peaches and oatmeal

Grand Valley and I had a moment yesterday.
It was sunny, and warm enough to leave my jacket behind-which is a big event when you live in West Michigan. In celebration, I decided to take my lunch outside. Peaches canned with Grandma in a warm bowl of oatmeal and cinnamon. Delish. As I sat there reminiscing I started to wonder if I would remember this. When I eat peaches and oatmeal again will it elicit warm memories of my last days at Grand Valley?

I love finals week. There are always free goodies around. This particular morning I was partaking in some FREE earl grey tea, compliments of the GV Libraries. Earl grey is one of my favorites. It kind of smells like fruit loops. I tore open the package, dropped the tea bag into my blue flowered thermos and proceeded to fill it with hot water from the water cooler. The delicious aroma of earl grey swirled up to my nose and I suddenly felt happy. Now, I couldn't place the reason for this sudden emotional response and then I realized it smelled like camp. It smelled like those very early, crisp, feet a little wet from the dewy grass, quiet, tea in hand mornings before staff huddle. Just the smell of earl grey prompted a strong emotional response, a memory of ten weeks worth of mornings. Will this happen with peaches and oatmeal?

A good friend and I had the opportunity to share what we've learned over the past four years of college at our last Young Life Club. As we were about to start, in her infinite wisdom, my beautiful friend said to me, "They aren't going to remember what we say, they'll remember who we are." Wisdom. So much wisdom.

With the tree against my back and the slightly uncomfortable mound covered with wood chips under...well...under me...I decided that this last week didn't need to be epic. I've been feeling like everything in my last two weeks needs to be huge, paramount, epic. Everything has to be the best. Every "last" experience must be forever etched into the tablet of my mind. But it doesn't work that way. These last days will be like a drawing on the shore, most likely washed away by the waves of transition. But the memories that have been created over the past four years won't fade so quickly. They are familiar paths in my heart. Well worn grooves that only time can produce. Repeated journeys; like the thousands of time I've loaded up the sound equipment, met by Java City for coffee dates, walked through the Lake Halls, studied in beloved Zumberg, and taken late night trips to Meijer because there was nothing better to do. These memories, they are deep and lasting. Solidified by time and repetition.

So instead of trying to squeeze every last drop out of this week I just decided to say, "Thank you". Thank you for the last four years. There have been days of sun and days of rain, but all added up, they have been wonderful.

Perhaps years from now, a smell reminescent of the fourth floor, Ben Harper's "Walk Away" or twisting an extension chord will bring me back to Grand Valley, back to the well worn paths. And maybe peaches and oatmeal will remind me to breathe deep. Say thank you. Rejoice in the memories and remember that it's not what I say, but who I am that they will remember.

just because it's beautiful. [written winter 08]

Following it to the ground with my eyes is hard enough.
Trying to catch it on my tongue is an entirely different feat.
It always seems that as I am about to capture it, it promptly swirls in another direction, floating gracefully just out of my reach.
With all the time I've spent walking with my tongue hanging out you'd think I'd have mastered the task but alas, I am rarely successful.
Taking my eyes from the view directly in front of my and turning it down the street, I almost exploded with laughter. The sky was in a frenzy. The Civic theatre and bustling city street providing the perfect background to a white chaos.
The perfectly irregular fluff floats and zooms, falls and swirls as the wind carries and drops it from the sky.
It is nothing short of magic.

I was riding the bus home after the first snow a few weeks ago in a joyful mood. There is something about snow, especially the first sight of it, that excites me. I began trying to dissect why this would be. Is it because the winter season brings the Holiday season as well? Do I crave the nostalgia of being a kid again with the whole family together, unwrapping gifts and sipping hot chocolate? Maybe it's all those memories of playing outside? Or maybe it's the symbolism? The way the snow makes everything look white and clean. Even the dirtiest places and shabbiest of houses look romantic with a dusting of snow. When I relayed these questions to a friend he responded, "Maybe you just like it because it's beautiful."

I'm always looking for the "deeper meaning" or the "real reason" behind things. I could probably link this line of thinking to a lot of things, like experiential learning at camp where everything really means something else, or maybe it's the fact that I'm a psychology major. [see there it is, trying to find the root of it all, i rest my case]
I like doing this. I like asking questions. It's a good thing.

But maybe with some things in life I need to remember that it's just because it's beautiful. And just because is enough.

some days you just need to walk

There's something about the wild that brings me back. Traipsing through clusters of moss and tree or standing ankle deep, toes buried in the grainy sand, welcoming the cold waves of Lake Michigan grounds me.

Tonight however, it was Grand Rapids. Grand Rapids in all it's glory that reminded me of the goodness of life. Much to my dismay the professor decided to let us out of our six to nine class early. This early adjournment allowed me to experience the last light of April first as I hopped off the Fifty.

Now, the Eberhard Center is probably one of the ugliest buildings on campus. The Zumberg Library is a close second, but tonight, Eberhard was glorious.
[jenn, it was a perfect photo op, i wish you were there with your camera...]
The long bank of windows created the most beautiful panorama I've seen in quite sometime. Brilliant shades of pink and purple painted the glass, with the clock tower situated perfectly on the reflective canvas. The blue bridge over the Grand River complimented the azure lights of the JW Marriot, columns of magenta rising up its curved glass. The small white lights on the sixth street bridge were beginning to twinkle and the high-rises in the distance were turned gold.

The green grass, yes, green grass, of Rosa Parks Circle. The glowing clusters of light falling over the tables at the GRAM Cafe. And even the mysterious fog rising from the man hole covers on Ionia brought on a feeling of euphoria. This is it. This is beautiful.

Even though my back was starting to feel the computer and textbooks in my backpack on my ascent of Fountain Street, and even though I began to feel a little lame, seeing that the curly haired kid with the cooler had now tripled the distance that was first between us when we stepped off the Fifty, I'm so glad I was able to taste GR soaked in the last of the sun's light. I'm so glad my car is still parked on College Ave. I needed to walk today.



ps. April fools! I wasn't actually dismayed that class got out early...
okay, a little lame. But I couldn't let this day go by without one prank! Even if it was one as sad as that. On another note, did anyone see the "Automated Gmail" feature today. Wow, I am gullible.

blessed.

The world is crazy. Cars driving by. People walking here and there. A women in a bright pink jacket. Students with their backpacks. Homeless men. People walking fast. People walking slow. What's going on in their life?
This morning I felt outside of it and laughed as I imagined just watching this crazy, frantic mess. Like a bunch of little cars and houses on a play mat with white broken lines on grey roads . Sometimes it all seems so trivial, when you really start to break it down. But it's good. The hail bouncing off the red bricks. A call from Scotty whose standing at the Starbucks counter 10 feet away. Excel sheet study guides and Albert Ellis and Rational Emotoive Behavior Therapy. YouTube. And Brett Dennen.


I welcome the sun,
the clouds and rain,
the wind that sweeps the sky clean
and lets the sun shine again.
this is the most magnificent life has ever been.
here is heaven and earth
and the brilliant sky in between.

blessed is this life
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive.
blessed is this life
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive

I dwell in the darkness
I let in the light
I sleep in the afternoon
and become the noise in the night
I trespass in temptation
suffered in sacrifice
but I awake each day with a new sunrise

blessed is this life, oh
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive
blessed is this life, oh
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive

-Brett Dennen.

Thanks Brett. I'm gonna celebrate being alive.

[to have a listen click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0l8f27jVUA ]