double the fun.

helen and tobi came to Covenant on the same weekend! it was one of those gold weekends... tobes and the hel-bird. two people very dear to my heart.

go to James Harrison's flickr to see more!

2 randoms

i could stare at this picture for a very long time and never quite wrap my mind around it...


and i miss these dear ones quite a bit these days... being so far away from any members of the sisterhood is harder than I anticipated.

my helen came to visit!

Helen came to visit our mountain this weekend! and I could write a million things but none would describe the joy. none would describe the perfect-ness of it. none would describe how everything seemed to fall into place again. and nothing would describe how sad it is that it's only a visit... she doesn't go to this school anymore. I know God is taking care and I know he has a plan and purpose in everything and I thank him for the gift of this weekend spent with helen, spent with conversation and understanding, with connection and honesty. It was so rich and the only thing missing was Kyrie.

blur of change

school starts in a couple days and i don't know if i'm ready but I think I'm getting excited. certain things make my little heart jump.... like rooming with Liz Cain and being able to participate in a 5th grade classroom this year. Like being on a mountain again with dear souls who I've learned to value even more with a summer away from each of them and studying education again after a summer of working intensely with the youth of chattanooga.

but then I lose my evenings with Kiko on the porch and running errands with Bets in the honda accord I had for the summer. i'll miss the consistent dinners Vincent would prepare and the quiet evenings in a house I could call my own. I'll miss the address of Beulah avenue and pulling in each evening, walking into my kitchen and out the back door to play with borus. I'll miss my work at New City and the community I fell in love with there. I'll miss these summer days that fell across me like cool rain drops filling me with such refreshment and the loveliest sense of freedom. So many talks and open window car rides with dear Chelsey...

intensity and sleepless nights are so close by and rigorous weekends with stressful evenings. I know school is a privilege but if I can just say it plainly....

it's just so hard.
I have to work very hard to get good grades and Kyrie, Helen, and Bethany have all gone to a different school... 3 very big people of influence and guidance in my life. Pray that God will provide and that I will trust him to do so and love others without reserve. I feel anger at these three being gone and wanting to push others away in response and I don't want to be this way.

there is a good change in my life... my bestest friend just came back from prague! and he's just the change I needed in my day to days.

pieces of my puzzle.

i just miss the heck out of these boys and just remembered that as I came across this picture. and i needed you to see it, just to glimpse how great they are. i like boys so much!



this one's a jem. such a jem. and she's even my friend that I'll get to see soon but have missed in unique ways this summer. this one inspires me to pick up the beauty of this world that is all around. she's knows how to run after it and to love others in that persuit. and never stop.




this one, emma huntington, i think deserves more credit. she's incredible and this photo is just a small bit of that evidence. she knows how to laugh and possesses the incredible gift of giving others the joy of laughter. but not only that, she can look through a lens and see so much more than just what is actually there. she's able to create... beautiful girl. emma, i'll see you in just two small weeks!


okay world, i have a little proposal or better yet, a request. figure out who you love and just why it is that you do. and then find a way to tell them but not just them... tell others too. and celebrate them in this way. get going!

a blessing. disguised.

Sometimes blessings aren't always obvious. A couple weeks ago I had planned a weekend trip to South Carolina to visit a dear family and to enjoy a road trip on my own... But then my car started smoking and the radiator broke. The head gaskets decided to do the same. I wasn't able to take it to Sumter anymore and was forced to rent a 2008 Nissan and it was really amazing. But expensive. I was bummed that I had to pay for it but it was good to have this car on such a long trip and I enjoyed the rare treat of being so pampered. I'm still a sucker for old cars and their personalities... this poor black Nissan was void of any personality or voice but it got from point A to point B beautifully and took me along with it. Here it is parked next to Michael's car and I must say, his knows so much better who it is that my little black one. I felt sorry for mine... it really didn't have a story like his and that's the kind of car I want... one that knows it's story and can tell it to others. But it was a blessing even amidst it's personality crisis and all the stress the came with the days before.

I woke up this morning with a pain I remembered falling asleep to. My forehead and eyes were throbbing. I turned over in frustrated agony, flipped open my phone and pulled my eyes away. The light hurt my head. It was 7am. Why was I already awake? The pain wouldn't let me sleep. My head kept throbbing and my stomach churned. The light poured through the windows and felt like daggers headed straight for my weak temples. I tried to burry my head in the pillow but it felt like it was being crushed with rocks. After 30 minutes I finally mustered the energy to venture the two rooms away to the kitchen to get some ice. As I laid it on my head there were no moments of relief like ice usually had during these times. Even the ice stung with pain. The blankets hurt. My pillow was too hard. my clothes made me feel closterphobic. I was freezing and then I was sweating. The stabs in my head wouldn't stop and were only beginning to drive my body crazy. I fought against the tears because they would only quicken the throbbing. I started breathing in and out intentionally to help my body relax. I tried to be still amidst the war that waged inside me. But it was hard and I was exhausted already. I tried not to despair...a migrane was starting.

I was scared because it was the morning and normally I get these in the late afternoon so I can count the hours before dark and will hopefully be able to fall sleep and the night will endure my pain instead of me. But the morning comes with light and migranes don't sleep with light. I didn't know how long I'd have to endure myself. Kiko ran off to get me medicine around 9am. When she returned I had to eat something before I swallowed the pills and during the next two hours I would try intensely to keep the food down so the pills could begin to work. I prayed... and prayed. At times likes these I wondered why I've ever been sad or stressed, annoyed and depressed because at those times I had my health and now it was so out of reach that I wanted to go home to Jesus.

Finally after 6 hours of war my body began to pick up the pieces. I laid still for an hour to make sure it had passed and then crept out of bed and greeted Kiko. It was raining outside and thanked God for the gentle light that met my eyes.

later that day as I was telling Kiko about my morning and the past mornings and nights that have been this way.. I shared with her the odd blessing that comes with its passing. Lowen understands me here and though I would not wish for another migrane, I feel this strange sense of gratitude for the reality of such pain because I may glimpse the other side; health. What a blessing it is. When the pain finally subsides, finally walks away and leaves me lying there, the happiness is worthy of tears. a new motivation stirs. a new day has begun. new opportunity are outside my bedroom door. Beauty is everywhere and I'm able to taste it suddenly with such a freshness and such an elementary gratitude that somehow I can thank the pain for.

sometimes blessings are disguised. sometimes they're really hard to see. but sometimes when we stop and lie there, and take the opportunity to ponder, we can feel them and we realize that really God had meant it for good. our good.

messages in splatter
It's my last week of GLAD camp. And I just got an email from Michael about his first week of Vacation Bible School in the Czech Republic. He's at the beginning and I'm at the end and the beginning is exactly what I needed to see. The excitement, the vision, the newness that's all so fresh in the start and begins to dwindle somewhere toward the middle and leaks into the end. But his excitement and fresh eyes have given me back something I was loosing... my gratitude and energy I started with. I am grateful for that email. I was telling my dear friend, Elizabeth, this morning on our way to work... "in some ways this last week is the most important because it's the freshest in their memory and most of what they'll remember." It is so important for me to be aware of their last memory and do my best to preserve what they have learned so far and not taint it with un-enthusiasm, frustration, and exhaustion. Only through the grace of Christ.

Yesterday after church Vincent and Kiko left for a week's vacation in West Virginia with the rest of the Howard Family. I was unable to go because of work and closing ceremonies at the end of this week with my kids. Though I long for my sisters, I know I need to be here right now and there is a peace that has come alongside my longing. If these kids don't have me now, at a point where I am so torn of where to be, of where I want to be, then it will break the pattern of consistency and trust that we have worked so hard to give them. I write this to convince myself even, that I made the right choice. I know I have, but sometimes the right choice doesn't leave everyone happy and it get's confusing. Chalice called me last week telling me she'd pay the 150$ in gas if I'd come and Kyrie called yesterday morning, a couple hours before leaving, begging me to please call my boss and just ask. ooohh.. Sometimes growing up is a pain.

When Kiko and Vincent left, my dear housemates, I put on my music and heated up the favored dish in the refrigerator, Lasagna. Kiko had made it just for me the other night because it's my favorite food and left me the couple squares that hadn't been eaten. I let Borus in and we palled around for a bit. I turned The Two Towers on a bit later because I've been having this desire to re-watch the beauty and depth of that film and I enjoyed it very much... and forgot how much I love aragorn, legalous, and that dwarf. Later, I took out my paints and went to the back porch with Borus. It had just rained so it was a muggy and damp but I kept going. Borus lay on the couch beside, staring and wagging his tail. I ripped open two grocery bags and opened the tops of 8 different chosen colors. I squirted their blobs on the paper and couldn't help but run for my camera and freeze that moment of perfectly round circles of color against brown paper. it was so pretty. I don't really know what I'm doing with paint but I like the idea of it...so i got my blank cards out and an old book. I tore out some pages, pasted them to the card, and started splattering different colors of paint over the cards. Taking my finger, I brushed it against the bristles and smacked it down. Pollock style. splat. splat again. splat on my face. splat on my ankle. splat on my collar bone. splat on my tank top. splat on the wall. shoot.

I realized pretty quickly this form of painting or more like, this form of having fun was a messy one. I went through three shirts before I surrendered and now, a day later my arms resting on this desk have different colors slashed across. Later that evening, after my fun projects had dried I took them to my room and laid them on my desk. I found different quotes I wanted to write on top and pieces of other things I wanted to adorn over the paint. As I was sitting there, looking at one particular card that I’d decided to splat all 8 colors on, a verse walked into my thoughts. My life right now is rigorous and I miss a few people who are very far away, though I feel His care and protection, I am still overwhelmed and full of longing... then this came.

"The disciples went and woke him, 'Lord, save us! We're going to drown!' He replied, 'You of little faith, why are you so afraid?' Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm."

On the card where every color was tangled into the other I began writing these words in-between the splattered strokes. "you of little faith, why are you so afraid. then he got up...and it was completely calm." All the color and all the interweaving reminded me of the storm and the overwhelming sense of things tangled in my life. And then I heard this verse and I saw the color in the splatter and how beautiful it was and though I couldn't untangle it myself or separate one color from the other, it had somehow turned into something beautiful. I don't how. But it did. and I heard God talking to me through it saying, "you of little faith, why are you so afraid? I will take care of you. I will make sense of it all. I will make it beautiful...just like this card. You just have to trust me and rediscover who I am."

I may not know how to paint very well but I do know that God uses all sorts of things to show you your weaknesses and reveal his beauty. and yesterday as I sat down on that front porch and began squeezing out thick colors onto brown paper, God was there and had a purpose higher and more profound then I. I wanted to make a card. He wanted to show me himself. And he did.

too tired

this is shunshine. not 'sun' but 'shun'. I met her last week when we took about 50 kids to an overnight camp a couple hours away. We were the counselors and there were all sorts of activities from 8am to 11pm. Shunshine was in my cabin, one of my 8, and at night we would have singing competitions with the cabin next door. When Shunshine got up one night and shyly took the hairbrush as her mike she counted herself off and started to sing. The room's chatter grew silent. We all stared and I had to wipe away my silent tears. Her voice was beautiful and I was moved beyond words. I encouraged her to work with Mr. Ward (our music leader) and the next day she began practicing with him and at the end of the week she performed in front of the camp with an original song and lyrics. One day you'll get to hear her, I'm sure.

..............................................................

i haven't been this tired in a long time. my feet are dragging and my little kids notice. I was at a camp all last week overnight and then left for a exceptionally restful weekend trip the day i got back. But my arms are still heavy as the swing by my sides and my stomach is void of appetite. I'm exhausted and praying for strength to end these last two weeks well. i have no energy to write... but i do have the dream of it. for now my writing has been put on hold for small talks with kiko on the porch, making cards at my desk, and trying to pull myself together for my next 9-5 day with my kids. my life outside of work is very low key right now. or trying to be.

please pray for me. up until last week I thought I'd been doing great and wasn't going to have one of those breakdowns they'd warned us about from exhaustion and the stress of the children and their lives. and then last week it hit me, somewhere between Raven's constant meloncholy demeanor, jeremiah's relentless disrespect, and ashley's tiresome threats. it will be okay, i know. i remember 2 Corinthians 12:9,

but he said to me, "my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect weakness."

what good news this is.

i am still glad to be where I am, only scared that I will not have the strength to finish out strong... to finish out the same way I began and the same way these kids needed me as I was in the beginning. I long to. pray for me.

you can check my flickr. i posted some color.

still standing.

this is me in front of my home. and i am going to write tonight. after I put dawson and hudd to beddy by. "Senna, you forgot the milk." I hear Hudd say for his dino cookies we just made. I must go.

i can't wait to start dancing on these keys.

Sienna the Second

found this on James Harrison's Flicker with the caption "Last train in NY and I could've sworn it was Sienna Howard." I took me by complete surprise when i saw it cause it looked exactly like me but I havn't seen James this summer and I defintely DON'T have that delicious purse. I almost looked behind me in my room, when I saw the picture, to see where that purse was. (ha)

wanted to share. cause it really is crazy how we resemble.

the two-way street

The z-score equals x minus the mean divided by the standard deviation. Don't forget to convert it to the area percentage and subtract it by .50. Make your bell curve, fill in the difference and then convert it to a a percentage again.

I think that was it. These words were scrambling through my fragile mind this morning as I waited at the bus stop and later walking briskly through the math lab to check out a graphing calculator. It was a morning that concepts were becoming friends and allowed me the 8 hours rest I needed last night. They didn't scare... only in this strange way but most happy way... excited me. I'm learning the language. This math language or at least I think I am. The score of my test will bare witness tomorrow morning. I'll wait patiently while sitting outside on this sunny Chattanoogan day at Panera, sipping my cold water and waiting for the bus to take me to my oh so precious job.

I didn't think I'd get it. I wasn't supposed to.

I had applied early February and then remembered I had to take a math course during my summer. my application was already in process though so I called New City, the internship I had applied for, and they said they'd see what they could do but the class would interupt the middle of my day and since I'd be working with inner city kids, the middle of their's as well. That was the last thing the kids needed. They needed consistency and they need stable and devoted people in their lives. If I came and went throughout their days it would only contribute to the instability of their lives at home.

I understood. I wanted people in their lives that could do what it didn't look like I'd be ale to. I was sad but started applying for service jobs around Chattanooga for the summer. It was long, tiresome, and humbling to let go of the internship and talk to managers of greenlife, hair go-go and more. I respect these people and I saw the lure in these jobs as well. even wanted one that I'd found. But I couldn't get the kids out of my mind. I wanted to learn, engage, be stretched to a capacity that would not only begin to understand their lives but in some distant dream be someone they'd remember and just possibly learn something from too. I wanted this two-way street.

So I started praying. I told these things to God and asked him if he'd please make a way but if not, then give me peace in something else and provide the interns for New City with a similar longing to be alongside these children and the issues in their lives.

Then I got an interview.

They knew my hours were complicated but they wanted to know more. At this point I was pretty settled on doing something different this summer. I needed to take this math class and I had no other choice but to place that first in my priorities. The kids had to come second. It was the sad reality. During the interview though my longing reopened and their questions spilled endless avenues in me of a sincere desire to be a part of New City Fellowship and their outreach to the inner city kids of Chattanooga. I started remembering Mercyships and the Children's Program I'd worked with in Cambridge. Ministry was back in the front lines of my mind and after being asked New City's questions and listening to my answers so quickly slip out, every other job I'd been looking at, fell into a distant and faraway 2nd. I remember calling Michael with this passion reopened adn just asking him to pray.

"I want this job so bad and I just realized it again. Please pray."

3 days later I got a letter of acceptance. it was in the middle of exams and a whirlwind of planning, packing, and moving to Vincent and Kiko's house in St. Elmo for the summer. The acceptance seemed to land in the middle of it all with this unexplainable peace and wave of disbelief. I stopped. Everything loud around me grew quiet and still and that feeling of utter joy and hope came over me and all I could hear was something very pretty. I knew my prayers had been answered and I knew I had just been accepted into one of the most challenging summers yet. But I took it. With fear but without reservation.

Somehow they had worked it out for me to come in at 12, after my class, and be there everyday for the kids 2nd half of the day and then work after care for the 6-10 kids until the evening. After this week when my class ends, I'll start coming in at 10 and accompaning teh reading and community classes I already teach I'll get to go with them to their rap and step classes they have in the morning and we'll learn together.

I tell people honestly, I always have, when I'm asked how I like my job and it's not often an "I love it." but this summer and right now that's my honest answer.

I come home exhausted, lugging my timbuk2 bag behind me and looking nothing like I did when I left 7am that morning. I can't seem to get through to devin and andrew, to kathlindria and Amador. Genesis tries me everyday with her strong will and center of attention disposition. Darryl's sad and quiet, and way over-emotional for his age and I'm slowely (very slowely) earning his trust. Destiny is cruel to Christine without end and has a stubborn side that is looking unbreakable. My voice is fading adn my throat hurts within a hour of being there. I'm know I'm only going to get more tired.

But at the end of the day and during, it's exactly where I'm supposed to be and I treasure it. Kids arn't easy. They test everything. Trust is one of the hardest things to earn. Understanding on every side, this two-way street, is a long and sometimes endless road. It's all consuming.

And I'm so grateful that God has given me just enough energy for each passing day. The bus is here. The kids are waiting. I must go.

~dear chelsey and me with her new volkswagon!~

michael kendall is amazing and will kendall runs an extreamly close 2nd.

My days are fresh finally. I know it's only been a month but it's been one brand new with people, buses, routes, bus drivers and so much figuring out. I am exhausted, grateful, and ready for a change. The clock has been ticking and nearing closer and closer to that point of no more.

My much needed change pulled into the parking lot, where I work, friday afternoon around 5pm. He was darker from the sun, wearing a hot v-neck tshirt splashed in pink, yellow, and purple (urban outfitters!) and a flashy new pair of ran bans. it was June 6th - a pretty friday. a much awaited friday. a happy friday. excited friday. a friday where all those words meant exactly what they're supposed to. it was the friday all fridays try to be and all fridays should be. it was my fresh friday.

Finally they were here. That car and that boy.

It was a joint effort between will and michael. Will's in Rwanda and Michael's on his way to Prague... so Will gave the permission and the keys and Michael made the detour and drove to me.

I was sapposed to have Michael's car when he went to Prague but it's needed a nap for a long time so will said I could have his. I am so humbled and so grateful to be back in a car...driving with my windows down and my foot to the pedal, stopping at whatever quick stop I need to and meeting jaime and chelsey where they are. And now i want you to know 3 things. First, that driving is a priveledge and is a beautiful thing to be treasured, adored, and discovered. Take a deep breath as you pass the blue house with yellow shutters and those gas stations with scary prices, take a grateful breath as you breeze pass the dear couple selling vegetables, the broken stop sign and the assuming yellow lights. notice the man taking out his trash and appriciate the beautiful Mexican resturants. and turn up your music. don't waste it by worrying and rushing.

second, know that will kendall is a dear and that his casual way of sharing and taking care of people has been an immeasurable example to me and one that though has humbled me... it has ministered and comforted me in a most extroidinary way. he may see it as a small thing but it has so pushed me to want to be this way with people that I know and care about. to take care of them. to give to them. to go out of my way and make myself uncomfortable in order that they be ok. it's a beautiful way to live... because it's what we were made for. to serve and to follow the example of our savior. he saved us and we must heed that action of giving.

and this last little thing is for only one dear friend of mine...

Margaret Drew, you are one very lucky girl.

that car and that boy.

note:
his hot shirt.
those new ray bans.
the "H" on the steering wheel that says I have a honda!
the piece of glass and rock around my neck that michael made me.

my sunshines.

(there's an accidental heart on scott's knee!)

(that's coke)

"Causin' me all sorts of sins"

The bus is my new normal. or sort of.

It feels more like normal than the wealthy homes I babysit in or the restaurants I eat at or the types of cars I get to borrow. I'm tired of it but at the same time I'm comfortable and grateful for the social and cultural experience. I don't want to sound like these people are just an experience or "an education" but it's just not a situation I'd readily put myself into. But I'm in it and I'm no longer tense and constantly unsure but comfortable and confident, exhausted and blessed by the life stories (all packed into 5 or 10 minutes each) I'm told throughout my days.

Some days I wish I were invisible though. The other day a lady got on at 45th and got off at East 3rd and talked a steady streak for the entirety of her 30 minute route. She talked of her abusive father, the drugs she tried, and the men that have hurt her to whomever would listen,

"You know my daddy attempted murder on me when I was 16, 17, and 18 and he's burnin' in the fires of hell right now for it." She switched topics rapidly.

"I got $5000 cause a man hit me walkin' down Lee Highway the other day."

"I set an X-rated movie on fire...heck! that's what I do for God and his Almighty."

"I can't quit smoking but I've put my cigarettes in my dead husband's casket." (what?)

She went on and on and I went back and forth into muffled laughter or looks utter devastation and horror.

Yesterday a sane woman talked to me for 20 minutes before the bus and during, giving God all the glory and praise that she was back in school at 56 and had 17 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren. "Those men call me sometimes - men from my past - and they beg me to come back and I say 'NO! I got Jesus now and I don't need you." She looks at me and says without a blink, "Once you know the good there ain't no reason to go back to the evil."

"Amen." I say.

Cavin was upset for the second morning in a row when I got onto my 7:15am bus today. He was happy to see me, reassuring me that he loved me always and has been looking for me (he's not quite all there in the head) and then went on ranting about how the bus fares have increased and bus stops have changed. "I won't be thrown around!", He mutters. He repeats things constantly, says it over and over, each time looking at a different bus rider. I had the phone to my ear when I stepped on the bus, finishing my routine morning conversation with mom and listening to her prayer for my day. I waved a silent good morning to Cavin and he waited until I hung up to start his rant.

"Why they changin' things on us?! They best know I won't be thrown around. I went to the meetin' but still they're changin' the stops. I won't be thrown around! They're causin' me all sorts of sins. I'm so angry, I ain't movin for them.
They're causin' me all sorts of sins... all sorts of sins!"
He got louder with every repetition.

I nodd... wanting to tell him to quit being a brat and the world in actuality doesn't revolve around him and his needs even if he did go to the meeting, but the bus driver was already doing that. She was a female and I've decided I like female bus drivers best. They don't talk too much and when they do, they're hilarious and not afraid to tell people to 'shut up'. They're sassy but motherly and I feel endeared to them for it.

This bus and I have a love/hate relationship. It's my new normal and doesn't frighten me like it did some weeks ago. It has caused me numerous times of embarrasment and too many occasions of stress. It has made me less socially awkward and more city smart. and it has instilled in me the freshest appreciation for the day when I will have my very own means of transportation.



me with the car a family I babysit for let me borrow last weekend.
(I was in heaven.)

i was born 21 years ago.

I'm content and spread out at a little circular table in Panera waiting for my big brother to come pick me up. My bus from New City was 30 minutes late and I missed my connecting one to St. Elmo but brother is dear and said it would be no problem to pick me up at after his work. It's actually a pretty quaint place to be stuck and after a 12 hour day packed with buses, people, an exam, training lectures at New City, and working in an inner city neighborhood I'm ready for a little circular table time with me and my book waiting for brother. My head hurts and my hair is knotty but my fingers are itching to write and I'm not even sure what to nail down. Classical music is playing and my head starts to feel a bit relaxed. A girl has just passed me giggling with her boyfriend. She had on this pretty urban outfitters sort of salsa dress with dark hair and loose curls and she's so pleasant to look at. But as she walks outside she's staring at her reflection in the windows, overly conscience of her beauty and it sort of ruins her. I could observe all evening long.

But I should focus on something for you. These last two days have been a whirlwind of culture and experience. I'm either at Chatt State or New City or on a bus trying to get to one of them. I can't figure out whether to tell you about the friendly man named Walter, that greets me every morning at 7:15 when I board my bus on the corner of Beulah and 54th. "'Morning Aubren, how you doin darlin'?" he says. Or do I tell you about my sassy and southern math professor who, although she teaches one of the most diverse classrooms in race and social class that I've seen, she doesn't see in color. Jessica is the same as Moneka. Moneka is the same as Roger and Roger the same as Bow. We're equal in her eyes. But then I want to tell you how successful I've been at mastering the bus system and how it's given me such a dose of confidence and joy and made me feel so much older and capable. Or maybe how this internship that I'm doing with inner city children is a job that is both beautiful but incredibly scary, rewarding but exhausting. I know it will be one of the best things I do but I hardly feel capable. I can't wait to begin and be on the front lines of children's lives. I could open up any of those...

but really I just want to tell you about my birthday morning, my 21st birthday morning in Sumter, South Carolina...

It all started on Thursday afternoon when Chelsey and Joanna decided they were going to take me to Sumter for my 21st to see my Michael. After my math class I raced home with the kind of energy that words like "road trip", "birthday", and "Michael" evoke. We drove 6 hours...6 hours of changing radio stations, off and on rain storms, too many cigarettes, sips of sweet tea, and the warmth of friends in the front seat taking you away for the weekend.

The weekend was gold and it began with Michael on his bike waiting for us on the highway outside his neighborhood the night we showed up, and peddling back home full speed, trying to race our car.

But my morning was my favorite.

Michael woke me up at 10am on the 17th and as I walked out of my room there was a sign right above the doorway that said, "Welcome to the Birthday Zone" with green streamers hanging down through the doorway. My tired morning smile burst through. I walked through the streamers and the floor was sprinkled with a rainbow of colors. Balloons were everywhere and it made me stop, excited out of my mind, and look around. Hanging from the mantle was a huge picture of me that read "Happy 21st Sienna". He and his parents had decorated the house for me and I couldn't believe it. Michael was in the kitchen and told me to come on... I walked in, more colors sprinkled all over the floor, and an elaborate breakfast set for me at the table complete with a heart cut out of my toast with a fried egg inside. Three glasses sat at the top of my plate, a glass of grape juice (my favorite), a glass of milk and of course, a cup of coffee. Before he sat down he pushed play and as one of our favorite songs started playing, warm tears began falling down my morning cheeks. I cupped my face in my hands and tried to contemplate this amazing moment that I had just been given from a boy so eager to show me his love. I was so overwhelmed with happiness and priviledge. and I've decided the morning is one of the best times to be surprised. And I can't believe I have such an amazing man. Really, I can't.

In Sumter, South Carolina, this past weekend I got to turn 21 and my boyfriend is truly amazing and even though I have a million other stories to tell you, they pale in comparison to that morning in Sumter.

post rainy air

I'm sitting at the bus stop with my knees pulled up to my chest. I close my book. My bus is 4 minutes late so I lean back and try to make myself comfortable. I pull out my wallet and stick my student ID in the front page of my book, What is the What, so I can pull it out quickly and get on my bus free of charge.

I stop reading and look around. Three buses have passed but none are mine. There's a boy sitting next to me with an over sized graffiti jacket on - a jacket I've only dreamed of pulling off. He's not holding anything and he's staring at the construction across the street. I stop reading to look like he's looking. and I'm tempted to ask if he's waiting for the 28 too. I want to talk to him because he looks nothing like me and our worlds are so foreign to each other. I start thinking about it, how many different kinds of people there are. I'm fascinated. suddenly sitting out on a bench at the bus stop I don't feel scared, maybe a little bit out of place, but not scared. but he's not interested and he won't look at me.

Someone sits across from me and when I catch their gaze I'm not sure if it's a man or a woman. They stare back at me and now I'm a little scared and wonder why my bus is 6 minutes late. It's never that late and now I'll be that student who walks into class ten minutes after the professor's started lecturing.

It's ok though. I'll keep looking for now.

Two older men walk briskly beside the bus stop and I wish they were catching the 28 too. But they keep going, oh so briskly, with their goofy grins as they talk to each other with their humorously short jogging shorts on. They are so jolly.

and I know why.
it's early.
and they're awake.
they're not missing anything.

They're surrounded by their community and walking along busy streets with post rainy air hitting their morning cheeks and producing that goofy grin. I smile at them without realizing it.

I love this rainy air and this scary bus stop.
I'm so happy where I am.

the brand new's of life.

these are my friends. two are left in Chattanooga with me this summer but the rest have gone away, spreading out over many states and returning in the fall for our mountain. Dan is off to French School, Kyrie to Maryland and then to Philly, Drew to someplace I can never keep track of, Michael to Sumter and then to Prague, and Jonathan to Ashville, I think. Chelsey is here and Bethany too but we each have jobs and plans that though we will see each other, it will be very different from our intimate mountain life. A good different though. A liberating and invigorating different. The summer is so new and I'm just now beginning, after two weeks of lovlieness and maybe a bit of laziness, to find a much needed routine and purpose for the next four months. It's exciting this morning as I've begun to map it all out.

It all started this morning when I missed the bus.

My 8am math class this summer is an hour away by bus so I catch the 6:35am and take it downtown, switch to the 28 and take that 30 more minutes to Chattanooga State. I arrive 30 minutes before class but that's ok. I'm not a girl prone to boredom. Writing and reading never tire. This was my first morning that I started my bus route and I woke up around 6:15 scared to death. I can always do it, really I can. I've made it to some far away places and each time I made it on time and I made it by myself. I caught that plane and I made it to the right bus. I hailed the taxi and when I got lost, well I've figured it out. I've asked or called, found the right answer and turned myself around. In the end I've always made it back home usually with a headache from the stress but I made it. there and back. This morning wasn't one of those mornings. I didn't quite make it there but what I did make was a resolve. A resolve to get up bright and early tomorrow in time to make my coffee and put on something more presentable then a hanes v-neck and jeans, take a shower and catch that 6:35am bus. I've called the company and I know exactly where I need to go, specially since I was there this morning for half an hour, and now I know the right time as well.

I can do this. This morning I was scared, frustrated and almost paralyzed by intimidation. (I’m just going to be honest here. I’m not quite sure how to be anything else.) I know it’s just a bus ride, I know it’s just a math class, I know it’s just a route and a walk a couple blocks away to the bus stop but to me it’s scary. To me it’s something brand new. And even though I’ve done many brand new's in my life, each one comes with nerves and fears that have the potential of making me want to curl up and die. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic but please hear the reality in this. Despair and self pity are an easy route to take, easier than the St. Elmo and Amnicola Highway ones but they are not the right routes. Not at all. I can get on them and they will consume me and I won't get off at the right place. They will hinder me from entering into the riches and provision of my Heavenly Father.

Michael gave me something to read last night and in one part I found this and it was perfect.

“No sin is worse than the sin of self-pity, because it removes God from the throne of our lives, replacing him with out own self interest.”

In every change he faithful will remain. In every change he’s perfecting us and using us as a tool for his kingdom. As Psalm 87:7 says, “All my springs are in you.” Our bodies are his temple and he will use my life this summer for his glory. I just need to cooperate. My summer is so new and so much has already changed that I thought would stay the same. Michael suddenly had to leave a month and a half before he was supposed to, I put all my belongings in the wrong storage at school and it was donated and now most everything I own is gone, and then this morning I missed my bus. I have things to complain about but then I would be failing to keep my Jesus on the throne in my life, trusting that he has a perfect plan. Lean on me, trust me...I’m taking everything away until you do, I hear him say.

This morning had the potential of being hopeless. But I walked back home from the bus stop feeling defeated and stupid and went straight for my bible. I feel a peace. I feel a resolve. I feel a purpose in it all. I am thankful for all my brand new’s and tomorrow I will be up early and I will catch my 6:35 bus.

somewhere between.

It's the summer time again. just like that. In the midst of my sophomore year I thought it would never end but toward the end I knew it was all catching up and time had begun slipping through my fingerstips. Somewhere between the falling autumn leaves and new summer air it slipped. and I couldn't stop it and I couldn't pause it. All I could do was resign. It wasn't a despair but almost a curious resigning. Where had all the time gone? Where had all the studying and stress gone? Where had the sunsets and early mornings gone? Where had Kyrie gone?

enjoy you moment. enjoy those people around you. those ones you love.

Kyrie left yesterday. She left for Maryland and then off to Philly for art school and no, she has not died but no longer will she live on my hall, in my room, and on my bed. She'll no longer be a simple shout away and I won't be able to spot her over by the windows at 1pm in the great hall with eric. I won't be calling her anymore asking when she'll be back or if she wants to go to pancakes in the morning at the kaufmans or just sleep in. No more calls of "where are you? i'm coming" or "do you want to go to starbucks for a caramel machiotto?" It's the day to day I'll miss. It's the knowing she's in arm's length and the comfort that offered. It's the feeling that I can never overdo my welcome with her, that I'll never tire her listening ears. It's that simple yet profound knowledge that someone knows you completely and yet they love you in spite of it. they get you. and they don't need you to speak all the time either. you can relax.

kyrie's dear to me.

and yet I very much see the good at the same time. There's this huge hole that she left yesterday, almost like part of me was chopped off when I hugged her and let her walk away. There's no pretty way to say it. and yet this hole even now has begun to fill, knowing that it had to happen sometime and knowing that Kyrie is so beautiful and where she is going is only going to strengthen that beauty and as silly as it sounds, I have to share her. I want to share her. I want her to be sprinkled over the lives of others, the cities and schools of someplace else because I want others to experience the calm and consistent, the patient and persevering love that she gave me. I will miss her blond tossled hair, her warmly lit room, and her constantly creative eye. But I can let her go at the same time so unbelievably grateful that I was given my time with Kyrieanna and that I know her better then I ever before. And really... it makes me grateful for those still around me and eager to spend time with them. to love.

to listen to kiko as she talks about the girl who cuts herself and needs a home in her foster agency. to go with chelsey when she picks out her puppy tomorrow. to treasure every dear conversation with michael on the porch in the evenings.

they're here. and i love them. so dearly.

and the truth is that God does give and then at times, he takes away, sometimes even people. but I'm realizing that if we just try and look around, not even that intensely. but if we just look he's taking care. he knows us so well, hemmed us in behind and before. what a freeing truth this is and sitting on my bed tonight in this new and charming house I get to call my own, tucked pleasantly inside st. elmo, I know that truth has given me peace. he's got me. he knows me. and he's taking care.

lookout kids returns(!)
ashdays is closed now. or at least till may 3rd.
kyrie and i are back on our mountain... and lookout kids returns.

click here.

bouquet of bananas
I woke this morning, reminded by the dinging text of kyrie that I overslept and needed to leave in 20 minutes. Destination ----> Easton. Hair appointment and gift card time. We had to spend a bunch of money that was given us before tomorrow, when we leave for our mountain. I dropped Kyrie, Annie, and Emma off at Oliver Michael's, a new place we keep hearing about but havn't tried yet. They're all young in there with short and spunky hairstyles. Bright red highlights and sparkly studded details in their ears and noses. I turned to go, to shop around, confident I'd left my sister and 2 friends in good hands. The vibe was good.

I got to my store at 9 and walking up I knew before I pulled on the stubborn door it wouldn't budge. Saturday morning. 9am. It wasn't going to be open. 10am. I had an hour. I walked back to the red van and reclining the seat back a bit, I sat and rolled the windows down. the wind was strong and the sun warm. It was pleasent.. so very pleasent. being warned last night that Harry's epilogue was disappointing I left it in the green van at home to wait patiently for tomorrow's journey. I looked around in my friend's car. between the two seats upfront lay a book. the spine was pointed down so i pulled it out and read "The Speckled People - a Memoir of a Half-Irish Childhood." I opened it. the first line read "When you're small you know nothing."

I like short sentences. and I like simple ones too.

It had me... all the way to the fourth chapter. It's written from the viewpoint of a young boy whose mother is German and father Irish. A speckled child, they call him. He knows 3 languages but is forbidden to speak English. He talks about his mother, the details of his grandfather, the firmness of his father, and the critical watching eye of the public. There's this part i read this morning though that i so enjoyed. I decided to read it outloud to myself, twice. This is how it goes.

"I knew that my grandmother Berta was an opera singer and that my grandfather Franz once went to listen to her sing at the state opera house in Krefeld, and because everyone else was sending her flowers, he decided to send her a bouquet of bananas instead, and that's how they fell in love and got married."

A bouquet of bananas. Why does that sound so much lovelier to me than flowers?

It just does.