Part of me is annoyed every year that my spring break is nowhere near Easter. This weekend, I went home, ate way too much, sang loud at church, laughed with my family, but the entire time, the obligations of school never left my mind. I wished that school didn't hover over me on the happiest day of the year, when all I wanted to do is eat candy and hang out with my brother.
We all let this happen. We let the concerns of the world, the worries of this life that seem so important take away from what really matters. But, honestly, school is not as important as Christ. If I had to choose between goals that I have (like keeping my scholarships, getting a degree, going to graduate school, becoming a teacher, and owning my own house) and Jesus, all the other crap goes. There is so much more to life than a checklist. Just give me Jesus.
This week, I'm going to my cousin's wedding in Minnesota. And contrary to popular belief, not all girls freak out over weddings. I'm not a fan for mostly selfish reasons. Weddings remind me of what I don't have; they make me less content with where I am in my life. But I have everything I could ever need and more.
Also, on a tangent, weddings are filled with ridiculous etiquette and polite mumbo jumbo that I just find tedious. I'd probably be the bride that skips the reception. Or as I keep telling my family, I'll just elope. ;-)
(They'd kill me.)
Whether or not you want to drain your life savings into a Cinderella wedding or not, I'd say most girls (and guys) do spend a lot of time thinking about dating, getting married, settling down, etc. Especially at this age, which I like to call The Bridesmaid Era. But honestly, these thoughts are nice if you can't fall asleep at night, but really fantasies are just another distraction, just like school or work. I want to find that special someone as much as any other person, but if it comes down to loving a man or loving the Son of Man...Just give me Jesus.
4.13.2009
4.10.2009
How to Remember
Last semester, I took a course about the Psychology of Terror and Terrorism. My professors showed the film United 93 on September 11th and 13th. I never want to see that film again. I felt sick watching the first half, the build up to the shot of second plane crashing into the second Tower, that makes me weep even seven years later.
My reaction to the film was visceral, emotional, physical. And seven years ago, I was safe with my family on the other end of the East Coast. After watching it, I experienced many of the things we'd talked about in class: flashbulb memories (remembering clearly where I was that morning) and intrustive thoughts (found myself remembering that day long after the credits for United 93 rolled).
As Americans, we were all traumatized by September 11th, to some degree. And we don't want to talk about it any more. We want to hide behind conspiracy theories, we want to sling political mud, we want to ridicule insincere patriotism... we want to forget.
We can't forget.
I'm not too far away from believing in the idea of a collective consciousness; the idea that we all as a nation are still traumatized. Similar things have been written about the Irish and the Great Famine--even centuries later, scholars contend that because no one wants to talk about the Famine and haven't wanted to since it happened, that the Irish haven't coped. Some scholars go as far as to point to the Famine when looking at Ireland's higher than usual alcoholism and domestic violence rates.
Certainly September 11th and the Great Famine are not comparable events; though both tragic, the nature of these tragedies are radically different. But I'm not so sure I can discount the idea that as a nation, we might all be headed for collective psychological side effects because we won't cope, we won't deal with 9/11. We laugh when Family Guy makes fun of how politicians use 9/11 in thier campaigns, we avoid looking at the pictures and video footage from that day. We want to blame all our problems on the Bush administration and we just want to forget.
Forgetting is not healing. Asking any trauma psychologist. And whether or not one of your friends or family members was on those planes or in those buildings, we were all victims, violated and terrified and completely helpless. The world could only watch as the world's only superpower shuddered.
But we can't. We can't forget because it isn't fair to those who died, to those who fought back, to those who attempted rescue. We can't forget because the world is changing, whether we want to keep up or not. We can't forget and become forever cynical. We can't forget because it isn't possible, no matter how hard we try.
Watching United 93 was traumatic because we try to bury the images. We want flee from the fear we felt, from the horror. It's the most basic of human instincts: fight or flight. Flee from what hurts, fight to survive. Writing this paper on the movie is tough; I don't want to revisit it, but in the case of these memories, which each of share, it is better to fight, to cope and heal, than to flee and forget.
I don't know if anything I've written here makes a lick of sense to a single soul out there. But I couldn't focus on my paper until I collected these thoughts. Perhaps you remember now where you were; perhaps you regret reading this since your smile disappeared; maybe you will try to forget.
Don't. You can't, anyway.
My reaction to the film was visceral, emotional, physical. And seven years ago, I was safe with my family on the other end of the East Coast. After watching it, I experienced many of the things we'd talked about in class: flashbulb memories (remembering clearly where I was that morning) and intrustive thoughts (found myself remembering that day long after the credits for United 93 rolled).
As Americans, we were all traumatized by September 11th, to some degree. And we don't want to talk about it any more. We want to hide behind conspiracy theories, we want to sling political mud, we want to ridicule insincere patriotism... we want to forget.
We can't forget.
I'm not too far away from believing in the idea of a collective consciousness; the idea that we all as a nation are still traumatized. Similar things have been written about the Irish and the Great Famine--even centuries later, scholars contend that because no one wants to talk about the Famine and haven't wanted to since it happened, that the Irish haven't coped. Some scholars go as far as to point to the Famine when looking at Ireland's higher than usual alcoholism and domestic violence rates.
Certainly September 11th and the Great Famine are not comparable events; though both tragic, the nature of these tragedies are radically different. But I'm not so sure I can discount the idea that as a nation, we might all be headed for collective psychological side effects because we won't cope, we won't deal with 9/11. We laugh when Family Guy makes fun of how politicians use 9/11 in thier campaigns, we avoid looking at the pictures and video footage from that day. We want to blame all our problems on the Bush administration and we just want to forget.
Forgetting is not healing. Asking any trauma psychologist. And whether or not one of your friends or family members was on those planes or in those buildings, we were all victims, violated and terrified and completely helpless. The world could only watch as the world's only superpower shuddered.
But we can't. We can't forget because it isn't fair to those who died, to those who fought back, to those who attempted rescue. We can't forget because the world is changing, whether we want to keep up or not. We can't forget and become forever cynical. We can't forget because it isn't possible, no matter how hard we try.
Watching United 93 was traumatic because we try to bury the images. We want flee from the fear we felt, from the horror. It's the most basic of human instincts: fight or flight. Flee from what hurts, fight to survive. Writing this paper on the movie is tough; I don't want to revisit it, but in the case of these memories, which each of share, it is better to fight, to cope and heal, than to flee and forget.
I don't know if anything I've written here makes a lick of sense to a single soul out there. But I couldn't focus on my paper until I collected these thoughts. Perhaps you remember now where you were; perhaps you regret reading this since your smile disappeared; maybe you will try to forget.
Don't. You can't, anyway.
4.08.2009
Wednesday
Let's talk about how God is real and how He does intervene in our lives and how He has a definite sense of humor.
Today's Facts
Fact: I have a ten page paper due Friday.
Fact: I have written three other papers so far this week.
Fact: I am slightly stressed.
Fact: The ministries in Charleston put on something tonight called Downtown Community.
Fact: Downtown Community is a public celebration of Easter in Marion Square Park.
Fact: I was only going to stay for a few minutes because I was going to work on my paper.
Fact: My friend called me and asked me to go with her to an event.
Fact: I got distracted while on the phone, and walked out with only my cell phone, effectively locking myself out of my house and away from my essay.
Fact: That was totally supposed to happen.
It's Holy Week, and I've had my mind on school. Not Jesus. People say that life distracts them from school... well, school distracts me from life.
Fact: Through some hilarious circumstances, God basically slapped me upside the head, locked me out of my own house while my roommate was working, and said, "Hillary, whether you like it or not,you're going to go fellowship with other believers and celebrate Easter. You're going to forget about that essay for a few hours, and you're going to laugh, sing, be still, and remember Me."
Turns out I liked it.
Lesson learned. God > School
:-)
Today's Facts
Fact: I have a ten page paper due Friday.
Fact: I have written three other papers so far this week.
Fact: I am slightly stressed.
Fact: The ministries in Charleston put on something tonight called Downtown Community.
Fact: Downtown Community is a public celebration of Easter in Marion Square Park.
Fact: I was only going to stay for a few minutes because I was going to work on my paper.
Fact: My friend called me and asked me to go with her to an event.
Fact: I got distracted while on the phone, and walked out with only my cell phone, effectively locking myself out of my house and away from my essay.
Fact: That was totally supposed to happen.
It's Holy Week, and I've had my mind on school. Not Jesus. People say that life distracts them from school... well, school distracts me from life.
Fact: Through some hilarious circumstances, God basically slapped me upside the head, locked me out of my own house while my roommate was working, and said, "Hillary, whether you like it or not,you're going to go fellowship with other believers and celebrate Easter. You're going to forget about that essay for a few hours, and you're going to laugh, sing, be still, and remember Me."
Turns out I liked it.
Lesson learned. God > School
:-)
4.05.2009
Passion Week: Palm Sunday
Oh, dear one. I see how you toss and turn in your sleep, feeling guilty and even panicked simply because you closed your eyes to rest. I have watched you flee back and forth to your library, yawning and moaning and worrying. I know how important these things seem to you now, how crucial they feel at this moment in your life. I know the number of times you tapped the backspace key when you wrote resigned emails to professors, just like I know how many phone calls you've ignored when were working hard.
I have placed you here for a reason, and that reason was not so you could drive yourself into the ground in desperate chase after sets of letters that cease to matter: A's, B's, BA's, BS's... No, I have given you a far greater purpose: to learn, to grow, to teach, to search. You've taken your instructions much too literally, I see. You've learned neatly-bulleted lists of facts and dates, and you've grown weary of the things that used to bring you joy. You've taught yourself that if you are not at the top then you have failed, and you've searched books and websites for everything and everyone but Me.
This week, child, you may have more things to do than you have minutes in your day, and you may have more on your mind than on your heart. But don't forget what this week means; don't be distracted by your obligations, and don't be distracted by commercials for painted eggs or chocolate rabbits. Remember. Remember what you were taught as a child. And if you were not taught, then learn. Read. Pray.
On this day, two thousand years ago, I rode into a city full of smiles and waving branches and joyful cries of Hosanna! Save!
Cry out Hosanna to me, and I will rescue you from your fears of inadequacy, your heavy to-do lists, your attention deficit, your worries about the future, your unfulfilled desires. I will help you remember.
Today is Palm Sunday.
I have placed you here for a reason, and that reason was not so you could drive yourself into the ground in desperate chase after sets of letters that cease to matter: A's, B's, BA's, BS's... No, I have given you a far greater purpose: to learn, to grow, to teach, to search. You've taken your instructions much too literally, I see. You've learned neatly-bulleted lists of facts and dates, and you've grown weary of the things that used to bring you joy. You've taught yourself that if you are not at the top then you have failed, and you've searched books and websites for everything and everyone but Me.
This week, child, you may have more things to do than you have minutes in your day, and you may have more on your mind than on your heart. But don't forget what this week means; don't be distracted by your obligations, and don't be distracted by commercials for painted eggs or chocolate rabbits. Remember. Remember what you were taught as a child. And if you were not taught, then learn. Read. Pray.
On this day, two thousand years ago, I rode into a city full of smiles and waving branches and joyful cries of Hosanna! Save!
Cry out Hosanna to me, and I will rescue you from your fears of inadequacy, your heavy to-do lists, your attention deficit, your worries about the future, your unfulfilled desires. I will help you remember.
Today is Palm Sunday.
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