Amber, Danielle and I woke up slowly this morning. And as I lay in my cozy bed, eyes half open and still half dreaming, Danielle said, "Look out the window!"
And the world is blanketed in the gentlest, softest coat of fresh white snow for the first time this Winter.
It's still magical waking up to snow. I'm excited for tea, baked oatmeal, and a cozy sweater.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
It's taken me a few years to find places at school that I would actually choose to be. I'm sitting at a table in a little lounge called Déjà Vu right now. To my left is a wall of windows overlooking a terrace and a greenspace, and some walkways. The sun is shining. Bright blue skies, sturdy brown leafless trees casting forest green shadows on slightly sloped green grass. The sun is making the wooden picnic table glow. Some guys are kicking a hacky sack, and it makes me think of middle school or high school. People look generally happy, even those who are clearly walking with a purpose.
School seems to be one of those things that I have a love-hate relationship with. There are time when I love being a student: when I look back at aw eek and feel like I've actually accomplished something, or learned something. When I sit in class and am excited to be there. Last week was full. Full of exams, of assignments, and classes. Full of appointments and to do lists. Full of late nights and early mornings.
One night i sat, cozy in a chair at my neighbours house, working on a French assignment until 2:30 in the morning, and then returning to my family of roommates, all asleep. One light left on for me. I'm so glad for friends that remind me the reason I have this entire life which amazes me every day - is because God called me here for SCHOOL. And school is why I sat, tired enough to be comfortable speaking French with my neighbour, cozy in her apartment while she encouraged me through my assignment. And I loved coming home quietly, seeing life paused for sleep. Books left open, pens and paper, notes sitting in peace for the night. I'd like to say it was the moon that lit my apartment, but it was probably the city lights. In the soft glow of the early morning, I crawled into my bed smiling. All the drama, all the stress, all the laughter, all the things paused for gentle rhythmic breathing, resting eyes, and dreams.
The week before last week was full. Full of heart. Full of intense, heavy conversations. Full of huge, challenging realizations. Full of God speaking. Full of fun too. And good food. And great friends. How in the same week that Kammy and I painted each others faces, had a toy bow & arrow fight, and climbed trees, I could also have grown and ached and smiled and changed so much, I'm not sure. But I did. And it was...God. God in the sense that I can't fathom His name or come up with any words to describe him. Because this entire language is too weak. And too small. And too vague.
I'm feeling content. I'm feeling immensely blessed. I'm feeling rooted. I'm feeling like a tree in Pocahontas, when the wind starts blowing and the music is playing. And you see the wind: its motion, the emotionally coloured specks and sparkles carried gently in it. My roots are firm - I'm planted deeply in solid ground. But I smile as the wind dances around me, and I'm excited to know which direction the wind will stretch me, and where it will blow my leaves.
At the tables around me, people have settled down to study. The pathways outside are nearly empty. I like watching the university breathe.
School seems to be one of those things that I have a love-hate relationship with. There are time when I love being a student: when I look back at aw eek and feel like I've actually accomplished something, or learned something. When I sit in class and am excited to be there. Last week was full. Full of exams, of assignments, and classes. Full of appointments and to do lists. Full of late nights and early mornings.
One night i sat, cozy in a chair at my neighbours house, working on a French assignment until 2:30 in the morning, and then returning to my family of roommates, all asleep. One light left on for me. I'm so glad for friends that remind me the reason I have this entire life which amazes me every day - is because God called me here for SCHOOL. And school is why I sat, tired enough to be comfortable speaking French with my neighbour, cozy in her apartment while she encouraged me through my assignment. And I loved coming home quietly, seeing life paused for sleep. Books left open, pens and paper, notes sitting in peace for the night. I'd like to say it was the moon that lit my apartment, but it was probably the city lights. In the soft glow of the early morning, I crawled into my bed smiling. All the drama, all the stress, all the laughter, all the things paused for gentle rhythmic breathing, resting eyes, and dreams.
The week before last week was full. Full of heart. Full of intense, heavy conversations. Full of huge, challenging realizations. Full of God speaking. Full of fun too. And good food. And great friends. How in the same week that Kammy and I painted each others faces, had a toy bow & arrow fight, and climbed trees, I could also have grown and ached and smiled and changed so much, I'm not sure. But I did. And it was...God. God in the sense that I can't fathom His name or come up with any words to describe him. Because this entire language is too weak. And too small. And too vague.
I'm feeling content. I'm feeling immensely blessed. I'm feeling rooted. I'm feeling like a tree in Pocahontas, when the wind starts blowing and the music is playing. And you see the wind: its motion, the emotionally coloured specks and sparkles carried gently in it. My roots are firm - I'm planted deeply in solid ground. But I smile as the wind dances around me, and I'm excited to know which direction the wind will stretch me, and where it will blow my leaves.
At the tables around me, people have settled down to study. The pathways outside are nearly empty. I like watching the university breathe.
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