Blank Space

That new T-Swift song is great, but I've got a completely unrelated story.

I'm a writer, right? I'm designed to be a bit broody and ruminate and turn that into words.

So maybe it's my disposition toward slow processing that's made my experiences of last fall so difficult for me to...get out of my system.

There's a lot I don't remember. There's a lot I do remember.

Last year: three weeks of silence and one week of fighting to complete November, the waiting month. Sometimes, good things don't happen to those who wait.

A whole host of awful happened after. Awful that I only found out in segments. Awful that I still don't understand. And I don't need to. And I probably won't ever.

I came out of chapel today to see the retreating figure of a girl I have spent nearly a year's worth of energy and thoughts and behaviors in practical hatred.

And, though I had contemplated it before and decided against more than once, it was finally the right moment.

It does not matter what happened last year.
Or how it happened.

My response to it has been entirely my own to own.
And I have allowed myself to hate and behave in every manner contrary to the grace that I have been shown in my own life.

That ends today.

Today I apologized for my sin.
Didn't wake up thinking I would.
Still kind of shocked that I did.
And I've got that just-graduated feeling where you're having to readjust to not having homework hanging over your head or dreading the homework that will be hanging over your head.
All this space.
All this opportunity.

I don't know if I did it right or if I would go back and revise to make it perfect, but it was sincere and hard and time.

God is good.
God redeems.

Without that one catalyst (and all the ones that followed), literally everything in my life would be different. I would not be in Arkansas, I would not be with Julius, and I may not be who I want to be, but thanks be to God I'm not who I was.

The journey continues.
And it's slow and annoying and endless feeling, but I'm really thankful for these kinds of moments, when I see how God is making good on pain and moving me forward.

A Three Post Day: Mastered

Timing is everything.

It was this time last year that the lights started closing in on me. 

All manners of darkness swam into my heart, and, folks, to be frank, my very life is a miracle. 

By the Grace of God, I am what I am. 

I was delivered via airplane into the arms of my parents and friends, who were unnerved by the damage a few months had wrought on me. 

My first semester papers scored poorly, but I am shocked they were even brought into existence. 

My memories of those 40 days at home are few. The depression I fought so terribly hard against while away consumed me when it realized I was back in safety (literally). 

But Belfast was where God had sent me. 

And he hadn't unsent me. I just needed fuel. 

February first had me back and miracles happened. Four months of miracles followed four months (plus one) of nightmares. 

I was resurrected but I wasn't the same. 

Since December, I haven't been able to complete a single book, not in full. 

My second semester papers were written, but it was with difficulty. 

Writing that thesis was one of the most challenging academic experiences of my life. Culture shock, a new job, facing old realities with new perspective, a new relationship, finding friends, just...struggle. 

But sentence by sentence, God pulled those paragraphs out of me, and I turned it in. 

Now, three months later, I am so humbled to announce that I have passed, with flying colors and every synonym for the word "eccentric" written on my paper's critiques. 

I am proud not because I accomplished anything. 

Last December gives every indication that when I rely on my own strength, I run out, to the point of near death or permanent destruction. 

This work, friends, was the Lord's. 

"When the people returned to Jerusalem from captivity in Babylon, they became as men who dreamed. Their heart's were filled with laughter, their tongues with shouts of praise. 

Then it was said among the nations, 'The Lord has done great things for them!'

Indeed, the Lord has done great things for us and we are filled with joy." 

A Three Post Day: The Lonestar Rescue Mission

The college fair circuit brings people together.

We may never see those hoards of students again, but come rain or come shine, we, the counselors from universities all across the states, will probably join together for a 13 or more day string of the same fairs. Sometimes, we see one another twice in the same day--or more depending on if we end up in the same Starbucks. 

We bond. 

Thank goodness for that. 

Remember the time Abilene had to rescue my promo (and me) from the rain/parking lot incident? 

It was a thing. 

Today, yet again, I required rescuing. 

My keys and I...had a falling out. 

Or, rather, a falling in. 

Falling into my trunk. 

Without having had unlocked the car. 

And a dead phone. 

I'm not sure if they had slipped from the hood into the trunk or if I had set them there on the back ledge, but there they were, just out of reach. I could even touch their plastic tag. 

Dallas Christian and Cal Baptist were on it, managing to fanagle their way down into the top opening with the ear of sunglasses to hit the trunk button on the downward-flipped keys. 

Miracles. They're a thing. 

A Three Post Day: Birthday Bio

She's been the talk of the blog lately, but today is Leslie Lancaster's birthday.

I think she is great.

Leslie and I became friends three years ago during the summer when we roomed together in Belfast for a trip.

While there, I learned a few things about her:
-Leslie is a very deep human who consciously constructs and conducts herself with others. She doesn't say or do things lightly, which I appreciate. And, if she feels as though she has spoken or behaved rashly, she is quick to communicate a thoughtful apology.
-Leslie secretly likes sneak attack cuddles.
-Leslie appreciates the opportunity to observe before she joins and, though she enjoys feeling included, she does not appreciate when she is added in a way that feels forced.

Since then, I have grown to find in Leslie a friend of unswerving loyalty, of truth, of very good thoughts, of very challenging questions, and of some very odd talents (How many of your friends have whittled you an elephant before?).

Sometimes, the in-person stuff for us is hard. We always like to spend time with one another, but a lot of our friendship is through paper and pen, even when we lived on the same campus.

Through that mode, I have not only had a safe place for myself to process life, but I have had the honor of hearing my private friend sift through her own questions and concerns.

In Leslie, I have found a friend for life, and I am so thankful to celebrate the world keeping her for yet another year.

A Book, A Box, and a Blessing

Gifts are not my favorite.

It makes me anxious to think of people spending money on me, especially if they're doing so after a misplaced sense of obligation: I'M SO HAPPY TO JUST HAVE YOU WITH ME LET'S PLAY JENGA!!! 

But thoughtful gifts stick with me absolutely forever and make me feel warm and sunny inside. 

Until yesterday, two were tied for first place. 

1. When I was a freshman in college, my boyfriend gave me an old copy of Oliver Twist. I actually dislike Dickens. A lot. But our first bonding moment involved me quoting OT and him mistaking it for "Little Orphan Annie". It was a cute thing. He even stole my mom's number, called and asked her if I already had it. Then, remembering I love old books, he went out and found it special for me. It was such a great, tangible moment of, "I know you!!!"

2. A second moment like that was the year after when my best friend of that semester presented me with a small gold-enameled jewelry box. It has daffodils (my favorite flower) engraved into it and it's delicate and beautiful without being too frilly and fussy. She had found it in an antique shop and thought of me. I use it every morning and think of her. It's practical and lovely both.   

Both of these were off the beaten track. Not mass manufactured or easily found and very...deliberate. Not like what I do sometimes and drop in Target to pick up something real fast before heading to the party. 

However, yesterday, something arrived on my desk that now ties for third place. 

On Monday, I got to spend time with my friend Leslie, who has been my penpal and confidante for what...? Three years now? She roomed with me when I went and visited NI for the first time, and we have written each other letters since (despite being on the same campus for one of those years). 

This is the same girl who whittled me an elephant with an eerily dead-on note attached. Sometimes, she Charles Wallace-es me. 

Yesterday, atop my desk, appeared two glasses (with lemon slice pictures on the sides) and a pitcher, all three filled to the brim with lemons, and a note stating:

 "Jamie Odom

Found these and thought you might put them to a worthy use.

Abundantly yours, 

Life" 

All day, when people passed my aromatic workspace and asked after my fruit, I'd tell them Life sent them to me. 

It was thoughtful, timely, unexpected, and so very sweet. Brightened my whole day. 

Unselfconscious Gratitude

Today I did my first local school visit, a pizza lunch.

It made me think of the last time I brought a food incentive to a school. It was cupcakes and not a single one was interested in my university. ha.

However, I had the opportunity to have a really good conversation with one of the adults who worked there. At the end, I was still loaded with 3 dozen incentive cupcakes and offered them to her.

Her response was of total shock and gratitude; she told me of what a blessing it was, that her son's birthday was the next day and she had needed to bring treats for his class.

It was so genuine.

There was no sob story of why she couldn't provide them herself, though she had told me quite a bit of her life story during our sit there that would have made it easy to. And I'm not being cold when I say sob story: I probably would have teared up.

This past summer I met a girl who, for her birthday, got a mattress. And she was with these kids who got things like iPhones or Coach bags or other hoity toity and was just raving about how awesome this mattress thing was and how excited she was, as she had never had a new one before.

Again, there wasn't a mark of attempt at extracting pity. She was just excited.

For some reason, we as a people group have forgotten how to interact without weighing and measuring each and every word. Well, that's not true. I've seen a whole lot of people go off the handle. More, we have forgotten how to be exuberant.

What is so embarrassing or undignified or wrong with being thrilled at receiving something so seemingly simple as cupcakes or a mattress?

We are so quick to criticize--loudly--in both public and private, so quick to become angry, to become sad, to become wild. But when it comes to being delighted in one another, we are quick not to gush but to check ourselves.
 I think we should check ourselves on that.

What I'm Noticing

Previously, I wrote about my yoga instructor's catch phrase: Notice what you notice.

I'm here now to tell you what I'm noticing.

The past seven days have flooded my body (literally) with anxiety. My cortisol levels have got to be just through the roof. My back has been locking up, my muscles are stiff, and my jaw is sore from unconsciously clenching my teeth.

There's a point to this, don't get super concerned.

Because of how much stress I was in, I decided on Sunday that I would go to 4 yoga sessions instead of my normal 2 per week.

Monday morning came, though, and I had stayed up late, so I chose sleep.
Tuesday morning came, though, and it was raining, so I chose sleep.
Wednesday morning came, though, and I chose sleep.

The past two nights, I've slept 10 hours each. It's not like I'm lacking sleep.

Notice what I notice.
Yesterday, our yoga instructor sent us a link to this article about the ten things the writer wishes people knew about yoga.

It's actually pretty good. The one that's sticking out to me this morning, is the point about how yoga is meant to be frustrating. I think it means physically, but shoot. It's mentally frustrating, too.
You think way too much about everything and about nothing and stupid things and oh my goodness I think my legs are going to rip out of their hip sockets.

But yoga is frustrating before you even get there.
Logically, I know that I really, really need to go. It would unknot my mind and body and align me for the day.
But I won't go.

Because even though I'm in pain and this is kind of masochistic, I'm choosing the known hurt over the unknown hurt.
Going to yoga is going to hurt really badly tomorrow not just because of my hurting body but because I've waited to do it. It'll also hurt because I've held off on thinking well, too.

Isn't that always the case?
Don't we so so often choose to harbor our sin or our pain or our anxiety because we understand it and know how to live within its constraints?
And later, after we have been forced to deal, don't we always wish we had taken ourselves on in stages instead of holding off until we're full underwater?