Rockbridge, winter conference, and other things

I'm sitting here swamped to the marsh studying for tomorrow's test (Communication Research). Such a stark, and I repeat STARK, contrast to the awesomeness of this weekend. Full of several kinds of blizzards, hot tubs, good food, good chats with amazing girl pals, the life of Daniel, and an incredible new encounter with my God, this weekend was high on the charts. I'm so thankful for the blessing of being a part of it, and just having the opportunity to go. It's hard coming back to school though, because it's a scenario similar to this:

God: "hey heather, look through that window, see that's heaven out there"
me: "oh awesome, it's so spectacular and happy looking"
God: "I know, it's the best place ever, mostly because then I'll be with you physically"
me: "dude, i wanna go there right now, a.s.a.p. PLEASE"
heather doused with cold water
God:"sorry, you have to stay on the earth longer, you have work to do"
me: "ok....if you say so. But God, I really want to be with you now!!"

So yeah, studying for exams into the wee hours of the morning isn't my favorite way to spend time. How can I do this for the honor and glory of God? It's not enjoyable in any way, shape, or form. Maybe I'll make up stories to go along with the theories...lame -o.

It's monday, 12:30 a.m. and right now I can't see past a little into tuesday. I'm behind in absolutely everything. Rockbridge, you were awesome, but now it's time to plow through the muck again. If only there was another way...

NYC spring break

I decided to take these few minutes as a break between homework to ramble on about what I've been up to lately. I got back from the NYC trip and the week ahead looked dreadful; insurmountable odds seem to pile up and were beginning to topple over in my direction, directly on top of me. This was an away message from that week, showing my confusion and overwhelmed-ness:

slick drop spiral shop
funnel channeled leaning blocks
swoop and stir heavy and blurred
weight and lead upon my head
sigh and sway and pine away
got to find the beat to grind the haze
and stop the maze of busy

I could list all I had to do but that would be boring to read. Just trust me on this, I was freakin' busy!!! Then Friday I drove to Roanoke to interview a photographer at the Roanoke Times. Luckily Kira had come along with me because on the way back my car broke down. But it's been towed and come Monday I'm going to go to the shop where it's at in Christiansburg and see what needs to get fixed. If it ends up being the alternator, Jordan and Aaron have offered to help fix it, so I am very very grateful for that. Many others have expressed a willingness to help out in whatever way I need. I'm glad to be a part of a supportive network of friends!! And in the end I know God has my back and will work everything out.

So, this next week looks busy too, as always, but it looks interesting. Brenden is coming to visit from the other side of the country, so most of the IV crowd will probably meet him. He's staying at my brothers. We knew eachother in Venezuela growing up

Last but not least, God is faithful, and I am so thankful for that. I've been humbled a lot lately, in many ways. But God used my brokenness, I don't know how but he did. That humbled me even more. But I want to stay down. It's not good when my ego, pride and own agendas get in the way. It's better when God is in control. I really like the whole jars of clay metaphor. The fact that we have a treasure inside of us, and that is God. But the funny thing is that he shines the most through the cracks in the jar, those places where we are real in our imperfections. He uses those. It is so beautiful, and I'm amazed and speechless. We are rag dolls that God will render into perfect porcelain for His glory.

Poems

Had to write some poems for class. Just thought I'd post them.

Things that Matter, From God to Mathers

Listen to me son:
I know you think I hate you
But I’ve been lovin’ on you
Since before the day I made you.

There’s method to your rhyme
That your writing on the dotted line
It’s my design to help you define
All the pain and shame that surrounds you.

I know your father didn’t bother
To be there for you
And that your mother messed up
But it was me holding your head up
When you were crying in the dark
In the trailer park when the days were long
And all you had was your song.

I know the way races discriminate
As they disseminate their resolve to hate
And life hits you in the face
And makes you bleed
But my own son shed blood to bring you home
To me.

I know you’re a soldier to Hailie
But your baby’s gotta know me.
Could you see if you got time to rap a song about me?
I gave her to you to fill the hole
That is eating your soul
While I wait for you to turn to me.

It’s not too late you don’t have to fake
That you’re fine when you’re really
Dying inside.

I love you son.

Gate Garbage Sweat Shells

Missionary boarding school near
Colombian border
Compounded fence opens as gate swings out
And we trudge past the cows that graze in the streets
And stare at us and “moo” at cars trying to get through.

Time for the monthly project of picking up
Trash in the neighborhood where our dorm
Is the highest building standing two stories.

Vast expanse of blue tacked with limp
clouds
Interrupted only by the Andes
which blur purple into the western sky.

Sweat trickles down and soaks shirt as
I trudge with big plastic bags that
Stick to my legs when I let them hang.

The grit and dust in my toes like me
To step in the cool grass that shades feet
As I snatch up broken bottles and crumpled
Paper and faded chip bags to add
To my rubbish sack.

The sun spits smells out of the bushes
That wrinkle my nose into a funny face.
Some plants seem to leak bug juice.

A glance to see that others too forage for debris.
Step in deeper to grab the last crumpled bag and
Stop.

Smooth cold hard brass rolls into my open palm
Shells Shot Gun. Guerillas?
Across the street from the school.
There’s been talk.

Camping trips to surrounding forests canceled because of the infiltrators.
They have been here. They are here.
Soon, the missionary boarding school will close
And all its citizens shipped off to safer places
Where the sky no longer stretches into mountains
And neither do the cows share paths.