White Finals

The title made more sense in my head, I assure you. Basically, it snowed on Saturday (in Arkansas we call it a "wintry mix"). And while it wasn't necessarily a white Christmas, it sure felt like Christmas for probably the first time this season. Just in time for finals. Just in time to remind me that there is much more to right now than finals.

And He is beautiful.

Calling it a Night

Talking to mom always helps.

Even when she tells you that the stress doesn't get better. ;-) No really, it helped.

Some people don't even have that. A mom. Indeed, my situation could be much dire-er (go with it). I know that. But it wouldn't have been an anxiety attack if had been thinking rationally. I'm going to bed confident that I've done what I can for tonight. Here is the kicker:

"Then I thought in my heart

'the fate of the fool will overtake me also.

what then do I gain by being wise?'

I said in my heart

'this too is meaningless.'

For the wise man, like the fool, will not long be remembered;

in days to come both will be forgotten.

Like the fool, the wise man too must die."

-Ecclesiastes 2:15-16

Not exactly the exam week pick me up I was looking for, you know. Like when your mom basically tells you life doesn't get easier from here, anyway, so deal. (it was nicer than that in conversation, and she did assure me that she'd be on the first flight here to help me deal. If she wasn't, you know, dealing with her own stuff).

But read on.

"What does the worker gain from his toil? I have see the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil-- this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him." - Ecclesiastes 3:9-14

Revere Him tonight, I do. Because without it, without him, there is zero satisfaction in typing 20 pages of notes and reading hundreds of pages about the honor system of Latin America and revolutionary motivations of the working class during the 18th Century. Ziltch satisfaction.

But he makes everything beautiful in its time. Fabulous essays tomorrow or not so much, what God does is what endures. I'm not adding to it.

Or. (this is what brings me peace). taking from it.

God brings significance to my work, not vice versa. I cannot fathom what He has done. He, meanwhile, sits ready to honor what I have done if I choose to revere his omnipotence.

And so, God, I do. And with that I'm calling it a night. What more can I do?

Lost It

I'm waiting for my study partner in a basement that reminds me so much of my freshman year. Tonight I parked in the parking lot I wasn't allowed to have a car in back then and pictured the first time my parents came to Fredericksburg after dropping me off. I walked the brick sidewalk that I can remember walking the day they left me here when I thought for the very first time "this is it. Four years. In four years I'll be walking this same sidewalk." I remember feeling what I was up against and wondering how much work I really had ahead of me.

I guess anxious was the word. But mostly just uncertain then.

Today I was anxious. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't work, I couldn't even eat. Feeling like I hadn't been doing my best and that there isn't enough time to get everything done. Feeling like I'm not going to do well this week. Worried about my grade. Feeling like I'd lost it.

Thinking what I had to do. How much time I had to do it in. How badly I physically felt. How empty I spiritually felt. Exhausted but not able to rest.

I'm better now. But still struggling. I know God's got the big picture. But right now I feel like there is a lot of responsibility on my shoulders to do well. Or at least do my best. I have not lost my ability to do that.

And God? He hasn't lost it. Ever. So that's good.

All Work and No Play

...would make Sadie a dull girl. Luckily for me, I'm surrounded by people who believe in the power of play. I feel it is a pretty essential aspect of a work ethic, personally.

Where would my studies on Latin America and the American Revolution and James Farmer and Francais be without hallway bowling or wood floor pair socking skating? Without target excursions or dance parties? Comfy dinner soirees and snow day pictures? How would I learn without these things?

Don't even get me started about where I'd be without the Glee soundtrack (or without Jill who gave it to me).

My favorite song on the cd is "Bust a Move." It's actually a toss up between that and "Dancing With Myself." And the 17 other songs. Like "Sweet Caroline."

I just got back from a reception at my Revolution Professor's home just down the street-- a fun time to dress up, wear my bow coat (one of the best Christmas gifts ever), mingle with friends and make conversation with adults that I admire. Now I'm back in my exact same Christmas pajama attire (with the addition of pearls because I was too lazy to take them off) and I'm uploading pictures of the weekend because my card is almost full of our "play." Those images might not make it onto this post for a while because there *is* such a thing as too much play. It's time to get back to work. I will not be a dull girl, though. For I have had fun in the past 48 hours.

Thank you, God, for friends who play.

To quote Glee, good times never seemed so good.

Of course then it goes on to say "come on fatso just bust a move." (end note: ironic since I just did a report for my weight training class on this ridiculous website. Please watch a couple of the videos for a laugh! ... my personal favorite is Potty Hottie). I, however, am out of time for move busting. All play and no work would make Sadie and failing girl, you know.

My Day Life As a History Major

Two posts in a row with the use of the really fun, addicting, funny if used in the right context like probably not right now strike tool may be a bit much, I know. But I just learned it Wednesday, so it's quite novel to me.

And it was fitting for this title, for cuz while I intend to highlight my day at the history symposium, the truth is that it's really my life. Or part of it.

Kind of a major part this week.

Get it? Major.

The closer it gets to the actual final period the less it takes to entertain me. I do apologize.

So anyway. The symposium is a chance for all the senior history majors to present their research. There are 7 sessions, each session consisting of 3 speakers. My professor told our class that we could get one percentage point on our overall average added for every 50 minute session we attend and write a short paragraph on. I had an 8 a.m. class and meeting with another professor at 10, so I missed two sessions. But, baby, I got my 5 points.

And learned about 15 topics I never knew I cared about.

1. Early influences on Thomas Jefferson

2. The writings of Jefferson and Washington regarding independence

3. The Hamilton-Burr Duel

4. Otto von Bismark and his attempt to bring the Catholic church under German rule

5. The Catholic church during the Holocaust

6. Jewish Immigration to Brazil

7. The Muslim Brotherhood's original ideology

8. The U.S. State Department and the Zionist movement

9. The Attack on the Grand Mosque of Egypt in 1979

10. American Reaction to the 1968 Olympic Human Rights Protest

11. American presence in Cambodia

12. Women and memory of the Argentine Juanta

13. Creation of herecy by the orthodox church

14. Relationship between John Knox and Mary, Queen of Scots

15. Tobacco and Society of the Antebellum south

Don't mean to bore you. Promise it was longer for me. It really was a good time, though, because I felt like a major. I talked to professors and laughed about stupid history jokes with my fellow students and learned for extra credit the sake of learning and sipped coffee and munched on scones. The things we do in the commonwealth. ;-)

Just when I was about to lose all connection to my roots, what with all of this sophistication and all, I got a package from home in the mail. With a traveling Christmas decoration, healthy and junky munchies, a sweet cup and, to keep with the theme of the day, patriotic sea salt chips*

*may also be categorized as a junky munchie

I rode Link to French this morning, then to the symposium,

then back to meet with my French professor,

then back to the symposium, then back to my apartment, then back to the symposium.

I don't want to kill Link every time I ride him now We have a much better relationship these days.

As I began my Latin America review sheet today, I found a story that was quite interesting. Not because I am particularly concerned with the provinces of San Luis and Zacatecas (honestly don't even know where they are. Which probably does not entail good things for my geography final...), but because there is a message behind the sentence that I find especially applicable to me sometimes. It's out of a diary of the Spanish Viceroy who is in charge of going to Mexico in 1816 to squash rebellion (now known as the mexican revolution because Mexico won). The poor guy is trying to sound optimistic in his letters back to Spain. The truth is that he was getting destroyed. Here is the excerpt of the letter:

The provinces of San Luis and Zacatecas continue in a good state, except for the fact that the gavillos of Guanajuata, penetrate them to commit their accustomed robberies and atrocities.

You ever say you're in a good state except for the fact that you're barely holding down the fort?

Juan ruiz de Apodaca can sympathize. So can I.

Truth is, I'm really in a good state. My papers are done, my final schedule is more than doable, I've had an awesome day learning from some cool people, I'm headed out to dinner and an orchestra concert (commonwealthy things, you know), my apartmentmates and friends crack me up, I feel physically good again, and I have study socks from my mommy.

But.

When it comes to the little red journal and big book of All Good Things, I'm barely holding down the fort. And when push comes to shove it doesn't really matter how good I am, it matters how good God is. It doesn't matter what my grade is, it matters that I did my best because in everything I do it should be done with all of my heart as if unto God. How unfortunate it would be a week from now to realize I hadn't once stopped to seek Him in all of this work. Or even in all of the being good.

I really like this song by Chad Markley. It's basically the only non-Christmas song I'm listening to these days. Sad, I know. It's called Live and Lose. The lyrics really speak for themselves and the melody is just so simple. Plus you can download it!

Live and Lose

Find me here

My lost is yours to know

Look for me

There are seeds of hope to sow

In the cracks

Where I live and lose

Search for me

I’m hidden but you’ll see

Wait for me

These legs won’t carry me

Past the cracks, where I live and lose

(Bridge)

You can be my noise

When I have no sound

You can be my net

When I stumble down

You can be my leap, up off the ground

My escape

From the live and lose

Live and Lose Take 2 by chadmarkley

I am now off to study like a history major. For man. Unto God.

Hands Drinks in Fists Hand

Well, caffeine in hand, really.

These lovely friends tried to make fun of me for showing up to my Revolution class with them. My words were “yes, I am double fisting it and I would appreciate if we could keep the snarky comments to a minimum, K, thanks.” It was in one breath, you see, as per the caffeine.

(yes I did creep a picture because they freaked out when I told them to pose. This is Mo mid-sentence: "I have so checked out, I don't even know why I am here...")

What the picture does not show is the big ‘ol water bottle I am also drinking out of to offset the negative impact the caffeine on my system (jitters, kidney’s workload, heavy on my stomach). All of this works together to insure maximum visits to the necessaries, aka great and, well, necessary opportunities to take a moment away from my computer screen.

It’s really quite a fun little system I have going here.

A not fun system? The internet in this joint. It’s as if everyone has a project or paper to do right now. You’d think it was the last week of classes or something…

It is?

Well I should get to work!

…Hands caffeine in fists.

First, I need to take a little excursion...

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

La Fin

... the end! Barring any outrageous malfunction of the printer circa 8 a.m. tomorrow morning, I am officially finished with sophomore year!

I have to say, I was not sure this day would come. Or was I?

Thing is, this time last year I made May 1st out to be the promised land. Like if I could just get finished with school my life would be fabulous again. And it was good. I went to see Made of Honor with Emily and stayed up all night watching Grey's Anatomy with Katie until it was time to take Luke and Steph to the airport at some ungodly hour and got some rest. Plus, Luke proposed and Emily graduated. There were all sorts of happy things going on this time last year in the Smith family.

Still, May 2008 failed to live up to the high spiritual expectations I set. Everything didn't just feel "right" when the craziness of school ended. Because all the time there is something that is going to become a distraction. Some distractions are more fun than others, but busy is busy. And if last Summer was anything, it was busy.

I wanted to overflow with joy, but my heart just felt dry. I was spent. The energy I put into telling myself that all would be well come May was well wasted as I struggled to find a way to be meaningful that summer.

This year I've tried to take my expectations for the end of school down a notch. Life isn't about to get better because I don't have a bio test or a literature paper to write. If I'm being honest my life here recently has not been lacking the good. It was good yesterday, it'll be good tomorrow. Am I THRILLED that the finals are over? Absolutely. But my joy has not ever been in the presence or absence of school work. Why?

Because He was good yesterday, He'll be good tomorrow.

Tonight marks the end of a chapter in my life. There is some bitter in that, there is a lot of sweet. Mostly there is so much comfort in the assurance that He knows the next page. Can I stick with the lame book analogy for a minute? Last year when I finished up the chapter that was Freshman year, I tossed the book aside. I was ready to check out for a little while.

Tonight, I eagerly turn the page and I cannot wait for what is next. Oh yes, I knew this day would come. But I am not done. Because May 1 is not the end all. And I am once again out on a quest to make this summer meaningful.

"If I Stand" has been the unofficial anthem of finals week for me this year. Check it out.

There's a loyalty that's deeper than mere sentiments
And a music higher than the songs that I can sing
Stuff of Earth competes for the allegiance
I owe only to the Giver of all good things

So if I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through
And if I can't, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to you
So if I sing let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs
And if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home

I would expound on that but a.) it's pretty much all there and b.) it's 1:30 a.m. on the last night of finals week and I'm pretty sure none of my words are currently making sense

The Post That Would Be Entitled "I Couldn't Sleep"

... you know, if I had tried to go to sleep before I sat to write this.

"I couldn't sleep" just feels like the best excuse for still being awake at 2 a.m. and blogging to tell about it.

It's the eve of my last sit down final and I would just like to say PTL* (mainly because I'm trying to bring that acronym back into my daily conversations because that is how much I miss my friend Sarah E.)

I would also like to make a comparison for you (and no, this comparison is not one of the SEVENTY the follow question asks me to make, so deal with it).

This is an essay question:

How did the civil rights movement change from the early 1960's to the end of the decade?

This is a doctoral thesis introduction:

The civil rights movement of the late 1960's looked quite different than the movement that opened the decade (*editors note* good start, right?! buckle your seatbelt...). How did the civil rights movement change from the early 1960s to the end of the decade? What were the goals of the movement in the early part of the decade and then at the end of the sixties? Were there regional differences in the movement? In analyzing the similarities and differences across the 1960's, be sure to examine two (2) primary documents that represent the early 1960s and two (2) that typify the emergence and politics of nationalism and Black Power after 1965. Lastly (*oh great, there is a lastly...), how did Black Power impact the emergence of activism in other communities of color in the 1960's? Be sure (... hold up didn't he say LASTLY?!) to cite at least two (2) specific examples of how civil rights and Black Power shaped movements by people of color outside African American communities. (now he really is done)

... and yet this is exactly the question (well one of five of them) on my final exam review sheet.

I would like to clarify that where you see the (2) after the "two", that was the professor, not me. Isn't it ironic how he wants me to answer this question by memorizing six (6... that was me) sources and yet at the same time proceeds to insult my intelligence because I might not know what "two" means, he should probably type the number 2?

Also, I'm supposed to answer this question within the front and back of a blue book page. For fun I decided to write out that question on a blue book page and it fills up my allotted space! It is worth mentioning that a blue book page is literally the size of my hand.

and lastly (and I do mean lastly, unlike a certain Dr. Rigelhaupt who perhaps should spend less time clarifying numbers and more time looking up the meaning of "lastly") I have to respond to 3 of these essay questions. Thats eighteen (18) sources to analyze in three (3) blue book pages. It takes that much room to list said sources.

Pay no attention to this post, I'm just cranky because my mouth is dry from the millions (1,000,000's) of peanut butter crackers I've ingested in the past couple of days.

*PTL= Praise the Lord

Awed

...a little intimidated. But mostly awed.

It has been a week of work. Good, committed work.

The work that makes you feel anti-social because you have your headphones in, music turned up, door locked to give the most of yourself possible over to diligence. The kind of work that you really hope your friends aren't taking offense to because you really need to do your tasks well. The kind that makes you a little quiet, a little short, and makes you feel not quite yourself. The kind of work that is getting done. The kind you pray pays off.

It has been a week of play. Good, giggly play.

The kind of play that makes you feel drunk (I don't really know how that feels-- although I did have kahlua ice cream last night...). The kind that makes you feel bad that you aren't working hard, but you don't care because you love these friends more than you have time or energy to let them know. The kind of play you know you'll miss when all the work is finished (and it will be finished). Play that involves television and chinese food and cameras and potato rolls and sprained ankles and packing and helicopter laughs. The kind you wish you had more of but you know you have work to do. The kind you thank God for when it does come along.

Now I'm in Trinkle, studying french (ou, J'etudie francais) thinking towards another week of both of these things. Not really stressed. A little intimidated. But mostly awed.

Awed because I know how much I have to learn. Not just for this week, but about life. And it can be scary when I'm staring down a test. But it is awe-inspiring when I look around me. When I look at my bio notes on a developing embryo. When I read the words of scholars and have to interpret what they mean for my very own paper. When it's 80 degrees outside and green everywhere. When it's 60 degrees and there is a torrential downpour. When my friends sign a lease. When Nana makes this enormous and delicious oreo pie something or another that I get to share in great company and that I almost lose as per the laughter. When I end up unpacking memories as I stuff boxes to be put away for summer. When I realize how much stuff I have and how blessed I am merely in the physical sense, much less by all those things mastercard has yet to put a price on. Oh, I have some play to do this week. And boy do I have some work. But it is not to intimidate me. It is to awe.

I have so much to learn. He has so much to teach. And not just in this week. He doesn't want me stressed, He wants me focused. And when I do focus, I am awed.

You are beautiful beyond description

Too marvelous for words

Too wonderful of comprehension

Like nothing ever seen or heard

Who can grasp you infinite wisdom

Who can fathom the depth of your love

You are beautiful beyond description

Majesty enthroned above

And I stand, I stand in awe of you

I stand, I stand in awe of you

Holy God to whom all praise is due

I stand in awe of you.