there is a song in my heart, but i don't know the words; there is a tear on my cheek for the cries of the world; there is parts to my soul that can't be explained; but i dream, and i dream, yet i dream.

i long for Glasgow. i miss it. part of it is simply a frustration with the united states and the western culture, but part of it is a genuine desire for the way of life i used to have; freedom and life on my own. sometimes it blows me away to think about the fact that i got on an airplane, got off in a foreign city with no one there to help me, and made a new life and a home there. incredible. nothing can stop me now-- i am perfectly willing to go anywhere, learn any new language, and adapt to any new culture. i know i can.

i have to ask myself at times why i'm at calvin. technically, i've got all the education i need: if my goal is simply to teach english somewhere else and be involved with churches abroad, i should/could just sign up and go. but i am here, and i have a responsibility to complete what i've started. also, should i ever need to come back to the states, a certificate for teaching is a good thing to have. i want to be prepared.

i miss bethany belisa. i would love to just sit down with a cup of coffee and talk about dreams with her. she is such a lovely woman, and an incredible encouragement to me--even the memory of her is powerful.

i need a sabbatical from life. i want to retreat to the woods, to the mountains, to the river, to kelvingrove park and watch the kids play. i wish i could stop time at certain moments; when i suceed, when i'm snuggled up with the boy i like, when i remember my dad.

when i'm blue, i think about my dad, and i wish that it were the memory of him that made me sad in the first place. i don't like to think that i remember him when i'm already down, as though i'm moving through my grief more efficiently: since i'm sad now, i might as well be sad about him, too, so that my sadness is collective and i can spend more time being happy. i know it doesn't really work that way, but then again, maybe it does.

i'm glad i'm writing. eric is sitting next to me working on his paper, and so far i've written quite a bit more than he has in half the time. true, he has to focus on one topic, and i'm just being random, but still, i think i've got a bit more of a knack for articulating (and typing) my thoughts out.

i glance over, and make a few grammatical corrections on the last line of his paper. i'm good at that. granted, i ignore it in my own pieces, but xanga posts aren't technical papers that i'm being graded on.

life is beautiful. sometimes it is quite the letdown from the intensity and freedom that i've had in the past year-- being on my own for so much of it, away from family and friends, challenged in new and refreshing ways-- but i've been suprised all the same. eric, for example, just redeemed the male race of america. i had given up on american guys until i met him ;) just kidding. sort of.

i've been surprised at myself, too. i'm disappointed, really. but as heidi showed me, it's okay for me to step back a bit and collect myself. still, i'm disappointed. i wish i still had the momentum that i had going before.

i feel like want to cry, and i don't know why. for some reason my soul is lamenting. that's a good word for it: lament. it implies disappointment, a deep passion, expression. my soul laments for the friends i've had to let go, for the person i was, for the experiences that i can't replace. i ache.

no wonder these days i've just felt like curling up and being quiet. sleep has been healing. eric's embraces are comforting. the snow--soft and lovely, yet cold--is also a part of it.

i am most myself when i am travelling, when i can respond to people unhindered from the cultural norms i've grown up with, when i can challenge myself and depend on God, when i can constantly learn from the interactions i have. it's amazing, liberating.

it's liberating to have a dream, too. it can be liberating not to have dreams, and it can be liberating to have them as well. as for me, well, i need those dreams. they keep me going. when i accomplish my dreams i feel like i've been given the best gift ever-- what better gift could you have than your heart's longing, the gift that you yourself know better than anyone, the gift that your mind has put together and your heart has believed in... does that make sense? you formed it, and God gives it to you. custom made, really. That's what i love about it. my biggest dream was to return to Scotland, and God gave it to me. i'm lucky, but believe me, i worked hard for it.

i think i'm going to be quiet, and let the thoughts ease from my mind, and think about restfulness.

beautiful words: quiet, ease, restfulness.

just like the snow.


♥ betsy joy