so long, wordpress. it’s been fun.

But I really didn’t sit down and decide to think much about it. As I was semi-consciously listening to “my own sinking ship” by said band and attempting to beat my co-intern in words with friends, all of the sudden, I felt really, acutely thankful.

I think it’s because the singer said something about somebody’s story. Then I thought about my story. And how I’ve gotten to spend a year and a half in freaking Charlottesville, Virginia. As MUCH as this place feels like home, I do not feel terribly far removed from August of 2009, when I made the big move. Or even late March of 09 when I found out I was coming to UVA without even having the slightest clue what town that might be in.

And what struck me is this: I essentially contributed nothing. Seriously. There is VERY little about my life here that I added to myself. Here are the facts: I was put at UVA, given money to live and work by VERY generous people, given girls to love, given a staff team for whom I am so thankful, and even given a place to live with roommates without whom I could not have survived. And all of this has been very, very good.

At our last staff lunch of the semester today, we were talking about the placement process for 2 of our future interns. This, of course, made me reminisce about my placement process. In thinking about my story, it’s true that it’s really beautiful in what it is….but it’s also beautiful in what it is not. There are LOTS of other campuses where I could have been placed. There are people in those towns with whom I could have been friends. And Jesus would have been just as much as work there as he is here. But none of those are true. None of those are what really happened.

This is what actually happened. I am only, and can ever only be, right. here. Where I am supposed to be.

Life and such has been rolling along rather regularly lately. Winter has unofficially arrived as the temperature is barely above freezing today. Students are in the middle of exams, and we are ALL ready for those to end. Our cute little apartment has been decorated for Christmas with the cutest little tree you’ve ever seen, and we’ve hosted a Christmas potluck – 2 very adult things to do. I’ve read some good books and found some good music (both of which deserve their own post) but confess that I am just about over Christmas music already. I swear I never really know what to expect about myself this time of year. It COULD be due to the fact that I started listening to Sufjan Christmas around November 1, for which I am completely unapologetic, though maybe a little regretful. My foot/ankle is potentially almost healed as this week is also the last of my physical therapy. HOO-RAY. I’ll be at home for almost 3 weeks, starting after I travel to Georgia this weekend for the wedding of 2 wonderful RUF interns. I sure hope this means I get to see and spend time with folks I’ve been missing more and more lately.

I apologize for the genericness of this update. I feel like everything I’ve written basically says, “I’m alive and still here.” Sometimes that’s a worthwhile reminder in itself.

I figured November 14th was as good a day as any to update you a bit on it, especially since I last wrote about George, my not-so-beloved boot. George and I officially ended our relationship on November 2nd, and there was much rejoicing. This wasn’t the end of the foot saga, as I’m now in the process of getting physical therapy 3x a week for 6 weeks. HOPEFULLY after all of that, the ankle-injury-that-would-never-heal will be gone. In all seriousness, the ability to run again would be a most welcome Christmas present. I’ll even count it for my birthday present too (which I am usually starkly opposed to, as it falls on December 28).

But you know, this process has been sanctifying and beneficial in a few different ways. As I have decided that I’m officially going to apply for physical therapy school for the fall, it’s a really good thing for me to remember what it’s like to be a patient. I would hope to be compassionate, and validating while still firmly working towards a goal. Having somebody with whom you can speak honestly about your pain and feel like you’re not complaining to a deaf ear is wonderful. I hope to be that for somebody else.
AND, because getting my observation hours for my application process has been hard to do with a full-time job, having these few hours a week where I HAVE to be at PT is super helpful. A blessing in disguise, really.

Then there’s the whole not-being-able-to-run thing. It’s easy for me to look back at how well running was going for me right up until August 29 and think “why?!” It’s easy for me to note the beautiful weather we’ve been having, see (what seems like) the rest of Charlottesville out running and wonder the same thing. I try to be thankful when folks say kind things like, “at least you can still walk!” Because, good grief, that is true. Don’t let the fact that I want to kick a wall after hearing that make you think I don’t agree. In reality, I know I’ll never come up with a good answer. The best I’ve been able to do is know that the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. And in Him, I lack no good thing.

So there’s that.

On another note, Thanksgiving break starts in a little over a week, which will bring my first trip home this semester. i. am. excited. Mom was up here a week ago, and it was so good to see her and have her finally see my world. I think it’s safe to say that she enjoyed it as well.

I would be glad to give a better update on my internship, but because that entails so much, I will have to defer to my newsletter that I’ll be sending out soon. If you want one (and don’t already get them), send me your address. Or even email–I can do it that way.

I’ll leave you with some randoms of my fall.
Cheers!

Essentially, George  is the walking boot that I’ve had on my left foot since September 23. I wish I had a really exciting backstory to give you as to why George and I began this relationship, but the truth of the matter is, I twisted my ankle 5.5 weeks ago at the end of a hike and have some ligament damage of uncertain severity. On October 21, we’ll find out what the next step to recovery might be. Until then, a gimp I will remain. ANYWAY. Back to George.

So George, who also has been known to go by Norge and Gorge (pronounced hore-hay), and I became very close very quickly. No DTR necessary. He came into my life and immediately established the fact that he would take away the pain of walking but replace it with a slight degree of awkwardness….a relatively fair trade. I’m certainly getting more used to him every day and am learning to appreciate his good qualities. For one, he’s tall and thin. He comes up to right below my knee, but he’s thin enough to fit under pants, which makes him much less conspicuous. He’s the equivalent of 8 smartwool socks, which comes in handy on cold days like today. He sounds a bit like a peg-leg, effectively rendering me to be a pirate…especially if I’m coming down the stairs in my apartment. And he makes crunching leaves and acorns on the sidewalk approximately 45% more enjoyable.

Those are all well and good, but why share these things now? (aside from the fact that two lovely 4th year girls encouraged me to do so after RUF tonight) Well, here comes the kicker (I’m trying hard to use as many foot puns as I can. I hope you can appreciate). Today, I met Clarence.

George has been the topic of many-a conversation over the past 2 weeks, both with friends and strangers alike. My foot has been a point of sympathy or confusion for lots of people recently, and I’m almost certain I can attribute about half the smiles I’ve gotten from strangers passing on the sidewalk to the fact that they feel sorry for me. I am okay with this.

Well, as I began my long-ish walk home this afternoon, I noticed one older man in a Virginia sweatshirt that was covered in paint give a few glances as he was walking a few paces away but in the same direction as me. After a few steps, he hollers something about this being a bad time of year to have a boot. In my head, I’m thinking, “when is a good time for a boot?” but I go along with it and agree with him. He asks how I hurt it and what kind of damage there is. He proceeds to tell me how he tore part of his hamstring and a tendon in his knee, was put on bed rest for 5 weeks, but decided to get up and start using it the next day with the help of the prescribed pain killers. Ok, I majored in kinesiology, which means I know just enough about muscles and such to say that he is not a smart man for that.

But we keep chatting, and I learn that he used to play football for the Maryland Terps and had some knee damage during that time too, and he’s generally a very sweet man. Now, he works at the hospital at night and does grounds landscape management during the day. He asked questions about how my foot’s healing, what my job is, and if I’m usually around the corner. THEN, as if we’re old friends, he asks if we can go to lunch soon! I’ll be honest, I verbally said “sure!” while I was thinking “mmmm, probably not.” He insisted on giving me his phone number and told me to invite some friends, and he would treat us somewhere on the corner. and that next week or the week after would be best.

And you know what? I have every intention of doing just that.

If being identified by George means that I can connect with other folks, even on the basis of some kind of injury, I’ll take it. If wearing George is a means of healing AND evangelism (even if it is at times REALLY loud), then yes, by all means, I’ll wear him proudly.

So, world, meet George. George, say hello to your new friends.

This weekend, I made a very spontaneous trip to Williamsburg to hang out with Mary, the intern at William and Mary and potential new best friend. It was nothing if not therapeutic, and I’m amazed that I spelled that correctly the first time. During said weekend, we did lots of good music listening, a lot of which was to my beloved Patty Griffin, and some of it was to new folks, like Page France and Jill Andrews. (I recommend all of these).

This song mentioned here was definitely played a few times, and with good reason. I have no idea what the whole song means yet, but I LOVE that line. And I love it even more after hearing our pastor preach this morning on John 2 – the wedding at Cana.

Y’all. Jesus knows how to party. He knows the things that we lack, and he comes to fill them abundantly.  That is good news. So there is a big part of me that really believes that he will totally be dancing when we do get to drink his wine. He will rejoice at our rejoicing. He will be our song, dance, and music.

Amen. Let it be.

The kind where the only drink you want is an earl gray latte with a shot of vanilla. I think they’re called London Fogs? or Cambridges? Not important.

The kind where Andrew Bird plays softly through your speakers, keeping you awake yet calm.

The kind where life seems to slow down a little bit.

I know the land around here has needed one of these constant rain days.

I think that I have too.

The speaker for the weekend, Jack Howell, totally brought it straight to us in his 4 talks. And he simply talked about the gospel. He didn’t reinvent the wheel. He didn’t oversimplify our heartaches and worries with trite answers. He talked about the power, grace, and hope of the gospel. What Jesus did and what he has promised to do are enough to clean the filthiest of consciences and break the most self-righteous of Pharisees. and I will never not need to hear that, especially as I find myself able to jump back and forth between those two extremes so easily.

And in my mind, that has tied really nicely with these Sandra McCracken lyrics. I’ve been thinking about them alot this past week. But even if there is no connection for you, I hope you can find some solace anyway:

In the harvest feast or the fallow ground,
My certain hope is in Jesus found
My lot, my cup, my portion sure
Whatever comes, we shall endure.

Finally, for your viewing pleasure:

Though it’s not quite fall as we normally think of it, there is absolutely the air of expectancy around here, despite the fact that it was around 93 today. This past weekend’s weather was a little bit of a tease and certainly a taste of the good things to come. But the other fall, the kind we use in the words “fall semester,” has very much arrived. For me, this has entailed a new apartment (and back deck!), a new neighborhood, new first years, new Bible studies, new music (I can’t handle transition without new music, or at least new playlists. it’s a fact), and new challenges as a now 2nd year intern/resident in Charlottesville.

But in a lot of ways, things aren’t so new. My job, my roommates, my older students, my co-intern and campus minister, my church, etc. What a wonderful thing familiarity is. The union of these two aspects of this fall, the new and the old, is beautiful. I feel like at times I’m almost reveling in the ways in which this year is not my first year, but also in the new girls who graciously share their time and lives with me. I love not being lost nearly every moment of every day but still having plenty of places to explore. I love having friends I’ve known for a year but continuing to meet new ones. So on and so forth.

Really, all of this just goes to say that I’m a huge fan of this little season of life. and I am thankful.

I do apologize for the lack of detail or stories here. Had we not hit the ground sprinting and done so many things right off the bat (which is a wonderful thing, in case you were wondering), then I would absolutely catch you up on the specifics. It would also help if I wasn’t seriously questioning my identity as a 23 year old by wondering if 9:30 could possibly be an acceptable bedtime. Nonetheless, I would like to leave you with a few shots from the beginnings of fall. Enjoy!

]]> http://itsaruflife.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/autumn-brings-the-beautiful-things/feed/ 1 itsaruflife DSC_0682 DSC_0698 DSC_0705 DSC_0735 DSC_0738 DSC_0744 DSC_0727 DSC_0746