Fall semester 2008 is finished! Praise the Lord for being the strength I needed to survive!
Last week was quite interesting. I ended up driving to the airport 3 times in 24 hours.
Trip 1: The first time was a fun trip with a few snowflakes Wednesday night. The car was filled to the brim with 4 of my best friends, all singing at the top of our lungs on the way to Panera and to the airport to drop off Kirsten. It was quite fun, and the roads were not bad in the least.
Trip 2: I was planning on leaving to take Jason to the airport at 4:30 a.m. Thursday morning. I get a phone call at 3:00 a.m. from Jason, telling me that it's snowing fairly heavily and we should probably leave at 3:30 just in case the roads are bad. I mumble something about that being fine, I don't care, and I roll out of bed. I meet him outside T-stad and we fit his snowboard, suitcase, and photography backpack in my car, then drive to Sea-Tac. Well, the roads are great. We get there very, very early, and since we can't find a Starbucks easily (I know, crazy!), we go to Denny's to get caffeine and appetizers. It was probably a mistake on my part, as I end up feeling sick and needing to rest in the booth for a long while. We finally leave and I drop him off at the airport, get back to campus at about 7, and sleep until about 11:30.
Trip 3: It is snowing a lot. The roads are getting to be pretty scary. Steph and I take Mikal and Dianna to the airport at 3:00 p.m. so that Mikey can make his flight and Di can try to get an airporter shuttle to take her to Eastern Washington. The roads are extremely icy, snow keeps on coming down, cars are going about 20 mph down the freeway. Did I mention the roads were bad? We saw a car spin out in front of us and hit the median before we even got to the Tacoma dome. A semi almost t-boned in front of us. I had little snow driving experience, so my nerves weren't exactly stable. Thankfully I had my friends in the car to calm me down and give me advice. Without the three of them (especially Steph) I don't know that I could have made it safely (of course, I wouldn't have been going to the airport again in the first place, but that's beside the point). Anyway, we made it to the airport safely. The drive back wasn't so bad at first, the roads were getting better and I was getting more used to driving in the snow. However, the traffic in Tacoma was HORRIBLE. We spent about 2 hours going from the Tacoma Dome to the PLU campus. Steph and I finally made it back to T-Stad at 8:00 p.m. A trip that usually takes 1 1/2 hours took 5 hours. And I still had homework.
So my trips to the airport were complete, and I had about 20 hours to work on a paper and two finals. Since we missed dinner and were pretty much out of dining dollars, Steph and I made pumpkin pancakes. We also found a bag of great, unopened food by the garbage can. God had blessed us with lunch for the next day! Yay! I stayed up until 2 a.m. working on a paper debating the meaning of the word "passer" in two of Catullus' poems (don't ask . . .). I got up the next morning to turn in my Latin paper and take my exam in Admin. Well, the humanities office was closed. Apparently Language and Literature professors don't like the snow. I had to have campus safety come and escort me into the office. It turned out okay, though. I took my exam and then spent the next three hours working on my American Lit final. By 3 I was done, and I had 2 hours to clean my room and pack.
Steph and I finally were ready to leave for her home in Bremerton at 5:00 p.m. The roads were fairly clear; we were very thankful. Then we got into Bremerton. Washington cities don't expect there to ever be snow, so they don't invest in things like snow equipment. Bremerton was a giant sheet of ice with hills thrown in for extra danger. We made it to Steph's neighborhood gate, and then Viola (my car) decided that she had had enough. The tires kept spinning, but I couldn't move an inch. Steph got out and pushed my car, we went forward a little, then it stopped again. Thankfully, Steph's dad came to the rescue and told me what to do. I gathered some momentum and made it to Steph's house, where we have been snowed in since.
My story being told, what is one of the biggest lessons God is teaching me? I'm not in control! My plans don't always work, so I need to trust Him and let Him plan my life for me. Sure, I can talk to Him and make some plans, but ultimately I need to let Him have control. It's not always fun, but God has blessed me so much in the process. :)
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The Tale of the Missed Train
Well, when I last wrote here I thought I would be back in Tacoma by Monday afternoon. I was going to get a lot of things done, go to class on Tuesday, and generally be very productive. That was the plan, at least.
I literally can only remember seeing the time 9:40 p.m. on my train ticket. Emily and a couple of guys from the YWAM base were driving me to the train station, and as we were driving up to it we saw a train go by. "Good thing that's not my train, huh?" I laughed. They parked and took me inside, I said my goodbyes, and they left the station. I go to the ticket counter and ask to check in my massive suitcase.
"For what train? The one tonight?" says the older woman behind the desk.
"Uh, yeah. Tonight's train."
"That train left."
The shock hasn't quite hit yet. She must be joking. "When did it leave?"
"On time," she says, exasperation starting to edge her voice.
Although what has happened hasn't quite sunk in yet, I can feel panic start to grasp at me. She had to be wrong, but if she wasn't . . .
I ran out the door, just barely catching Emily and the guys before they drove down the street (totally God . . . if I didn't catch them . . . let's just say that would not have been pleasant). I wave them down and yell "I missed my train!" As they jump out and ask question while coming back to the station, I run back to the ticket counter and talk to the woman. Within a few minutes I realize that she was, in fact, correct: I had missed my train.
The rational response to this would have been to simply laugh and get a new ticket, perhaps rejoice at the fact that I have an extra day of vacation. But rationality was way beyond me by now. For some reason which I couldn't place and didn't want to place, I was devastated. Fear and despair came over me, as if my worst nightmare had come true (which, was in fact, partially true). I broke down, crying while weakly trying to keep myself for snapping at those around me. I was fine; within a half hour I had a ticket for the next day. So why was I taking it so badly?
That night Emily and Jason both spent some time trying to remind me of some truth. God had a purpose. It was not the end of the world. There must be a reason why I had missed the train. I didn't want to hear any of it, but I knew they were right. So the next morning I spent arguing with God over these very things. (No, I don't really recommend arguing with God. He usually wins, and even if you win, you still lose in the end.) In that morning, I came to the point where I finally acknowledged some things to Him.
First of all, I need to rest. I have a habit of making myself extremely busy. I can do everything, and by myself. At least, that's what I say to myself. I end up exhausting myself, but I still don't slow down and rest in God.
Resting and resting in God are two very different things. The one is "relaxing" in my own flesh, all the while planning on my next move to be a good, productive college student. The other is laying everything aside and saying, "God, I can't do this on my own. And that's okay with me. Will You handle it all? Will You take care of it as I just sit here at Your feet and enjoy Your presence and Your truth?" Resting may seem to be peaceful, but it doesn't come anywhere near the peace that comes from resting in God.
Secondly, I need to be honest with God. He sees my heart, why must I hide it? I think that the hard spots, the areas I don't want to see, aren't there if they are hidden. God can't expose them if they aren't there, and exposure hurts. Busyness is definitely linked to this. It provides the cover for my heart. Yet this isn't what I need. God already sees my heart, but He wants to see it with me. He wants the honor of being shown my heart, so that He might begin to heal it. It's not easy, and He knows how painful it is. But He knows it's what is best for me. The Lord loves me, and that most definitely includes my heart.
Thirdly, I am not in control. I might think I am, I might want to be, but ultimately I cannot control everything. When I try to control my own life, it messes things up and I end up miserable. God is much better at handling it.
So, needless to say, I wasn't meant to take the Sunday night train. Pride had to be addressed, and that was much more important than making it to class and work. And for once I needed to rest in God. Yes, God knew what He was doing.
I literally can only remember seeing the time 9:40 p.m. on my train ticket. Emily and a couple of guys from the YWAM base were driving me to the train station, and as we were driving up to it we saw a train go by. "Good thing that's not my train, huh?" I laughed. They parked and took me inside, I said my goodbyes, and they left the station. I go to the ticket counter and ask to check in my massive suitcase.
"For what train? The one tonight?" says the older woman behind the desk.
"Uh, yeah. Tonight's train."
"That train left."
The shock hasn't quite hit yet. She must be joking. "When did it leave?"
"On time," she says, exasperation starting to edge her voice.
Although what has happened hasn't quite sunk in yet, I can feel panic start to grasp at me. She had to be wrong, but if she wasn't . . .
I ran out the door, just barely catching Emily and the guys before they drove down the street (totally God . . . if I didn't catch them . . . let's just say that would not have been pleasant). I wave them down and yell "I missed my train!" As they jump out and ask question while coming back to the station, I run back to the ticket counter and talk to the woman. Within a few minutes I realize that she was, in fact, correct: I had missed my train.
The rational response to this would have been to simply laugh and get a new ticket, perhaps rejoice at the fact that I have an extra day of vacation. But rationality was way beyond me by now. For some reason which I couldn't place and didn't want to place, I was devastated. Fear and despair came over me, as if my worst nightmare had come true (which, was in fact, partially true). I broke down, crying while weakly trying to keep myself for snapping at those around me. I was fine; within a half hour I had a ticket for the next day. So why was I taking it so badly?
That night Emily and Jason both spent some time trying to remind me of some truth. God had a purpose. It was not the end of the world. There must be a reason why I had missed the train. I didn't want to hear any of it, but I knew they were right. So the next morning I spent arguing with God over these very things. (No, I don't really recommend arguing with God. He usually wins, and even if you win, you still lose in the end.) In that morning, I came to the point where I finally acknowledged some things to Him.
First of all, I need to rest. I have a habit of making myself extremely busy. I can do everything, and by myself. At least, that's what I say to myself. I end up exhausting myself, but I still don't slow down and rest in God.
Resting and resting in God are two very different things. The one is "relaxing" in my own flesh, all the while planning on my next move to be a good, productive college student. The other is laying everything aside and saying, "God, I can't do this on my own. And that's okay with me. Will You handle it all? Will You take care of it as I just sit here at Your feet and enjoy Your presence and Your truth?" Resting may seem to be peaceful, but it doesn't come anywhere near the peace that comes from resting in God.
Secondly, I need to be honest with God. He sees my heart, why must I hide it? I think that the hard spots, the areas I don't want to see, aren't there if they are hidden. God can't expose them if they aren't there, and exposure hurts. Busyness is definitely linked to this. It provides the cover for my heart. Yet this isn't what I need. God already sees my heart, but He wants to see it with me. He wants the honor of being shown my heart, so that He might begin to heal it. It's not easy, and He knows how painful it is. But He knows it's what is best for me. The Lord loves me, and that most definitely includes my heart.
Thirdly, I am not in control. I might think I am, I might want to be, but ultimately I cannot control everything. When I try to control my own life, it messes things up and I end up miserable. God is much better at handling it.
So, needless to say, I wasn't meant to take the Sunday night train. Pride had to be addressed, and that was much more important than making it to class and work. And for once I needed to rest in God. Yes, God knew what He was doing.
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