how to save a life

My mom linked me to this article recently, and I was surprised and impressed by it. It is noteworthy for its gentle, but unflinchingly honest, portrayal of the messiness of humans, even those who we idealize. I am the first to instinctively put survivors of oppression on a pedestal: noble, strong, exalted beacons of what humanity should be in the face of despicable evil. But the truth of who humans are is far more complicated.

This article tells the story of a fiery young Afghan woman who fled to the U.S. after suffering mutilation at the hands of her husband and in-laws. Her face was chosen to grace the cover of Time magazine, and she became an icon of oppressed Afghan women. But this story focuses not so much on Aesha, but on the caseworkers, counselors, and teachers who have poured their hearts into helping the young woman, and reveals that caring for a real person like Aesha is far more difficult, frustrating, messy, draining, and unglorious than we would like to think. I commend it to you.

http://www.cnn.com/interactive/2012/05/world/saving.aesha/?hpt=hp_c2

nightmares

It's 3:28 am, and I am awake because I just had a nightmare. I hate those.

One of the things I hate most about nightmares is that the effects linger. For example, this nightmare was about a vampire. Stupid, right? I don't believe in vampires and I'm not scared of them. But after I wake up from a nightmare about a vampire, I'm terrified. Even though my mind tells me that I won't be scared at all come tomorrow, the fear lingers tonight. I'm by myself, but I think I'd be even more scared if I was with someone, because I'd be scared they were a vampire. Even though I don't believe in vampires.

The other thing I hate most about nightmares, or at least mine, is that they always strike at the deepest chords of what is scary about a thing. For this nightmare about a vampire, it was the idea that a person you love and completely trust would get this weird look in their eyes, lie to you, turn on you, and then try to eat you. Sick, huh? Even though I'm awake now I can't lose the worse image of the nightmare, the moment when that happened.

It seems like every kid goes through a nightmare stage, which is so sad. That would be heartbreaking for me as a parent, because I know nightmares and I know how they're only scary if they happen to you, and then they're paralyzing, no matter how stupid they might sound over breakfast the next morning. I remember when I went through my nightmare stage as a kid, I would pray desperately to God every night that if I trusted him enough to fall asleep and make myself vulnerable to nightmares, he would protect me from evil in my mind while I was sleeping. (Thing number three I hate about nightmares: they jump you when you're vulnerable; there's no way to protect yourself against them.) God was actually really faithful in that in a really sweet way to little kid Megan. God is not a magic formula, but every time I thought to pray and ask for his protection, I was protected.

I've been the recipient lately of a great deal of very sweet, elemental faithfulness from God. The kind where I give up to him a very basic, immediate, even tangible need, and he provides in an obvious way. This has been the case with money, housing, a job, clarity and wisdom, safety, and my car. I feel like a small child being provided for by my father, and I feel both so taken care of by God, and so reassured that God's desire is to take care of me. He does not want to dangle wisdom out in front of me and snatch it away at the last moment. He does not want me to go hungry, or weary, or have nowhere to sleep. I believe those uglinesses about him sometimes, but they are such lies. He is a good God who loves to give good gifts, quickly, to his children.

So with that in mind, I think it's time for me to ask God to come sit in my bed with me and protect me from evil dreams tonight, and I'll go back to sleep.


“Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" Matthew 7:9-11

life after

Transition is dumb. I hate it. And yes, 'dumb' is the exact correct word to reflect the emotion that transition brings over me: a childish resentment of something I dislike. The adult Megan embraces transition for the 'bloomabilities' it offers. But the childish side of Megan resents the disruption of the comfortableness and happiness she has finally established in her world. Er, I mean, my world.

Transition makes me feel like that though: like I have to withdraw outside of myself and manipulate myself, manipulate Megan, like a puppeteer to morph her to the situation.

Transition is sticky and messy and involves a lot of social ceremonies and repetitive conversations and weakness.

Transition seems to throw away what you've built and it won't even let you just rebuild, it demands that you construct something creative and new.

To sum it up, it's dumb.

But moving on to the present... what a week. Oh man.

Teen Girls Camp 2010.
Kelley got married. To Russ.
Slumber party of the decade.

It was sweet. Check it out.

Mis chicas bonitas:

Oh-livia:

Becs:


J:


Aimee:


Darion:


Rowdy good times at Teen Girls:











I hardly had time to feel sad when my wonderful girls left, because that evening was the wedding of the year!! My wickedawesome dorm resident director for two years, Kelley, got married to her lucky pastor man, Russ.









And then so many of my favorite girls crowded into Luce's apartment for an epic slumber party. Yes please.

My blessings are pressed down, shaken together, and running over.

ps- This is my 100th blog post! Happy birthday little blog! How much can happen in 100 posts...

paper #36

Good news: ONE MORE PAPER LEFT TO WRITE!!!

Bad news: ITS FRIDAY NIGHT OF 8TH WEEK TRINITY AND I'M SITTING IN THE LIBRARY WRITING A PAPER. I CAN HEAR SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE REMIX TUNES COMING FROM THE BOP IN THE JCR ACROSS THE QUAD. AND I'M NOT THERE.

Sigh. Almost there.

another one

Sorry all my blogs lately have been about rowing. My life is just pretty straightforward right now. I row, I make coffee, I write papers. That's pretty much it.
And so please notice the time on this post. Yes, that's right, it's 4:30 am. Why the heck am I awake?? Because I have to be at the boathouse to row at 5:10 am. That's all. I admit that I'm a morning person. But 4:30 hardly counts as morning. When I walk down to the boathouse, even the ducks aren't awake yet; they're still sleeping in the grass.
Only one more week of this, though. Summer VIIIs, the big race, is this week, and it's going to be a blast. If I get some pictures of it, I'll post them soon! (Like you really want to see another rowing post.)

as yourself

I still love that rowing thing, but it kicked my butt this morning.

On a happier note, I was the one dominating at my tutorial yesterday.

Life lesson: you try as hard as you can, and at the end of the day, you give yourself grace.

blahg

I am having a super duper lame Friday night.

There were certainly good things in this day. I'm staying at Karen's house tonight, and her hospitality is almost as beautiful as she is. I had tea with Francis and Penelope Warner for the first time today. I had a sweet skype date with Allyallyally Hall. I saw a wooly rhinocerous tooth at the Oxford city museum this morning. Yet despite all of this amazingness, I'm both physically and emotionally shot.

Out of the blue today I ran into two different struggling women who I've had repeated interactions with in the past. I am so very thankful that we have been put into each others' lives, and good things have come out of these strange relationships, and I have hope for more beauty to grow. Buuuut, those two brief conversations left me reeling, feeling as though I had been fastened to an emotional vacuum cleaner and sucked dry. I just don't know what to do. I don't know how to love them. I am unable to give them what they ask of me and I am tearing myself to shreds to make sure that my inability is not just a facade masking unwillingness of heart.

This heart strain makes me more vulnerable to other things. Like loneliness. Like jealousy. Like boredom. Like blabbering confusingly on my blog. Yuck.

And so I'm going to bed at 10:30 on a Friday night. Goodnight life. If you could please be a little less overwhelming tomorrow, that would be great.

off balance

I am incompetent at interacting with people today. I don't know when to say something and when to shut up. And when I do talk, or write, or email, I say weird things. And even when I say something true, I can't say it right.
Ulgh. I am a freak.

not as smart as i thought i was

Today is one of the few times in my life that I've ever felt subpar in intelligence, like I am just too dumb to understand what I'm learning. I'm working on an economics paper exploring why Britain emerged relatively unscathed from the main economic effects of World War I compared to continental Europe, and I am just really struggling to understand some of the concepts. Economics is not my forte. It is SO abstract and jargonistic. It takes me hours to read and understand one chapter, and then I have no idea how the various parts of it fit together.
Blech.
This is me phoning a friend. If anyone has a five page, double-spaced answer to the question, let me know asap.
Maybe I should stick to something closer to my intelligence level. Like politics. Or coloring.

"For it is written: 'I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate.'" 1 Corinthians 1:19

i was not warned

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"I will put an end to your noisy songs, and the music of your harps will be heard no more." Ezekiel 26:13