Dear Airport.

We meet again.

You know I love you. I can’t deny it.

I love your people and your staff and your shops.

I love it when you’re bustling. Then again when you’re still.

You’ve got some crazy patrons—wound up over their flights. For some the tension is exerted by straight up running. Scarves fly in the air behind them as, with bags in arms and shoes still off from security, they book it with all of their might to get to the gate before the dreaded words scroll across the check-in counter—door closed. They exclaim some words I feel should be left to Jack Bauer when his plans to save the world are yet again thwarted, but hey, this is their crisis. And for some, apparently, the end of their world.

Good news, folks. There are helpful people who, get this, are paid to help a sister out.

Yes, airport, I do love you.

Still, others release their tension once at the gate in the form of very harsh words with said paid help. “The security line held me up!” “This isn’t my fault” “I WILL expect compensation.” I think some people live with their panties in a wad.

And yet. There is love. I sit here, airport, and observe your baggage claim area. Where people are reunited with their belongings (well, okay, some people have a few choice words with the claims department) and their peeps. It’s even cool to watch the professional exchange of businessmen and dudes who have made the scronniest, though I guess manly, signs bearing names of men they’ve never before met and, after today, will most likely never meet again. There are daddies and little girls and husbands and wives and servicemen and little ol’ ladies that everyone tries to find a balance between respect of an elder and wanting nothing more than to get around her. Then you see that her husband is being wheeled behind her by yet another helpful employee and it gets you thinking that this is probably their last holiday season to travel. Maybe their kids will visit them next year. Or maybe they won’t last that long. Morbid, okay. But true. And real.

Peoples’ colors come out at an airport. It's reality.

And so. I love you.

Even on this day when our meeting implies a journey back to a place I do not care to be, really. That place is not Fredericksburg or hanging with friends or in the will of God. I love those places. But this place I do not care to be is more of a time span. Two weeks. Of papers and tests and, dare I say it, stress. Yes, it is truly inevitable, the stress. I do not care for that.

Still, not only does stress intensify, but so does the joy. The love shared between friends is at it’s greatest when it comes down to the wire. Almost like at an airport. You’ve got the mad man at the counter but you also have a little girl hugging her daddies’ neck. It depends on what you’re looking for at any given time.

So, Airport, you’ve brought me here and taught me a lesson and I love you, once more, for it.

I will see you again in two weeks.

Scratch that. 13 days. If Kennedy can deal with a missile crisis with Cuba in that amount of time, I can write a few papers and take a few tests, right?

Right. I best get to steppin'

With love,

Sadie

In Which I Am Thankful For A Lot of Things

You might think that a week at home with no real responsibilities might lend itself to some great blogging by yours truly. It is true that I have had a title ready to go like everyday this week (I wish I could remember one now so that my title wasn't so... how you say... straightforward. But, then, you get what you get).

But our wireless internet has been out intermittently (hm-mm, and I've intermittently been playing the Sims and getting "caught up" on the DVR. And caught up with the family and friends, of course. How dare you accuse me of the wrong priorities?!) and even if it was working, by the time I got around to it? Let us just say it was bedtime. It's not like I had all the next day to sleep in. Oh yeah! I did (but 'cept for that one time when I set an alarm and it woke Emily up but I kept right on sleeping. That was unthoughtful of me...).

Entyway. All I'm saying is that the first thing I'm thankful for this season is that our internet has been out intermittently, since because of this Evelyn has mostly sat in the corner observing the life around her as opposed to consuming mine. Which is good, because in this event Dr. Mario was able to swoop in and consume my life. A much nobler undertaking to be sure.

I'm thankful for, dare I say it, Twilight. Sure, it's kept the lady friends of my family out on the back porch with the door shut so I could still function without disturbing them, but I am glad that they've had that retreat. I'm thankful that it's been something to bond us all (even though I have refused to read the books based on the principle that I will not read on break given the oxymoronic tendency of that sentence).

I'm thankful for grandparents visiting. Sometimes visits aren't the most convenient or stress-free or exciting but I was thinking this time around how cool it is to have these figures in my life who love the mess out of their family. So without considering it really, their presence might seem a nuisance or whatever. But if I ever needed anything, they'd be there. For any time I've distanced myself or acted uninterested or overtly blown them off, they still come back and want to know how I'm doing and where I'm headed. So once you consider it, the nuisance isn't really that at all. It's caring. I see a parallel with Jesus there that was unmistakeable this go 'round. Sometimes I get burdened by his presence when he brings the conviction I ask him for or I find his words stale or boring, a nuisance, because it's not how I talk or they aren't how I'm living and I feel like I have to metaphorically clean the house before I can have him in. I blow him off, I tell him I have other plans, I tune out his conversation. But he keeps coming back because that is love. And because Jesus Christ would do anything for me. I'm thankful for that this Thanksgiving. And I'm thankful to grandparents for being that very real parallel in my life.

I'm thankful for Insanity. Not.

I'm thankful for every single one of my dogs. And again, thanks to the flaky internet, there has been ample room for them in my lap. Well, for the little ones, anyway.

I'm thankful for work.

I'm thankful for co-workers.

I'm thankful for southern accents and "thank yous" and "have a great day" and "pleases" and genuine "how are yous" as I get when I'm on the register.

I'm thankful for teachers who still mean the world to me and for the opportunity to serve them. Katie and I got to take a smoothie bar out to Little Rock Christian the other day and I kept joking that it was a modern version of washing their feet like Jesus did the disciples in that we got to serve them on this day. Katie gave me a strange look. I maintain this theory.

I'm thankful for Dad's promotion. But not near as thankful for that as I am thankful for the way he practices medicine in general--genuinely caring for his patients, with patience (except for when they can't get it through their head that it is just a VIRUS!-- sometimes that's frustrating for him...) I am for sure thankful for the opportuntity to celebrate with the entire family (and an entire cow between us all!).

I'm thankful for my Mom's cookin'.

Oh, I'm just thankful for laughter and chill.

I'm thankful for a break. And though there is a certain pit in my stomach reserved only for thoughts of going back and completing assignments and courses (I wish I could just fill said pit with food as I have every other nook and cranny of the organ), I am thankful for school and the opportunity to learn. So as I digest all of this frickin' turkey (mostly just sweet potatoes, let us be real), I do my best to digest with a good attitude the responsibility I have to do these next two weeks well.

I'm thankful for Virginia. I'm thankful for Arkansas.

I'm thankful for Link and Arkie.

I'm thankful for all of the changes that have happened since this time last year to prove many a time my own inadequacy and God's own timing and providence.

I am so thankful for every single one of my friends (those for whom I will serve as a bridesmaid as well as for those who insist we won't be friends come that time. cough Katie Jones cough. I'm also thankful for the gross nasty peach bridesmaid dress I'll be wearing come Sheryl's wedding...)

I am thankful for my camera and the people I get to take pictures of.

I am thankful for board games and families of friends to keep me out until all hours whilst my own family frets over my whereabouts because they care.

I am thankful for a lot of things. Hence, the title.

Sorry for the boring list. I just felt like it should all be stated for the record. And it was a good exercise to combat what Natalie Grant dubbed the "post-Thanksgiving blahs" -- to pump me back up to "real" life come way too early in the morning.

A Feeling

Today I haphazardly hummed the now all-too-familiar Black Eyed Pea's song. You know the one. "I've got a feeling that tonight's gonna be a good night, that tonight's gonna be a good, good night." I wasn't considering the significance of the tune. Until Katie said "especially for you, huh?" And then I thought. Oh yeah. Especially for me.

But that's just a feeling talking.

Well, memories of last year are a factor, too, I must admit. The coffee in my system as I write from the corner window of Baltimore Coffee and Tea might also be having a say so.

But still.

Tonight's the night. Let's live it up.

100

There are about 100 things going on right now, it seems.

There is this to do and that to do. This and that. This and that. If you say it over and over again, it becomes like a beat in your head that you can't get out. It becomes monotonous, said beat. A buzz in your ear as you go from activity to activity. It can even get to be a ringing that you would give your right arm to silence. At night when you are going to sleep, you promise you could handle this all if you could just get a break. This and that. This and that. The cycle just needs a break.

Or maybe, yes maybe, my hearing needs a little retuning.

Perhaps the ringing could move more in the direction of a hum. The silence less shrill. Movement less frantic. Possibly even melodic. This and that, this and that. Background music. Its persistence does not harbor the availability of perspective.

Yes, in the middle of this and that, perspective helps. It carries the beat.

So, without really knowing it, we went looking for some perspective today, Sarah and I. In the middle of nowhere we found what we weren't really looking for. And the 100's of things? Almost, for the time being at least, irrelevant. This is and that, a faded melody to which we took to frolicking around a barn or 8.

Frolicking and photo snapping. Found out today that it's what Sarah and I do best. The 100 things stayed in the car as we tuned our ears to the wind and the creeks and the bugs and the gravel beneath our wandering feet.

100. Psalm.

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.

Worship the LORD with gladness;

come before him with joyful songs.

Know that the LORD is God.

It is he who made us, and we are his;

we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving

and his courts with praise;

give thanks to him and praise his name.

For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;

his faithfulness continues through all generations.

This and that sounding like a broken record? Dust it off, pop that sucker back in, and dance a little. So I guess now I have one hundred and one things going on. But I don't think I could handle the 100 without the one.

Round and Round it Goes

We are all adults here, right?

So you won't laugh when I tell you what my geography teacher informed our class of today. I tell ya, geography is much more than you'd think (and I'd thought). Because stuff like this falls under its net. Stuff like what?

Oh, just World Toilet Day.

No, this is not another attempt to plug the go-girl on my blog. (What's that? I just did? Maybe I should just go ahead and stick Toms shoes in).

But if the go-girl company exists to spread the word to women that you "don't have to take life sitting down" then World Toilet Day exists to spread the word to everyone that the majority of people don't have the option to sit down. I guess one option would be to mass produce go-girls. Hmm. Maybe they really are up to something over there.

Doubtful. (trust me I've tried it)

Anyway, I walked into class today and this article, entitled "Ode to the Commode," was being displayed and I just immediately thought about what a great day is was going to be.

I remember what it was like in Greece to not be able to flush the toilet paper and we typically focused on how different that was. Much less the thought of not even having a toilet at all. Then in Brazil there were a couple of times I did just have to go in a community barrel and, well, it gives you a new perspective... for like two weeks. Then I went on without questioning my ability to just head to the porcelain. Or, as Luke would say, go drop some Cosby's off at the pool. That's real life.

The only person around here who could maybe identify with the feeling of not having a toilet is Peterso, who is, alas, not allowed to use the bathrooms here at our Apt. Because that's the sort of stupid stuff you can make up in a roommate housing agreement. And because sometimes it's just too easy to mess with her ;).

Anyway, today reminded me of those times overseas and how I vowed not to take things for granted and how I have again. So if you have had an experience like that, take a minute to recall the feeling and, at least for today, let's have a renewed thankfulness for what we do have.

Our appreciation for the privileges around us will have a trickle down effect.

It will flow from us.

We should be flushed with gratitude.

Okay, I'm done. But when I look at the pictures of what other people have to live with, and in, it's not like I have the right to say "g-ross." and go on with my day happily perched on a shiny rim. Instead there is a responsibility to say "it could be me." And if it was me, I'd simply have to find a way to deal. They do and their lives go on and they don't need a bunch of people halfway around the world simply feeling sorry for them. But it might be comforting to know that those people with what I go without recognize the gap as a problem. So I won't just go on happy with what I have, I'll allow myself to be slightly disturbed by this newly revived awareness of that gap. And maybe, just maybe, that attitude and the support of organizations put in place to address the situation will... I don't know. Bring some relief.

Yes I am ashamed of myself.

Seriously, throw a little thankfulness into your day and watch as round and round it goes.

You might even hum "joy to world" when you flush, just for today.

You know, for the cause and everything.

And you thought November 19 was a waste of a day... psh.