Coast

We drove to the coast last night. The signs read: Pismo--140 miles. It was 11 pm. I drove on the way there, weaving my way through unfamiliar roads and midnight countryside. Lora and Jenny and I talked. We talked about boys, we talked about love, we talked about life. We listened to Ben Folds and Michelle Branch. The lines on the road glistened in my headlights, and the dark unknown whizzed by. Semis lay slumbering by the side of the road, their engines silent and their cabs dark. I glanced out of the driver's window, and saw stars. Real stars, dotting the sky like fresh snow. We drove through the fog and emerged at the beach. I drove slowly through the small town, trespassing on its silent sleep. Shops were closed, the streets deserted--it was 2 am. There was the beach. And there were the cops--of course the beach was closed. We kept driving and found it--our own little private beach, complete with spooky noises, crashing waves, and heaps of kelp tossed on the shore. It was cold; the sand stuck to our feet damply; we were glorious. Stress, tension left in my shoulders by school and life and home melted away into the crisp starry night and joined the crashing waves in their tumbling freefall. We sat by the drainage pipe and talked, but we mostly just listened. Listened to the crash of the breakers, the whisper of tide at the shoreline, and the peace that lingered in the air like a perfume. There!--a shooting star. And another. We left that spot at 3 and Lora took over the driver's seat. Then we hit fog; thick, soupy fog that obstructed the road and fogged our windows up. Using good sense and a defroster, jenny and I helped Lora steer off the road and jenny took over. The icy air rushed in the car as Jenny drove. Finally the temperature was regulated(no more foggy windows) and the fog lifted. We drove through Santa Margarita and found the only gas station there. No way were we stopping there. We kept driving, ignoring the gas gauge in good faith that Atascadero was coming soon. We made it, stopping only for gas, an energy drink, and a bathroom break. And we were off, Lora back in the driver's seat. We drove, not talking, just listening to the music. And then--"I can't see the lines anymore. They're all blurring together." I was back in the driver's seat. Jenny slept in the back seat and Lora and I talked--about boys, love, life. Lora fell asleep, I tried not to. And here was Fresno and school. It was 6 am, and at that moment, life was perfect.

Touche

So, Sara made a good point on my last post. She pointed out that the reason I might feel like I have a better spiritual life at home is because that's where I've been the most comfortable spiritually. I think she's right. I think that maybe it's just that my spiritual life sucks and I need to improve it. It's not school, it's me. Who am I to put the blame on school? I need to take personal responsibility for my relationship with God, regardless of where I am. Wow, it's difficult having an epiphany. Then I actually feel guilty and sort of convicted. :) Now, where to start? I've been saying this for years, but I should actually organize my day so that I have time to spend a little quiet time with the Bible and prayer. I can think up a million lame excuses, but at the end of the day, that's exactly what they are--just lame excuses. I really like the illustration that I've heard before of your heart being Christ's home. I've let Him in the door, but now he's just sitting in the living room while I run around the house, busy in my own life and my own problems. I don't always like the cute little analogies of "Jesus is in your heart/He's waiting for you to notice Him/hello, I am cute, warm fuzzy Christianity," but I do like that one. He is waiting for me to notice Him, to come and be sheltered from the world in His arms. He loves me. And that's amazing.

What a friend we have in Jesus
All our sins and griefs to bear
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer
Oh what peace we often forfeit
Oh what needless pain we bear
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer

P.S. I remembered that whole verse by heart. No big deal.

Home Sweet School

I am home for the weekend. Actually, I had a four day weekend for midterm break, so I've been home. I'm going back home tomorrow. I am so divided between these two homes. My home has my family, no matter how lousy tonight was (mom, don't be offended, I can tell you what was wrong), and I am always safe there. But at schoolhome, I have my close friends, I have challenges that stretch and grow me, and I have my own independent life. But at home I have relationships that I need to work on that I don't have energy or motivation to improve. But at school I have a lack of a spiritual life that makes me sad every time I think about it. I love both, and yet I can't stand both. I want to run away. I'm a coward.

Whoa, Easy, Turbo

(turbo is the new word for life)

I just looked at my schedule and thought I'd share with you guys. Next week (not this one coming, but the next one) is midterm and then I come back to school for four weeks and then it's Thanksgiving break and then I come back for a week, then it's finals week, then I'm home for a month for Christmas break. And since every week feels like it lasts about three days, it will fly by. Holy *cough*. And insert my birthday in there somewhere. And life. And fun. And homework. Agh. I'm okay with it in a sense because I'm definitely looking forward to Christmas break, but still. Can ya wait for me to catch up, life?