12 Days and Counting

For those of you following the transient life of Angela Williams, here is an update.

As of July 31, 2014, the YAV (Young Adult Volunteer) office has received $6,395 in contributions toward my year of service!!!!

This means that I have surpassed my individual fundraising goal of $4,000 and have contributed $2,395 to our team goal of $20,000 (an additional $4,000 per volunteer going to the Philippines). That is super exciting, and I am beyond grateful for each and every one of you who has shown financial support so far. I am really behind on writing my thank you notes due to this little commitment of mine called camp. I'm sorry, the children demanded more of my attention and energy, but I promise I will get those out in the next week and a half!

For those of you who have not yet donated but would like to, please click here. Don't worry about getting it in before I leave. You can continue to support me financially throughout my YAV year.

Now for some logistics. On Monday, August 18, I will fly from Charlotte to Chicago to Newark to end up in Stony Point, New York, for a week of YAV orientation. From what I know, it will be much like the discernment event was in March, where I found out that I was going to the Philippines. We will have lots of personal and group time to process and prepare for the year of service with a wonderful support system of other YAVs from each site, YAVA (YAV alums), YAV staff members, and other representatives from the PC(USA) community. I am excited to reconnect with the people I met at the discernment event and meet all of the other YAVs who will be serving this year.

Monday, August 25, I will leave for the Philippines with my four other YAV companions who will be serving with me. Seventeen hours of flying and three hours of a layover in Tokyo later, I will be in Manila. Unfortunately, that is not our destination. We will then have to travel by air, possibly sea, and land in order to get to Dumaguete.

I have finally received some more information about the work I will be doing throughout this year. I will be working with the National Heroes Institute, a Christian school located in Kananga, Leyte. Google Maps told me it was a 5 hour trip northeast from Dumaguete to Kananga, which involves driving and two ferry trips. Needless to say, I don't think I will be living in Dumaguete as I serve this school. Kananga is across the island from Tacloban City, which was wiped away by Typhoon Yolanda. The storm also did significant damage to the school by destroying many of its classrooms. If you want to know more about NHI, watch this video, which features my supervisor, Dobert Moriles.

I do not know exactly what work I will be doing in the school, but I am still very excited! Dessa, my site coordinator with YAV, told me that I am God's answer to their prayers because of my background in religion and psychology. I would call NHI the answer to my prayers, as I know God will use this experience to guide me on my journey of vocational discernment. I am already thinking about how I can use my camp counselor experience in a school setting. I wonder what different vegetables Filipino children would come up with if I taught them the vegetable game. How can I incorporate the camp fire experience (read: songs) into a classroom? Will sleeping lions still work to get the younger ones to rest? What games and songs can the children teach me? Is this God urging me to pursue Christian Education along with the Master of Divinity in seminary?

These answers and more to be answered in a later blog post.

Now to get away from the soap opera style.

This summer, and more so this week, I have started to acknowledge my anxieties toward this adventure. Those range anywhere from fears of being washed away in another super typhoon to making sure I don't pack too many t-shirts. For most of the summer, I simply pushed those thoughts away. I didn't have time to think about them or worry about the future because the day-to-day happenings at camp took up my time, energy, and attention. However, I did have a pretty unique religious experience this summer that forced me to acknowledge and at least partially process my nerves. That experience will be coming out in a blog post a little later this week.

Until then, salaam, peace, and shalom, my friends. May God's grace follow you wherever you may go.

Update on the Philippines

As many of you know, I will be spending the next year serving as a Young Adult Volunteer (YAV) in the Philippines. This is a wonderful program through the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) that I am proud to call my own. I will be leaving for a week-long orientation in Stony Point, NY, on August 18th. On August 25th, I will leave New York for the Philippines, which includes a 3-hour layover in Tokyo (which is cool because I can technically add another country to my list!).

During my year of service, I will likely be working with child development centers in and around Dumaguete City. The structure of the year includes a month-long orientation, three-month homestay, and living on my own or with other YAVs in an apartment.

The program expects us to "live simply," which I completely buy into. In order to do this, we receive small stipends relative to our sites and costs of living. Another part of the program consists of building support before we leave. We are building up our cloud of witnesses who will support us through prayers, pledges, and gifts and who will share in this wonderful journey with us.

It costs around $24,000-$28,000 to send one volunteer abroad for a year. Thankfully YAV and PC(USA) absorb most of these costs. However, as YAVs, we are expected to raise $4,000 of support as individuals and to work toward a team goal. The team goal depends on the number of YAVs assigned to a site. I actually just recently learned that we will have 5 YAVs in the Philippines, two more than the 3 I expected. The team goal is an additional $4,000 per volunteer after the required $4,000 of individual support. The deadlines we were given were that we needed to raise $2,000 by July 15, 2014 and $4,000 by January 1, 2015.

This week I received my first fundraising update since I started at the beginning of May.

I am ecstatic to announce that I have already achieved my individual fundraising goal!!! As of Friday, June 20, 2014, I have received $4,915 in support for my YAV year!!!

This is absolutely wonderful news! I am so thankful to everyone who has already pledged their support, financial or prayerful, and to those who have yet to give their support.

Tonight, I was at worship at Bethelwoods. Our worship leader gave a message on creation and community. He told us about how the largest trees in the world, the redwood trees in California, grow so large, yet have such shallow root systems. They support themselves by intertwining their roots with the roots of the trees around them. He also addressed the belief (that I share) that God doesn't give you anything you can't handle. He added onto that by saying that God also expects others to help you.

That is exactly what has happened here. I am so incredibly grateful for everyone I know, and even some I don't, who have used their resources to support my YAV year. I feel so supported and loved right now. I know that it with God's help that I am doing this year of service and that God's will is working through so many people who feel a call to support me, this experience, and this program.

This is still just the beginning! The next goal is getting to the $20,000 team goal!

Thank you so much for your prayers, well wishes, and support. It is truly a blessing to have such a network.

I Should Be Dead

It has been almost a year since the day I should have died. It was Friday, June 21, 2013. I was on a camping trip with some of the counselors from Camp Shawnee, the camp in Eastern Kentucky that I volunteered with for the past two summers. We had driven out to the Whale's Watch overlook at Red River Gorge in Kentucky. I had been there the year before and found a great quiet place about 20 feet directly under the main overlook. I had decided to go back to that place. As I was coming out to return to the group, I heard seven of our group of eleven counselors calling to us to come back up. They were ready to leave. I had come around the rock to find three other counselors a little lower than the main overlook. The only thing separating me from them was a 30 foot rock face. I talked to one of the counselors who knew my abilities and experiences the best and asked him if he thought I could/should come across the face that way. He said it would be a lot of small fingerholds, but he thought I could do it. About 20 minutes later, I find myself about two-thirds of the way across this rock face and in the following position.

My dear friend Owen took this picture moments before my ~30 foot fall

As you can see, I am not using any equipment. I have no harness, no cables, no ropes, no nothing. It was a very dangerous situation. I was definitely foolish not to turn back to find a safer way to get back to my friends. I let my ego and desire to please others get in the way of my safety. I didn't want to keep them waiting, so I wanted to take the quickest route to reunite with the group. Clearly that did not end well for me this time.

Eventually, I exhausted my physical and mental strength holding on to that rock for dear life (literally). I had held on waiting for my friend to come closer to spot me and advise me on the next moves. Unfortunately, it took too much for me just to stand in that one "safe" spot. I did not have the energy or trust in my own abilities to make it over the protruding rock to my left.

When I fell, I hit my legs on a rock that was wedged between this rock face and the neighboring one. People who watched the fall (I'm still sorry that you had to see that Greg, Owen, and Eleasha.) say that rock acted as a spring board for my body. I fell again to a second rock below, where I hit my chin, arm, and the right side of my rib cage. From that point, my friend who was chasing me as I fell says he could not see how I landed. I remember tumbling a bit until my feet got stuck in a slanted position enough to stop my body. Once they stopped, my body completely slumped into itself. I was knocked unconscious for about 30 seconds as my friend tried to scramble safely to get to me.

As I regained consciousness, I started moaning. My lifeguarding/first aid skills went into action. I didn't move anything for fear of a head/neck/back injury. I cautiously moved my fingers and toes so I knew I was not paralyzed without disturbing my spinal cord. Eventually I was able to examine myself and stand up on my own. Nothing was broken or severely sprained or strained. I was covered in blood and dirt. My clothes had holes torn in them from the jagged rock I landed on. My red string from Tsfat was torn from my wrist during the fall.

After a 45 minute walk/hike to try to find a way to get back up the now ~50 feet to the top of the overlook and the rest of the group, we made it to the van where my wonderful friends bandaged my scrapes, tried to stop the bleeding (which was only from surface scrapes), and made a sling for my arm, which prevented me from hurting my bruised ribs.

Walking in as-is to the Emergency Room in Lexington, KY

I was immediately thankful to be alive. I coped with the pain and shock by talking and joking. Whenever I stopped that, I would feel the pain. A very long night later, I was back at camp with no concussion, broken bones, nothing worse than a bruised tailbone and ribs, and some surface scrapes.

Humor was the best coping mechanism for this situation

It was a miracle.

I did not believe in guardian angels. Now, I have to. There is absolutely no way that I made it out of that accident with relatively no injuries without some divine intervention.

That fall has definitely impacted my life since that day. In camp circles, it's a good fun fact and perhaps the best story I have so far. In school/the real world, it doesn't really come up. I thought I had dealt with the emotions of that day and given my thanks to God for saving my life enough last summer.

Until I got to staff training at Bethelwoods. I went to write in my journal the second night of staff training. The last entry was from the middle of July 2013, when I tried to journal about the experience. For whatever reason, I had not finished the story. I decided to finish writing and processing it that night.

I still thought I was good. Completely processed. Nothing left to see here.

Boy, I was wrong.

Today, we did the high ropes course for training. I've done this course plenty of times before. I'm not afraid of heights. I trust myself, my lobster claws, the ropes, my facilitators, and the trees. I felt rushed today. I was the last to go up in the trees. I did not put on the butt strap of my harness, which caused my leg loop to slip a little bit throughout the course. I was careless. I tried to start climbing up the tube net before my partner got there. I was impatient.

After lunch we processed the high ropes course. I've also done that plenty of times. However, this time it hit me like a ton of bricks. All of the real world and faith applications also fit with my experience last summer. I climbed out on that rock face alone. With no support. Yes, I had friends who cared about me around, but I had complete trust in myself to get across that rock face. I had left God, my support (harness, ropes, etc.) behind. I truly realized how much I had messed up on that risk management.

I was thinking about what would have happened had Jacquie been on site. First, she would have killed me. Just like Julie and so many of the other staff from the past three summers would have done had they seen what I was doing.

I had messed up so much. So why is it that I was spared? Why was I allowed to live? Why did God save me from impending doom? Earlier, I believed it was because he has a greater plan for my life. It was not my time to die.

This year, I have experienced way too many (and one is too many) deaths of young people, both near and far to me. Gus Deeds. Kelsey Durkin. Lara Gass. Eric Alter. Hendon Poe.

Each of these deaths has affected me on varying levels. Each of these deaths (as well as the lives these people lived) is different. It wasn't until tonight that I truly understood a greater reason why I was so deeply affected by the loss of these wonderful young people.

I should be with them. I should not still be on this earth today. But I am. I am still alive because this omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent God I love has some sort of plan. Not that Gus, Kelsey, Lara, Eric, and Hendon did not have bright futures. I just know that as a human, I cannot fathom or even try to understand God's full plan for the universe and each of us. For whatever reason, I am still here, though. The same God who created the entirety of the universe did not let me die on that mountain.

Why?

I don't know. I can't know. All I can do is be thankful. All I can do is hope that I live a life that is even partially in accordance with God's will. All I can do is count the many blessings I have experienced and will continue to experience because of God. It is because of God's amazing and wondrous grace and love that I am here today. Everything that has happened in the past year may not have happened had I not been saved that Friday last June.

Tonight for staff worship, we wrote a prayer on a piece of paper and burned them together. I was already becoming a mess before we even started writing. I was simply so overwhelmed with emotion and feeling God's love for me.

As we waited for everyone to finish, I realized that had God not saved me that day, I would not have returned to my home. I would not have met all of these fantastic staff members. I was so appreciative for the hugs, back rubs, gentle squeezes, and all signs of comfort I felt from everyone around me. We have been together for a week. Already, I feel God's love surrounding each and every one of us. I feel Christ's light shining through each of us to others. I know that whenever I am down or emotional, I have people to go to, as well as people who will know to leave me to cry alone whenever I need it. This is what makes camp beautiful.

I'm so excited to continue to discern God's will in my life for the present, the immediate future, and the distant future. Praise be to God who loves and cares for all of God's children.

#LexStrong

Originally written Wednesday, April 23, 2014.

Yesterday, Tuesday, April 22, 2014, a VMI senior took his life. This marks the third student death in Lexington this year. The first, Kelsey Durkin, a Washington and Lee undergraduate senior, lost her life in a drunk driving accident December 3, 2013. The second was Lara Gass, a third year law student at W&L who was killed in a car accident on I-81 on March 18, 2014. The most recent was Eric Alter, who was supposed to graduate, commission as a second lieutenant in the Marines, and get married to a brilliant W&L senior in the next two months. It has truly been a tragic year for students in Lexington. Each of the university communities has experienced a great and untimely loss.

Fortunately, we are all members of a strong community. Divisions and differences may exist from day to day, but we all come together in times of crisis. That is the beauty of humanity. As I reflect on each of these deaths individually and as a whole, I do not wish to say that any loss is more or less tragic than another. It is impossible to put a measure on the worth and value of any human life. Each loss brings with it certain questions and misunderstandings. At the heart of this is "Why?" Why would this happen to Eric, Lara, or Kelsey? How could God/a superior being/the universe let this happen? How could anyone deserve to experience this? At the end of the day, I don't know. I cannot know. No one can.

Death, loss, grief is so difficult to deal with, particularly in the case of young people. Definitely in the case of suicide. As a part of the grieving process, we can ask ourselves, "What if?" What if I could have done more to prevent it? We can torture ourselves with these two words.

As can be expected, I was most affected by Kelsey's death, and I still am. I took some time to mourn Lara's passing, but it did not severely affect my functioning. I simply did not have a connection to her. I was in shock and numb upon hearing of Eric's death. I had heard of suicides at VMI before, but not someone my year. Not someone my friends knew. Not someone who was engaged to a fellow senior psychology major. Not someone who seemed to have so much to live for. Each of these students had so much going for them. Each was set to graduate with me in May. Each life was cut so short.

Up to this point in my life, I feel that I have dealt with plenty of death, too much in my opinion. However, I know that it is only going to continue. Such is life...and death. It never gets any easier. It never makes any more sense. How do you continue to try to make sense of the nonsensical?

Interestingly enough, God always finds a way to make the Spirit's presence known. Sunday was Easter, and I went to two church services. My dad gave a wonderful Easter sermon on not living in fear, despite the fact that we have so much we can be afraid of. This is a sentiment that I have been fortunate enough to experience and learn from both of my parents in all of my life experiences so far. We then went to Oakland Avenue Presbyterian Church, my home church for the second service. Our interim pastor, Bill Wood, gave a different sermon that focused on 1 Corinthians 15:12-17. He emphasized that if Christ were not raised, then all preaching and faith is in vain, and we are still living in sin. The tone of his message was a bit more somber than what I expected from an Easter sermon. He mentioned two stories of pastors who had family members die unexpectedly and their reactions to those deaths. I had come to the service expecting a more optimistic sermon about the joy of Jesus's resurrection. Little did I know that the sermon would thankfully stick with me and help me to process the events of this week.

Today, I had the great fortune to visit Union Presbyterian Seminary in Richmond, VA. It was an absolutely wonderful time of learning, discernment, and getting to know the welcoming community. I was able to participate in their weekly community worship service. It was a vibrant service with a great variety of music and a powerful sermon given by a graduating student. He began with a metaphor of graves as books. We try to fill something as huge as a life into a small grave and a whole story into the pages of a book. As we read books, we become invested in the characters and eagerly turn the pages to read more of the story. However, as we near the end, we realize the inevitable end of the characters' lives when the pages end, and we place the book on a shelf somewhere. Maybe we come back to flip through the book in remembrance of those characters' adventures, but it is only a memory. Much in the way that we visit the gravestones of loved ones to remember their lives and legacies.

Mark's gospel "ends" (This is up for scholarly debate. At Union, apparently Frances says it ends at verse 8.) with Mary, Mary Magdalene, and Salome afraid after finding the tomb empty and not telling anyone of Jesus's resurrection. His explanation for Mark ending here is that he acknowledges that it is scary to deal with Jesus's resurrection. Mark does not give us that resolution for a reason (so others had to fill in the gaps to give the resolution because we can't handle not having closure). He then challenged the students, staff, and faculty to face the fear of the resurrection, to keep alive the Easter story into the Easter season that only begins with Easter Sunday. It is our job to continue to show the joy of Christ's resurrection throughout the world after the church service ends every spring. All of these messages brought together in these few days have truly given me the tools to be able to process Eric's death.

One of the most memorable sermons I have ever heard was given by Laura Smith Conrad many years ago. She challenged us to treat every person we met as though they were Jesus. See the face of Jesus in all those around you. If only we did that, how this world would be different. If we reacted to every death the way that we react to Jesus's death and resurrection, it wouldn't make it so much easier, but it may be a more positive coping mechanism. If we learned from their legacy and lessons they taught us and told the world how they changed our lives for the better. Life goes on, and we should remember them by remembering and living out the lessons they taught us, not by dwelling on what we cannot change. We have hope and joy from having faith that we will see them again.

Happy Ash Wednesday!

Ash Wednesday might be my favorite day in the liturgical calendar. It's a pretty nondescript holiday that hasn't been corrupted by commercialism...yet. It's an important part of my personal spiritual life to be disciplined for 40 (47) days that culminates in celebrating Holy Week. Every year I get questions about why I observe Lent and why it is important to me.

"I didn't know you were Catholic."
"I'm not. I'm Presbyterian."
"Oh, I thought that was just a Catholic thing."
"Nope. I've been doing Lent since elementary school at my Presbyterian church."

This year I have decided to give up complaining as a part of my Lenten fast. It will be a very difficult thing to cut out of my life, but I think it will help to make me more self-aware. We have so much to be thankful for, but we so constantly complain about what we don't have. Hopefully this will allow me to cut out some negativity out of my and shine more of my light and God's love to the world. A recent trend in Lenten practices has included taking up something new rather than giving up something. This year I am also adding a new practice to hopefully complement the lack of complaining. I want to write down three things for which I am grateful each day of Lent. Perhaps this will become a lifestyle change. We let so many of our blessings go by without recognizing them as such. Additionally, no matter how bad a day seems, we must remember that God has still blessed us with so much. It's about seeing the silver lining of beauty and joy in the sometimes dark depressing cloud that is the world.

Today two of my friends have reminded me of my Ash Wednesday last year in Jerusalem. It was a roller coaster to say the least. I really needed a Christian spiritual experience a month into studying abroad in Jerusalem. I expected to have a service at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher at 6 pm. We arrived around 4 to do some sight-seeing beforehand because it was my first time visiting the holy site. Around 5:45 we started asking around for the service. Turns out it was actually at 6 am. I was sulking on the way home (an instance of not realizing my many blessings and complaining about something insignificant) and decided to try to make my own ashes in the apartment. That turned into an ordeal involving live plant leaves, a Hanukkah candle, lots of wax, and "ashes" that lasted about five minutes on my forehead.

This year I was able to attend Lexington Presbyterian Church's Ash Wednesday service and dinner, a much more straightforward affair than last year. It was another wonderful spiritual experience that I have not had in a while. The words of the imposition of ashes speak to my soul.

From dust you came. To dust you shall return.

It reminds me of the reality of humanity. As Walt Whitman put it, What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists, and identity; That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse." Our lifetimes are so short relative the length of history. Throughout these 40 days, I hope that my contribution to the powerful play will be to bring some light and positivity to this world.

"Dance, then, wherever you may be. I am the Lord of the Dance," said he. "And I'll lead you all wherever you may be, and I'll lead you all in the dance," said he.

Reflections on Living and Dying

This morning at 1:30 am, a car carrying ten Washington and Lee students was in an accident. One of the students, a fellow senior and pre-orientation trip leader, Kelsey Durkin, was killed in the accident. We weren't too terribly close, but I knew her through our leader training that happened a few days before most people returned to Lexington for the school year. Kelsey was the type of person who genuinely believed and practiced the Speaking Tradition. Every time I saw her on campus, she would greet me with her beautiful smile and genuinely ask me how I was. I am still in shock that I will never run into her again on the bridge as I'm walking to class, the parking deck, or the sorority houses. However, I shouldn't be surprised by this feeling. A high school classmate, John Clinton, passed away the summer after my first year of college. We weren't close, either, but I still sometimes think that he is somewhere around Clemson just living his crazy goofy life. Then reality sets in.

When a tragedy like this hits a small, close-knit community, everyone feels the impact. The atmosphere on campus today was gravely somber. Each of us grieving in our own way.

I found out about the accident when I woke up this morning. One of my housemates had a class with Kelsey, and the professor announced that a student had died but could not give her name yet. I was numb and in a state of disbelief. I secretly hoped it would be someone I didn't know. I went to my 8:30 yoga class not knowing what to do with myself. The yoga instructor was aware of the situation and gave us an easy class.

As I was laying on my yoga mat, trying to stretch, my mind was as far away from a meditative state as is possible. Why was I laying on my back trying to monitor my breathing when there is life to be lived?! Why am I wasting my time in this yoga class when there is so much to do in the world? Why am I spending four years of my life at college when all I want to do is help people? Why was I so upset by this death? Naturally, I know that I am affected because it hit so close to home. Why don't I have the same reaction when I hear of other deaths on the news? I would say I regard all human life as of equal importance, but I don't grieve every time I hear of someone leaving this world.

I managed not to cry during yoga, but I broke down when I got to my car. I had received a text that Kelsey was the student who had died. I went home and tried to wrap my head around things. I realized not for the first time that a long hot shower is one of the most therapeutic things in life. I contemplated skipping my voice lesson but decided against it.

During my voice lesson, I realized just how sad and depressing my pieces were. As an emotional artist, I channeled my grief into the music. I was on the verge of tears for most of the lesson, which sometimes led to a less-than-musical voice. After singing through pieces I have worked on all term, my voice teacher had me run through some pieces I will work on next term that come from a book of "Biblical Songs." The collection of Psalms included these texts:


Thou art my refuge and my shield: I await Thy word. Depart from me, ye evildoers:
so that I keep the commandments of my God. Give me strength, so that I shall be saved,
and that I observe your law always. My flesh trembleth for fear of Thee;
For I am afraid of Thy judgments, exceedingly.

Hear, O God, hear my prayer,
and hide not Thyself from my plea.
Attend unto me, and hear me, for I mourn in my lament,
and I am dejected.
My heart is sore within me, and the fear of death is fallen upon me,
and horror hath overwhelmed me. And I said: Oh that I had wings like a dove!
For then would I fly away, and find rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and I would dwell in the wilderness. I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest.

As a religious believer grieving, I struggled to sing the words that were so relevant to my emotional state. I left my voice lesson looking for my choir director who had sent us an email saying he was free to talk if we needed it. He wasn't around, and I couldn't help but to break down again. After a good hug from our lovely Dymph, I made my way to a secluded stairwell and just cried it out.

I went to the sorority house for lunch, and processed some with some close friends. After learning more details and calming down some, I returned to my choir director's office. We had a nice, healthy chat about the accident and so many other things.

For the first time, I think I truly understood the transcendent nature of music. How is it that something as basic as one Bible verse can become eight minutes of complex musical beauty? How can this same piece of music evoke so many emotions, different to each listener and performer? It is a concept that is impossible to understand, much like God. However, this beauty comes from the hands of humans. That is the miracle of it.

We are preparing for the Lessons and Carols service on Thursday, which obviously involves a religious set of pieces. Each of these pieces carries an entirely new weight after the events of today. I had emotion behind the pieces before, but this was an entirely new level of feeling that I put into each piece.

After I left Dr. Lynch's office, I went home and took a nap. When I woke up, it was 4:30, and I was completely disoriented. I thought it was a new day and had forgotten the events of last night and today. When I realized that the accident had happened and that Kelsey was gone, I was in a state of shock all over again. This time, however, I was pretty emotionally sterile about things. I thought I had dealt with my tears enough, and I could be strong enough for other people on campus.

Boy, was I wrong.

I went to choir rehearsal and almost immediately started crying again. I couldn't sing for half of our first piece because I was crying too much. This was the scene for much of the rehearsal, but I managed to pull it together for the second half. Then, we closed with Dan Forrest's "Entreat Me Not to Leave You," which is a piece I already associated with death, grief, and God's miracles of life. As if on cue, I completely lost it at one of the first big chords. I sobbed uncontrollably and was comforted by the hands of my fellow altos (who are the absolute best sectional family I could ever ask for). That rehearsal was definitely cathartic for me and truly helped me to grieve. As Dr. Lynch says, we are vulnerable and open up our souls when we sing, which allows us to have the passion to truly make music. I now have a fuller understanding and appreciation of my emotional ties to the music I sing.

Afterward, I was fortunate to attend the candlelight vigil held in front of Lee Chapel. Seeing the W&L community sprawling across the lawn coming together to remember and mourn the loss of Kelsey was powerful. It is wonderful to be reassured of the strength of our community, even though the circumstances are so tragic.

Throughout the day, so many have thoughts have been running through my head nonstop. Foremost has been the implications of this great tragedy. The lives of all members of the W&L community are forever changed by the events of the past twenty-four hours. Kelsey's friends and family now have an incredible void that this wonderful young woman filled. The other people who were involved in the accident are going through what I can only imagine to be Hell as they deal with survivor's guilt, as well as any other physical injuries. Nick, the driver, is left alone behind bars to wrestle with this situation and the consequences of his actions.

Yes, the accident involved drinking and driving. However, I do not think it is right to demonize Nick. Too often (and even once is too often) people get behind the wheel after having too much to drink or while under the influence of any number of substances. Those drives do not always end in accidents or deaths. This one just happened to be the one that did. Nick is not the only person to have made that decision. Many students choose to drive under the influence each weekend. Some get away with it. Some get a DUI. Unfortunately, some get into accidents that hurt people. Not that it makes it right at all, but unfortunately, it is not an uncommon event.

Dealing with such a sudden and untimely death always makes one reevaluate priorities in life. When we are aware of the incredible fragility of life and the brevity of our time in this world, we cherish every moment. We live in the moment. We live by phrases like Carpe Diem and YOLO. We take risks. Sometimes this is freeing and wonderful to the point of making us feel invincible. Other times it leads to severe negative consequences.

So do we live sheltered lives afraid of what is around every corner? Do we protect ourselves and eliminate all possible risks? Well, that would lead to paranoia, which isn't really healthy. Unfortunately, our society lives more toward the careful side of this scenario. We spend so much of our time and energy preparing for what is to come, but that time is never guaranteed, as we witnessed today. We work so hard to get a good degree so that we can get a good job so that we can have a good family so that we can finally live "the good life." Whatever that means. But is that truly living? How can you be alive and thriving if you are only focused on what is to come? You can't.

"These days come and go, but they say nothing, and if we do not use the gifts they bring, they carry them as silently away."-Ralph Waldo Emerson

No matter how many precautions you take in life, you are never 100% protected. I work in the prevention field. I'm paid to prevent risky behaviors and their negative consequences. However, I think we can all agree that you cannot prevent everything. Danger could come to you or your loved ones at any time and in any form. Even though this is true, it is not healthy to allow the reality to become a paralyzing fear that dominates life.

Knowing this, we should accept that we have a limited amount of time that has an unknown expiration date. We should live life to the fullest that we can. We should strive to live a balanced life. We must cherish the time we have with loved ones. We must take risks. We must be vulnerable. We must live!

It is still crazy that twenty-four hours ago, Kelsey was still with us. She was talking to friends, catching up after break, living life. Then, it is gone in a flash.

This grieving/mourning/healing process will take a long while for each of us, but it is comforting to know that we are not alone.

Nunc Dimittis

Lord, now lettest thou thy servant

depart in peace according to thy word.

For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,

Which thou hast prepared

before the face of all people.

To be a light to lighten the Gentiles,

and to be the glory of thy people Israel.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son,

and to the Holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning, is now,

and ever shall be, world without end.

Amen.

Lexington Perspective

A few things have happened recently that have made me think twice and wrestle with a lot in this world.

Last Sunday I was sitting in Lexington Presbyterian Church (where I go when I'm at W&L). The service was already about 15 minutes in when a man walked in the back door. He was wearing dirty jeans, old tennis shoes, and a stained hoodie. He probably hadn't showered in a few weeks. His hair was long and dirty, his beard bushy and unkempt. Even though I am a poverty studies minor, even though I have much experience working with people living in poverty, even though that is a population I want to dedicate my life to, I was still disturbed by his entry to the service. You see, I was at a nice Presbyterian service with the congregation dressed in their Sunday best sitting in nice wooden pews within a purely white sanctuary. This man's presence disrupted the image and experience. I was immediately ashamed by my initial reaction to this man. I saw a group of W&L students sitting in front of me glance over to the pew he was sitting in throughout the service. I don't want to put anything into their minds, but I got the feeling they were sizing him up, passing judgment on him. Just after the man entered, a baby started crying. Loudly. During the offering, it sounded like someone stumbled in the balcony. The entire flow of the service was off.

I watched and listened to Rev. Bill Klein as he gave a wonderful sermon on the parable of the lost sheep and the woman who lost two coins. Yes, I was paying attention, but I was also pondering what he was thinking as he preached. As someone who will probably end up in his shoes one day, what do you do in that situation? Of course I know what you should do, what you have been taught to do, what Jesus says to do. But will your congregation actually do that? Will they step up when this figure literally walks through the door? Will they treat this Jesus-looking man as they would treat Jesus Christ?

Of course I know what the answers should be. That doesn't mean that I didn't struggle with the cognitive dissonance that was running through my mind. I had the Casting Crowns lyrics for "If We Are the Body" running through my head "A traveler is far away from home. He sheds his coat and quietly sinks into the back row. The weight of their judgemental glances tells him that his chances are better out on the road." Sunday morning church services are supposed to be a certain way. I show up for an hour, hope to have some good spiritually fulfilling time with God and in a like-minded community, and go on with my life. When things are out of the ordinary, it interrupts those expectations.

The sermon was completely appropriate for this man's ears. At least that's what I tell myself as I live my incredibly blessed life. I feared that the relatively well-off wealthy white families sitting in the congregation would have the same thought. Let me help this lowly man from my place of privilege. He obviously must be one of the lost sheep. However, I guarantee that every person sitting in that sanctuary was spiritually yearning for something more. Who knows? Maybe this guy is more in tune with God's will than any of us. Bill Klein told us that we must show God's love and truth to all we meet, to all the lost sheep who may not even know they are lost.

I walked out of the service after the benediction, shook Bill's hand, complimented his sermon, and went home. That night at my small group weekly Bible study, I told this story to the group when we were taking prayer concerns. His presence really touched me. We prayed for him, whatever his circumstances may be.

This week, I went to church again. I sat in the same place I sat last week, but this man did not show up. At the beginning of his sermon, Bill gave us a little update from last week. He addressed the fact that a "drifter" (his word) joined our worship service last week. He spoke about how he was eager to talk to the man after the service, which he did. He was also pleased to see so many in the congregation approach the man, whose name is Michael, and welcome him with open, loving arms to Lex Pres. He watched Michael walk away with a family that had invited him to lunch with him. Bill said he hoped that Michael truly felt God's love, warmth, and truth from the members of our church. It warmed my heart so much to hear that members really stepped up to the plate when a "Jesus-disguised" man walked through the doors. In reality, we are all Jesus disguised as normal, everyday people. Even if we aren't, imagine how much better the world would be if we treated each other as if we were.

Even though that story had a reasonably happy ending, I wasn't done being challenged for the day. If you didn't know, a Kenyan mall in Nairobi has come under attack by a Somali militant terrorist group with Al-Qaeda connections. This has lasted over 24 hours with 68 dead and 175 injured. The mall was packed with 1,000 people when the attack started, and the group kept many hostage. Luckily, most of the hostages have been freed now. This is just the most recent atrocity to happen in the world. Syria is a mess, and absolutely nothing is happening to improve that situation as the world sits back and watches. (I don't know what the answer is for that conflict, but I know sitting around is doing no good.) Kim Jong-un murdered musicians while we have been obsessing over Miley Cyrus and her shenanigans. Twelve people were murdered at the Navy Yard last week, and blind people can buy guns. The roommate of one of my high school classmates died last weekend. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is still raging. Injustices are occurring on a daily basis in Nicaragua. Some of the children I worked with in Kentucky still don't know where their parents are. These are just a few stories that hit close to home with me.

Nevertheless, I walked out of my sorority house (read: palace) on campus today and saw the absolute beauty that is W&L's campus and Lexington on the first day of autumn. Normally, I take a deep breath to absorb as much of the natural beauty as I possibly can and allow it to make me optimistic about the day. However, today, I saw it as terrible beauty. How could I enjoy something as simple as a beautiful clear sky and sunshine when all of this tragedy is happening all over the world? It doesn't seem fair. It's not right. I shouldn't be in such a place of privilege when so many people are hurting. So much bad is all around, even near me in Rockbridge County (or on campus, for that matter). I know God is always present, but how can we live in such a bubble when everything changes for the worse outside of that? How do we deal with that cognitive dissonance? How do we truly grapple with the issues in the world? I don't know. I have a feeling I will be working to try to figure that out for a very, very long time to come.