January 29th

It is incredibly hard to believe that it has been five years since we lost Ms. Bank. I will never forget being slumped against a wall at Auburn University, phone in hand, listening to a voicemail from my friend Jill. Time seemed to stop. I crumbled. It was the first time in recent memory that I had encountered the loss of someone I truly cared about.

Almost every year since her death, I have written some kind of response or memoriam. This year, I want to do something different. There are things I will do as I do every year. I will wear blue. I will read The Little Prince. I will change my profile picture on Facebook. Some of these things are trivial, yet they are almost sacred to me in their annual ritualism.

But I want to make sure I remember the fact that Ms. Bank lives on in all of us who knew her. Many of us can still quote sections of The Little Prince. We all remember to “be brilliant” in all we do. Most of us cringe a little when see a letter written incorrectly. I would bet a significant portion of us correct peoples’ grammar in our heads (though we wouldn’t dare do so aloud). And when we see fake bullet hole decals on cars, we wonder what kind of person would actually have those.

Even though she has been gone for half a decade, Ms. Bank still lives on in our lives. As Albus Dumbledore says, “The ones we love never truly leave us.” Funny enough, I never had the opportunity to ask her how she felt about the Harry Potter series, mainly because I didn’t begin reading them until after she had passed away. Because of this, I have no idea whether quoting Dumbledore would be sacrilege to her or not. I’m obviously willing to risk it though. She was the one who used a children’s book in class after all.

So anyway, today we all remember Ms. Bank and the love of learning she instilled in all of us. For those of you who did not know her, I encourage you to spend time dwelling on the passions you have discovered in life. And from there, think about those who taught you to love those things. For me, it is a passion for learning, and I learned that from Susan Bank.

ubuntu...again

This morning my mom texted me to tell me that she was carrying the South African flag this morning at church in honor of me and my travels in Africa for a missions emphasis at my parents' church. When I read that message I just started crying. In fact, I'm still crying and will probably do so all day now.

And I had to ask myself why this simple statement affected me so much. I have a South African flag in my room along with paintings I purchased while there. Looking at this may make me miss it, but it does not make me cry.

I am crying because I love the church. And that statement is such a divergence from where I have been for the last several years. There have been moments over the last few years when I have said that I never wanted to be a member of a church again. I have said horrible things about the body of Christ. And it hurts my soul knowing that I have said such things, because even though we metaphorically refer to the church as the "body of Christ", there is something very tangible, very real about that statement.

This morning as my mom carries this flag she is connecting so many parts of that body. She is connecting our family to each other. She is connecting me at Glendale with Green Valley. She is connecting all of us to the churches in Cape Town like the one at Masiphumalele. She is connecting the United States to South Africa. North America to Africa as a whole. She is representing what the colors of the South African flag mean: unity and peace. She is living out the meaning of Ubuntu, that we are all connected, that we all belong to a bundle of life.

So as I cry, I think about this amazing act of worship that my mother is performing this morning simply by carrying a flag. How she is joining others in the same act, connecting members of the body of Christ from across the world to a little southern baptist church in Hoover, Alabama. It is such a beautiful act, and it will be on my heart all day.

I am immeasurably grateful to my mom for doing this.

the little things

In a break from the way I normally blog, this morning I really wanted to just list out a few of the little things that keep me going. Some of these things are regular occurrences, while others just happen once or twice along the way. There are people, places, and, of course, teas on this list. Some of these things may seem a little strange, but that's okay...it's just who I am:

-a brand new desk chair
-new pens and highlighters
-beth and jordan
-hot monkey-picked oolong tea
-sugar cookies at christmas
-a warm blanket
-glendale baptist church
-taking my socks off only after i'm in bed
-new star wars novels
-taylor
-free books
-the west wing
-pictures of my family around my room
-africa
-brandon
-choir practice at glendale
-cast iron tea pots
-linen resume paper
-amber
-dogs that like to cuddle
-disneyworld with christmas decorations
-scarves
-spending time with my parents
-playing the piano
-jessica
-knowing that somehow i'll be able to support myself someday
-walking labyrinths
-when rainy days make it dark outside
-teavana
-thunderstorms at night
-folly beach
-allyson and briana
-thinking about grad school
-diet sunkist
-grant and thomas
-two buck chuck
-a good night's sleep
-knowing that a good attitude is half the battle
-writing for fun

So there's my list...it isn't all-inclusive, but it is everything that jumped to mind in a sitting.

not on purpose

I haven't blogged in over a month. This was not intentional. I'd love to say that I was just too busy to blog or that my lack of reliable computer access kept me from blogging. While these two things are mostly true, being busy and not having a computer have never stopped me in the past.

I think I'm just out of things to say right now. Don't get me wrong, I have tons of things I want to say. I might even go so far as to say that they are things that I have a burning desire to say. But for some reason, the words just aren't coming right now. I do not feel eloquent. I do not feel like I can adequately sculpt the English language in a way that would do justice to dialog going on between my soul and my mind.

Yet I do miss blogging. Whether or not anyone reads the words here (despite my shameless facebook and twitter promotions) is irrelevant to me...most of the time. Maybe after another month goes by I'll have words again. Or, more importantly, a better idea of how to construct the words I have to form the narrative I want to share.