Vacation time.

Man, my posts are becoming more and more sporadic. I used to write a least once a week and now I hardly write at all. It's a little disappointing. Only two posts in the month of December! I guess it sort of corresponds to all of the other things that used to be consistent. Like my conversations with Lauren— I talked to her today for the first time in ages. It was good and I miss it.

Christmas came and went. It was simple; I am glad of this. I go back to school on the tenth, so I still have a good chunk of time at home that allows me to think of other things and pursue other interests, at least for the time being. This weekend I'm going back to campus, though, to pick up a prescription and, hopefully, look at some apartments for next year with Danielle. Yes, I'll probably still be at Chapel Hill next year, despite all of my qualms. And at the moment I'm okay with that— If the right sort of opportunities present themselves, I shouldn't need to worry about it. I can live a positive lifestyle wherever I am, whether my flesh wants to be there or not.

This summer I'm looking into some mission trip opportunities. Who knows if I'll get to go anywhere or not, but I'm really hoping. Dad was talking about finding some internships, so I may do that, too. And of course, Chick-Fil-A offered me a job whenever I need one, so if I need some cash or have time to kill, that's always an option (and a generous one, at that).

Currently, I'm sort of taking advantage of "break time." AKA, being completely and undeniably lazy. This is a good thing and a bad thing; I desperately needed to chill out, but laziness is also an unprofitable lifestyle. I'm reading Proverbs little by little, trying to soak in individual verses instead of reading through a chapter and calling it a night. I haven't read Proverbs in forever, because I find myself drawn to the New Testament, especially after my Hebrew Bible class at UNC. Gosh, that class scarred me. I'm having to rethink the entire Old Testament and sift through everything the professor taught, because it was so skewed and fundamentally shattering.

I think this next semester is going to be a lot better. I'm going to work to make it better. But hey— I still have two weeks left of vacation. Why bother thinking about it now? ;)

Hello, Beginning

A couple weeks ago Luke, Mickey, and I were debating over whether or not a circle has a beginning. Luke and I said no, because there is no definite start to a circle and thus, no definite end. Mickey said yes, because you can pick a point on the circle to start and then follow it back. I'm still not completely sure who was right, but the point is, wherever I started, I think, to an extent, I'm coming full circle.

Hello, readers. I've missed thee.

I can almost feel the onslaught of pent up and pushed back thoughts that are itching to come out in a blog, things that I haven't had time to sit down and diagnose, things that have been repressed in the corners of my authoretic heart (authoretic is not a word, but I hereby declare it one by necessity of speech), things that only words could truly and honestly release by painting out expression into neat little black blocks of letters. Words, wonderful words. Yes, it is good to be back.

First semester of college is almost over. Classes end Wednesday (can I get an amen?) and my exams are sporadic, finishing up next Thursday. I go home this week and don't come back for almost a full month. I won't lie, Chapel Hill has been... quite the experience, thus far. Wow. Just thinking back over the events that have taken place is enough to make my head spin. Who am I now, in comparison to the little girl that came to college at the end of August? Not to say I'm all grown up now, not in the least, but a little wiser for wear, if you know what I mean. And maybe a little worse for wear, too, but that's to be expected in some way, shape, or form.

If I have learned one thing, it would be... well scratch that, I could never come up with just one thing. If I have learned anything, it would be that I am not the "good person" I thought I was. There is no such thing as a good, perfect person. I am not on a pedestal, I am not worthy, I am nothing. In the kingdom of heaven I am of no value but through the precious redemption, forgiveness, and sanctification of Christ Jesus. I am fully capable of making mistakes; I am nothing, and when I think I am, I am only deceiving myself and being a hypocrite to the world. Luke always teases me about being a "Carolina girl in a Carolina world." Let me tell you, there is a sharp, biting truth in that tease! I don't want to be that. I don't want to choose my life over God. I don't want to be selfish, or fiercely independent, or uncompromising, or stubborn, or proud or self-righteous. I don't want anything but His grace exhibited in my futile life. I want to TELL people that His love is all-sufficing, all-encompassing, ALL. I want to live a life of humility in Jesus, in His arms, in his perfect, beautiful Love. Forget all of my desires and everything that I, Kristina Lorraine Weeks, want for myself, for my life. His Will is my ultimate goal. My utmost for His highest.

I am excited for this Christmas season, but I'm also excited for the next semester. My flesh wants to be anxious about what happens after that— where will I be this summer, next year, in the years to come? Who will be with me and who will be left behind? Who will I be, and who will I become? But the Spirit pushes it aside and gives me a confidence in Christ that is unparalleled by any fear or misgiving that I have. "Tell me, what is our ending? Will it be beautiful, so beautiful? Will my life find me by Your side? Because Your Love is beautiful, so beautiful."

It is still possible to find fire in the valley. I'm sure the burning bush wasn't on top of a mountain— How do you know what an oasis is unless you've been in the desert? Being passionate is being sure when there is hardly anything to be sure about. Living a life sold out is just that: being sold out. Is that comprehensible? How can I sell my life out, give of myself, and hold on to nothing, offering it all as a sweet, sweet sacrifice to my Lord and Savior?

Gosh, it's been a long time since I last wrote out an actual post. I guess this is just what college does to you when things get busy. I hardly have time to sit down and think, much less type out everything that's been going on.

Thanksgiving was this past Thursday, and it was nice. It's good to be home relaxing, before the crushing stress of exams and finals before the long Christmas break. Tonight Luke and I are going out to dinner, then renting "Up" to watch. We saw it in theaters over the summer and it was so good. I think I cried a little if I remember right. So much has changed that it's crazy, but I'm no longer in such pain or hurting for lost time like I originally had been. Time may not heal all wounds, but it does keep pushing us toward the future too fast for us to keep holding on to what's already disappeared. The past few months have been a blur and yet there are moments that stand out in stark relief, be them good or bad. Perhaps I'm just tired of being emotional!

I'm killing time between now and the moment that Luke shows up on my doorstep. That means I still have plenty of time and, if my memory and conscious would allow it, plenty of space to write out everything that has happened so far— however, if I ever decided to make this public again, I'd have to go back and revise so much, because some things are just inappropriate for the public eye. As in, it stands against propriety to be so forthcoming with one's intimate thoughts and experiences, wouldn't you agree? I feel very Anne-ish.

I think I will go back to reading, instead. Oh my.

O.C. (5) This one hurts...

These words mean the breaking and collapse of my independence brought about by my own hands, and the surrendering of my life to the supremacy of the Lord Jesus. No one can do this for me, I must do it myself. God may bring me up to this point three hundred and sixty-five times a year, but He cannot push me through it. It means breaking the hard outer layer of my individual independence from God, and the liberating of myself and my nature into oneness with Him; not following my own ideas, but choosing absolute loyalty to Jesus. Once I am at that point, there is no possibility of misunderstanding. Very few of us know anything about loyalty to Christ or understand what He meant when He said, ". . . for My sake" ( Matthew 5:11 ). That is what makes a strong saint.

Has that breaking of my independence come? All the rest is religious fraud. The one point to decide is— will I give up? Will I surrender to Jesus Christ, placing no conditions whatsoever as to how the brokenness will come? I must be broken from my own understanding of myself. When I reach that point, immediately the reality of the supernatural identification with Jesus Christ takes place. And the witness of the Spirit of God is unmistakable— "I have been crucified with Christ . . . ."

The passion of Christianity comes from deliberately signing away my own rights and becoming a bondservant of Jesus Christ. Until I do that, I will not begin to be a saint.

One student a year who hears God’s call would be sufficient for God to have called the Bible Training College into existence. This college has no value as an organization, not even academically. Its sole value for existence is for God to help Himself to lives. Will we allow Him to help Himself to us, or are we more concerned with our own ideas of what we are going to be?

Options.

I. Can't. Take. This.

Maybe it's because I'm drinking a Starbucks doubleshot energy drink and my caffeine intake is skyrocketing. But this started before I even began drinking anything, when I was in the car with just my mother and we started talking about life. Again. In particular, my life. My future, and the three different ways in which it could possibly progress. Yikes.

I want to know what I'm doing. I want to have a plan! I want to be able to sit down with my mental calculator and figure in all of my options, divide all of the consequences, add in the assets and subtract the liabilities, and somehow evenly and logically equate what I should do with my life. Then, I'd like to work the problem backwards, so that I could see through hindsight the exact steps that I need to take and the choices I need to make to get there. If I knew what I needed to get done, I could plan! I could have steps! I could evenly and logically and meticulously get things done in a timely, rational manner. BUT. I. CAN'T. It drives me up the wall. "Where do you want me, where do you need me the most?" I have had that song in my head for well over a month, now. It's plaguing me. I'd even say it's haunting me. When I sleep, I hear it, when I wake up, I hear it, when I'm tired or frustrated or even happy and preoccupied I hear it. Where do YOU, Father, want me?

All of my so-called "wants" contradict each other. There are three things that I want, three ways that my life could go and none of them seem to align, and I'm so freaking selfish that I couldn't imagine losing any of them for the other.

Option 1.

I want to be on the mission field. And if not the mission field, I want to be doing something that involves telling people about Jesus and being His hands and feet. I want people to intimately know Him, I want to lead them to the cross– I can't make them believe and I can't force them to accept, but I can point them to Him and I can be His hands and feet. I can help them find jobs, I can help them build homes, I can make them food, I can teach them, I can do something. I want people to know Jesus. I want to be able to stand before my Father on the day of judgement and say, "Jesus! I followed You. I did as You commanded and worked to make disciples of all nations. I was kind to the poor and helped the needy. I loved You, I knew You, I was faithful." God is the Best thing there ever was, He is my all, He is my everything. Jesus commands us to lay down our lives for Him and I truly want nothing else but for Him to be glorified in my life. My measly life. My education, my family, my own desires... none of these things compare to Jesus. HE says, "If anyone loves his mother or brother more than Me, he is not worthy of Me..." Jesus, I want to be worthy of you. Please... where do You want me?

Option 2.

I want to pursue a career. And not just any career— I want to pursue an amazing career that takes me all over the world, that let's me get my hands dirty, that challenges me and allows me to support myself and maybe, one day, my family. I want a career that blows everyone away, including myself. I want a career that utilizes my talents and my creativity and my drive, that I can take and tell myself that this is what I was working for, that I can finally feel accomplished and successful. I want to be a journalist and travel and talk to people and get the inside scoop, and write for a magazine or journal or newspaper. Maybe I'd take my own pictures and be a photojournalist on the side. I want to be fluent in Spanish and travel to South America to talk to the people there and get in on their political system, get into their culture, live like them and work with them to better their country and their lives. I want to go to Israel and Palestine (which no longer exists) and learn about their struggles, their wars, and bring the news to America and educate people and make them care about things outside of the safety of this country. I want to be an editor and work with correcting things before they hit the press, because I'm good at it and it feels good to correct things and know that what I'm doing is exactly right. I want to get involved in politics and fight for what I know is truth and argue with the people who are taking our country to crap and help the common man find his voice. I want to shape the future of our country and I want to make things fair, I want to help people, I want to represent them and influence laws and help immigrants get an education...

Option 3.

I want to get married. I want to be with the love of my life and do the normal things that people do— fall in love, get married, have an apartment those first couple years and struggle through college, have kids eventually, etc. I want to go transfer to UNCG and forget about everything else and have the normal college experience and be with Luke. I want to take normal classes, major in English and be a small-time editor or teacher, and take things one step at a time. We'd get married and enjoy things that happen every day, comfortable and normal and simple. There would be absolutely nothing wrong with that— people do it all the time. It sounds pleasant. It sounds good. I want that, too... a lot. To be able to genuinely enjoy college, to be able to call Luke up and say, "Hey, do you wanna catch lunch really quick before class?", to be able to fit in somewhere and not feel like I'm trying to compete to make myself heard.

I want each of these so badly. And the thing is, depending on the situation, I can see each of them play out so perfectly and at the moment, I feel like each one of them is right. Like when I'm listening to Pastor talk about not being comfortable, I know I want the mission field. When I'm reading the newspaper and talking to the educated people that surround me at UNC, I know that I want to pursue a great degree and career. And when I'm with Luke and we're talking about the future and just enjoying life in general, I know that I want to transfer and be normal and get married. I can't compromise any of these things. None of them nicely and evenly fit together, and somehow, at some point, I have to decide what I want the most. Right? I don't even know that much. This is just what I'm facing at the moment and it's driving me up the wall, crazy. I ignore it on a daily basis because it's just too much to deal with, and if I look at the whole picture I get overwhelmed and frustrated. It does me no good to worry about it today, yet I feel like if I think about it now, if I can just make a decision sooner, I'll be okay, and it'll be like a burden off of my shoulders. In my mind, it's like having a big paper that isn't due for another couple months. I could put it off until it's absolutely necessary, or I could start preplanning it now. I could be working on my rough draft, or writing down ideas, or something. Then I'd feel better, know that I'm working towards a goal. So while I don't want to think about these three things every day, it's like it's necessary.

I really wish that God would flash a sign. I know He won't, and I know why He won't, but still... I wish He would. I wish that I didn't wish this, ha. Father, Father, Father... where do You want me? Where do You need me the most?

The shower of the year should shine tonight

Amidst the galaxy of others burning bright,

Sirius, and the glowing Venus, too,

A blazing Mars, all entwined in view,

The wick of candle light,

A shower on the ever-darkening night.

However, not a single one I see,

This meteor cried wolf completely,

At least, the time in which I stood

Revealed not one, as wish I would,

No sprinkle dust to be

Us waiting revelers agree.

From balcony a waiting crowd has stood

The sky tonight, produce it should,

Orion will flash its lustrous sheen

Remnants from Haley, so it seems,

But one o'clock reveals no good

Though it wish't, it never could.

A fair shot from the truth, I think,

Meteor showers falling as a drink

From Milky Way, this love

Of falling, from the imminence above,

Yes, pretty lights distinct,

Yet reason offers forty winks.

So back to bed I slowly carry on

Whilst others wait, hoping the dawn

Produces what so far hasn't shown

It's face, at least, from what I know,

But sleep will make dreams long

As the stars continue singing nature's song.

All The World Is Waiting

Tonight, there is a premier symphony in Memorial Hall. It's called "Of Angels and Neurons"— the guy who composed it came and talked to my Great Musical Works class yesterday. He's been nominated for Grammy's and whatnot. I think it's so cool how famous people will come and talk to our classes here... I've met and talked to a symphony composer! It's like a modern-day Beethoven experience!... Okay, maybe not that great, but you get the point. It's sort of cool.

Oddly, I enjoyed the rain today. It seems like it's always raining here, and usually it's sort of irritating, but today I like it. It was cold and the wind stung my face and my nose turned red, and the rain was fat and chilly. I should be in England, but this is close enough. Stranded on bricks that are so crooked that it's like walking in one long, continuous string of puddles, needing rain boots, tilting my umbrella back and spinning it nonchalantly, pretending I'm a younger, classier version of Mary Poppins. Yes, I am a nerd.

I am somewhat looking forward to the weekend. I'll be here, in Chapel Hill. Danielle goes home every weekend and that makes it harder because I'm here alone in the dorm room, but this weekend I am intentionally going to look for things to do. I'll go back to Grace Church on Sunday morning. Maybe I'll get in touch with some of the girls from my small group on Saturday or find a game to go to. There's an event called Late Night with Roy on Friday where the basketball players put on a little show, so I may go to that. It's not very late (6-9) but it's better than sitting on my computer. And then next week is fall break. Hallelujah. Hopefully I'll go to the fair, too. I have a few doctor's appointments, but they shouldn't take too long.

I can do this. For the Son.

Do You Remember?

Close your eyes.

We were pushing through a crowd of people. You couldn't see my face, and you didn't know where we were going. But you grabbed my hand to hold on, as I assured you that we were going home. Part one has already been completed. We said, "Let's go!" Now phase two is in the process and you've got to grab my hand and hold on as everyone and everything pushes in around us, forcing separation. The final scene is coming. Where the color comes into the picture. I might turn my back at one point, and you may feel like you can barely breathe, but the color, the life, is coming. At the end, we'll be so close that our smiles will touch. Do you remember?

Pause. Inhale. Exhale.

God is faithful.

Sometimes, I forget this. Sometimes I want to forget and do what I want to do instead. I want to shake my fist at the ceiling and say, Okay, God! Where are You now, hmm?

Oh, the rights I think I have. The truth is, I am a vessel. I can't always choose my voyage, but at least I know the destination. I do decide whether I work to keep up or let myself sink. But a sinking ship was never ordained to be used for His purposes; at least, not when the ship chooses to capsize itself. To walk on water, I must fix my eyes... and my joy.

If there's one thing I'm learning, it's that in His silence there is so much peace. It's hard to recognize and sometimes (a lot of the time) I mistake it for apathy. But the truth is, God is quiet for a reason, and it is when I praise Him despite this that I learn the biggest truths, whether they are about myself, my circumstances, or Him. When I am right with Him, that peace that transcends all understanding is contagious... and I am okay.

For example: it is no secret that I am struggling in college. BUT before you cringe and think I'm about to complain again, just wait. Yes, I am struggling here at Chapel Hill; no, it's not my favorite place to be every day. However, I also could be doing a lot better of a job being joyful in the pit, in the midst of my trial. God never said to stop praising Him when we were in the valley, and that is exactly what I did. I allowed (and still allow) my eyes to settle on the work, the lack of Christian companions, the distance between me and my family and me and Luke, the lies being thrown in my face, etc. etc. This, I am sorry to realize, is exactly what satan wanted. If he couldn't completely screw my faith over in one fell swoop, he was going to make me pity myself and feel as miserable as possible about my circumstances. I have had unending sleepless nights, weight loss, appetite loss, potential depression— why? Because I took my eyes off of Jesus, and put them on myself. My faith took a major detour when God wasn't quick to wave a wand over me and "make it better." What does that say about my knowledge of Him? What does that say of my faith, my hope, my supposedly renewed life? I am thankful for His silence because He knows what I need before I even ask, and I know He will provide. I was told that if I endured this confinement, this maze of uncertainty, and follow Him even when He seems invisible, that all would work for His glory and my joy. Maybe I can't laugh today— but then, I will laugh at His goodness, His mercies. My confidence is in the Lord.

Unfortunately, this doesn't mean I will suddenly wake up tomorrow morning shouting out how much I love Chapel Hill and eagerly bouncing up and down on my way to class, ready to make new friends, oh boy! Ha, naw, but it does mean that my attitude is on the up and up. My joy is in the Lord, not my location. My joy is in the Lord, not my family. My joy is in the Lord, not my accomplishments. My joy is in the Lord, not my boyfriend (though I try to make it that, sometimes, and it only hurts us both). My. Joy. Is. In. The. LORD. He is faithful. Whether I believe that or not does not change that fact that He is faithful. My belief, or lack thereof, does not shape my Father's character, hallelujah! He does not have a self-confidence issue; He does not need me to praise Him to make Him feel better about Himself. He is God. I need HIM— He does not need me.

So tomorrow begins a new day. My mom likes to hang it over my head that I told her a some random point in my weirdo-loser-teenybopper years, "If you can't change a situation, change the way you look at it." I don't know if I believe her— why would I have said such a thing? Regardless, I guess I'll take my own advice. Father, it's just You and me.

If I lost everything... it would be okay.

Blah blah blah.

Today I took my Astronomy midterm. I forgot my calculator, so I guessed on a lot of the questions. I honestly probably failed it. I don't care. I feel bad for not feeling bad.

I'm really having to fight through this fog. There are so many times where I just feel like giving up. It's obvious that I'm not making much progress, as almost everything I've written sounds exactly the same. At least I don't make it public any more.

I lied to my dad about where I was this past weekend. He thought I was at Elon, but I was in Greensboro. I told my mom, who told me that I have to tell my dad. I know I do. I didn't even lie because I didn't want him to know I was there— it was just more convenient at the time to have him think I was at Elon when all the bank stuff was happening that to explain in the midst of it how I ended up being somewhere else.

I wish I cared about something. I wish this apathy would go away and that the sun would somehow make it through to me. Because right now, I can't see anything. And it doesn't even bother me. I'm probably going to have awful grades this semester and it doesn't matter to me. I don't feel uptight or nervous about it. It doesn't shock me. I don't feel the need to improve or work harder. I don't feel anything.

There's got to be something more. There's got to be something more.

"Apathetic" --Relient K

I don't understand this. Again. I've had three posts like this, which is why I changed my URL so that no one else could see the depression creeping in like a cold fog. It's apathetic, which is the worst part. I'm not necessarily suffering for company and I keep decently busy. But I don't care. I don't care at all. If people want to meet up I agree without thinking about it or disagree because I'm lazy. I'm getting poor grades in class and it doesn't bother me a bit. I'm not doing the reading and I'm just getting by. I laugh and joke around without the joy; I look around and don't find an interest in anything. I've even become apathetic with my Jesus-relationship. I'm not reading my Bible consistently, I'm not praying, I'm not going to church or Bible study on a regular basis. I'm not doing anything, really. Not worth any amount of significance, anyways.

Honestly, this is scary. Underneath my apathy there's a terrible, terrible fear to watch myself slip away into gray area. I never expected myself to be the one to suffer from this. I've always been positive, always been upbeat, always been happy and content. But now, all of a sudden, I don't even know where the real me went. I'm watching her be overtaken by this uncaring, indifferent girl who might as well be anyone else. The difference is subtle but overwhelming. The real Kristina comes out from time to time, in certain situations, and the sun comes out and the clouds get pushed aside. But then, quickly, they come right back in and it starts to drizzle. There's no torrential downpour, really, but it's always misting and gray and dim. It's like having a veil over your brain, over your heart. I think that's another reason why I'm so hesitant to make new friends; I want them to know the old me, the happy me, not this new me who I don't recognize or even like, for that matter. I don't want people to know a depressed me. I want them to know who I was. Who I still hopefully am, somewhere.

If this is some sort of sahara I need to get through, I'm just hoping that I make it out alive. I'm dying of thirst; I want living water so badly but I'm too stupid to get it. I'm wandering in circles, hallucinating and then getting shocked by reality intermittently. This sound depressing. I really think I am suffering from depression of some form. I am sleeping badly. I am always sore and have a headache. I don't care about anything. I don't feel challenged with school; I don't tackle it like I did in high school. I feel like I always have a blank expression on my face; I don't smile much. I cry for no real reason other than I'm so tired of crying that I cry about it. It's either that or I force so much caffeine into my system that I go crazy just for the sake of feeling something. I laugh hysterically about nothing and make stupid jokes about nothing, but it's the adrenaline rush that I'm craving. That only happens late at night though, when the room smells like too much nail polish and acetone and the girls think I'm funny. I want to give up. I really want to give up.

And I don't want anyone to know. My parents inevitably see a change and don't like it. I try to hide it as best I can from people who don't know me, from Danielle (but sometimes she sees a little; that's unavoidable), from Luke, from anyone, really. I need to get over this. I'm thinking about seeking counseling here at school. We'll see.

Heartache.

We knew this was going to be difficult. But now the true test has kicked in, and how are we doing? Going long periods of time without seeing each other has made it seem dream-like and surreal. What does that mean? The end so soon?

I freed you, you know. Before we left for college, I freed you from every promise you had ever made me, so that if the time were to come where mutuality would fade, you would be good to go and I would hold nothing against you. And that still holds, that freedom. If you need to go your own way and do your own thing; if you think I'm holding you back or making things difficult; if you no longer feel the same, then baby, you're free. I will not be the cause of distress in your life.

But I won't lie to you, either. I am deeply and desperately in love with you. I think of you and it's like a million tiny knives to my heart, twisting enough to create such an intense pain that it's almost unbearable. I love you honestly and purely and with a longing and passion that I can't describe on paper. You are breaking my heart and you don't even know it. I want to see you and hold you; I want to be your wife. Does the distance have that much power? Does time stretch us so far that the goal is unattainable? I don't know. I will always, always love you. No matter where we are, who we're with, or what we're doing, there will always be a part of my heart that is broken because you are not mine any longer. You will always hold a piece of me, whether you like it or not, and I'm sorry for that, but for you it will be unnoticeable anyways.

Yes, for the present, you are still mine and I am still yours. Nothing about our relationship status has changed, but I am wary. I cannot see the future. I don't know what's going to happen. I trust God when He doesn't answer. I have nothing else so secure as Him.

I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Luke, don't you understand? My life does not balance on you and my world does not revolve around you, but I want you to be a part of it all. I want to share life with you, to have a mutual life as well as an individual one. And this stupid, stupid distance does not afford that. I can't tell you what to do. I can't tell you to see me every weekend, to call me every night, to text me five times a day or whatever. If my actions followed my every wish you would be constantly hearing from me or seeing me, but that is not healthy and so I refrain. All I can do is wait. Love you, wait, and pray.

His Will will be done.

I Just Want You to Know

I want to know where I'm suppose to be. Because in all honest honesty, I don't think it's here. That's hard enough to admit to myself, much less everyone else. The implications are imposing to the question this obviously proposes: if not here, where? And when? And more importantly, how? Am I even sure? No, not really. But something is not sitting well, and it's past the point of "settling in." If these are the best years of my life, why am I spending them somewhere where I'm not enjoying myself, not making the best use of my time, not thriving? It's good, yes, no question there— but it's not the best. The difference, though perhaps so small that it could be called miniscule, is creating waves.

I assumed this was right almost from the beginning. To make matters worse, it was broadcasted (no backing out now!). It's easy to get swept up in it and to push your gut instincts under the rug. Plus, it looked good. Why wouldn't I want to go somewhere that would boost my intellectual, egotistical genius and make everyone else think I was a somebody? Yeah, I worked hard all through high school, yeah I made good grades and did well on the SAT, yeah I'm pretty smart. But what does that accomplish? What does that even matter, in the long run? God can't use me if I'm so caught up in my own abilities that I fail to see Him and be humble enough for use in His Kingdom. Maybe God is breaking my pride in a bigger way than I ever imagined. Maybe He has to temper it, and all of my "smarts" will never even be known or come into play in the big scheme of my life. What if I were in South America for a few years— what would it matter, then, how good my test scores were or how many college classes I had taken? What if God made me smart so that He could show me that I didn't need to be smart to be worth something? Does that even make sense? He will use the humble to shame the wise. He will use the humble to shame the wise.

I have a love for the hispanic culture. For the language, for the people, for their past and for their future. What if God were calling me to the mission field? What if? I have always wanted to do missions. I have always wanted to travel. This has never quite made it to the table; it was always, "Um, you're going to college, end of discussion." Okay, so, here I am— in college. But what if all along I was suppose to be training for something so much bigger than just college? You hear people's stories about how they felt called to do things that "normal" people considered crazy; why can't I be one of those people? There has to be something bigger than college out there, and I don't care what people think about me any more. I don't care about the expectations. I want to do the Lord's will. Father, where do You want me, where do You need me the most? Send me, send me.

And yes, there are those of you (my father probably included) who would say well, Kristina, you're already on a mission field at college, or finish your college career and then do whatever you want. Fine, fine, I see your point, I'm not ignorant. Everyone thinks that getting a successful, secure job is what matters the most. News flash— it's not. It's really not. There is something so much bigger, so much more Kingdom-focused than a nine-to-five job! PAUSE— I am definitely not saying that having a good job isn't what God wants for everyone. I'm just saying that I don't know if that's what He wants for me. I feel like there is something more, a call over the waters that I'm somehow missing here. I'm praying for discernment. Feel free to join me.

Little Toy Boats

"It really does feel like a maze. I don't know where I'm going."

'You don't know where you're going? Well, what are you leaving?'

"What?"

'If you're going somewhere, you have to be leaving something behind.'

True story.

Today I walked down to the lake from my house. The air wasn't necessarily chilly, but the wind felt nice across my skin. I pulled on a white sweater over my green tee and crossed my arms, closing my eyes to fully soak up the smell of grass and moisture. The sky was grey and made things look colder than they were. It was funny to walk down Cameron, simply because I hadn't done it in so long. The path to the lake isn't until the end of the road, where it becomes a cul-de-sac. I passed the Codd house, where a bunch of Pete's friends were playing basketball in his driveway. I still got the same anxious feeling when I passed them as I did when I was in middle school, when they used to shout at us for using "their" property to get to the water. Today they didn't pay me any mind; I was of no consequence to their game. I jumped the ditch and pushed past the undergrowth, with long weeds encircling me and waving gently overhead, creating a tunnel of flora and fauna crowned with seasonal marigold flowers. Though my walk had been quiet, the field was alive with the buzzing and croaking of all sorts of amphibians and other small creatures, none of which I saw. The trail branched off to the left, but I followed it straight to the little bank where one could push off a boat, if they wanted. My brother usually goes fishing there with his friends, so there was a blue tarp off to the side and the ground was littered with old Diet Coke and Gatorade bottles underneath it. I paused for a moment under a small tree, already yellow and brown, where my lips had met love in the early months of the year. I continued to the water's edge. It rippled in, barely moving, and was a pearlescent sheen of reflection. Long-dead trees stood stark against the apathetic clouds, and the opposite shore was still green and thick with trees and the occasional dock. Someone was playing music a long ways away. I couldn't help but stand and remember, and think, and let emotion wash sluggishly over me like the water on the pebbles beneath my feet. I stood there a long, long time. The wind tugged at my hair, loose around my shoulders, and it smelt of intangible things that I could no longer touch. I picked up a few rocks and skipped them, hard, until I ran out and couldn't find any more smooth edged ones. Then I turned back, pausing this time by a bump in the way, where I had sat and listened to a very different kind of music, on a very different sort of day, when the sunlight has cascaded through the foliage and danced over the waves and a different sort of scent was filling my senses, warm and inviting, spicy and alive. I was tempted to sit on it again, but decided against it for the sake of time. Real life was still waiting outside of that place and was calling me back, back to the present, back to where I didn't want to be. But I went, not because I wanted to, but because I knew it was right. And that's the kicker— what you want isn't always what's right, and what you don't want usually is. I hoped one day the two would merge; this, I decided, takes hard work and probably a miracle from God. God, with whom I'm grappling. God, who is silent. God, who I am waiting on. God, who is real and who loves me beyond my own comprehension. Yeah. God.

What's it going to take to turn this ship around?

It's been a long while since it started going down,

But a new breeze shakes the sail,

Though the wind brings rain, and sleet, and hail,

And if the fire could intensify

This wood's not proofed, but by-and-by,

Goodbye, this time we're going to try...

What's it going to take to turn this ship around?

Another week of college.

More and more I watch the prophesy come into play. Not that I'm looking for it or thinking about it every day— it just sort of manifests itself and I realize it as it happens.

Dear Father,

I think this has been a long time coming. Between me and You. I am going to follow You even when You don't answer me. Even when it feels like You're not there, even when I'm blind to what You're doing, even when it seems like You're not doing anything at all. I will obey and follow Your divine will when everything is going wrong and when I can't feel Your presence. The test of true faith. The enemy knows my weaknesses and he plays off of them; he is smart, but Lord, You are faithful. I will rest knowing that I have no knowledge, and whether You want to share the answers with me or not is up to Your disclosure, because You are God and I am not. I will be content with You. I will be content with Your Word, which is unchanging and unfailing.

Father, I pray that You would set the world on fire. Set me on fire. It doesn't have to wreak havoc, Lord, so long as it is undying and unwavering. May my life be a pleasing aroma to you, Abba; cleanse me before You, that I may raise clean hands with a pure heart. Open my eyes, God, show me what I must improve, what I must change, what I must kill and what I must grow. I trust You. Lord, give me the faith of a martyred woman. God, if I had to die for you... give me that sort of faith, that is unselfish and strong and true.

Fresh Pair of Eyes

I love this song. The lyrics don't even start until 1:30. Perfect.

An Irritating, Repeat Blog.

I have been at UNC for a month now. Isn't that crazy? It's getting easier and harder simultaneously, depending on how you look at it. Classes are fully underway, I'm making friends, doing homework, rushing and sleeping and lazing and reading like crazy... so much to do and yet sometimes I feel like I'm sitting around— am I living my life? I've been doing so much thinking lately about where I'm going and what I'm doing, who I'm doing it with and does any of it matter at all. This is NOT a pessimistic blog, so don't get that impression. It's thoughtful.

I think the biggest thing that's been rubbing me raw is God. Go figure, ha. Leaving high school and the security of my church was a bigger spiritual drop than I thought it would be. Of course, that is my own ignorance and pride coming to light yet again (you'd think I'd learn!). My last blog that I deleted was a lot like this one, and that worries me. I don't want to be chasing myself in circles but I can feel in my heart that I'm not moving forward. I'm stuck in a rut, but I can't quite define it. Or maybe I can, but I'm choosing to turn a blind eye towards it, because getting out requires so much more work than falling in. I'm going to a Bible study, but that cannot be my fill-up, because quite honestly, the past couple times just haven't cut it. Maybe I'm not involved enough— I'm not sure. Hebrew Bible still poses problems, of course, but now I realize that it's so much more than just defying the Bible's validity... It's defying my faith. It's causing me to look at the Word through the eyes of a nonchalant, indifferent student, who cannot feel it's breathe or find its power. I see it and I compare it to a poorly pieced-together textbook. It's the most awful thing I can describe, and I hate it. I hate that I've allowed myself to so quickly come to this point. The Bible has been my lifeline in so many countless situations in my past, and now I've let go of it so quickly, have I? No, no, no, it can't be. I'm now looking at my beliefs over the past few years of my life and finding that the roots have been, if not shallow, certainly not as deep as they need to be. All of the questions in the world will not bring me to Jesus. All of the ANSWERS in the world won't bring me to Jesus. I've had the knowledge, I've had the passion to learn, but have I had the capacity and the faith to love and trust Him? Two completely, completely different concepts; a war between the soul and the mind. I WANT to know Him intimately. The Bible will defend itself— the question is, will I accept it?

There are so many, many expectations that I see and I don't know if I can compete. The majority of them come out unconsciously, unintentionally, but I recognize them. The politics. The mission field. The clubs and organizations. Being in leadership positions. Getting the grade, but more importantly, getting the degree. Danielle is going into pharmacy and her to-do list makes me feel inadequate. So I double-major, find a minor, and hope that my life will amount to something useful. Then maybe I'll go live in some foreign country where everyone is dirt poor and teach English and Jesus to the children. And then I'll settle down and get married, have a couple kids, and call my life successful. I'll find a home church and volunteer in some ministries. I'll write for a political journal and travel and put my children in daycare, and be smart and economically-minded. I'll go to bed with this "blessed" life around me and wonder what I'm doing, just like I am right now.

Oh, scorn and sarcasm. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, dear reader, whomever you may be, if you exist at all. It was the most gorgeous day today... that's meaningful, right? Sigh... identity crisis, much?

Hope.

I have a hope in the shape of a little ring. I always wore it on the fourth finger on my left hand. Today I gave it away for safe keeping. For an assurance. It was small and silver, but it's meaning was bigger than life. It feels really strange not to have it on, to look at my hand and not see it gleaming there. But it was only a transfer for the time being.

[FYI: Dad? I know you read this, but still. Don't freak yet.]

Distance doesn't compare to the meaning. There is nothing too big to overcome and there is an abundance of faith. We've crossed our t's and dotted our i's, we crossed our lines and dotted our promises; there is no turning back. Moving forward means either epic success or epic failure with no middle ground. We shot the middle man and squelched time from now to then, and if then never arrives then we are lost in negative space. We are standing on the precipice, you and I, and if we time it right we'll start flying. It's sink or swim, and we're swimming against the current, soaring against gravity, striving against reason. It is a tough road to hoe, especially when the cheer from the stands turns into eye-rolling disbelief. But the biggest hill to climb will be the one of waiting and staying in line. It's the restraint involved, the self-control, the willpower that will be the ultimate test; if we love each other like we say we do, there will be respect, and commitment, and purity. If we love the Lord like we say we do, individually more so, even, than together, then there will be such things and temptation will fall short in the light of His Glory. Failure is undesirable but we must constantly be on guard; there is no "it won't happen to us." Trust? Hmm... trust.

So much was unexpected in you. Every new thing is an adventure and I love it. How would I ever have guessed? I wouldn't have. I would never have guess, or dreamed, or imagined. It just... happened. Things realigned. A first and simultaneously a last, for me. A sunrise and an eventual sunset, but we haven't even reached midday. It's the last wee, beautiful hours of the morning, with the light dawning over a landscape so serene that we can't quite make it all out yet.

The future is big. We will do things on our own; we will go our own ways; we will make our own friends and have our own adventures and accomplish our own dreams. It's wonderful! But there's a part that we will always, reassuringly, have together. Together. Six months behind us and so many, many more to go. As we always say, let's do it right.

Two Trees Converge in a College Park

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both,

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth." *

Two trees converged in a college park,

And sorry I could not see their fate,

And be one oak tree, long I stood,

And tried to grow sturdy, as much I could,

Until I was merged to another weight.

Our limbs were long and gnarled be,

Twined with garland and persimmon leaves,

And reaching up to touch the sky,

The cleanest, purest expanse on high,

We determined to flourish righteously.

"And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back."

As time took time, irrelevantly,

The days changed from summer into fall,

And more I merged the the louder I sang,

We had our promises and picked our names,

When autumn arrived, they were strong and tall.

But as the light turned bright to gray,

We shed our colors and bared our flesh,

And together in the dimming glow

The other we both came to know,

Proximity closed— thus failed the test?

"I should be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence;

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I

I took the one less traveled by

And that has made all the difference."

I should be thinking this with a sigh,

Some days and hours later, yet,

With branches now exposed and bared,

Roots intertwined, all has been shared,

The closer we come, the closer we'll get.

And limb on limb, with all leaves fair,

Brushing together in the cooling air,

It must be done at an early age,

When we're still naive enough to say

This is right, and it's okay—

Will that make all the difference?

*Robert Frost reference, "The Road Not Taken"

The Pot Who Called the Kettle Black

I've never tried my eggs sunny side up. I have no idea if I'd like them or not, but I do like the idea of "sunny side up" anything. It's like being on the up and up, with a silver lining, where we're golden. All from an egg.

God has been good. I met some wonderful Christian friends while trying out for an a capella group, and through them a campus ministry. It's called InterVarsity. Dell— prayer works wonders. Thank you.

Danielle and Delsie and I actually went to the gym today. It was a pretty good workout, and we're going to make a habit out of it. I think Danielle and I figured Tuesdays and Thursdays work well with out schedules. Since it's free, there's no better excuse to get in shape!

... It's funny. I feel good. Not stuck in routine, not complacent. Today for my comic book class the teacher decided that the weather was so nice that we should have class outside. I loved it. Our campus is absolutely gorgeous and there was a breeze, and we were let out early to boot. It was a pretty productive day.

I had to write a paper for my Hebrew Bible class. I had to basically contradict everything I truly believe and sound like an atheist, and honestly, it was quite interesting. It wasn't hard to write at all, like I thought it was going to be. I just wrote what made logical, current sense. Which, of course, according to faith, makes no sense at all.

This is choppy. Probably because it's late and I want to go to bed. I have an 8:00 class in the morning (woo). But this weekend is going to be great. Fantastic, even. Because time will be of no consequence, and we'll crash. Amen.

I had no idea it was going to be this difficult. God, I just want to know that you have a plan for me! PLEASE, just tell me you have something and that I'm not in this for nothing. Please wrap me up in your embrace and let me know that you love me! I NEED you, Father, I CAN'T do this. Who am I without you, God? Restriction, restriction, I see it being set into motion even now. God, my heart is grieving. I am alone here, but I don't say that to complain, but to shock it into my own system. You are all I have here. Oh, God, You are all I have here. The soup in my mouth tastes vile and I can hardly make my throat work enough to swallow it; I'm choking and my eyes are stinging and my face is wet. I want to be where you are, God. God? Please. I love you and I have to get out of the boat. I have to follow you. I have to accept this burden. I have to understand that I'll never understand— You are God, and I am not. But don't leave me, Father, don't forsake me. I want to rip out my heart and throw it at your feet because I can't stand how it's hurting me, how it's aching in me. Father I hate time. I HATE TIME. I don't want to wait I don't want to wait I don't want to wait. Please, God, give me patience! Please! Soothe me, Father, speak tenderly to me, help me to raise up my hands and rejoice in every season. You are STILL God. I am weak, Father, weak, but you are strong. Please, please, I beg for peace. Your true and unfailing peace, that transcends all understanding. Even in the tempest, I ask for your peace. When I am in turmoil and I cannot see or feel and I feel numb and on fire, I ask for your peace. Guide me through this maze. I will follow you. I have nothing else here. I love you. But help me to love you more and more and more. Please.

Being a Tarheel :)

Okay, so my first class today was Spanish 204— let me tell you, I was a little nervous, considering everyone I had talked to had Spanish 203 or lower! I was afraid I was getting myself into something way over my head, considering taking Spanish in high school was cake and last year we didn't even have a qualified teacher. At first I walked into the wrong classroom with another girl, because our schedules had said our room number was "2", and usually they start in the 100's and work their way up. So we followed a bunch of other people who said they also had Spanish 204, and it turned out there were two spanish classes and we were in the wrong one. Ours was in the basement, haha, the only classroom down there. I thought that was sort of funny. The teacher seems nice; I'm not sure where she's from, but she's of hispanic origin. Luckily, I understood everything she said, because the entire class is taught in spanish (obviously), but she speaks slowly enough for us to not be entirely lost, and it seems like she's willing to repeat herself or at least clarify if we need it. It's only a 50 minute class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and it's small, which is nice. We did a couple exercises asking questions to a partner, and then we had to introduce our partner to the class based on what we learned. My partner was a guy named Sam, and he seemed pretty nice. We both agreed that we probably should have taken Spanish 203 instead. I've found that I'm much more at ease speaking Spanish in a classroom setting because we're all learning and everyone is apt to make mistakes, no matter how proficient they appear to be. All you have to say is "lo siento" and "como se dice...?" and you're good to go.

Since it was an 8:00 class, I was done by nine. I didn't want to go back to the dorm, so I walked around a little and ran into a friend from school, a girl named Caitlin. It was so good to see her because I'd had AP English 4 with her and we got along really well. We had actually talked about rooming together at one point but she was still deciding between Wake Forest and UNC, so I paired up with Danielle instead (which I'm very happy with). But Caitlin is so funny— I think we laughed on the bench for a good half hour before she had to go to a job interview in the library (lucky!). I think it's so interesting because she's a Mormon, and she was asking me if I had found a church yet, and I was like not quite, have you? And she said yes, and that Mormon churches all follow the same exact sermon, every Sunday, all over the world. So if you went to church in Raleigh and then went to, say, Singapore, you would hear the exact message that was being preached at your home church, because they all follow the same "schedule" or whatever you want to call it. Everything is connected, and she already knows people in the church by campus!

After she left, I went and got a cup of coffee (Milky Way mocha) and sat out on the patio near the Pit to listen to music and read for my class, and it was great. I really felt like a college kid, as dorky as that sounds. There was such a nice breeze, and since it was early it wasn't too hot, and there were people walking around talking and laughing and I loved it. I stopped reading and listened absentmindedly to Relient K, just watching and drinking coffee and letting the sun spill over my face. Good thing I decided to wear a dress, or it would have been a little warm.

I got back to the dorm right before Danielle and Delsie. My next classes are back-to-back— Astronomy and Intro to the Hebrew Bible. I'm excited for Astronomy! I just hope it's not all equations; I didn't take a math class this semester on purpose, haha.

"Isn't it nice to know,

That the lining

Is silver?

Isn't it nice to know,

That we're golden?" --Relient K

Romans 4:13-25

"For the promise to Abraham and his offspring that he would be heir of the world did not come through the law but through the righteousness of faith. For if it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. For the law brings wrath, but where there is no law there is no transgression. That is why it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his offspring— not only to the adherent of the law but also to the one who shares the faith of Abraham, who is the father of us all, as it is written, 'I have made you the father of many nations'— in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. In hope he believed against hope, that he should become the father of many nations, as he had been told, 'So shall your offspring be.' He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was as good as dead (since he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah's womb. No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. That is why his faith was counted to him as righteousness. But the words 'it was counted to him' were not written for his sake alone, but for ours also. It will be counted to us who believe in him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord, who was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification."

—Wherever I go, whatever I do, I wonder where I am in my relationship to you...— John Mayer

Move-In

So being here is officially strange. I think Luke put it best when he said it's like being at camp, waiting for your parents to come pick you up and then realizing they're not going to. Maybe this is only magnified because it's Sunday and usually I've been at church for at least two hours practicing with Thomas or Pastor on the songs we're going to play.

Moving in was definitely not as crazy as I thought it was going to be. We got here around nine, because that was the "appointed time" for me, and there was hardly anyone else unloading. Some girls from a fraternity helped get all of my stuff up to my dorm (which is on the seventh floor) and I went with mom to check in and get my keys. Then we went up stairs and found my room, and I think I just about cried when I opened the door because, no joke, it looks exactly like a prison cell. I think my favorite part was the window with it's beautiful view— it overlooks the staircase. No light comes in at all, so Danielle (my roommate) and I have discovered that it's completely too easy to loose track of time, considering you have no sunlight by which to measure how much actual time has passed at all. I do like my desk— I chose the one built into the wall. It's wood, and with all of my stuff put it in, it reminds me a little bit of home, just because it's the coziest thing to look at. We decided to bunk out beds to give us more room, and the carpet is lain out next to it. Then we have the fridge and microwave in the corner, and Danielle's desk is opposite the beds. Then there's the door, and on the entire left wall is the built in closets, the vanity, and at the end, my desk. The corner next to the fridge is pretty bare, so we're thinking of eventually getting a futon and some miscellaneous things to spruce it up, and it would let people come and spend the night if they wanted.

After Danielle came, my parents left and her parents left, and I helped her unpack the rest of her things. Then a couple people we knew from school showed up, and it was nice to be with them because they're familiar. We socialized for a little while, then they left and we went downstairs to the tech team to get our computers registered so that we could use the internet. When we came back up, our suite mates were knocking on our door to introduce themselves. The way our dorms are set up, we're in a "suite" with three other room and a single bathroom for all eight of us to share. Meeting them was... interesting. They all seem friendly enough, but definitely aren't the sort of people I'd hang out with on a regular basis; this is probably God telling me to either a) get off my high horse, b) find a witnessing opportunity (no Christians, I found out, only a Hindu...), or c) run for the hills.

Danielle had to get her books from the store, so we decided to walk over to the Student Store and get them. We had no idea how to get there from our dorm since we're so far away from everything! As we were leaving our lobby, I saw Jon, who we'd gone on the cruise with. He was with a friend I didn't know. His friend, who goes to Wake Tech, had a car, and Jon offered us a ride over to the store. He was completely lost but trying to play it off. Once we finally got there, he told me to text him if we wanted to meet up with him for a frat party. Frat party? Ha, ha. Me? Mhmm... After we got Danielle's book, we walked back to the dorm and took the long way around campus since we had no idea where to go; we probably walked for a half-hour.

Anyways, after that, we came back to our own room and chilled for a bit, then Nick and Elliot came over and we talked. We went back to their dorm and met up with some of the others, and then decided to try and take the bus to Target, because they had a shuttle running from 10:00-12:30. By the time we got to the stop, the line was backed up almost across the street, and it really wasn't worth the wait. Danielle and I really wanted to find a store, though, because we wanted milk and ice cream and I had forgotten my face-wash at home, so I wasn't in the best of moods. So we though there might be something open on Franklin Street. It was about 11:00 and we walked down there (it is MILES away from where our dorms are) and didn't get back until 12:30-ish. There was no store open, only a couple restaurants and bars, as well as a Ben & Jerry's. I also caught my first glimpse of a hookah bar! Woo! ... Just kidding. There was a random group of musicians on the corner and a girl tapping a tambourine, and it sounded good only the tambourine girl was pretty off beat. I really felt like I was in college at this point.

Finally, we were back to the dorm, I took a shower, and got into bed. I talked to Luke a little, which was wonderful, and then fell asleep, only to wake up in the pitch-black every so often, disoriented.

Oh college life.

Last Night.

Of course I'm going to write a blog on my last night at home. DUH. It's probably going to be emotional and sentimental, too, so I can get it all off my chest and start out college without a giant paper weight (get it? Aha. Ha.) on my conscious.

It was busy today. I visited Krysteah, who is now home from the hospital and is doing pretty well, and then went over to Ashton's work to talk to her for a little while. Then I came home and me and my mom started packing all of my stuff. I've come to the conclusion that parents have no idea what to pack, they only know how to be incredibly irritating. My dad, for example, suggests that I bring everything in my entire room, including old stuffed animals that I haven't hugged in years and pictures of friends who aren't even friends any more. My mom freaks out over the sort of boxes we're using, because dad likes to pull out old storage from the closet that are full of Christmas ornaments to try and "recycle and reuse." Yikes. Needless to say, I kicked them both out and did it all myself. I couldn't stand my dad's sentimental urges and my mother's frantic gaze, both of which were directed at me.

My dad made my favorite dinner (lasagna) and that was good. My brother had gone to the first football game of the season with some of his friends, so it was just me and my parents. I have to say, padre makes a pretty good lasagna, even if all he does is follow the instructions on the back of the noodle box. Then we decided to go to Goodberry's, after a rather long and drawn out discussion, and some personal tears (of course), to end the evening.

I love driving to Goodberry's because we get to take the back roads there through the country, instead of the highway. I would definitely say that God gave me a gorgeous last-night sunset, because the sky was beautiful. It's funny how you notice things when you think it's the last time you're going to see them in a while. Everything takes on this strange sort of glory and beauty and precision, and stands out against it's backdrop like dirt on the snow. Farmhouses seemed romantic and almost cheerful, and the trees looked alive like they could start singing at any moment; the cow pastures were warm and lonely, and even the antiquated gas-station juxtaposed against the rural fields and glowing horizon looked sharp and magnificent. Odd, isn't it, how we suddenly notice things that we've so long taken for granted? It's not just junk, or land, or property— it's a life. It's a way of living that I'm leaving and, in a way, coming back to over and over, but it will never really be mine ever again. That's the thing about college that I don't think my parents understand. Yes, I'll be coming home again, and yes, things will probably be very similar if not exactly the same. But I'll be coming home an adult. An adult who, after college ends, will be going to different cityscapes and countries and villas to find her own way, her own town, her own life. I won't call this home any more. It's strange and exciting and terrifying and wonderful, all wrapped up in this mixed emotion that has no name.

Tonight when I go to bed, my thoughts will be wandering. I'll probably be taking long walks through my childhood, my adolescence, my trials and my joys, and trying to make them connect into who I turned out to be. Who I'm still turning out to be, really. And I know that as college comes and these next four years flash by, I'll be changing even more, turning into someone new all over again. The memories I have are precious, but I don't want them to hinder my future. I want to walk into this newness without burdens, without strings, without fear or pride, and most of all, without control, so that I am forced to cling to the only unchanging thing I know— Jesus. I don't know anything; I am ignorant and not clever, and I have no way of promising anything, of predicting anything, hallelujah. Lord knows the desires of my heart, but as was prophesied over me, I must walk a straight and narrow path until the time is ripe and right. Put me through the maze, then, keep me on a hard road, make my own way unclear to me, if it draws me nearer to You. If it forces me to my knees, if it keeps me perpetually weeping, if it breaks my heart and breaks my will, Father, may it be as You have said, and may I be soft and malleable clay in Your hands. I have no other hope than the hope I have in You.

So yeah, tomorrow I move into dorm 074-b at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, at 9:00 a.m., and begin my adventure. In the words of someone famous who's name I don't remember— "Good night, and good luck."

I want you not to go.

And then, in that moment, I knew I was in way over my head. There was no rope left to pull myself back out because I had cut it, too high for me to grab and too low to no longer be tantalizing. The waves came up and threatened to crash over me, and all I had was a small-yet-sturdy vessel called hope to rely on. He had beckoned me in, gave me the choice, and I took it hard.

There are a precious few moments that I can recall in a lifetime and know that they were God-directed. Of course, they all are, but these stick out pointedly, prominently, promisingly.

I wish I could say that in this moment I am perfectly okay with the changes going on around me. I wish I could say that I'm not even the slightest bit anxious, or that I'm good at transitioning and letting life change. But those would be lies, and since I don't want to be a liar, I can't truthfully say any of them. I move into Carolina on Saturday. Luke and the guys and Amanda are moving into UNCG today. I have this funny sort of bittersweet ache in my chest; it's like I want to be sad, but at the same time, there's an excitement and an acceptance. Part of me is nostalgic and wants to pull back into being a child, but the other part is ready and willing life to begin this next phase, which everyone tells me consists of the best years of your life. Father, teach me to let go. Teach me to open up my hands and let you have your way in me. It's impossible not to think about the past but it doesn't have to hurt. You are in complete control, and I need to trust you. Help me to trust you more.

Bye bye, Birdie (I"ll Fly Away)

[But our wings have now grown in

And it's time to toughen our skin

So free me

Because I'm freeing you.]

Bye bye, birdie,

fly away home,

look in the mirror and

see how you've grown,

there's no place like gravity

so out you must go,

out from the shadows

to the sunshine below,

out from the thoughts

that have made you a child,

out from the passions that

made you run wild,

there's no space for trembling

and you're not alone,

so bye bye, birdie,

fly away home.

bye bye, birdie,

fly away home.

there's place for the faces

of all you have known,

don't eat the seeds

of the gardens you've sown,

when you're not in the music

just pick up the phone,

for they'll sing to you over

and over again,

though when you can come

back no one knows when,

while over the meadows

and green fields you roam,

singing bye bye, birdie,

fly away home.

bye bye, birdie,

come back home,

it's been a long time

and we're changing the tone

of the ringing and singing

that was calling you out,

you'll come back to banners

while we cry and shout

of your newfound priorities

responsibilities and such

we know that you're young

and this seems a bit much

but we promise, the takeoff

is easier than pie,

so spread out your wings now

and go touch the sky,

remember you're welcome

in this place that you've known,

so bye bye, birdie,

and come back home.

O.C. (4) Again, a great word...

This Experience Must Come

Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. And Elisha . . . saw him no more —2 Kings 2:11-12

It is not wrong for you to depend on your "Elijah" for as long as God gives him to you. But remember that the time will come when he must leave and will no longer be your guide and your leader, because God does not intend for him to stay. Even the thought of that causes you to say, "I cannot continue without my ’Elijah.’ " Yet God says you must continue.

Alone at Your "Jordan" ( Kings 2:14 ). The Jordan River represents the type of separation where you have no fellowship with anyone else, and where no one else can take your responsibility from you. You now have to put to the test what you learned when you were with your "Elijah." You have been to the Jordan over and over again with Elijah, but now you are facing it alone. There is no use in saying that you cannot go— the experience is here, and you must go. If you truly want to know whether or not God is the God your faith believes Him to be, then go through your "Jordan" alone.

Alone at Your "Jericho" ( 2 Kings 2:15 ). Jericho represents the place where you have seen your "Elijah" do great things. Yet when you come alone to your "Jericho," you have a strong reluctance to take the initiative and trust in God, wanting, instead, for someone else to take it for you. But if you remain true to what you learned while with your "Elijah," you will receive a sign, as Elisha did, that God is with you.

Alone at Your "Bethel" ( 2 Kings 2:23 ). At your "Bethel" you will find yourself at your wits’ end but at the beginning of God’s wisdom. When you come to your wits’ end and feel inclined to panic— don’t! Stand true to God and He will bring out His truth in a way that will make your life an expression of worship. Put into practice what you learned while with your "Elijah"— use his mantle and pray (see 2 Kings 2:13-14 ). Make a determination to trust in God, and do not even look for Elijah anymore.

Weeds, Rain, and Time Capsules

Yeah, it's a bit strange of a title. But this will be a bit strange of a blog.

The other day my dad had a list of chores waiting for me when I woke up. Before I even saw the list or went downstairs, I finally took the time to pray and talk to God. I had no time limit and no where to be (which was lovely), so we talked. I asked Him to show me a new thing in myself. It was so wonderful that I could have cried.

The first thing my dad asked me to do was pull weeds out of the mulch beds in front of our house. This is a new chore for me; usually I'm working inside. So I went out thinking the sooner I got it done, the better, and it would be less hot earlier in the morning than at mid-afternoon. You know what? I learned a LOT of lessons pulling out those stupid weeds. The kind that reside in my front yard have long, long tentacles that spread out in every direction, and it's so hard to find the true root; I must have wasted so much time pulling at the individual tendrils, which only broke off in my hand, before I found where it started and got the whole thing out. Lesson number 1: there may be many things in my life that are spreading out and clinging to everything, strangling the good, but I can't nit-pick at each annoyance. I need to find the root cause, and that will clear up all of the little sins and mistakes that aren't the true problem. Another thing about weeds is that they grow thickest near the bases of trees (at least in my front yard). I figured it was because the trees take the most nutrients, so if the weeds grow there they can feed off of the nutrients near the tree and good soil. Lesson 2: weeds in my life tend to "grow up" around all of my big dreams and aspirations. The things that God has for my life are the things that are targeted by weeds, because I give them the most energy and effort. Satan plants them there to drain my spirit before I can even get to the "tree." Finally, whenever I would get down on my hands and knees to really get these stupid things up, the gnats would attack. I have a new-found hatred for gnats. They only really got to me when I was pulling up a weed with a vengeance. Lesson 3: When I begin to weed my life, and get rid of all of the sins and temptations growing there, there will be gnats that get in my way, to try and frustrate me away from weeding and letting the stupid things continue to grow. They may be other friends, a busy schedule, or whatever; all gnats that keep me from weeding out my life.

I was SO glad my dad asked me to do this, or I wouldn't have had such an introspective time of soul searching.

On a completely different subject, there is something completely breathtaking about sharing the rain with someone. "Caught in a moment out in the rain, tell me there's something we can say..." Oh Mat Kearney! You somehow know exactly what to say for me. We dance, we laugh, we tell stories and look at the future. There are deep conversations and silent words and plain old talking and the best place for all of the above is on the trunk of my car, with a cool breeze sweeping itself up and over us, beneath the golden glow from a street lamp. We can pick out the contrasting whites, blues, and grays of an overcast sky that sometimes lets a galleon moon wink through, and listen to crickets and thunder rumbling, and pay some small attention to the lightening. I can recite bits of poetry and you can tell me about childhood card games. We're nerds. I'll wave my arms at the sky and tell you it looks like it could snow, and you can look at me like I'm crazy and pretend you're in the past. And then, it rains. It washes away the words and the barriers and leaves us clean and free and raw. Big, fat drops that splash on our faces and soak us immediately, while we dance to no music and it doesn't even matter. You hum something random and I laugh. My forehead is cold and wet and my hair is a mess, but you push my bangs aside and leave a warm, warm mark above my temple and next to the freckle by my hairline. The rain is good and the thunder is low and the lightening illuminates everything we want to see, that which is right before our eyes. Thank you.

Sometimes, I want to take time as a linear entity and roll it up until it's wrapped tight around my finger and I can string it out however I want and whenever I want. There are moments in my life where, as they instantly happen, I think to myself, this has always been happening. This moment has been occurring over and over again until I got far enough down time's line to experience it, but it's always been here, waiting for me. There are moments in my future that are happening right now, waiting to get to me, or really, waiting for me to get to them. Because time in happening in a straight line, like a ladder. Just because you haven't got to the 10th rung yet doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It does exist; you just haven't gotten there. You follow? Sometimes I want to take the things I experience in a few precious minutes and save them, like diamonds, in my heart; maybe I'll turn them into bracelets or necklaces or rings, or maybe I'll twist them into tears or smiles or music notes, which can be replayed over and over again. My own personal time capsule. My future is already mapped out like a constellation; people always think of their life like a series of choices, and one choice leads to many other things, like those books you can read where you pick the ending depending on what page you decide to flip to. But I don't think it's like that. You're choices have already been made, and even though there are billions of stars all over the sky, there's a constellation that's already been connected and decided, and that's your path. You can't know the next star you're connected to, the next moment that's going to take you farther along time's line, but it's already there.

I feel like my head is exploding. Enough. What's there is there, and what's here is here. There's nothing to fear, no room for doubt, no "time" to decide. Let's just do it and do it right. Mm.

Hook, Line, and Sinker

We ladies are strange creatures, I'll admit. We have odd tendencies, unpredictable emotions, and downright confusing trains of thought. We cry at sad movies or sappy stories; we laugh at random things that usually aren't even funny; we act mad when we're striving for attention. What's more, we thrive on unpredictability. There is nothing better, for us, than doing something out of the ordinary or unexpected— we want to be seen as unique, clever, capable, mysterious. Anything but normal.

Okay, maybe this is just me. But I sort of doubt it.

Girls speak, in my opinion, through body language. For us, communication through our actions is essential and, though we find the intentions to be painfully obvious, easily misinterpreted. Guys, I've noticed, say things. Guys talk. And while those two statements are stupidly plainspoken, it's true. Girls want to be read and "figured out." We say, oh, well, if they can't tell what my silence/crossed arms/wide-eyed look/whatever means, they must not be paying enough attention... why aren't they paying attention? why don't they get it? why don't they try harder to understand? Ah! ... oh brother. Not to rag on my own sex, but we make it extremely difficult to be understood. We blame guys for being shallow and ignorant, but sometimes I think we ask impossible things of them. They are not mind readers. Yeah, something they should pay much more attention and yeah, they can be incredibly naive. They cross those invisible lines and we roll our eyes. But is it really so bad? Probably not.

I used to think it was horrible, the way that society lead every little girl to look for a specific brand of "prince charming." You know, the whole tall-dark-and-handsome thing; the prince that comes riding in on a white stallion to rescue the beautiful lady in distress, and he sweeps her off her feet and kisses her passionately and slings her behind him on his steed, and off they ride to who knows where. But at the same time, it really wasn't Hollywood that invented this mental image, this paradigm of the perfect (nonexistent) man. It was us. Well, in a roundabout way it was us. It was really God, and then we allowed it to be twisted.

I can only speak from my own experience, and while I would love to say I can speak for all females, I can't. That would be ignorant and rude. The following is my own opinion. What I want, more than anything, is to be lead and protected. It's instinctual. God created that and put that in me, and truly, only He is "man enough" to fulfill that desire. I know this. But He also created man and woman to be together, and there is a physical need for that protection and leadership. Don't get me wrong, all of the other things are incredibly nice. Being romanced is wonderful and joking around makes for a great time. However, want I want in a man is authority and confidence. Women in general, I think, are naturally attracted to men of authority. No matter how independent or smart a woman is, I don't think she always wants to be in control of a relationship. That's not how God intended it— Adam did come first. (It's not like I'm anti-feminism or anything crazy like that; I'm for women's rights or whatever, I don't really care.) The man needs to be sure. Sure in his Faith, firstly, and then sure in his own self, sure of what he wants, sure of what he's capable of. My questions are, can you protect me, would you be willing to fight for me, would you be willing to stand for something or anything, are you determined, can you carry the burden, are you able to take the support I'm so willing to give you? [As a side-note, the "you" in this is for a general audience.] I want to be loved. God is my first and ultimate Love, He is my rock and my foundation. I know that when my heart is broken, He still loves me, hallelujah. But to be loved for who I am, without makeup, without a smile sometimes, crying or laughing, happy or angry, hopeful or doubtful, pretty or ugly... to be loved for me, Kristina Lorraine Weeks... that's what I want.

I'm a passionate person, I can't help it. Grab my hand and make me follow. Talk like you know what you're doing. Say you have a plan or say you don't have a plan— I don't really care, so long as you're in action, in motion, and I'm there. Pick me up off of the floor when I'm out of breath and carry me to rest when I'm exhausted. Because of all the crazy things we are, women know how to love. I'll respect you, I'll support you, I'll care for you and try to help you achieve whatever you're striving for. "I" being women in general. I think it's so funny how God made us... He has a sense of humor, He does.

This was sort of random. But it felt good to follow the thoughts.

Inevitable.

Today is August 1st.

I've never had a day hit me so hard before. I used to love the beginning of August, because it was familiar. My birthday is this month. Normally, a familiar school year would be around the corner, filled with faces I've known for years and teachers who half-care and already recognize me. I would have it under control, ready to go, with no unsettling bumps or twists. But this year, of course, is different.

August 1st, 2009, is the epitome of change and chance. I move away from my home and, in a less literal sense, myself, in 22 days. A new chapter in my life opens— the overriding question is, am I ready? And perhaps more looming, does it matter whether I'm ready or not? Stepping away from childhood has always seemed so appealing. I've always been "mature" and "outgoing" and "ready." My dad tells me how I could have been held back a year before starting kindergarten because my birthday is so late in the summer, but how they knew that I had this whole ready-concept going on, and they put me in as the youngest kid in the class. And apparently I flourished from there. But this is a much bigger pond I'm swimming in now. It's not really a pond at all; it's more like an ocean, and I'm afraid of getting swallowed whole.

Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I'll be away from those I love the most. My family, my friends, my church, my boyfriend, even my dog... none of them too close, and yet, none of them too far (excluding Amanda Boyle— Texas!). Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I think I'll fail, whether socially, academically, or spiritually. Do I know how to organize and maintain each? Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I fear conformity. I don't want to be one of the crowd, but how to walk with a new step when there are literally thousands of "me" walking in the same direction? Yet I know that even with all of these reasonings and possibilities to define my fear, none of them are the root. The real reason I am afraid is because I don't know what's going to happen. I don't have control over my future. I can't see past August 22nd, and therefore, I dread it. I really, really do.

That's not to say I'm already hating the thought of college life. I know it will be good, and I'm pretty positive that I'll love it once the ball gets rolling. Well, I'm roughly about 92.3% positive. And that's the majority, right? I just have to get over the initial shock. It's like swimming in a cold pool on a blisteringly hot summer day. If you slide yourself in little by little and let the icy water climb higher and high, you're going to lose your resolve and back out, because it's just so cold. The best thing to do is get on the high dive, take a couple good bounces, and then jump without a second thought. That way there's no going back. I guess, then, that I'm just looking for the courage to climb up the ladder to where the diving board is waiting for me, and ultimately, the water is waiting to embrace me. Unless, of course, it rejects me and I land flat on my face (belly-flop style) on a surface of ice... but on hot summer days that doesn't seem to happen very often.

"Do you remember when we were just kids

And cardboard boxes took us miles from what we would miss?

Schoolyard conversations taken to heart,

And laughter too the place of everything we knew we were now.

I want to break every clock,

The hands of time would never move again,

We could stay in this moment

For the rest of our lives.

Is it over now, hey, is it over now?"

--Inevitable, Anberlin

City of Black and White

[I love this song. Love love love it. Mat Kearney is amazing.]

This whole city's black and white
Tell me what is your color? Could it be the same as mine?
Faded greens and blue street lights
There's a red fire burning from the sea up to the sky

'Cause I don't wanna wait until tomorrow
To tell you how I feel the rest of my life
You don't wanna waste another minute when you realize

Walking on the dark side of the evening
Maybe it was you that opened my eyes
Burning like a fire on the water the city of black and white
Won't you just stay? Won't you just stay?

I'm on a top stair looking down, if you're coming up to me
It's where the whole world wants to be found
Golden rings and coffee brown
There's a white flag waving where my heart is on the ground

'Cause I don't wanna wait until tomorrow
To tell you how I feel the rest of my life
You don't wanna waste another minute when you realize

Walking on the dark side of the evening
Maybe it was you that opened my eyes
Burning like a fire on the water the city of black and white
Won't you just stay? Won't you just stay?

Won't you just stay now when the light goes
Under a dark street no one else knows?
So take my hands I'll carry you, you can carry me

'Cause I don't wanna wait until tomorrow
To tell you how I feel the rest of my life
You don't wanna waste another minute when you realize

Walking on the dark side of the evening
Maybe it was you that opened my eyes
Burning like a fire on the water the city of black and white
Won't you just stay? Won't you just stay?

Won't you just stay now?
Stay now, stay now when you're that close
Won't you just stay? Won't you just stay?

Never Say Never

I will not.

I will not be one of those girls who tell the class that her pet peeve is people using the wrong subjunctive tense in their oral sentence structure (what the crap does that even mean?).

I will not be one of those girls who goes to parties and allows random drunk guys to hang all over her.

I will not be one of those girls who goes to parties to get drunk/high/whatever to "have a good time and relax."

I will not be one of those girls who is so freaking uptight about her schedule, her social life, her eating habits, etc. that you can see them wedging themselves up her butt from a mile away.

I will not be one of those girls who falls for every guy who promises "Omg I think I love you..."

I will not be one of those girls who follows everything in order to follow the crowd.

I will not be one of those girls who sits in her dorm room whenever she's not in class because she doesn't have a life.

I will not be one of those girls who is a backstabber, cheater, liar, fake, hypocrite, butt-hole, stuck-up, pessimist, jerk, or unfaithful person.

I will not be one of those girls who ends up denying her faith when the going gets rough, the pressure comes down, and the people start to walk away.

I will not. I will not. I will not.

"He is Jealous For Me..."

The sky looks like an old photograph. Colorless in some places, and sun-kissed in others. The air is sticky and warm and smells like the earth and thunder. The clouds light up in the distance and the wind is slow and smooth. I can see forked lines of brilliance flashing far away against a charcoal canopy, and as I glance to the right I can see a reflection of a day-old sun on the low, puffy gray sheep. It is so quiet, outside of the storms rumble. It's like hunger, that sound. Hunger and desire, tormented and angry; unsatisfied. The lighting is so strange that it's almost surreal. Black, black, gray, ocean, dust, rose, pale pink, and finally, periwinkle. With hints of cream and cotton candy stuck here and there, delicious and so contrasting. I love post-summer storm evenings.

I told my dad earlier today that my view of God is changing again. When he asked me what I meant, I didn't know exactly how to respond. It used to be that I saw God as a sort of "shape-shifter"; he was whatever I needed Him to be at the time. For example, if I was lost, He was my Comfort. If I was happy, He was my friend. If I was sinful, He was the disappointed Father. It was so difficult for me to comprehend God because my finite mind could only see Him in a solitary light. And yet, like the beautifully complex sky above me, so soon after the rain, I find that He is so much more than I deem him to be. I cannot comprehend such and I do not claim to understand, but now as I face adulthood and choices that will affect the entirety of my future, I begin to understand that God really is the infinite, unimaginable, and intricate Being I've always heard of. I cannot question Him; I cannot doubt Him; I cannot mistrust Him; I cannot disprove Him; I cannot think Him to be singular; I cannot wrap Him up to something simple and explainable.

When I close my eyes and picture Him to be near, He is not treating me as a 5-year old. Now, that is not to say that I think I am too old to be His child or that I think He does not view me as his daughter. But as I get older, I see Him revealing things to me that I could not take before. Some of them are burdens, but some of them are joys. All of these things that I have been thinking lately and experiencing... I wondered, at first, the classic question: why? But as I get older, I begin to believe more and more that He is watching me grow up, walking next to me, and preparing me for adulthood by putting me in situations that require a decision, not that I may make it on my own but that I may understand my intense need of Him, if I would so wish to have a smooth transition into the future. Does that make sense? My relationship with God is "growing up" as I am growing up; though He never changes, I feel as though things between us are getting older, too.

On the reverse side, it's harder to cling to the "faith of a child." College is going to kick my butt. Spiritually, socially, mentally, and as a result, physically. I have recognized a sudden urgency to be near Him, and it saddens me to think it has not always been so but is especially fierce as I gaze into the upcoming year. I have battles to face, friends to make, relationships to maintain, pupils to teach, opportunities to consider... so many things that I cannot, will not face without the Father. I have ties that I can either cut or tie tighter. I have restrictions that I can either embrace or rebel against. I will walk the line, and I know it. I just pray that I don't fall off of this tightrope.

"He is jealous for me,

Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,

Bending beneath the weight

Of His wind and mercy.

And all of a sudden I am unaware

Of these afflictions, eclipsed by glory,

And I realize just how beautiful You are

And how great Your affections are for me..."

--"How He Loves Us" John Mark McMillan