Wrecked: Loving Merideth.

 wrecked. broken. destroyed. forever changed, transformed.

I wasn't sure what to title this post at first; in fact, I wasn't sure why I even wanted to write it at all. Writing used to soothe me and calm my anxious nerves, but now I avoid it at all costs, probably because it forces me to be honest and vulnerable, to process my thoughts and emotions, and to accept all that I'm feeling: the good, the bad, and the horribly painful. But after searching my heart and mind, I realized that I really do need to process my thoughts in order to heal and to fully feel, and I soon discovered that "wrecked" is an adequate and all-encompassing description of my life during these 4 months since I last wrote.

It feels somewhat strange for me to even read my previous post about my summer activities and future plans, because I feel as if I am about five years older than I was back in August. Or perhaps I don't feel older; perhaps I just feel different. altered. changed. And the more time goes on, the less I am able to recognize the girl I once was, the girl with a whole family, who never feared or contemplated death, who took for granted the precious time she had with her sister, not knowing that one day, very soon, she would kill to have one more moment. A look. A smile. A hug. Even an eye roll.

My older sister, Merideth, passed away on August 24, 2013, and her death has been the closest thing to hell that I've ever experienced on earth. Shock. Pain. Confusion. Regret. Words can't even fully express the torment of my heart and spirit. And, of course, the questions: why? what could I have done to prevent this? did we not love her enough? did she even know how loved she was and still is? I ask questions, but no answers ever come.

I miss everything about Merideth. She's the last face I see when I close my eyes at night, and the first name that appears in my mind when I wake up. I am constantly reminded of her: in a smile, in a flower, in a TV show or a joke or a favorite song. She's everywhere. In this house. In the eyes of my family. In her clothes that I wear every day. She's supposed to be here. She's supposed to always be here. I keep expecting her to waltz through the front door, holding an iced-cold bottle of Corona, or to be lying on the couch when I come downstairs in the morning, surrounded by half-empty Diet coke cans and a hundred candy wrappers. I expect to see her name on my phone when I get a text, or to see her face whenever I turn around in a crowd, to see her standing there with her mega-watt smile and deep, dark eyes that twinkled when she laughed. I imagine her face whenever I go out for a run; in fact, I almost can't help but smile as I remember her look of exhaustion and impatience whenever she was forced to exercise (or really do anything that she deemed "uncomfortable"). I am constantly bombarded by reminders of her ridiculous fear of snakes, her cheese-dip cravings, her weird obsession with cats, her fascination with murder-mystery novels and TV shows, her intense love for Brandi Carlile and the Avett Brothers, her silly comments, her ability to make any situation FUN, her fervent opinions and "weird facts" that were almost never right, her incredible love for her family and for Lake Rabun, and her desire to always live a better life.

Sometimes the reality of her death takes me by surprise and envelops me, overwhelms me, knocks me down. It can't be real. There's no way she's gone. It's not supposed to happen this way. My parents should never have to spread the ashes of their child. Some days it still takes all of my strength to climb out of bed; some days I just decide not to try. And as Christmas gets closer, it becomes even harder to comprehend--I believe that this is the very first year in my whole life that I've ever wanted to skip Christmas; not just the day, but the entire season. The upcoming holidays are bound to bring with them a whole slew of memories of my sister, and a more concrete reminder that she's no longer here. Merideth loved Christmas, mostly because she was able to come home to Athens. She loved playing White Elephant with our whole family and going to church on the night of Christmas Eve; she loved wrapping presents and waking up with all of our cousins at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, and then taking a long nap in front of the fire in the afternoon. She loved giving gifts that she knew people would enjoy, and she always got (or made) the best presents for the family-- I used to be jealous because Mom always liked her presents better than mine.

There's so much brokenness in my heart and soul. But, somehow, in the midst of that brokenness, I've also found incredible grace. Grace gives me the freedom to be honest, the freedom to mourn, to grieve, to feel pain and hurt and depression. Grace allows me to break down, to yell, to scream, to doubt, and to question. It gives me the space to feel vulnerable, to process my feelings and be honest about my anger. It allows for confusion and for suffering, but also for moments of joy. It is by His grace that I am home with my family during this season, that we were able to be together to celebrate the engagement of my older brother to his long-time girlfriend over the weekend, that I was able to travel to Costa Rica last week and feel affirmed in my desire to go on Young Life Staff. It is by His mercy that we remember everything about Merideth, that we can hear her voice, see her smile, recall her touch, and have hope that we will be united once again. It is by His love that we rejoice in Merideth's life here, that we can be thankful to have been known and loved by her, that we can learn from her scars, and that we, as a family, can love and support each other as we cry, yell, laugh, and rejoice together.

I am so very thankful to all of you for your prayers, love, and support during this difficult time. I cannot tell you what an overwhelming blessing it has been.

All my love,
Grace

An adventure is an inconvenience rightly considered.

Today marks my first official day as a college graduate.

 I know what you're thinking, "Didn't you graduate from UGA back in May?" Great question. Yes, I did in fact, but today makes it real, because it is the first first day of school in my entire life that I don't actually have to go to school.

And what am I doing today, on my first day of student retirement? Going to the UGA campus, of course. Ironic I know, but there's just nothing like sitting on a bench in North Campus with a cup of coffee and an enticing book (that no professor is forcing me to read) and watching all of the sweat-drenched freshmen as they frantically search their oversized maps to find their classes in the intimidating halls of Leconte and Gilbert.

 I can't help but feel a stab of jealousy as I observe them, and the longer I sit, the more I realize that I am jealous, jealous of where they are in life and of the grand adventure that they are about to embark upon these next four years. I try to picture myself as one of them, and I almost spill my coffee as I remember my freshman year, anxiously studying the bus schedules and campus maps and pre-reading my text books before the first day of class (yes, I was that girl).

It's funny to think about because I don't even recognize that girl anymore. (Ok, so I still liked to read my text books)...but over the past four years, I've been wrecked, stretched, and challenged in more ways than I could count, and I sit here today a completely different person than I ever could have imagined that I would be. I entered college prepared to be pre-med (ha) or pre-law, or really just pre-anything that would feed into a good job that would make me "successful" and "rich" by the standards of this world. And where am I now? Beginning to fundraise in order to move to a foreign country to love lost kids and tell them about Jesus....needless to say, that wasn't a part of the original plan.

So, how did I get here?  I have no other answer to give to you except for God's grace.

And praise the Lord that He had a better plan in mind than I had for myself.

During the course of my college career, the Lord has both broken me down and lifted me up; He's taught me difficult lessons and has revealed to me more of His heart and the heart of my desire. He romanced me and drew me towards Himself, and as I delighted more in Him, He molded me more into the woman that He created me to be. And I pray that that transformation and growth never ceases.

And from what I've experienced,  Jesus uses change to move in huge ways in our lives, to grow us and teach us more of who He is. G.K. Chesterton says, "An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered." 

In the face of transition and uncertainty, we have a choice to make: to give into anxiety and worry as we recognize our lack of control, or to view this new phase of life as an opportunity to rely on Christ and make room for Him to work.And that's how I'm trying to view all of this change that's going on in my life, as an adventure, not an inconvenience.

 As many of you know, I'm no longer heading to Mexico this fall, as was the original plan. I went on a visit to Tuxtla Gutierrez in March, and while I loved the city and the people, I did not feel that it was the place where I needed to live for the next three years.

So it was back to the drawing board for me. I'm still heading to Central America with Young Life, but I'm uncertain as to where I will be exactly. And surprisingly, I'm ok with that...it's very unlike me, but I'm very peaceful and content with where I am right now. This summer was awesome: I had the incredible opportunity to work at SharpTop Cove (a Young Life camp in Jasper, GA) for 3 weeks during the first part of the summer, where the Lord rejuvenated me and used some sweet high school girls to make me so excited to go on Young Life staff; I travelled to Colorado for 10 days to visit Frontier Ranch, see my older brother and sister, hike my first 14-er, and see the Avett Brothers in concert; I've visited some of my favorite people at Windy Gap in NC and spent some amazing times with family at Lake Rabun, my favorite place in the world. And now I'm home in Athens, working at Morning Glory Bakery in Watkinsville, GA (come on in ;) and praying for friends and family to come alongside me to support the Lord's work in Latin America through their prayers and support. And I cannot imagine doing anything else!

"I will make you lie down in safety, and I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord" Hosea 2:19-21