Listen Up

So I have returned from my trip, no longer on the wear and tear, and relieved that the retracing went as smoothly as it did. A few weeks ago a friend of mine taught my YL Leadership a lesson about listening, and how asking questions and just listening can be one of the most powerful tools to have. Well I tried it this weekend--instead of talking my way into 'proving' I had changed, I simply shut up and listened intently to the people I care so much about. I have to say that it was a miracle how much active listening can do to alter a situation, or change another's mind. It's a tough thing to do, as it forces the spotlight off of myself and onto my friend. To do it consistantly would take self-confidance that I don't know if I possess, but I'd sure like to. Amazing what doors can open and what God can do when one just shuts up and listens.

Another note: Saw "13 Going on 30" today w/Amber and Kristine--I wonder, if I could sit down and talk to my 13-year-old self, what would we talk about? Am I where I thought I'd be? Am I the 'cool' person I imagined myself to be at this age? Would I embarass the crap out of myself? Would I disappoint my dreams? Would I be able to look back on that time and simply laugh?
I wonder how much of our actions today are dictated by events that happened long ago, continually trying to make up for rejections and lost opportunities and hurt feelings and being overly self-aware.

Retracing

Tomorrow I am taking a trip to see friends and relive rather fond memories.
I should be more excited than I am.
Why am I not estastic to see long-lost friends in places that I love?
And love them I do, I know I do!
Maybe I am not the same person as I was. Everybody changes over time, but I hope and pray that I am fundementally different than that person who experienced those memories firsthand. I do not want the same sense of humor; I want a cleaner one. I do not want to talk about hook-ups or breakups; I want to talk about real realtionships. I guess I've gotten used to being around people who see God as more than a curse word, and this trip has a great possibility of being the confluence of past and present.
It has an omnious taste and texture and I am a bit frightened as to its outcome.
Maybe it'll be fine; we will recollect, rehash, relive and reinterate our friendships.
Or maybe this will prove to be the line in the sand.
Overly dramatic I admit, but necessary?
Unrelated note, I was honored to get to be on the guest list as Stephanie Chapman (formerly Schlosser) and hubby Nathan opened for Don Williams at the Birchmere. What a sense of enormous pride to see my friend and guitar buddy up on stage, singing to hundreds of people! Go Steph! God bless that family, they have been nothing but wonderful to me.

Life Lives Again!

It is the day that spring woke up. Today I mowed the yard for the first time this season, and the smell of fresh cut grass awoke in me a long-dormant sense of promise and love and optimism and a general sense of completeness...that is far more senses than the mere olifactory stimulation should awaken, but awaken it did, and said enthusastically, "Yes! Life lives again!"
This emotive quality of spring also blooms memory--good and sweet and pure memory. I am taken back to August of 2000 when I had just moved into the dorm room I was to share with my best friend, Amy. Both of us were drunk on the most beautiful portions of life. This particular memory has us laying on Amy's bed with the windows and curtains wide open and the summer sun pouring in. We spoke of summer jobs and new friendships and then the conversation turned to love. Both of us were experiencing our first true loves, and the innocent naviete that invaribly exists within its seemingly boundless realms. I had Josh, she had Jay and they had us, mind, body and soul. We could see forever--we could go anywhere, do anything--we had a sense of invincibility from just talking about this strong and primal thing we were defining as love. Laying there with my dearest friend, open and honestly speaking from the overflowing of our 19-year-old hearts--it was so pure and innocent and perfect.
Today feels that way: though love fades and friendships flicker, though the most jaded of realities infests with age, it is possible again. All things are possible to she who believes, and today, I believe.

Ixnay on the abiesbay

I just finished housesitting for a couple with two six-month old kittens.
The experience has further instilled in me the knowledge that I, indeed, am not suitable to be a parent in any capacity.
I am ok with this.
I am beyond ok with this.
Nare I say I am delighted.
I am also ok with only owning dogs.
Big, non-yappy dogs but ones that don't drool.
Big, non-yappy dogs that are not puppies either.
See? I can't even handle puppies.
I wonder if I have a soul.
At least one that doesn't drool.