Saturday, December 24, 2011

wrapping it up

i am one step closer to graduating college.
but i would prefer to just say another semester is done :) that seems less scary and less of an invitation to talk about post-graduation plans (they are, um, shall we say, in process?)
the semester ended with a thousand things going on at once and i honestly wasn't sure if i was going to make it through. i am so, so grateful God answered my prayer that i would make it through a tough semester! 

the past week (at home!!) has consisted of sleeping, eating (baked goods, home cooked meals, the possibilities are endless), hanging around the house, christmas-y things like shopping and sitting by the tree, hanging out with lots of people over the age of 75 (working a few shifts!). i love it. 

here's some pictures to capture the end of my semester...
thanksgiving dinner as an almost-complete apt.
my roommates have been one of the biggest gifts to me this semester. i came into school only knowing one of the five girls i would be living with but we clicked quickly as the semester unfolded. we've made pancakes and thanksgiving dinners and cut-and-bake pillsbury cookies, had crazy adventures, survived an over-flowing shower (lowest low point of the semester, perhaps?) laughed ridiculously hard on our living room floor, had sleepovers in each other's rooms, and watched so many good movies together while doing face masks and drinking hot tea. 
i love them SO much 
libby visited me in november! here we are enjoying the end of boston's glorious fall season.
i finished a semester of babysitting for my RD's adorable little baby on tuesday mornings.
my favorite moments are when i pick this little baby up from her crib and she gives me the biggest smile in the world or when we dance to christmas music together (rather, i dance, she watches. our varieties included mariah carey and justin beiber) or when i feed her her bottle and she just lays in my arms (and doesn't fidget! this is a miracle since she is quite squirrely!!)
 thanksgiving in califor-ni-ay with the sisters and grandparents. outing to newport beach was fun and saw such beautiful lights on the palm trees :) 
christmas parties
finishing the semester with some dazzle: winter ball in salem! 
that's our little apartment's christmas tree!! so cute, right? thanks erin! 

MERRY CHRISTMAS!! 

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

what an artist taught me about losing and finding

my dad has been convincing me to take a theology class since my freshman year of college. and finally gordon created a christian theology class as part of their new core curriculum. thankfully i had room in my schedule this semester to take an elective class and found myself in a large lecture twice a week and a fifteen-person seminar led by a professor. the lectures were certainly interesting and i learned a lot through this class about topics such as community, the Church, the Trinity, etc. but what has blessed me the most was the conversation i had with my seminar professor this morning. a conversation where i left crying, tears coming from my eyes as i walked through the rain, because of the truth that he spoke to me, because of the way his words brought joy and hope to my life - even though what he said wasn't simple, what he said didn't solve my stress or frustration or longing for peace, but he showed me something better.

my professor, who is part of the art department at gordon, talked to our class on monday about how he "does theology" by creating art. he works through the complexities and questions of life through his art work. it's a way of expressing the inexpressible, of trying to communicate what we he doesn't understand, what he can't contain in a box. it's sort of how i feel about trying to write, or express thanks or other emotions in words or actions, or something because i can't contain it.

what spoke to me most was this idea of "losing and finding." my professor is a painter and uses different mediums to create pieces of art that reflect this concept of losing and finding -- he will paint beautiful images and then he will "lose" those images as he covers them up with different colors, maybe a different scene, or a different medium. it's like this process of letting go - of not really having complete control of your art, of what you're creating, but rather letting something bigger than yourself help you create this piece of work.

isn't this losing and finding so much of what life is? not only losing people, but also losing part of ourselves: our ideas of what our future is going to look like, what our relationships are, where our next steps lead, who we are? i see so much truth in this -- so much about losses (both big and small), and what are we finding in that? what are we finding within that process that is often so painful and hard?

my professor asked me the question: do you have a sense of what your vocation is alyssa? and i immediately did the typical: "i don't know i don't know i don't know" (i'm a senior. i think this is what we all say at some point during the course of this year). but his answer was this: that's not really what i meant in the sense of occupational vocation, but your vocation as a person -- who you want to become, who you want to be? what does it mean for you to live a good life?

wow.

i immediately was like "you're so right! and that's what i've been talking with the freshman in my class i TA for about living the good life and not just thinking about this in terms of a job!" but i got ahead of myself and was just thinking about occupation, about what to do.

maybe i need to instead focus on this state of being. yes, i do need to consider jobs and careers and all of that, but i want to just be. and to be a part of this art work that is life, this process of living and in living losing, and even through that loss and pain, believing in a God who calls me to lose in order to find something greater. i'm in the process of learning how to trust in this God who will lead me to something greater than myself -- something full of mystery and wonder -- and a mystery that is good and full of hope and love.

this God is not safe -- my professor said this and i remember listening to my cousin's sermon this summer saying the exact same thing.
but God is good.
i know this in the very depths of my being.

He wants to create with me, to be a part of this painting and to let go of my attempts to achieve knowledge, to get the answers, to understand fully -- but when i let go of this, i will find something greater, i will be a part of a journey, apart of a beautiful piece of art.

my professor quoted TS Eliot's Little Gidding, the last section of The Four Quartets with a piece of art which similarly expresses the concept of losing and finding, and i want to close this post with those words:

With the drawing of the Love and the voice of this Calling
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of the earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always--
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and 
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

Friday, December 2, 2011

when "thank you" is too small

i have been learning this year that the word "thank you" is insufficient. it's too short, it's too small, it doesn't convey what i want it to -- and it never will.

i wrote in my journal, in the midst of saying good byes in latin america last april, how i didn't know how to express my thanks. i wrote: "God, what has this region done to my heart? When I first came I was terrified and homesick, and now I don't know how to say good bye and thank you. I don't know how to write what I feel...It is frustrating how I can't adequately say thank you.."

that's part of why i try to blog - i desperately want to articulate - to show in words, actions, expressions what i am feeling, thinking, wrestling with. but isn't it frustrating when the things you want to express just don't seem to come? when you feel tongue-tied and rambly and just incoherent?

but i think the realization that a thank you isn't enough is a gift -- because it's realizing that what you have is bigger than words and actions. it's touched your heart and moved you in ways you can't express. and i am learning that that is okay - actually it's more than okay, it's the best place to be.

i stumble over words when i try to tell people how much i love my major - how much joy i feel as i walk up the stairs of frost to talk to my professors about discussions inside or outside of class, how even after endless hours of writing papers and reading books, there's still this sense of wonder and excitement as i write about the communist manifesto, about capitalism, about things that truly matter and i see their relevancy in everyday life. i can't express my thanks to those professors - those people i saw this week sitting with me at a debate about free enterprise (is it moral?) -- still living and teaching and learning what it means to be faithful and to care about the things God cares about.

i stumble over the words to express my gratitude for relationships - for the people who care for me..the people who chat over warm cups of coffee or baked goods or walks in the woods or laughing on the floor. the people who have walked alongside me for so many years or the people who just recently entered my life, always willing and eager to encourage and support no matter where i am.

so i say "thanks" or "thank you" and part of me feels a little frustrated, a little anxious that i can't make the word bigger...maybe i'll say it with tears or with chocolate or a gift or a card, but it's still inadequate, still less than what i want it to be.

Isaiah 58:21 "And this is my covenant with them, says the Lord. My Spirit will not leave them, and neither will these words I have given you. They will be on your lips and on the lips of your children and your children's children forever. I, the Lord, have spoken!"

His Spirit never leaves me
His promises and truth and love will be on our lips

this is why i am thankful - because it's in these moments, living life with these people, hearing their words, telling my own story and receiving their hugs that i see and hear truth and love. i see and experience this truth like a little candle in the window of a new england cottage. it is dark outside, it's winter and i see too little of the sun, but there's these little candles glimmering amidst the darkness - giving me hope, giving me courage, and giving me truth.

i can't say thank you adequately to a God who shines hope in darkness - and chooses to do so through people and places and studies. but perhaps what He wants me to do right now is to dwell in his presence and to reflect on these moments of truth, the flickering candle in the cottage window.

Emmanuel, God with us. i want to dwell in that blessing of light.
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