester. Today, in fact, was the last day of final exams at NGU. I submitted my final grades this mornings, many of my students and friends have left campus, and I don’t have to worry about teaching for several more months. I’m also finishing up my term project for grad school. Pressing on towards the end of that semester.

But the past few days…well, actually, the past few months, I suppose, although everything seems to have culminated in an overwhelming last few days…I’ve been considering the tension in my life between my own desires and God’s calling. This consideration and recognition of the tension, I’m sure, began around the time I felt the call to go to Haiti and began to consider the role that missions is going to play in my life. That tension intensified when my trip to Haiti was postponed. And in the past few weeks, when I’ve thought about what it might look like to leave Greenville and move elsewhere to pursue a Ph.D., when I’ve seen those I love also wrestle with how to follow the very difficult calling of God on their lives, I’ve begun to feel overwhelmed by that tension between earthly desire and divine calling.

Here’s an example: our culture is obsessed with fairy tales. I’ve struggled for years to try to understand this obsession. I was reminded in a huge way early on Friday morning when I stupidly checked Facebook before leaving for work. All of those people awake at 5 a.m., posting ridiculous status updates? They were watching the royal wedding. They watched a girl become a princess after she walked down the aisle in a long white dress and got to kiss the prince.

I’ll admit. The obsession with fairy tales fascinates me because I want it, too. I want to be cherished and desired and adored. But I also recognize that I am imperfect, living in a vastly imperfect world populated by more imperfect people. I cannot have the fairy tale. The fairy tale doesn’t exist, and besides, I want to love a guy with flaws who can also love me in spite of my own flaws.

I also recognize that this desire is not going to come to fruition now. A relationship may not happen any time soon. It may never happen. I also recognize that, if this is the case, it’s because God’s calling is greater than anything I could imagine. Sure, I could get married to a great guy, we could have a family, and I could continue teaching. Maybe that will be my calling eventually. But right now, I have the sense that something bigger is going on. Maybe my trip to Haiti, which should finally happen in December, will be a step in revealing my calling. Maybe moving to another state (such as Texas) to enter a Ph.D. program (like maybe at Baylor) will also be another step in determining where I’m going and what God has planned for my life. Maybe the calling isn’t familiar and safe. Maybe it’s dangerous and challenging and scary and wonderful.

And the kicker–the idea that I’ve been considering more and more lately. Maybe the desires that I have right now–the things I so desperately want–aren’t part of my calling. Maybe the people I love so desperately right now are called in completely different directions, and they are only meant to be part of my life for a season. Maybe in running the race set before me, I have to sacrifice my own selfish desires for something greater than myself–for the glory of God and the spreading of His Kingdom. Maybe I fight against the flesh and fight for the Spirit, a fight that is so difficult when I’m tired and discouraged. A fight that becomes easier when those people I love who are also running their own races are also fighting, too.

All this to say: some days are difficult when I realize that some of my dreams (like a relationship) need to be sacrificed for others (finishing my degree and devoting as much time and energy to my students as I can). But God’s story is bigger than the end of a semester. It’s bigger than a stressful day. It’s way bigger than any fairy tale man could imagine.

Fight the good fight, friends. Fight with and for the God who is never going to let us go.

I struggle to find any truth in your lies.

My favorite song, “Awake My Soul,” by Mumford & Sons begins this way:

“How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes / I struggle to find any truth in your lies / And now my heart stumbles on things I don’t know / My weakness I feel I must finally show”

Sometimes, I look at the people around me and wonder what kind of lies they’re believing. I think about the depth of my inner thoughts, and I recognize that, at any given moment, one of my beloved friends could be fighting an inner battle about which I know nothing. I wonder if their battles are like my own. Are those battles also buried so deeply, entrenched in years of self-doubt, that escape seems improbable–or impossible?

I’ve found that, even in all the end-of-semester busyness, I’ve been experiencing a bit of dissatisfaction lately, and I can see throughout patterns in my life that this dissatisfaction lies in years of self-doubt. What truly amazes me, however, is how absolutely pervasive this self-doubt can be.

One bad class period in which my students don’t respond to any of my instruction. One plagiarized essay. One student who turns in a late assignment. Any one of these incidents brings up questions that I hate to realize I’m asking myself: Do I really want to teach? Is this actually my calling? Am I making any difference? Why am I working so blasted hard for students who clearly don’t care?

This self-doubt leaks over into my own academic life. The grading scale at Gardner-Webb is strict; if I make anything below a 97 in a class, I lose my (pridefully-held) 4.0 average. A 96–a very honorable grade–will earn me a 3.66 in a class, which is bordering on unacceptable, at least to my perfectionist nature. After taking a midterm exam a few weeks ago, I walked out of my professor’s office thinking I had just blown my GPA. I didn’t feel as though I answered the questions thoroughly, and I did not feel as if I adequately expressed my knowledge of American Renaissance literature. Two weeks later, when my midterm was returned to me, I was astounded by my grade–a 99–and my teacher’s comments that the test was clearly too easy for me. I was also a little ashamed of the flood of relief that passed over me as I realized that I still, in fact, have an excellent chance of making above a 97 in the class as a whole. Just days before, I had followed the slippery slope of self-doubt down to questioning my entire future. If I don’t make an A in this class, I’ll lose my 4.0, and I won’t get accepted into grad school at Baylor (where I’m seriously considering entering a Ph.D. program). My pride as an exceptional student is constantly at war with my perceived identity: though I rarely voice the idea, I often feel that if I’m not a perfect student, then I have completely failed at life. I don’t feel as though I’ve ever been good at anything other than academia, and making less than an A clearly means that I’m not even good at that. See? Lies.

The worst part, however, is the lies of my perception of relationships:

The reason you’re approaching 26 and still single is because no guy could ever be interested in you.

That guy you’re interested in? He doesn’t care about you at all. Other girls are so much better.

That girl? She’s only talking to you because she needs something from you.

Your best friends? They think you’re annoying and you talk too much when you drink too much coffee. You should stop that. Don’t do that anymore. You’re always wrong.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

But so comfortable, too. The lure of lies is that they appeal to my selfish nature. When I believe these lies, I’m in control. Yes, berating myself is difficult, but it’s also very powerful. When I blame myself, I’m buying into the lie that I’m actually important (in some negative regard). It’s easier to believe that I’m single because I’m not good enough than because God has some greater plan. Because when I recognize God’s purpose, I have to let go of my own mindset. And letting God love me can be even more difficult than hating myself.

The truth is that I far too often believe the lies. I do not often enough grasp the Truth. This dissatisfaction serves a purpose, however. I recognize the self-doubt, and I begin to actively fight against it. I read Psalm 139 and remind myself that, even in the trenches of self-doubt, I cannot flee from my Father’s presence. I remind myself that truth is found in the cross on which my Savior died, not in my job or my academic career or my relationships with others. I write on my blog because that’s a little easier than saying the words face-to-face. And I listen to Mumford & Sons’ song and I hear the hope at the end: “Awake my soul / For you were made to meet your maker.”

I’m not sure of Mumford & Sons’ intention in those lyrics, but I know Who my Maker is, and I know that He doesn’t want me believing the lies. And I finally find the courage to fight against them and turn to the Truth once more.

On Living Deliberately

On my wrist is a green rubber bracelet that I bought at Walden Pond in August 2009. The bracelet says “LIVE DELIBERATELY” on it, and I never take it off. I need the reminder:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to “glorify God and enjoy him forever.”

Currently, I’m reading Henry David Thoreau’s Walden–in its entirety–for the first time. Though nearly everyone (myself included) is familiar with many of Thoreau’s ideas (such as the above quotation), I never realized how powerful this work of literature is. It isn’t enough to read Thoreau’s passage on living deliberately without understanding how he applied that concept to every moment of his time spent at Walden Pond–even the time spent plowing his bean-field.

Class on Thursday night was a glorious two-and-a-half hour discussion on what it means to live deliberately. Thoreau entitled his first chapter “Economy,” a chapter which composes about one-quarter of the work. By economy, he does not refer merely to financial matters, though that is a part of it. Economy is, in Thoreau’s world, living deliberately–making the most of every resource we’ve been given, particularly time.

We spent a portion of class adapting a definition of economics and applying it to life. We listed scarce resources (time, energy, health, passion, etc.), with restrictions (we must eat and sleep; there are only 24 hours in a day), and determined how we could best use those resources, within the confines of those restrictions, to fully achieve our wants and needs. We spent time reflecting on what we truly want in life and discovered that the 8 of us in the classroom essentially all want similar things: deep, meaningful relationships; health; knowledge; the ability to travel; sanity; etc.

This week, our class is challenged to live deliberately, to fast from some aspect of our lives that does not enable us to live simply. Mostly, we agreed that technology is one area that has a total hold on our lives, that is freeing to give up. So until Tuesday, I’m staying away from Facebook. I’m making an effort not to be enslaved to my email and cell phone (though that is harder than leaving Facebook), and I’m attempting to think about each moment of my day through the perspective of living deliberately. In each moment, I have a choice in my actions–I could waste time in an activity that isn’t productive, that results from boredom; or I could choose to live each moment.

One thing about Thoreau’s idea, however, is that he isn’t Christian. Yes, he gives evidence of knowledge of biblical truth, but he does not espouse it. (For example, he feels that men have “hastily concluded” that our chief end is to glorify God. I tend to agree that this is our chief end, though I have not hastily concluded this premise.) This isn’t a problem for me. As a Christian and a scholar, I recognize that all truth is God’s truth, and even when an author writes from an opposing worldview, I can recognize the pervasiveness of my Father’s glory. For example, after leaving class Thursday night, I passed a church with a marquee imploring me to love the Lord my God with ALL my heart, soul, mind, and strength. And in that moment of thinking about living deliberately and reading the Scripture as I drove past, I realized that this commandment is the very essence of living deliberately for a Christ-follower. Loving God with everything I have is intentional and deliberate and the only way to live fully and completely.

My LIVE DELIBERATELY bracelet isn’t a reminder for me to sell my possessions, move to a cabin in the woods, and plant beans. Instead, it is a reminder that life is a choice. I can choose to fritter it away with meaningless pursuits, or I can choose to deliberately seek the will of my Father in every moment.

Hello, 2011…

…you’re not starting off the way I thought you would. But we’ll get to that momentarily.

In January, I made a list of 5 goals for the year. I accomplished exactly none of them. I came close on a few and completely abandoned others. It seems that sometimes life takes unexpected turns. Many of them. Sometimes all at once.

This past year ended in ways that I didn’t expect and began similarly. But let’s review–my goals and my 2010 before I get to speculating about what 2011 will hold for me.

Goal 1: Don’t check my email before I go to work in the morning. Sometimes, I do, but now I’m more careful not to lose track of time.

Goal 2: Read 100 books I’d never read before. Well, I made it to 79, but my downfall was that I re-read a lot of favorites, which took time away from previously unread books. Alas, this is still quite an accomplishment, I feel.

Goal 3: Devote one hour a week to scrapbooking or crocheting. This resolution was made before I was accepted to Gardner-Webb, before I had a semester in which I taught 36 students in 2 sections of remedial writing while working a full-time job and attending graduate school. Yeah, it’s hard to find time for crafting when there is not enough time in one’s week to begin with.

Goal 4: Help my parents organize and clean their house. This is a work-in-progress. A slow one. But maybe one day.

Goal 5: Mark 12 things off The List. I marked 11 off. Close. So close.

Now, let’s see how the year shaped up, shall we?

January: The year started off great. On Jan. 2, Harvin, Ticcoa, Georgetown, and I headed to Savannah, where I marked two items off the list: visiting the Flannery O’Connor Childhood Home and climbing the Tybee Island Lighthouse. January also marked the beginning of my second semester of teaching at NGU and an unexpected acceptance into the English M.A. program at Gardner-Webb University, a program that I love being a part of. All in all, a good month.

February: This month brought the beginning of the Lent season, which once again proved to be a great learning experience. Also, at the end of February, my friend Chris and I traveled to Lexington, KY, to visit a New Monastic community called Communality. During that weekend, I made several new, amazing friends, and I learned a lot about how to live in a community of believers who love each other deeply.

March: This month brought several more adventures, courtesy of The List: I went to Jamboread, a children’s author festival at the Spartanburg County Public Library, with Harvin, Ticcoa, and Becky, where we met Lois Lowry, Jane Yolen, and Paul O. Zelinsky. Then, later in the month, Harvin, Ticcoa, Michele, Stephen, and I headed down to Milledgeville, GA, to visit Andalusia, home of Flannery O’Connor, and Eatonton, GA, to visit the Uncle Remus Museum.

April: This month, I focused mostly on school. Working on final papers and presentations, getting my students ready for finals, etc. I also bought a MacBook and attending my cousin Summer’s wedding.

May: Most of what happened in May was also school-related. The end of my first semester at Gardner-Webb, finishing up that class in Caribbean Women’s Writing and starting a summer school class on African-American literature, which was also great. This was also the last concert I attended (how has it been so long?): Civil Twilight and Switchfoot at The Music Farm in Charleston!

June brought my 25th birthday on the 10th, on which I climbed a rock wall, one of the items on the list. The next day, Harvin and I headed to Myrtle Beach to stay with our respective families at the SC Firefighter’s Association Annual Convention. Woohoo! I also visited the Shoeless Joe Jackson Museum here in Greenville, marking another item off the list.

July brought the move from our apartment in Greer to our little house in Greenville, so that month was mostly consumed with packing, cleaning, cleaning, unpacking, settling in. That sort of thing. Also, a trip to Filbert, SC, to meet SC writer Dori Sanders.

August: The first week of this month was The Second Annual Road Trip of Epicness. Because Harvin was experiencing back pain, the itinerary changed drastically in the few days before we left, but the trip involved Ticcoa and I driving to Pennsylvania, making stops along the way, and Harvin flying up to meet us at Michele’s aunt house, where we stayed for a few days. My favorite memory of this trip was visiting Antietam National Battlefield, where my great-great-great grandfather was killed during the Civil War. We also visited Philadelphia, touring the Edgar Allan Poe National Historic Site, the Liberty Bell, and Independence Hall.

Upon the return to SC, I started my third semester of teaching at NGU, where I had 36 students enrolled in my classes, more than I’ve ever taught before. I also started my third semester at Gardner-Webb, taking Literary Theory, a class which I really enjoyed.

September was mostly settling into school routine. Balancing teaching all those students with my work in the library and the writing center and my homework for lit theory. The first NGU football game. Apple-picking with Harvin and the Leisters. And, most importantly, my decision to apply for a spot on a mission team to Haiti.

October seems to be the point when my life sped up. The first weekend was the Southern Appalachian Culture Series at Gardner-Webb, my first attendance of a literary conference. Then, on Oct. 12, I applied for my passport. On Oct. 19, I found out I was on the mission team to Haiti. On Oct. 21, I had my first meeting about mission teams and found out about the cholera epidemic in Haiti, and on Oct. 22, I received my passport (marking #100 off the List). In the midst of all of that, I attended my friend Sarah’s wedding, worked a quiz bowl tournament, went to NGU’s Homecoming, graded and editing lots and lots of papers, and did tons of literary theory.

November: So. Much. Work! Grading student essays, working longer hours in the writing center than I ever intended. Writing literary analyses, reading convoluted theorists, drinking lots of coffee, sleeping not enough. Thanksgiving Break with my family.

December: By far, the most difficult month out of my whole year. The end of the semester at North Greenville, and saying goodbye to my students and friends. Getting ready for my own final exam at G-W. Looking forward to Christmas. Then, on Friday, December 10, I got a phone call from my dad, who told me that my grandmother, who had been in the nursing home for 6 years with Alzheimer’s wasn’t doing well. (I’ve written about her before here.) She had stopped eating, and she wasn’t expected to live much longer. I spent the weekend grieving for what was coming, wincing every time my phone ring, waking up early every morning to call my dad and find out if Mama Kat had made it through the night.

On Tuesday, Dec. 14, I was at work, with plans to leave early because my final exam was that evening. Just after 1:00, my mom called to say that my grandmother would die that afternoon. Through the grace and peace of God, I made it to her bedside in time to say my goodbyes. My family was standing around her bedside when she stopped breathing at 4:17 that afternoon. The funeral was on Friday. Maybe I’ll post later about what it’s been like to lose a grandmother whom I love dearly, but not now.

Anyway, as a result of my grandmother’s death, I didn’t get to take my final exam for lit theory. I have an incomplete in the class, and I’ll make up the final later. The student in me hates that this class is still hovering, incomplete; at the same time, I’m glad I made it home to say goodbye to Mama Kat, and that’s worth more than any grade.

After all of that, I still had to get through Christmas while trying to frantically prepare for the trip to Haiti. I’ve been following news coming out of Haiti for a long time, and little of it has been good. Thousands dying from cholera, and many more contracting the terrible disease. Many days of riots, some of even which caused the airport in Port-au-Prince to be shut down for a week. Distrust of foreign aid workers and the Haitian government.

Finally, on New Year’s Eve, I was meeting with fellow team member Eliza to plan our lessons for what we would be teaching in Haiti. I got a message during that meeting from our team leader, telling me that we had new information and were reconsidering the trip. An announcement about the elections is to be made tomorrow, and the potential for rioting is high once more. Yesterday, New Year’s Day, the trip was officially postponed. We may go over the summer. Who knows, though?

Back to the beginning of this post and my expectations for this year and last. I didn’t expect to lose my grandmother right before Christmas (who does?). And I fully expected that my Christmas break would involve much prayer and preparation for Haiti, culminating in my first overseas mission trip. Instead, everything in my life just seems off-balance. I miss my grandmother daily while simultaneously rejoicing that she is no longer suffering. And since September, I’ve been so focused on Haiti and my trip there that I have thought of little else. Now, when I should be finishing packing and on my way to the airport just 12 hours from now, I find myself unsure of what I should be doing. I’m not boarding a plane tomorrow morning. I’m not going to be in the Caribbean this time tomorrow afternoon. Instead, I’ll go back to work in the library this week. Beyond that, I’m just not sure of what my life is supposed to look like right now. I’m feeling all sorts of emotions simultaneously: severe disappointment that I’m not going to Haiti right now; relief that I won’t be caught in the midst of volatile political tension; a bit of guilt for feeling relieved.

Every situation in my life right now is truly out of my hands, and I’m reeling from the experience. From past experience, however, I know that God works the greatest in my life when I admit that I cannot control anything. All I have to grasp onto right now is God’s promise that He will never leave me or forsake me and the knowledge that everything works together for His glory. And while I don’t understand why God would bring me so close to Haiti only to have the trip postponed, I do know that I’ve learned so much by simply being obedient when He called me to go to Haiti. I know that I care so much about Haiti that I can’t wait to be there. And while my traveling to Haiti may not happen during the first week of 2011 as I previously thought, I have hope that it will happen sometime this year. And maybe my heart won’t be changed while I’m in Haiti, but will instead be changed because I’m simply willing to be a part of God’s kingdom.

There will be no New Year’s resolutions or goals. No expectations for the year beyond seeing where God takes me.

A Soundtrack for a Life

I am six days away from my 25th birthday; therefore, I will soon be celebrating my first quarter-century on this earth. With my penchant for any number that is a multiple of 5 and my tendency to extract some great meaning or lesson from every potentially important day, is it any wonder that I’m experiencing some sort of quarter-century crisis?

By crisis, I mean those lingering questions: am I the person I want to be? By now, my moral character and personality are pretty unchangeable, I think. Do I have fatal flaws that will doom me in the future? Have I accomplished enough? Am I reaching my potential?

These are ridiculous questions. The logical part of my mind (small though it may be) understands that I’m probably ahead of the curve compared to even my own expectations. After all, just this past year, I was hired to teach college freshmen just two months after I turned 24 years old. I’m well on my way to earning a Master’s degree in English. I’ve begun traveling much more often than usual. I’ve lived on my own and managed to pay rent, bills, and necessities for three years now.

Still, the questions remain. I have a List full of unaccomplished goals (but, as I keep adding to the List faster than I can accomplish those goals, I realize that the List will always be lengthy). I am single, and many former close friends are married and raising families, making me wonder if I’m missing out on that important aspect of life. (Don’t lecture me in the comments, folks. I love my life, and I’m not ready for a family just yet. But a girl wonders sometimes.)

In light of all these emerging questions and my impending 25th birthday, I’ve found myself listening to a certain playlist on my iPod recently. I’ve got dozens of fun playlists filled with great music, but this one is special, and it’s not one that I play for others often. It’s one that I just call “The List,” one that corresponds to The List of Things to Do Before I Die. I save this list for the moments when I let my mind wander through those questions, when I think about all I want to accomplish in the next quarter-century of my life, when I let myself reflect on those desires and goals that I truly have: not the ones others have for me, but those times when I ask myself what I truly want. It’s essentially a carpe diem playlist. And I thought I’d post it on here. Don’t be surprised by how often Switchfoot shows up.

1. “I Am,” Train, from their self-titled debut album.

This one is the opening track because the song seems to be about a list of unaccomplished goals:

“I never been on a railroad / So many times they pass me by / I never crashed in the desert or seen a rodeo / Don’t know much about the world wars or Vietnam / I’ve yet to read about Uncle Tom / Never climbed a real rock or seen Colorado / Am I the son I think I am? / Am I the friend I think I am? / Am I the man I think I want to be?”

2. “Let It Be,” The Beatles.

Because, really, who doesn’t need a reminder not to worry so much?

“When I find myself in times of trouble / Mother Mary comes to me / Speaking words of wisdom / Let it be”

3. “Burn Out Bright,” Switchfoot, from Oh! Gravity.

Sort of a cautionary tale against an average life:

“Does it have to start with a broken heart? / Broken dreams and bleeding parts / We were young, and the world was clear / But young ambition disappears / I swore it would never come to this / The average, the obvious / I’m still discontented down here / I’m still discontented / If we’ve only got one try / If we’ve only got one life / If time was never on our side / Then before I die, I want to burn out bright”

4. “Bullet Soul,” Switchfoot, from Hello Hurricane

“I wanna sing one for all the dreamers / I’m singing this one for the sparks / Here’s one for the friction makers / We are the bleeding hearts / Don’t care whoever you are / We rise and fall together / Our hearts still beat below / Oh, you can’t stand by forever / You’re a kid with a bullet soul / Are you ready to go?”

5. “Without Reason,” The Fray, from Reason EP.

Sometimes, a little spontaneity helps:

“I do it on a whim / It’s rhyme without reason / Whatever comes to mind, I’ll pull it from thin air / I’ve learned to improvise, to fill my time / I don’t want to live this life without reason”

6. “This is Your Life,” Switchfoot, from The Beautiful Letdown

Essentially, the most important song on the playlist…and one of my all-time faves.

“This is your life / Are you who you wanna be? / This is your life / Is it everything you dreamed that it would be / When the world was younger and you had everything to lose?”

7. “On the Bus,” Evan and Jaron, from Evan and Jaron.

Probably the first song I claimed as one that inspired me to simply live.

“Never say never / And don’t wait forever / It’s the perfect time to see that now is the time / To take a chance, take a shot, take control of the situation / I can’t stand around here telling you / About the things I’ve done and what I’ve gotta do / So are you on the bus or not? / ‘Cause we’re leaving the station.”

8. “Don’t Stop Believin’,” Journey.

Everyone’s favorite anthem. Plus, it’s about a small town girl. Also, do I really need to quote the lyrics?

9. “Up Around the Bend,” Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Exciting things happen around the next bend in the road. Just ask CCR:

“There’s a place up ahead and I’m goin’ / Just as fast as my feet can fly / Come away, come away, if you’re goin’ / Leave the sinking ship behind / Come on the risin’ wind / We’re goin’ up around the bend”

10. “Butterflies & Hurricanes,” Muse, from Absolution.

Seriously, I should wake up to this song every morning. It’s an epic anthem:

“Best / You’ve got to be the best / You’ve got to change the world / And use this chance to be heard / Your time is now”

11. “The Journey,” Dolores O’Riordan.

I found this one a Paste sampler last summer, and it’s a perfect closing track for the playlist!

“When I was lost / I saw you pointing toward the sun / I know I am not the only one standing here / And in the darkness, I was walking through the night / I could see your guiding light very clear / This is your life / This is your moment”

A Signpost

As a teacher, this semester has been rough for me. I’m dealing with heavy absences, students who don’t turn in assignments, students talking or putting their heads on their desks in class, and other generally disrespectful attitudes. I’ve left class frustrated many days, wondering why I bother. It’s way too early in my career for me to already be questioning my choice. However, I guess it’s better that I realize now that just because I’m passionate about English and teaching gives me joy, being a teacher can very often be exhausting and despairing. Like so many other worthy avenues in life, I must take the good with the bad.

Some days, however, I get the validation I need to keep going…to keep grading poorly written papers, to keep lecturing even when no one seems to be paying attention, to keep pursuing the education I need to teach more classes.

Dr. Sepko had asked me at the beginning of the week to substitute for her advanced grammar class. After the first class yesterday morning was over, I was gathering my papers to head to the next grammar class. One of my students from last semester walked into the classroom; his next class was in the same room I had just finished teaching in. I greeted him and then walked out the door to the next classroom, and a few minutes later, I saw my former student standing at the door. I went out to talk to him, and the conversation went something like this:

Student: “So how many classes do you teach?”

Me: “Just the one–your class–1300.”

S: (crestfallen look) “Oh. That’s all?”

Me: “Yeah. I’m just substituting for advanced grammar today. But I only teaching the Fundamentals of Writing class.”

S: “Oh.” (walking away)

Me: “When I finish my Master’s, I’ll be able to teach more.”

S: “When will that be?”

Me: “Two more years.”

S: “Oh.” (walking away, disappointed)

Okay, so maybe you picked up on it, maybe you didn’t. He wanted to take more of my classes! He enjoyed my class and learned a lot! He misses my instruction! (I’m sure it’s all of that.) It definitely brightened my day. While most of my students this semester might not appreciate me at all, I’ve already influenced some students (for the better, it seems).

And another signpost: I substituted for 2 advanced grammar classes yesterday (which I’ve already mentioned). This entailed me passing out study guides and answering a lot of questions from students who are wading through an analysis of phrases and clauses. From all my years of tutoring for this class, I know that this section is the hardest for most students. Students who found nouns and adjectives to be difficult find dependent clauses and relative pronouns to be the stuff of nightmares. But when students call me over to their desks to check the work that they’re doing, and when they get excited that they found the relative clause and figured out that the clause is functioning as an adjective, it makes me excited to see that they’re learning. I’m delighted when they ask about my schedule in the writing center so they can come for more tutoring.

I want to keep doing this. I want to be wrapped in the world of academia forever. I want to analyze sentence structure and talk about symbolism in works of literature and figure out why writers use certain narrative structures. I love English. And I thank God for the days when He shows me that my passion and talents are intertwined, and He reveals to me that I’m on the right path.

The Tension is Here

On Friday, Chris and I will be driving to Lexington, Kentucky, to attend a school for conversion at a new monastic community called Communality.

New Monasticism is a movement among Christians to live in intentional community with one another, to share resources, to encourage one another, to help the poor and oppressed, and to bring the Gospel of Christ to this world in a real, tangible way.

The seminar, if you will, that we’re attending is called “Introduction to Christianity as a Way of Life.” It’s called a “school for conversion” because they believe that conversion is not a one-time event. In order to fully live the Christian life, we must constantly be in a state of conversion. Changing, adapting, renewing ourselves.

We’ll be studying the 12 marks of a new monasticism (see the link above for a full list). These marks are essentially the tenets of the new monastic movement. Each community is different in how they function because each community exists in a different environment. What works for Communality may not work for The Simple Way in Philadelphia or Rutba House in Durham, NC.

This week has been tension-filled as a result of this impending trip. The tension has been incredible. This week, as I’ve been reading for the school and as I’ve been almost constantly reflecting on community and new monasticism, it seems as though years of my life are converging all at once.

For instance, the Greek work for community is koinonia. It’s meaning is vast, but the word is often translated as fellowship or communion. The first time I ever heard the word was six and a half years ago, in my first English class at NGU. Dr. Bruce wanted our classroom to be a community–koinonia. It is his voice I hear as I read about community. That first mention years ago was already setting me up for the life I’m attempting to live now.

Three years ago, I read Shane Claiborne’s book The Irresistible Revolution, and I was intrigued and terrified by his experience and discussion of new monasticism. I desperately wanted community, but I wasn’t ready to devote that much of my life to it yet. This week, as I’ve been rereading part of that book, I realize that my life moved in that direction anyway. I’m living in community, attending a church that seeks to live deliberately in community, to live life together. I recognize threads of my own life in Shane Claiborne’s experiences.

Additionally (yes, there’s more!), this week, Valerie, Harvin, and I (and perhaps others) will begin meeting weekly, striving for community together. I haven’t been a part of a consistent small group in about 8 months, and the absence has caused me to realize how desperately I need people to fight alongside. Tuesday night, we’re going to have dinner and intentional community. It’s gonna be awesome.

Even the Scripture readings for Lent are aligning with what I’ve been reading to get ready for the school for conversion. This week has been huge in the way that God has revealed to me that my search for community has been in his plan all along. Seven years. And it’s all converging on an otherwise ordinary week in February.

I’ve had a few discussions this week with people who want to know why I’m visiting a new monastic community. What is new monasticism? Am I converting to some extreme religion? Am I gonna come back from Kentucky? (I think that person was joking…)

Some of the discussions have been wonderful. A few people have been really interested in this journey, this idea. Others have questioned my sanity. One friend was even offended, believing I looked down at her because she didn’t accept that I believe this intentional search for community is the life that God has created us for. We had a long discussion about the American dream and cultural Christianity and faith; the conversation did not end well. I’m hopeful that we can revisit the conversation one day, but I don’t anticipate changing her mind. She likes her life and doesn’t think anything is lacking in her faith. That’s fine. We each have our own journey.

These conversations, however, have raised a huge tension in me. I want desperately to seek community, but I also want seclusion at times. My selfishness often gets in the way of the life I should be living. Questions about my future have been arising. Are my dreams and ambitions selfish, or are they legitimately the path God has planned for me? What are ways that I can bring the Gospel to people who need it…without getting too uncomfortable?

My selfish nature is battling with my spiritual nature. It’s terrifying, to be honest. The tension, however, is honestly great. Because it’s on my mind so often, I’m conversing with people about it. I’m seeking answers that may not arrive for a long time. My life cannot change, and my faith cannot grow, without this tension. God will teach me incredible lessons and reveal Himself to me in so many ways because of it. It’s impossible to be complacent when I’m constantly reflecting and considering how God is working in my life.

So for now, as Switchfoot tells us, “the tension is here”…between who I am and who I could be, between how my life is and how it should be. (Thank you, Jon Foreman, for once again being entirely relevant.)

I’m praying that this trip will be life-changing. In many ways, it already has been.