Sure signs that you're getting old...

A) When you crinkle your forehead for any reason, it stays in the same place for a few seconds longer than it should.  (Wrinkles!)

B) One morning, your eyebrows suddenly appear to be taking over your face.  (Really?!? Is this possible?!?)

And then, most importantly of all,

C) Your younger siblings start to have babies:

Congratulations to Keith and Marisa, and welcome Baby Kooistra--we can't wait to meet you!

The Hill I Never Want to Climb

Every morning I wake up with two options:
Drive to school, or walk to school.

Driving involves traffic and traffic lights, pedestrians and a parking lot nowhere near my office.  It is almost always a bit of a hassle, and almost always lines my soul with a layer of crankiness that pervades my day.

Walking, however, involves tree-lined streets, quiet, and birdsong.  It is almost always lovely, except for what I have come to call:

 The Never-Ending Hill.  

Twisting, winding, steeper than it looks.

It goes on.


Forever.

Every morning I wake up and think about that hill, and by the time I leave my house, lock the door, put away my keys, and get myself out to the driveway, I have usually decided to dig those keys out again:  It's a day to drive.

Driving is easier, see.  And my day is so hectic, and involves such a scattering of places to be and people to see and things to do, that if I have my car parked 20 minutes away in the parking lot as opposed to 30 minutes away in my driveway, it just seems like my life is more organized.  Like I'm not unraveling, quite so much.

But really? It's that dang hill.  It sits in my subconscious.  It taunts me with its inevitability, and laughs at my lack of control over it, 'cause there ain't no way around it:

If I'm walkin', I gotta face that hill.

Now, this past week has been one of internal upheaval.  The kind of week where my brain is just a riot of anomaly, and I do not know how to dig myself out.  The kind of week where all I can see are hills that I would do anything not to face.  And so every single day, when confronted with the choice of walk or drive and wary of unraveling, I chose what felt easier: I drove.

Until this morning, when I looked myself in the eye and said
"Girl! You're walking.  Don't even think about that hill, and don't be such a baby."

So, ok.

I walked.

I drank in the air, the sunshine, the birdsong.

And I was reminded of something that I already knew, but conveniently tend to forget:

 That hill is not really all that bad.

Most of the time I get so consumed in my thoughts, my prayers, my music, or my phone conversation that I get to the top and I say,

"Wait! What just happened?  Am I done? Is it over?"

And it is, and I'm fine.  In fact, I feel better--because I am aware of the blood in my veins and my cheeks feel cool and warm all at the same time, and I know that I'm alive.

So today, as I trudged up that hill with my earphones in my ears, my thoughts buzzing around my brain, my blood pumping through my veins, I realized something that I need to remind myself to remember:

The hill always looks big.  The climb may not be the most fun.  But--put your head down, and walk it.  It might not be as bad as you think it will be, and when you reach the top you might just feel better.  And though it doesn't mean it's over---there are a few more little hills before you reach your office, and then there are a few bigger ones on your way back home--it may just mean you're living.

And in the end?  Sometimes you've gotta make the choice to face that hill, 'cause there ain't no way around it.  Just remind yourself to remember: you will be fine.

How blueberries remind me that I have the strength to stay

Sometime this summer I found myself standing in the grocery store, frozen in front of a display of the most beautiful blueberries.  So plump, so pretty, so fresh.  Not to mention--so cheap.  


I couldn't resist.  I bought an enormous amount.  Far more than I could devour during their life span, and far more than I had any business buying.

I brought them into my home, and looked at them lovingly.  Then, I promptly froze them.

They say blueberries are one of the best things you can eat--that there are a multitude of vitamins nestling inside of those purply-blue skins.  What's more, they say the purply-blue is a result of the high number of antioxidants that blueberries contain.

(Since antioxidants supposedly fight wrinkles, and since I am recently highly aware of my wrinkle-potential, I find this fact to be compelling.  Hence, the enormous amount of blueberries now in my freezer.  I am not merely a sucker for pretty blue things at practically no cost, you see.  There is obviously much more depth to me...)

Sometime in the past week, I took one of those frozen blueberry containers out of my freezer.  I set them out to thaw on my counter, and then stowed them in my refrigerator.  Those blueberries were now available--ready to nourish me.

And so, this morning, as I went to dig a handful out of the container to add to my yogurt, and as I noticed the purply-blue stains that were suddenly covering my fingers, I remembered something.  And--though it may seem completely unrelated--it struck me as important to note.

What I remembered was this:

This is the first time since I left my parent's home at the age of 18 that I have lived in one place for longer than 3 years.

Now, I realized this a month ago, when my 3 year anniversary in State College hit.  And, it might not seem like such a big deal to you, my faithful friends and readers.  But here's the thing:

THIS IS A BIG DEAL.  

The reason I didn't bring it up when I first realized it was that I was a little afraid that it wouldn't stick.  That I would freak out at the realization of this long-term commitment.  That I would run away.  Move to Alaska or something dramatic like that.  I have reason to fear this reaction, because--this is what I always do.

When life isn't what I thought it would be--I run away, to someplace where I think it might be better.  

When I've lived too long with the same people--I run away, because it's inevitable that they'll figure out all of my flaws any day now.  

And when that little restless voice inside of me starts to wave it's arms and kick it's feet--I run away, because I know what that voice is reacting to.  It's reacting to a bigger Voice that is saying, "Now that you're comfortable, your feet on the ground, you're going to have to deal with those things you don't want to face."  

And the restless voice says: Run.

But last year, when an opportunity came for me to leave, I looked God in the face.  And I said: I'm going to trust you--not that you'll guide me as you take me to the next place.  I'm going to trust you to give me the strength to stay.  

So here I am.  With a stockpile of blueberries in my freezer and a few in my fridge, reminding me of three important things:

1.   Sometimes God sticks you in a freezer and let's you get good and comfortable.  But, if all you continually try to do is get yourself to the next freezer, you'll never thaw.  You'll never be available to nourish anybody, including yourself.  And everybody you might have blessed just may start to wrinkle.  

2.  When you're good and thawed, you're going to see the stains on your hands.  Purply-blue, beautiful stains.   Stains that come from life-giving juices.  

And,

3.  Stay.  It's ok.  You have a stockpile of Strength (with or without antioxidants) to do it well.

Camp Lauren

 This past Wednesday I dropped by Heather and Ash's in order to pick up a garage door opener, car seat, and this:

Leaving for a three day get-away the very next day, Heather and Ash needed to ensure that Kate and Sarah's world would continue to spin under the watchful eye of Your's Truly.

Hence, when Thursday afternoon rolled around just in time for school pick-up, Camp Lauren kicked into high gear.

Essential elements of Camp Lauren involved some
typical taking-care-of-life things,
such as walking to school, brushing our hair and teeth, dripping ear drops into rebellious ears, reading ourselves to sleep,

and feeding ourselves on a pretty routine basis--

goodies like

 "bunny cheese",

 pizza and sushi,  

strawberry pancakes,

and Dairy Queen.

(We love Dairy Queen...)

Other essentials were more in the category of recreation, like play-dates and bubble bath (not all at the same time, of course...),  

tree-swing swinging,

and popcorn/movie/let's-all-fall-asleep-on-the-couch time.

The recreation category was important, because there was also a lot of work that needed to get done:

 We had to tend to the garden since there were tomatoes longing to be picked;

we had to feed the cats, change their litter box,

and catch them when they figured out how to open the screen door and sneak outside;

we had to finish a sidewalk mural as a surprise for Heather and Ash,

fight off monsters in Michael's with a giant foam sword,

and host a photo shoot for our favorite American Girl Doll and her cuddly pets.

With all of these essentials, you can imagine that Camp Lauren was pretty intense.  

We are happy to report, however, that by the end of our 47 straight hours together the inventory showed a multitude of smiles, a bevy of belly-laughs, and an overload of photos-that-should-be-erased (courtesy of Kate).



And now--to give credit where credit is due, let the credits roll:

 Camp Lauren would not be very interesting, fun, or successful if it weren't for the parenting of Heather and Ash, the sweet thoughtfulness of Sarah, and the hilarious impishness that is Kate.

When can we do it again?

A Piece of Early Fall Late Afternoon Peace

Out of the mouth of one of my favorite babes

I laugh pretty routinely in my day to day life, but today afforded me a giggle unlike any I've had in a long while.

Allow me to set the stage:

School is back in session, so the Summer of Heather and Lauren has officially evolved into: 

Thursday evening dinner.  

Tonight I arrived a bit later than usual, and we were all quickly swept to the overflowing table and the delicious food waiting for us there.  We began to eat with gusto when--suddenly, halfway through--Heather stops and looks at me and says "OH."

I prepared myself for the worst.

She said:

"Today, Kate brought me this card with a picture of a horse on it and she said--

'Mom, I love this horse.  It reminds me of Lauren!!' "

Laughter was immediately burst into by all present.  

[Yes folks.  My own little Katela likened me to a horse.]

Kate ran to get the card, in order to show me.

"It's the curls!", she said.  

"It's the jewelry!"

Then, I read the inscription:

"Let the world stay a beautiful place to live"

Kate said:

"See? That's what you do!"

I giggled with my head in my hands for at least the next 5 minutes.

And here's the ironic thing:

I have always secretly thought I look like a horse.

[Leave it to Kate to say it out loud.]

But what she didn't have to say, and what I took away?

My world is a much more beautiful place to live, thanks to the love of such a special little friend.

The Danger in Real Friendship

Here is something I have come to believe:  

Our God is a Dangerous God.  

I used to look at scenes like these and see only Beauty--look at those clouds! Look at those colors!  Look at the Loveliness of God!

I also used to fight against the Reality of Burden in my life and the lives of my friends, thinking "This can't be from God.  God is Beautiful.  God is Good.  God is Lovely!!!!"

This weekend, however, I sat on the waterfront in Harrisburg and watched the clouds roll determined through the sky.  I felt the wind blow powerfully through my hair.  I reflected on the heavy movement of the water as my dear old friend Dorea and I discussed--with similar heaviness--those Realities of life, and I thought of what has been the theme of my past few months [but really my last 10 years]:

When we signed up to be Children of the Living God, we agreed to allow His Power to be unleashed in our lives.

What we didn't realize is that this can only mean one thing--

Get ready to be uncomfortable.

I was reminded that God has a standard, and He'll stop at nothing to make it a Reality in the lives of His children.

And as we shed some tears I thought--
Discomfort feels like DANGER!!! and causes us to flail about in despair, desperately attempting to make it go away, forgetting some very key things:

He hasn't left us alone in our journey.
And, it's a sure sign that good things are on the way.
It's a sure sign that He cares to take us out of our broken state, because a Dangerous God is a zealous God.

I thought of these things again the next day as I sat quietly with my tried and true Harrisburgian friends, a smile on my face and peace in my heart as I listened to the laughter and the banter being tossed lovingly back and forth through the air over dinner.

We are people who have walked through the Realities of life--together.

And I thought about the reality that allowing God to work His Power in your life, with the help of the people in your life, involves even more DANGER!!!!!
because it involves a nasty little word: Vulnerability.

I hate Vulnerability.

And yet.

Having people share your life means laying Vulnerability out before each other, admitting weaknesses and struggles and the burdens we bear, with honesty.

It means shedding heavy tears, with heavy hearts, for ourselves, for each other.  (Together.)




It means refusing to engage in counterfeit friendship, because it means recognizing that the Danger of Vulnerability is the only way to make a friendship Real.

And as I sat with these precious ladies over coffee and conversation this morning, I was shown yet again that the danger of vulnerability allows us opportunity to remind each other that God is as Good as He is Powerful.  As Beautiful as He is Dangerous.  And that Good, Powerful, Beautiful and Dangerous are all made of the same stuff.

So, after a heavy weekend full of beautiful moments, here is my conclusion:

The Danger in Real Friendship is that we can cry together, and encourage our hearts that we will be ok.  We can just be together, allowing for our brokenness and believing in a God who is at work in all things.

And we can laugh, smile, love--resting in the knowledge that this friendship is not counterfeit, because it is not made of nothing.

It is made of dangerous stuff, and dangerous stuff is Real.