You and I

You and I sit on the back porch. It is mostly silent except for the squeaking of the old, wicker rocking chairs outside. We haven't said anything in five minutes, but it doesn't really matter. I don't think either of us care. I watch a bird flutter down onto the patio. It chirps, jumps, and flies away. I chuckle. You grin. We continue to sit. I look over at you. You look back. I smile at you. You smile back. And I look away, thinking about how good I have it.
It's the simple life. You chuckle. "What?" "Nothing." I grin. Nothing of any consequence may be said within an hour of us sitting like this, yet I feel like I've had the conversation of a lifetime.
It begins raining, and as we begin to talk, we can barely hear even our own voices over the sound of the roaring of water through the gutters overhead. The smell of April fills my lungs as the rain sends up an earthy smell from the ground. A disgruntled wren flies through the air to the bushes by the picket fence. You and I talk more. And our thoughts turn to a more serious mood as the wind flies through the screen and rushes into the brick wall behind us, finding no place to go. As we talk, I learn to think like you think, because I believe it's a much more interesting state of mind. And maybe we'll go back to sitting in silence, or maybe our conversation will continue for another two hours. I never know.
It's just you and me sitting together. And that's all I really want.

You and I ride down the interstate blasting Relient K or The Avett Brothers. We sit in absolute silence all the way up. The hypnotizing lull of the tires rasping across the black asphalt put me in a quiet state of mind. You and I sit there, occasionally making a comment on something, perhaps even holding a conversation from time to time. 45 minutes of this, and all is right with the world.
We're on the way back. Another 45 minutes of this. This time it's night, and we pass through states of city lights and star lights. We laugh the whole way back. Anberlin, or perhaps Rich Mullins or Simon and Garfunkel (or if we're feeling in an epic mood, the Dark Knight Rises soundtrack) is playing in the background. We talk about life and people and everything that comes to mind until we get home.
Sometimes we might even sit up in my room until three in the morning continuing a conversation that probably no one else would understand. But that's okay. I'd listen to you talk for three hours straight. It's fun to listen to you talk. I learn so much when I listen to you, and I think you teach me more about life than most "wise" people do. I don't want to be anywhere else right now. Because,
it's just you and me talking with each other. And that's all I really want.

You and I sit up until five in the morning. We talk about the most insane things, and laugh about the stupidest things. Know what I like about you? I like the fact that you can make me laugh about stupid things. I like it when people can do that. And when I'm so mad at you that I want to scream, you just sit there and remain calm. Or laugh at me. Either one typically works, and you know when to use which one. We're best friends. You and I both have a sense of wonder about us that few people have. A sense of ridiculousness that few people have. And I like that. I like sitting out in the yard with you with no tent staring at the stars. I like watching the moon set behind the pine trees in your backyard until it has completely disappeared among the evergreens.
We may talk for hours. We may watch our favorite TV shows. We may watch a stupid movie from Disney. Whatever we do, we have fun at it. We ride in your car blasting music with the windows down in the middle of winter. We talk about the most serious of topics, and worry about things that shouldn't be worried about. But we get each other.
It's just you and me being best friends. And that's all I really want.

In Desire of Autumn

I'll admit it, I'm kind of a fall girl.
Although I'm pretty sure most of you know that.

I know I talk a lot about how much I love the sweaters, cicadas (just so long as they're not on my face, head, or within fifty feet of me), leggings and jeans, pumpkins, apple cider, and the like. And it's true, I absolutely adore those things. I love the idea of back to school supplies, carrying around Vera Bradley purses and bags, sitting in the backyard with my camera, and all those lovely things that just come with autumn.
However, there is something that I don't talk about a lot in relation to autumn, and that is music.
To me, each season has a "sound" in music. Spring is a conglomeration of beautiful indie music and the beginning of summer music. Summer music is some good rock music, ranging from Southern rock like Lynyrd Skynyrd to some good "hard" rock (at least in my terms) like Anberlin. Winter music is usually just Christmas music. Incessantly. Constantly. Every second of the day. I listen to a little bit of other stuff, you know, a little bit of Coldplay awesomeness, but really. Christmas music is really all I need during winter.
But as for autumn, it has probably the most distinct sound. It's just the most beautiful of sounds. To me, autumn sounds like The Avett Brothers, Relient K, Paul Colman Trio, Michael Buble, Ella Fitzgerald, Nickel Creek, David Crowder Band, and Dashboard Confessional. It's a mix of light rock, bluegrass, and the good 'ol 40s classics.
I know to most people some of these bands might not sound particularly "fallish," but to me they have particular memories attached to them. I remember finding the song "Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional last autumn and absolutely falling in love with it, listening to it incessantly. I remember listening to Michael Buble and Ella Fitzgerald the past two years, and especially last year; that music helped me through so much. I remember blasting The Avett Brothers and Relient K while driving down the interstate with my brother. Paul Colman Trio reminds me of Chicago in the fall. These things are just lovely to me.

Since autumn is coming, I decided to follow the trend of posting playlists from Spotify to my blog. This is an August playlist. You'll definitely hear a mix of summer sounds and autumn sounds. It could go from Anberlin to Ella Fitzgerald in a heartbeat, so be prepared for anything. *wink*



To me these songs bring a roaring end to swimming in the river, eating frozen yogurt, driving down the interstate in the heat of summer, and watching summer flicks at the theater, while heralding in watching White Collar, drinking hot tea, cider, and chai incessantly, sitting outside with blankets and hot, homemade popcorn, and festivals.

So long summer. Welcome autumn.

August - A month for thought

August is my least favorite month of the year.

Although this might seem like a pessimistic thing to say, let me give you a few reasons why I hate August so much:

First. It's the month in which I start back to school. And this year I am a senior. And I am not ready for it. I started school on Monday, and literally sat at my desk for nearly thirty minutes thinking, "I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for this." You guys, I'm seriously not ready to be a senior.

Second. For the past two years, I have just gotten back from a two week long camp where I had super close friends. And I return to home. And home isn't exactly that lovely fairy tale land called summer camp. Home is that place called real life. Fairy tale mindsets and the stuff the real life throws at you don't dwell well together, I've learned.

Third. I have many bad memories attached to August. For the past two years, August has been a time in which I have gone through something incredibly difficult in my life. I'm starting to feel like August is a virtual Friday the 13th for me.

Fourth. It is that time that is just before autumn. And you want autumn so badly. But you can't reach it because it's still ninety-six and a half degrees outside. 

And the list goes on.

I'm not a fan of August.

However, at the same time, I feel rather reclusive and thoughtful this month. As I said, the past two years, two of some of the hardest things in my life had either just happened or were happening in August, and it was just a tough month. Or, for last year, the first of several tough months.

I like to look back to those times and see where I have come from those. 

I have grown.

I am a different person.

I like to imagine that God has shaped me and is still shaping me from and through these experiences. Although they are painful at the time, they have led me to a deeper sense of God's presence, power, and love. And if I can see that, believe that, and feel that, I think that those experiences were for the best.

Also, since August is the month of starting school back for pretty much every school kid, I tend to muse about past school days. I feel like an eighty year old sometimes when I think back to my freshman year... it feels like it was so long ago, when in reality, it was only three years ago. But I like to imagine those late summer and early autumn days when I first started high school. It's especially funny and interesting this year, because I'm a senior. Looking at my freshman self and looking at myself now, in comparison, is quite amusing. And once again,

I like to look back to those times and see where I have come from those.

I have grown.

I am a different person.

Lastly, like I said, August is that time just before autumn when the cicadas start screaming their melodies in the oak tree behind our house. It's that time when you can just feel autumn coming. Although the weather doesn't seem to speak of its coming, I can just imagine the feeling of warm plaid shirts and sweaters, of my knee socks and blankets. I can imagine the cozy feeling of drinking apple cider out on the back porch, huddled up in a ball, sipping the spicy scent, wearing wool socks and a ridiculously large sweater, and watching the leaves change from green to yellow and fall to the ground. I love how the seasons reflect life. In nature there is a constant living and dying, and beginning of new things and ending of old ones. And it makes me think about our own lives. The fleeting senior year will soon turn to yellow leaves, and will fall slowly (or perhaps quickly depending on how much I procrastinate on graduation and college business) until every last hint of my life in high school is gone. Yet I'll still be there, ready to grow again in whatever lies ahead.
In August, I'll think about those things.

In August, I'll imagine the hearty taste of butternut squash filled with sausage and apples.

In August, I'll remember where I've come from and where God has brought me.

In August, I'll remember the feeling of warm socks and sweaters.

In August, I'll remember the scents I smell when I get pumpkins at Fresh Market.

In August, I'll remember the sight of the brightest blue sky.
In August, I'll prepare for the things that will one day be nostalgic remembrances.

In August, I'll remember skipping down the street singing Josh Bales and watching the leaves.

In August, I'll remember autumn. I'll remember change. I'll remember.

Past Augusts have brought a lot of things that have tried to bring me down. But this August, I'll remember how those things, in the end, brought me up.

"The first week of August hangs at the very top of 

summer,

the top of the live-long year, like the highest

Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.

The weeks that come before are only a climb from

balmy spring,

and those that follow a drop to the 

chill of autumn,

but the first week of August is motionless, and hot.

It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns

and glaring noons,

and sunsets smeared with too much color.

Often at night there is lightning,

but it quivers all alone."

-Natalie Babbitt 

The Blank Page

I sit in any room full with kids from the age of 14 to the age of 24. The auditorium is nearly silent except for the one person standing up at the front. Everyone's eyes are on that one person. All ears are listening (except a select few who got too little sleep the night before). The room is hushed. Then the speaker begins to talk. The blank page resting on three metal rings begins to be scribbled on furiously as the speaker gives the most important of information.
Suddenly all the kids are hearing information on ethics, worldview, ideas. Cosmic humanism, secular humanism, postmodernism, and many other worldviews are thrown at us. We wrestle with the idea of atheism, of abortion, and many other topics. The blank pages in the notebook are suddenly filled with ideas that had occurred to nearly no one in the room. Suddenly, all seems instantly clear.
Those blank pages become filled with why we believe what we believe.
Because ideas have consequences.
And if ideas have consequences, we better be well sure we know why we believe what we believe.
And as the hundreds of students sit in the large auditorium, we begin to hear these ideas explained.
This, my friends, is called The Summit.

Summertime Goodness

 And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees,

just as things grow in fast movies,

I had that familiar conviction that life was

beginning over again with the summer.

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

It's full-fledged summer. In fact, you might almost say that summer is dieing off. I rather wish it would... despite my adoration of river-swimming, sun-bathing, and iced-chai-tea-latte-drinking habits, I can't help but desire my lovely autumn days in October.
However, I have enjoyed this summer a great deal more than past summers. Things have been delightfully laid back. I have enjoyed my Starbucks ice cream, loads of books, swimming, stormy afternoons, and even my schoolwork a great deal. Things have been a lovely shade of sepia with all the heat, but it's quite lovely. I love watching God's artistry throughout the year, and summer is quite beautiful.
I suppose this summer has been more beautiful than past summers, to me, because I have actually engaged myself in doing things that seem summerish. My first act was to go swimming with a few of my buddies and jump off of what seemed like a ridiculously tall tree into a ridiculously terrifying river (of which I have footage, but alas cannot find the cord to my old camera to upload it to my computer). I have gone to the river a couple more times, and honestly I can't say many other things in life make me more happy. Going to a river to swim seems like the epitome of summer activities. Besides, I'm doing it with my favorite people, so why shouldn't I be perfectly, splendidly happy?
I have also spent a great deal of time this summer being productive. In my past summers, I've been completely lazy and spent most of my time on the computer doing unproductive things. But I decided this summer that I would be at least slightly productive some of the time. I have rediscovered my love and adoration of reading. Honestly, the past year I haven't had time or desire to read. After Winston died last summer, I had a hard time taking interest in most things for a long time. When I did, I found myself slapped in the face with the realization that I had to begin studying for APs and the SAT. Really life? But I have begun to read again, and I have decided this is an activity I'm not apt to give up again any time soon.
I've also purposed myself to begin writing a great deal. I have been journaling more than I have in over a year, and have enjoyed it a great deal. I've also begun the rumblings of a story, but we'll see if that ever finishes itself. In any case, I have enjoyed writing a great deal. (and in fact, I would have written more on this blog had my laptop not given up the ghost, causing me to rely nearly solely on an iPad, on which it is nearly impossible to type)
Most of all, I have spent a great deal of time with my family and friends, which is more important to me than anything. Along with river swimming, I've gone to a frozen yogurt place with my mom several times, gotten chai tea lattes from Starbucks nearly every Sunday (and been greeted by the same awesome guy who asks me about Algebra 2 nearly every Sunday), watched fireworks with my friends, spent entire days tramping around in the woods and creek with my boyfriend while discussing deep and intellectual topics, talking about books and fashion with my best friends, talking with my soon-to-be-off-to-college brother until three in the morning, and other such pleasantries. I dearly love doing anything with my friends. And coming to the realization that four of my favorite people are soon to be off to college is indeed a daunting idea, and one that scares me and saddens me a great deal. My brother and cousin will soon be off two hours away doing their college-y things. Thus, watching She's the Man in my cousin's back yard at midnight with just a couple of sleeping bags or cutting up politically correct fruit salad with her is not exactly a strange or rare thing.
As you can see, summer to me means relaxing. It means enjoying God's beauty that He made for His glory to the full extent. It means laughing with my friends and watching my brother's face light up in a ridiculously luminescent way when he talks about The Dark Knight Rises. It means floating in tubes down a river and jumping off fifteen foot high trees into the murky water and mud below. It means pouring over a book while sitting on my bed, listening to the rain slapping and jumping off the leaves outside my window. It means playing on a playground and getting soaked with a hose while jumping on the blazing, colorful apparatus displayed out there. It means taping mustaches to my face with one of my best friends and taking stupid pictures that make us look like female versions of Poirot. It means sitting at my best friends' house with the power out, reading one liners from books in a circle and making everyone crack up.
It means summer.
Summer perfection.

Summertime Journaling

I love writing at any time of the year. Different seasons put me in different moods to write in different styles. Summer always puts me in a laid-back kind of feel, and my journaling strongly reflects that. As I was sitting up late one night a few days ago, I wrote this:

"It's 1:17 in the morning, and life is a virtual popsicle. Except filled with the most lovely feeling the heart can't describe. I'm sitting here listening to my favorite Alison Krauss songs, and it brings me back to being a little kid. It reminds me of riding in the back of Dad's black truck down a country road, or of driving through the Smokies at dusk. It brings me back to my five year old days. It makes me feel young. And sometimes it feels good to feel like a little kid again. Being reminded of being young makes me feel trusting. It makes me feel safe. It makes me feel like that country girl whose mind didn't wander very far past the oak tree in the back yard. The feeling I get is one I can't quite capture in words found in Webster's. It's an earthy, real feeling. It's beautiful, almost mysterious, in a very simple, understandable way. It makes my heart go crazy, while making my mind so peaceful that I feel like a mist hanging over pines in the mountains. I want so badly to capture this feeling in a song, but I can't write a song. I want to write poetry, a story, something. But not all things are intended for words."

I love summer.
I love watching fireworks while listening to Anberlin.
I love reading books on a stormy afternoon.
I love swimming at the river with my friends on a Saturday.
I love eating watermelon and strawberries.
I love going to coffee shops and frozen yogurt places with my mom.
I love eating green beans picked an hour beforehand from the garden.
But mostly I just love writing about how much I love these things in my journal.
Summertime is good.

Offering love where love is not due

Love.
It's a hard thing.
Obviously I'm not talking about romantic love, nor am I talking about loving friends. That isn't hard. That comes easily. But when we talk about that sort of love, we are talking about a feeling. And a feeling is not what I'm talking about.
Feelings aren't hard to express. They come naturally to us. Actions are harder, especially when they go against our feelings. If we're mad at someone, our natural reaction as humans with sinful natures is not to go up and hug them and start a lovely conversation with them. To be honest, when I'm mad at someone, the first natural reaction that comes to my mind is hitting the person right in the smacker. Though grace is working in me, the sinful nature still resides in my being, and in everyone else as well. We don't naturally offer love where it is not due. We don't naturally offer kindness to people who have hurt us. It goes against every part of our sinful nature.
However, as Christians, we are called to offer love where it seems like it is least deserved. This is a practice God has been trying to teach me. Recently, I've been reminded of things that people have done to me in the past and pain that they have caused to me. My natural reaction would be to hurt them back, but through reading the Bible, I have been reminded that that is not the way God would have me act towards these people. And although I could sit here all day and "remind" God of all the things people have done to me, and how it isn't fair, as Rich Mullins once amusingly stated, there is no point in fighting with God because He always wins.
God has called us to a higher standard than the world. We are to show love to those who have hurt us, just as Christ showed love to those who hurt Him. To me, Christ's most loving act on earth was not His healing, not His raising from the dead, not His reaching out to the poor and the forgotten, but when He was hanging on the cross, bleeding, almost dead, and He asked God to forgive those who were mocking Him and spitting on Him. That is truly a marvelous act of grace and love. Christ not only handled His death without biting back, but even asked God to show grace and forgiveness to those who had killed Him. Because Christ lived in such a way, we are called to do the same, as Peter says in 1 Peter 1:15, "But as He Who called you is holy, you also be holy in all conduct."
Why are we called to love? Because, as John states in 1 John 4:8, God is love. We cannot abide with someone Who is in and of Himself love. It's impossible. It's like trying to mix water and oil. Love and hate do not mix, and cannot mix. In fact, 1 John 4:20 puts it this bluntly, "If anyone says, 'I love God,' and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen." That's pretty intense. John is saying that we cannot love God if we don't love the people around us. That is because love and hate, like water and oil, don't mix. We are to love those around us just as Christ first loved us.
But how are we to love? 1 John 3:18 puts it this way, "Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth." Hm. Now that puts an interesting spin on things. I don't know about in other parts of the country or world, but here in the South, there is plenty of honey-covered words with lots of "bless their hearts" and "oh that poor dear" and "I just love that dear old soul." And although that's all fine and good, John is telling us here that we can't just say loving things. We have to do loving acts. As I said before, although love is typically defined as a feeling, in the Bible it is described as an action. If you turn to 1 Corinthians 13, the most commonly read chapter in the Bible about love, you don't see one word about feelings. Love is an action: it is being patient, kind, humble, calm, hopeful, and enduring. If someone hurts you, you will naturally feel a certain way. The Bible doesn't say to feel a certain way. But it does say to act a certain way. Acting against our natural sinful inclinations is strange to us, and looks weird to others. But God didn't call us to be normal, He called us to be holy. Thus, we are to act in such a way as to glorify Him. Loving others glorifies Him and shows others His love. We are to love others in deed.
I think one of the most amazing ways that the Bible describes love is in 1 Corinthians 13:8, which says, "Love never ends." Love never ends. It doesn't stop. We are to love others in deed, and not only that, but we are to love each other endlessly. That is where the world typically twists the definition of love the most. Our culture tells us that love often does end. That's why divorces are so common and why people fight and end friendships so much. It's because today's mindset is that love does end. That's because they believe love is a feeling. And if that were the case, then yes, love will wane, and sometimes completely end. We won't always have feelings of love toward our friends or spouse. Hard times will come and try to shake love. Feelings won't last. But since love is an action, it can last. When feelings wane and when hard times come, feelings won't carry us through. Feelings are fragile and go back and forth. Set actions, however, are not fragile, and they don't go back and forth. So when feelings fall apart, true love will carry through. True love never ends.

As I am reminded of these aspects of love, I remember that even when I don't feel like offering love to someone, and even when it appears that they don't deserve it, we are told to love those who hurt us. We are told to love our enemies, just as Christ loved those who hated Him. Through Christ, we have the ability to do so.
"In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent His only Son into the world, so that we might live through Him. In this love, not that we have loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another."
-1 John 4:9-11