Sleeping in the library

I don't remember the name of the book I read in third grade, but the main character in the story escaped her awful family life by living in a museum. She stood on top of toilets in restroom stalls so when security checked under the doors they wouldn't see someone was still hiding in the museum. She hid out there for several weeks. I don't remember where she slept, but I always thought it'd be exciting to evade the eyes of security and camp out in a museum.

A library was the next best thing. Last week, I guess it would have been early Wednesday morning, I finally fulfilled my dream and slept in the library. I hit the books around 2:00 am and studied with Will and Lena till around 4. I finally had to crash. So I put two cushy chairs together (they're more of a couch/chair combo) and slept in the library. It was fun! My backpack and purse were my pillow. It was one of the best sleeps I've ever experienced. It kind of stinks, but security doesn't care if people sleep in the library. I see people doing it all the time. I still felt audacious, adventurous and cool.

Engagement

Rebekah and John are to be wed October 14 of this year! She took cuts from classes today and they rose before dawn to journey to the Blue Ridge Parkway. Here's Rebekah's story: "I was a little suspicious that he might be proposing, but didn't want to be disappointed if he didn't. When he started taking pictures of the sunrise ("before pictures," in his mind), I doubted this would be the day he'd ask me. John's been re-reading John Piper's "Desiring God" and was reading me some quotes from it. He told me there was a section on marriage he wanted me to read and gave me the book. I flipped over to the page where the paragraph was and he had cut out a section of the book to fit the ring into!" She said yes this Good Friday the fourteenth of April in the Year of Our Lord Two-thousand and Six.

A note: Rebekah and I have been kindred spirits for about the past three years. When I think of a "faithful" friend, I think of her. She and John fit each other in their desire for truth, their analytical minds, and their love for people. Rebekah never ceases to sharpen me in our conversations. By that, I mean she happens to bring up the topic I've JUST been thinking about and she'll push me to developing it lightyears further than I could on my own. This has happend I don't even know how many times! I appreciate that. People meet John and are swept away by his humility, thoughtfulness, and sharp mind. We joke around that he must be perfect, but I'm sure he's not, somehow. It just seems like he is. When I think of the two of them together, my heart rejoices! How exciting to see how God will use them together to glorify Himself!

Das Haus der Waffeln

Otherwise known as Waffle House. I hadn't been to the one in Clemson till this week when I went twice, both times with "cool DCF people." Maybe it's something about the smoky, flourescently-lit atmosphere, or the stale coffe that, when mixed with sugar and cream, "tastes like candy," but the place breeds good discussions and laughter. Maybe it's just the feeling of being a college student with the world as your oyster that breeds those discussions, and Waffle House breeds that feeling. Ok, so maybe it's just the people you're with. But I'm very much a college student when I'm there. Yeah, I live on a cheap budget, and so do all my friends. Sure, I like eating breakfast any time of day, especially after 12. I have homework due tomorrow, but that can wait. There are more important things to concern myself with, like the present.

Maria

She went to my church in South Africa. We shared family stories and deep theological thoughts over Rooibos tea and cheesecake, her favorite. In Hermanus we'd run on the beach, she, barefoot, and look for whales together. We never saw any. Her easy laugh and wild curls were natural complements of her carefree personality. We called each other "kindred spirits"--we were. She was one of the few I'd always stay in touch with. The last e-mails we wrote each other were in mid-January, she wrote me last. Having one of my "Maria moments," which I often do, that longing to talk to her, her to listen in that non-judgemental, wise, kind but strong way, I e-mailed her at the beginning of March.

Yesterday, March 29, her sister wrote me back. She was sorry to tell me, especially over e-mail, but Maria had passed away January 25. She attached photos of her--this beautiful, colorful, bright-eyed woman--who had been alive in my mind since I last saw her. She died in a car accident.

Two months have passed, but my mourning process has only just begun. I'm far away from our mutual friends, many of whom have already reached closure. She's the first friend I've lost--a very good friend. I feel like my world's about to change.

Brannon said something once: "The older you get, the more extreme happiness and sadness become." When you're little, the best thing that happens to you is the ice cream truck coming, and the worst, scraping your knee. As you get older, the best is marriage, children, grandchildren. The most tragic is death.

L'Abri

My friend Hannah is going to L'Abri in Switzerland next semester. The French word "L'Abri" means "shelter" and it's basically a self-study school anyone, from any background, can go to to ask questions and get honest answers about life and its meaning. As I understand it, the school is set up communally--students garden, cook, and clean for themselves and each other. Students discuss questions over the dinner table every day. About a third of the time is spent studying, another thrid working, and another third doing other things (traveling?). When you arrive at L'Abri, you receive a personal tutor who directs you in the subject you want to pursue. Weekly lectures are also given, I believe.

L'Abri was started by Francis and Edith Schaeffer, one of the most godly, like-minded, and intelligent couples to walk the planet. I'm reading Edith Schaeffer's book "L'Abri" and have been blessed by her faith, critical mind, and fidelity to Scriputre. I'm writing down quotes I think are exciting. Here's one you might like:

"The thing about real life is that important events don't announce themselves. Trumpets don't blow, drums don't beat to let you know you are going to meet the most important person you've ever met, or read the most important thing you are ever going to read, or have the most important conversation you are ever going to have, or spend the most important week you are ever going to spend. Usually something that is going to change your life is a memory before you can stop and be impressed about it. You don't usually have a chance to get excited about that sort of thing . . . ahead of time!" (ch. 5)

If that's not exciting - the future, mystery, God's goodness, which rests in His wisdom - I don't know what is.

Great minds

"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." Eleanor Roosevelt said that. I'm still guilty of finding pleasure in shallow conversation, but that quote has prompted me to steer away from dulling, thoughtless topics and gravitate toward great ones. Shallow conversation isn't always bad. "What did you do today?" and "Who won the game?" aren't awful questions. Their answers are simple and can be satisfying. Maybe it's more the disposition of being easily satisfied that Eleanor detests. Small stomachs that hunger for no more than succinct answers. Sometimes that's me, but I don't want it to be.

I have some friends who I can always count on to sharpen me. I did lunch with one of them the other week and came to a new appreciation of her. I've thought about the things we talked about, but only to a certain point. When we converse, her ideas actually infuse into my mind. Think about that--someone else's ideas being transplanted into your mind, things that weren't there before are now alive and kicking in your thoughts! Then my thoughts grow and ricochet back to her mind. The idea starts out as a tennis ball, but by the end of the match it's a hundred of them, some larger than others.

I like when those tennis balls start to grow.