1000 Gifts...

‎9. Sharing water with old ladies at the train station.

8. Avacado popsicles.

7. Bike rides through Wrigleyville; game day. 

6. Getting lost. 

1000 Gifts...

5. Proclaiming a new favorite food; huckleberries.
4. Swimsuits on sale.
3. Rosy cheeks.
2. The reflection of sunrise.

1. Braided hair.

Big Announcement

Hi Folks,

So some of you already know this, but to many of you it will be the saddest thing you have ever heard and will probably ever hear.  So, grab a roll of toilet paper (for your incessant tears, of course.) and have a seat because I am about to drop a big freakin' piece of news.

In September I will be moving to Houston, GodBlessTexas, to pursue an alternative teaching accreditation through a program called Region 4.  I was heavily considering staying in Bloomington to obtain a similar certificate but literally the day after I wrassled up all the requirements for my IU application, I decided Houston was the best option for me.
Here's the play-by-play:


IU: $17,000 Tuition=Major debt
vs
R4: $3,700 Tuition=Paid for by this summer's job.

IU: Certificate obtained in 3 semesters with a Masters to follow.
vs
R4: Certificate obtained in 2 semesters.

IU: Would require me to find a job and stay in the Bloomington area for several years after obtaining certificate to take Masters classes and would be hard to relocate with little teaching experience at a Masters salary.
vs
R4: Allows me to apply for job and move where ever I want to after May.

IU: Pay full rent in Bloomington.
vs
R4: Live with sister and get the family discount. :)

So that's how it's gonna be.  Here are the reasons I am super excited and kinda bummed in list form:

Reasons I am Super Excited
1.  In a little more than a year, I will hypothetically be a real person with real person lifestyle, salary and
responsibility.
2.  I get to live with my amazing sister, incredible brother-in-law, hilarious niece and cuddly dog-
nephew.
3.  As a teacher I will get summer breaks to do any/all of the following: travel, mission work, rock
climb, photography, learn to fly airplanes... whatever!
4.  As a teacher I will get to problem-solve daily, teach kids how to think for themselves, mentor kids,
encourage kids, start DI teams, start Bible studies, start rock climbing clubs, coach volleyball, direct
plays... whatever!

Reason I am Kinda Bummed
1.  I will miss being with all of the wonderful people in Bloomington.  I will miss the community created
at the Canvas. I will miss Mark bringing me apples and thermometers when I am sick. I will miss
dancing, singing, praying and crying with Colleen whenever I want. I will miss running through the
golf course at midnight screaming obscenities with Katie. I will miss trying to convince Hannah D to
sleep on our couch every other  night. I will miss Broderick providing me with a constant stream and
perfect balance of hilarity and insight. I will miss Abiola giving me hugs, telling me how white
I am and smelling like she just stepped out of Heaven. I will miss Jackie's boyfriend tees, Stephen's
jokes, Anna's laugh, Rachel and Alena's handstands, Charity's smile, Giff's vocal ellipses, Michaela's
bare feet, Brian's singing and so so SO much more from so many amazing people. You know who
you are (seriously, don't sell yourself short.  I mean you!), and you are deeply loved and will be
deeply missed. You all are the people that have seen me grow and have helped me find who I was
made to be.

However, all is not lost just yet.

I will be in Bloomington for a little bit before I drive down to Texas.  I will come down around August 17th and be in town for a couple days before leading my final kayaking trip for IUOA to Michigan until the 24th.  I'll then probably bum around for a week and a half until Stephen and Lydia's wedding on September 4th and leave for Texas shortly thereafter.  I am super-duper pumped for this time and can't wait to leave town officially and in style. :)

*PS. I lost my phone in Delaware, so if you made it to the end of this message, you win.  Send me a text with your name in it to redeem your major award.

Scrumptious Gumption

"You are not alone."

"Sorry?" I said quizzically as I removed my right ear bud and glanced up at the old man.

"You are not alone," he said matter-of-factly.

I quickly realized that he was not making an existential statement but rather referring to the Air Force sweater I had just slipped on over my black t-shirt.  I noticed his Air Force cap and my cheeks began to redden. 

"Oh, um, I'm not actually in the Air For--" 

"You're going to have to speak up!" he said.

"Oh, right. Err, I was just saying, I'm not actually in the Air Force.  I just work with kids on bases over the summers."

"I bet you didn't know I am 93-years-old," he spouted out, completely changing the subject.  "And I just love it." 

I laughed and the tension eased.

By his tone, I could tell this would not be a short conversation, so I took out both ear buds and paused my latest Netflix episode of 30 Rock.  He continued in his non sequitur manner regaling tales of life on a South Dakota pig farm, daring dramas of rescues as a US Air Force pilot, his summit of Mount Kilaminjaro (at age 65, no less) and the ins and outs of his most recent endeavor, tai chi lessons.

I didn't get a lot of time to share back to him, but it's just as well, I suppose.  He's lived 93 years and I, only 22.  That means he has lived over four times longer than I have, so naturally, he should have at least four times as much to say.  That's how I see it anyway.

We talked for a good 30 minutes before an official-sounding voice came over the loud speaker and started calling for military personnel and passengers with babies to board US Airways Flight 1731.  The old man paused and reached into his pocket for a crumpled boarding pass.  

"Where's your seat?" he looked up and asked me.

"18-C," I answered glancing down at the ticket in my lap.

"Well, how 'bout that!  I'm 18-D!  Isn't that something!" he smiled and shook his head. "I tell you what... If you live a good life, good things come to you!"

I felt as if the joy received from hearing that statement might bubble up and start spilling out my ears.  To some, traveling alone can be an utterly uncomfortable, mundane and confusing time.  But, my random jaunts across the country, engaging with complete strangers, seems to suit me perfectly.  Few things fill me with such a sense of love as intently listening to the words of a stranger who is eager to share.  

As the old man and I stood in line to board, I suddenly realized that I didn't even know his name.  

I stuck out my right hand and said, "Hi.  My name is Audrey.  What's yours?"

"You can call me Ted.  Ted Gourley.  It's nice to meet you."  I smiled and he grin wryly as the airline attendant took our tickets.  I waited for him as he thanked her genuinely, and we walked down the loading ramp together.  

The stories kept flowing as we sat on the runway, braced for take-off, and ordered apple juice once the plane reached cruising altitude.  With each story, Ted got more animated and revealed more and more of his amazing story.  

He spoke of his wife with the most beautiful honesty and candidness.  They were childhood sweethearts and he courted her for seven years before getting married at age 22.  

"She was never the adventuresome type like me, but we sort of balance each other out," he sighed.  "My adventures have slowed down the past seven years though.  She got Alzheimer's, and most of my energy went into caring for my bride.  She died seven months ago."  

The corners of my mouth turned down and my eyes saddened, but he quickly snapped at me, "There's nothing wrong with that at all!  We were married for 71 years, and that's all we could dream of!"  

I smiled.  "You're right.  That's so incredible.  What an honor," I replied.  

That is the perspective of a man with far more life behind him than in front of him.  (But then, who's to say we all haven't already lived most of our days?)  He lives such a life of gratitude and it permeates his very being.  You don't see that much these days.

Our conversation faded with the altitude as the plane began to descend.  Our eyes drifted out the window to the patchwork of fields and country homes transitioning into a smattering of baseball fields, swimming pools and parking lots.  Skyscrapers towered in the distance.

As the plane's wheels brushed the runway at Chicago-O'Hare, Ted suddenly turned to me and leaned across the aisle from seat 18-D.  In his softest whisper he looked me in the eye and said, "Time and age is an illusion between you and I," and just like that, settled back into his seat.

Water filled my eyes.  Here is someone that actually gets it.  He has lived an extraordinary life, but most importantly, he knows greater things are yet to come--in this life and beyond.  

As the other passengers started to gather their things, Ted scrawled his address into the first page of my new journal.   He had me promise to write to him about my upcoming trip to Rapid City, South Dakota, and my adventures beyond.  He, in turn, promised to add me into his biography.  

As I waved goodbye to my new friend and we turned to go our separate ways in the busy airport terminal, I couldn't help but smile and shake my head as I thought about how much God's hands are all over my life.  

This is what I want: to surrender more and more of my life, my schedule and plans, and my expectations to His will and cherish whatever comes my way.  I want to be earnestly grateful for my life lived and my life to come, but most importantly for where I am right now.

I am 22-years-old, and I just love it.

Summer comes to multiply

Bon Iver, Babys 

listen here: http://youtu.be/NHJkwuaPms4

Summer comes
to multiply,
to multiply!

summer comes
to multiply,
to multiply!

and I...
I'm the Carnival of Peace
I'll probably start a fleet
with no apologies

and the Carnival of Scenes...
it grows more and more appealing
but my woman and I...
my woman and I know what we're for

summer comes
to multiply,
to multiply!

summer comes
to multiply,
to multiply!

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry

Goodness sakes alive, I can't get enough of Wendell Berry.  I had the pleasure of cramming into a PACKED lecture hall last semester and hearing him read from his latest book and recite some of his poems.  He was just the most lovely man.  He is famous for writing about the beauty of nature, rural life and the necessity of conserving and cherishing it.  He also grew up in Kentucky and has the most precious accent.  There is something special about hearing someone read their own writing, whether poetry or prose.  Where I often find frustration through the limiting nature of the written word, hearing it read aloud by it's author breathes a certain life into the linear writing.  
Anyway, Mr. Berry finished his talk by reading the following poem from one of his books he borrowed from an eager woman in the front row.  It was an absolutely perfect series of moments and made this poem all the more special to me.




Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front


Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready-made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head. 
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer. 

When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you 
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something 
that won't compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor. 
Love someone who does not deserve it. 

Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed. 

Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias. 
Say that your main crop is the forest 
that you did not plant, 
that you will not live to harvest. 

Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. 
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees 
every thousand years. 

Listen to carrion -- put your ear 
close, and hear the faint chattering 
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful 
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men. 

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child? 
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 

Go with your love to the fields. 
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts. 

As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn't go. 

Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction. 
Practice resurrection.  

Music: Wedding Dress, Derek Webb

Take a listen, and if you have a bit to read and process, take a look at this: http://www.leaderu.com/marshill/mhr08/curtis1.html



If you could love me as a wife 
and for my wedding gift, your life 
Should that be all I'll ever need 
or is there more I'm looking for 

and should I read between the lines 
and look for blessings in disguise 
To make me handsome, rich, and wise 
Is that really what you want 

I am a whore I do confess 
But I put you on just like a wedding dress 
and I run down the aisle 
and I run down the aisle 
I'm a prodigal with no way home 
but I put you on just like a ring of gold 
and I run down the aisle to you 

So could you love this bastard child 
Though I don't trust you to provide 
With one hand in a pot of gold 
and with the other in your side 

I am so easily satisfied 
by the call of lovers so less wild 
That I would take a little cash 
Over your very flesh and blood 

Because money cannot buy 
a husband's jealous eye 
When you have knowingly deceived his wife