Among the Ivy

Classes have started. And I have already officially fallen asleep doing my homework. I think this might be a bad sign.

My classes so far look like they’ll be interesting and a lot of work. I’ve already heard some horror stories about one professor (the class I haven’t had yet).

Turns out that there is a girl in my program who grew up in Romania. I talked with her in Romanian yesterday and I think we’ll be good friends! She had never met an American in the States who speaks Romanian, and I didn’t think there was a single Romanian living in New England. We’re both happy!

Kirk has learned to count to ten in Romanian along with a random assortment of other words. I also taught him how to knit. Things are going splendidly!

Today was library orientation at Dartmouth for my program. We spent two hours learning to navigate the online databases and then fifteen minutes as an afterthought visiting the stacks (“…Oh, you want to see the books?”). Libraries have changed since my days as an undergrad. The Dartmouth library is enormous and there are actual books even if you don’t see them at first. They’re enclosed in a boxlike building encased in the rest of the library and sort of remind you of a controlled-environment cold war bunker. After you go down several flights of very narrow, metal staircases to floors and floors of “books” you arrive at the bunker. Just kidding. I think. We also found a Dartmouth student who had been missing for the past thirteen years down at stack sublevel -3. He no longer had eyeballs, having adjusted to the cave-like chambers. It’s sad to have no eyeballs when you’re surrounded by nothing but thousands of books. It’s really no wonder that they’re really into online databases . . . they had to find a solution to all of the students who used to disappear into the library stacks and never returned.

Welcome to ivy league life. I realized another difference between the Dartmouth/Ivy League experience and the average college experience the other day at the welcome barbeque. All three guys at my table mentioned that they are really into squash. My nephew is really into squash. The difference is that their squash is a sport and my nephew’s squash is dinner. Then, a little later, a girl came up and said she was going to watch several others play croquet. I nearly choked on my spring roll.

Squash and croquet. I like croquet, especially when used as impromptu miniature golf. I never knew it was a sanctioned ivy league sport. I don’t know anything about squash. I had brought my frisbee, but no one seemed to know how to play.

I think I’m hitting culture shock again.

the dirt

All apologies for the recent absence of posting – our dial-up has dialed down. We are now so backwoods that we don’t have internet at all. Funny how I’m going to be starting at Dartmouth in the next two weeks, isn’t it? I’ll be posting as much as possible.

My parents are visiting from Michigan, so we’ve been hanging out in a wood-powered hot tub, eating lots of great food, and wandering around New Hampshire spotting moose. Tonight there’s a chance that we’ll be going to dirt track car racing since I mentioned to Mom and Dad that Kirk (and of course, me too) is really into off-road racing. The truth of that interest may be debated . . . but I’m not telling either way!

It is true that I’m going to a rodeo next week. What in the world is happening to me?!

travels with Sharon

Now I’m in Florida. I’ll be here the rest of this week, spending time with different friends from different places: my best friend Rachel from college, my friend Stacy from mission training back before I went to Romania, and Darci – who is getting married to her best friend Justin this Saturday.

I haven’t been to Florida since I was ten, when we came to visit a great aunt, and our train crashed in Elkhart, Indiana, on Thanksgiving evening. This time I flew and my flights were both early.

My goals are to go to the beach, go swimming in the ocean, and see an alligator, besides seeing my three friends. My other goal is to not damage my rental car in any way.

I’ll fly back to New Hampshire on Sunday and then a week and a half later I’ll be flying to Nevada for a rodeo. Yee-hah! Yeah . . . never thought I’d be going to a rodeo . . .

Life is fun, isn’t it?

brownies, boats, and a [potential] broken heart

I’m in Michigan. I arrived on the train this morning for a reunion with three great college friends. Way back in college, the four of us made a pact that when one of us started dating someone, they owed the rest of us a platter of brownies. Since then, two of the four of us have gotten married, and I haven’t seen any brownies yet. A month ago, I sent an email saying that I was drooling thinking about all those brownies . . . and now I’ve had to swallow my pride and say that I’ll be bringing my own batch . . . oh, the irony. Our friend Katie will be having a lovely time with her three platters of brownies, I’m sure. Except that she just informed us that she doesn’t like chocolate and that I’m a traitor. It’s looking like it will be a great weekend!

Tonight I’ll hopefully be taking a sunset sail on a small tall ship with my two best friends in South Haven. I haven’t sailed since before going to Romania and I’m looking forward to the wind and waves and beauty. While I’m here, Kirk is repairing his sailboat in New Hampshire, so I’m looking forward to a lot more sailing soon.

Did I mention that I’m enrolled in Dartmouth? I guess not. Well . . . I’m excited! Funny how that got thrown on the backburner with all the other excitement of the past few weeks! I just realiezed that I’m choosing to study something that hurts my heart a lot. Sometimes a passion can be painful. I’m so glad that hope and good friends are around to support me for when my heart potentially breaks.

The not-so-single missionary’s guide to meeting a spouse?

I’m certainly no expert on relationships of the dating variety, especially since my experience is limited to less than a week official and a few more weeks unofficial. But I’m beginning to think that it’s a lot like climbing mountains and a relationship with God.

They’re not safe. They’re worth it, but will sometimes knock you off your feet with surprise. There are points of fear and exhaustion and exhilaration and wonder and complete trust. When you say yes to climbing a mountain or a relationship with God, you don’t know where it will lead. You might have a vague idea (or a plan), but it rarely happens the way you expected. The only way to really survive is to be all in and trust that God is the one holding you.

Sometimes you think you’re going to be climbing one mountain then find out that it’s a lot different or an entirely different mountain than the one you expected. It’s a whole lot higher or longer or windier or older than the one you expected to climb, but the climb and the view are even more spectacular than you ever imagined. God does the same thing to us. We imagine him one way, but then he surprises us with a history and a future that we never even realized before. And the present is even more glorious than we thought it would be.

The difference between all of these is that you don’t have to worry about your relationship with God not working out. You can’t really break up with God. I tried once and it didn’t work. And trying to break up with a mountain just leaves you broken or stranded. The nice thing about a relationship that starts out with a clear purpose and focus on God is that the future unknown can be a whole lot less frightening.

I’m still stuck thinking about mountains. Kirk and I semi-officially decided that we’re going to go hiking weekly, rain or shine, snow or famine, black flies or earthquakes . . . we’re sort of like the postal service. I guess that’s what we all want our relationships to be: rain or shine, snow or famine, good times and bad. I think it’s called unconditional love.

jumping the gun…

I told a few friends in Romania about Kirk and received an email from one yesterday that still has me laughing. The email started like this:

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?! I’M SO EXCITED!!”

I’m not sure when “relationship” and “marriage” became synonymous in Romanian, but apparently I’ll always be learning the language!

I’m slightly afraid that my entire church and another church that we did a lot of things with all think I’m getting married right now. It might be an interesting few days of straightening out a rumor and fielding questions, but I’m geared up and ready! Fire away!

Look who’s coming to dinner…

His name is Kirk. Yes, the same one who hauled me out of the snow a few weeks ago at Tuckerman’s Ravine. Oh, how romantic, you gush . . . no, not quite . . . first he had to stop laughing uproariously.

This was something completely unexpected. I still don’t quite know how to respond. If you know me, you know that I don’t really date. I don’t mess around with relationships.

I’ll admit that that the night after our first date I was in a state of shock. I didn’t sleep very well and woke up the next morning and poured vanilla extract all over my pancakes instead of maple syrup. Wes and I joked that sometimes you just need a little alcohol in the mornings.

I think I’ve gotten past the shock. Since this ain’t no game, we’re praying a lot about where this is going.

Kirk is great. He goes to my church here and is an elder. He spends most of his time working with youth. He’s hilarious and thoughtful and bold about what he believes. I like him very much and respect him highly.

I would love for you to meet him.

decisions, decisions

I never wanted a normal, boring life.

Good thing, because I’m certainly not getting it.

We’ll just say that my life feels a little upside-down and catterwonkus (is this a word?) right now. It’s in a good way, though.

I already had enough big decisions to make: about grad school and Romania and things like that. Now I’ve got some more. I’m not going into the details right now, but suffice it to say that a whole huge good sorta situation has come up completely unexpectedly and I’m praying seriously about it.

You can make your own judgments on what it might be . . . and you might be sorta correct. Either way, you might be hearing more about it in the future.

Happy Tuesday, anyway!

Looking back . . . looking forward

I was going through papers the other day and came across something I wrote shortly after returning from Romania. I returned six months ago tomorrow, so I think it’s pretty important to remind myself of what I wanted to remember then.

“So this is it. I leave CRWRC and spend my first Thanksgiving in three years with my family. I feel okay, better than times when I’ve done this before – when I finished one thing and didn’t necessarily know what was coming next. For some reason I’m not really worried; I know that things will turn out okay.

“It is always strange to realize how quickly time moves. I knew when I started with CRWRC that two years would go by and I would gasp in the end about how quickly they went. Well . . . it’s true – I’m gasping, I guess. I don’t want to be done there or with CRWRC. And I don’t know if I am done with either of these.

“Right now, looking back on Romania, it seems like a whirlwind and I kind of feel like I’m still spinning. The spinning is slowing, but I don’t want it to stop; I want to jump back into the whirlwind!

“I want to say that I have no regrets about working with CRWRC . . . . I can look back and clearly see God’s hand in life and in the lives of people I loved in Romania . . . . I can also see his hand clearly in the lives of CRWRC employees in the United States and Canada, as well as all over the world! I will always respect CRWRC and their desire to serve God in communities all over the world.

“There are so many people and so many stories from last few years, from Romania to the United States and everywhere in between. My landlady. Holly in the US. Ron on the airplane. Cezar and playing frisbee. Sarah and her desire to be a missionary. The drunk woman on the train to Fagaras. I wish you all could have been there with me; to hear the stories and learn the language and share the laughter . . . and heartaches.

“I feel more alive today. Like I’ve seen the world. My heart overwhelms me when I drive down the road and hear a song that aches for the Lord. When I hear a story of someone who just gave everything and loved someone . . . everyone . . . he met. I want to live even more fully. To not miss a minute. To be clearly an image-bearer of God to everyone I meet. To laugh and to cry and to burst with joy and heartache for something greater. To share that joy and desire with everyone I meet.

“I don’t want to live half-heartedly. I don’t want to live for myself. I don’t want to be filled with pride and self-superiority and self-righteousness. I don’t want to be a jerk or justify my actions (or non-actions). I don’t want to be apathetic and lazy and without focus or purpose.

“I want to live. Like this is the first day of eternity.”

Happy Camper

I just returned from perhaps the best vacation ever! It was absolutely fabulous, and I thought very little about what happens next with grad school and Romania.

We did a lot of hiking, including Tuckerman’s Ravine (breathtakingly beautiful . . . and still covered in snow) on Monday. A friend from church joined us on the hike up Tuckerman’s Ravine. At one point I stepped off the trail and sank in snow clear to my waist . . . and I didn’t touch ground. Kirk (the church friend) and Rachel graciously hauled me out!

Basically, we hiked and relaxed, both of which were very much needed.

I’ve been doing lots of thinking and praying still and still don’t have the answers. The questions keep coming, though.

Another option has opened up if all else fails. Apparently, in my search for possible grad school scholarships I told the Western Culinary Institute Le Courdon Bleu that I was interested in receiving information/attending. They keep trying to call. Maybe I’ll tell them about my famous homemade meals in Romania, and see if they’ll give me a scholarship because I make ethnic food . . . er, ethnicity being Bemis, anyway.