a walk in an odd place

This weekend was bookended with greatness. The choir concert was superb. I love choir; I love listening to choirs. I was in choir throughout all of middle and high school, but I am wonderfully glad I am not in it here. How amazing is it listening to numerous voices coming together. The choir concert was one bookend. From then on the weekend went downhill for a bit. Saturday, I believe, was the most pointless day I have had in a long time. I slept until noon, went to lunch, watched a movie with the roomie, and laid in bed for about four hours. I did not take a nap or read, I just laid there doing nothing. It was probably necessary, but I felt like such a pile. Then, a movie with a couple of good friends. Across the Universe is a good movie--intense at some points, but overall two thumbs up. Today, Sunday, I went to my grandparents in Orange City for Sunday dinner, a common occurrence, but three of my four cousins on that side were there today. Raquel, 17, Riley, 11, and Regan 9--almost 10!!, were there. We were missing Ranell, 16. (Yes--we are all named with "r". My name is Renae, my sisters are Rebecca and Rachel, my mom is Ruth and my dad is Russ, my uncle is Randy, my grandpa is Robert, and our last name is Rowenhorst). Anyways, I helped Raquel try on my old prom dresses and we had a "girls" day with my younger cousins and my grandma. I forgot how much I miss hanging out with my cousins. They are all so genuine and absolutely love life even if it hasn't handed them the best luck. After our prom talk my cousins left and my grandma and I had a wonderful talk. She started out with "have you kissed any frogs lately?" I looked at her with a bit of confusion and she explained herself. "Have you found any princes lately-you know you have to kiss a few frogs before you find that one prince." I love love love my grandma. (This is a different grandmother than the one I mentioned in a previous blog). I left their house with homework in mind and hopes of tea, however I was sidetracked. I found myself driving into the local cemetery. I walked around in the silence. I wasn't really in search of anything, but if felt right to be there. As I walked around I found my great grandparents on the Rowenhorst-Rowenhorst side. I did not know my great grandma, but she held on to meet me. She died one week after I was born. I have heard wonderful stories about her, and I have always felt some sort of connection with her even though I do not remember a thing of her. I sat there, in front of her grave and told her everything. After the long talk with my great grandmother I came back to Dordt and continued my honesty with a close friend. It was insanely needed and is greatly appreciated. Now, I am sitting in my room, alone, watching Peter Pan. !!!!! I forgot how much I love Disney movies. I wish the library had Beauty and the Beast. That movie is, hands down, my favorite Disney movie. I hope my children can grow up knowing the Disney movies I grew up on: Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, The Jungle Book, etc.

a kite, a song, and a red breasted bird

It may be snowing right now, but it is Spring. Everything points to it. I saw my first robin yesterday. I have this thing where when I see my first robin of the spring I put Jack Johnson into my CD player. I listened to Queen's "Killer Queen" as well. As of late, that is my favorite song. Favorite album-Plans, Death Cab. Favorite Artist/s-Iron and Wine. I think Melissa can agree with me that Plans is an amazing album and can be listened to unlimited times.
As I was driving back from a meeting in Orange City yesterday, I had my sun roof open and my Jack Johnson playing and I realized that I want to fly a kite. Does anyone want to join me? I have one and it is awesome! It is Iowa so there isn't a lack of wind. Lets pack a picnic and fly a kite--please?!?
Something happened and I have been uplifted...(that may not be the correct word). Maybe it is the upcoming summer, maybe it's winter falling and spring growing, maybe it is a change of view, maybe it is a stronger understanding of myself. I love long talks over coffee (or tea). There is something about sitting with one other person and getting everything out into the open. I do not have to hide behind anything anymore. I have no idea when this happened, and yes things aren't 100% yet, but they are getting there.
My roommate and I were talking tonight about wonderful things. It has been the first time in a long time that I cried because I was so happy. What a wonderful feeling! I didn't cry because I laughed so incredibly hard, but it was a cry of true happiness.
A sense of hope has presented itself.

A side note-I am completely happy for you (You know who you are). If you are happy, I am happy (as cliche as that sounds, it is true).

A note to everyone: embrace Spring. Listen to your 'Spring' music. This is the time of the year that I regain conscienceness of the rebirth of creation.

jezebel

Sitting in my grandparents office, taking in the smells of my childhood, I snatched up a book. I did not look at it first; I simply dug into the bookcase, and took the one my finger tips touched first. Laying on the third futon in 4 days, I chuckled when I read the title. It was a small book, a mere 97 pages, but it contained pieces of my life. Intrigued, I opened it to read the first sentence and broke down into tears-tears that have not come in months, oddly enough.
"You may be thinking, But why is it necessary to cry out? Doesn't scripture tell us that God knows our hearts? When we utter a prayer in our heart or mind, surely there's no critical need to express aloud what God already knows."
Wow. An unspeakable 'wow'.
To those who are confused as to why this quote holds such an unbreakable grasp on me... I will not go into great detail here, but if you wish, ask me about it in person. It really should be discussed in person anyway.

I have the fishbowl feeling again. It never does go away, but there are times when it weans it's way out of my everyday life. Not today. Today is a flood of fishbowlness. Who knows why it is obvious one day and scarce the next?

For the past week I have been soaking up the sun in California. I did not come back with a tan but I did come back with a stronger understanding of love and family. My grandparents have been married for 60 years. My grandfather, 84, is in the early stages of alshiemerz and my grandmother, 82, is the rock. He may not be able to cut his own food, remember his daughters names, or even know what he did in the previous five minutes, but he does remember the life they shared together. No, he obviously does not remember everything; goodness, I heard him even call his wife his mother once. She corrected him quickly. Even through this deterioration of memory the bond still exists.
I don't know how to explain it. Maybe it is something you have to witness yourself, I don't know. All I can truly say is when I would see them hold hands and just sit...(I don't want to get sappy but) I could not help but think that that was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My grandmother is a spitfire. One night I was talking with her and one of my aunts and my grandmother says out of the blue, "Sex, sex, sex. That is all people talk about these days. It is everywhere. I had no clue about that kind of stuff before I was married. I tell you, I was in for a surprise." My aunt and I looked at eachother in a kind of awkwardness and giggled. The subject turned to questions of how much I knew about the subject, and I quickly turned it into a different direction. Furthermore, my grandmother and I were picking oranges off of one of their trees and a neighbor boy (more teenagerish) was outside and she muttered to herself, "I wonder if he has been smoking dope again." She looked at me and smiled. "Well he does." HA!
Alrighty, one more. She took my grandfather for a ride and I went along to go into Trader Joes to help pick something up for her. As I was getting out of the car she told me she would jsut wait in the car with her husband. As he looked over at her she laughed and said "Don't hurry Renae, we are going to make love in the car." The look on my grandfather's face was priceless-confusion and utter shock.

Whoever reads this may believe that I am 'better'. Not to break it to you, but I am far from it. Break has taught me that. Please, let's sit down with a cup of coffee and talk this out. Just listen. Listen. No advice. Do not pretend you understand. Do not say things happen for a reason. Do not tell me things will be fine. Listen. Listen.

Just listen.

fields of naked land

Love.
Prayer.
Forgiveness.


Strip yourself down to nothing. Break away from the things you define yourself by. Step away from the people you believe make you who you are. Now what?
You can no longer call yourself a daughter, mother, child, son, roommate, friend, brother, sister, or student. Who are you?


Why do you act the way you do?
Introvert?
Extrovert?
Realist?
Idealist?
Idrealist? (J)

Why do you believe the things you do?
Democrat?
Republican?

How do you define your faith?
Christianity?
Hinduism?
Buddhism?
Animism?


I have been walking up a dark staircase, and when I get to the top I still am expecting a stair when there isn’t one. My foot goes up, comes down, and “oh shit.” There is that moment of feeling completely…helpless, but that moment usually lasts seconds. Usually.

How do I define myself without the previously listed things? How does anyone really begin to define themselves?

If I was not raised in a Christian household, would I consider myself a Christian?

Definition of self-frantically pulling out hair in hopes of some sort of answer.

I have been fighting this question/definition for some time now, and I have not gotten any closer to an answer. I know I will never be able to fully define who I am and what the point of my life is, but some sort of inkling would be nice. I am trying to stay away from who I think people want me to be and who I really am. I keep running myself into circles. Round and round. I AM GETTING DIZZY.

I heard a quote today. It was supposed to bring some sort of hope or comfort. I do not believe it lived up to its expectations. It was said in hopes of a response along the lines of "Ah. Yes. That makes sense." Those words were not spoken. Nothing was said.

"Never forget the three powerful resources you always have available to you: love, prayer, and forgiveness."


Love…
“I love you.”

It is said too easily in our society, but not enough.

We all say it on a whim without really knowing what it means. It is not a feeling. It is not a portrayal of our actions to let people know what the relationship means. It is a commitment. It means I will work with you through anything. I will be here, maybe not in the same way we started, but I will be here. Friendship or otherwise, I will be here. Someone told me once that you cannot hate someone until you have loved them first. First hearing this brought intrigue and a bit of confusion; however, think about it. Hate is such a strong emotion. It comes about by being disappointed, misled, disregarded, etc. by someone you truly care about. If someone you did not love did these things it would not matter; hate would not grow. Is hate and love seemingly the same thing?


Prayer…
“God, please be with so-and-so today.”

Are these the words that form our prayers?

They did make up the majority of mine.

Many of you know my present standing on prayer. I am working on it. I wish it was easier, but if everything was easy we would not get anywhere would we? (Think about it.)

Praying for something to miraculously happen does not mean you helped in the matter. If a friend is in dire need of strength, a hand to hold, some foundation, help them. Help in this sense does not mean prayer.


Forgiveness…
"Forgive and forget"

How does one come upon forgiveness? It is not something you can acquire through steps, is it? How do you forgive someone for something unspeakable?


I decided when I was about ten that I would never say “I forgive you” to someone without truly knowing that whatever was done was forgiven.

‘Forgive and forget’—No. Impossible. I will forgive, but I will never forget. What has happened is now a part of me and I will never forget.

I desperately want to say those words. No, correction; I desperately want to mean those words.

But, I cannot force it.

March 11, 2008

is ____________.

**fill in the blank**

the list

January 1st usually brings these thoughts to mind to many people. I, this year, was worrying about other such things and did not make a list/resolution; honestly, I don't really like the idea. But, as I was driving home from Orange City last night I couldn't help but create a mental list of things in which I wish I did more of.

I should...
take more pictures
write more
sing at the top of my lungs...in private :)
soak up the sunshine
continue my painting
be honest with myself
------and others
read...for fun more
call my high school friends
run harder and faster
listen to my mother ;) (She does know best)
write letters to my sisters frequently
challenge myself
provide an ear
------a shoulder
------and a heart
travel
learn how to knit a hat and not just a scarf (I now have about 5)
listen
ask for help when I need it
smile at everyone
learn how to play Rook
jump in the newly formed puddles
remember my past
------not regret it
live in the present
------not forget about it
and
dream for the future
------not worry about it

nose hairs

It is March and it snowed. I do not know what is within us that believes once March hits it is supposed to be spring, but everyone has it. Initially, frustration set in when first seeing the white flakes fall while I ate my wonderful cereal and raisin toast in the commons. However, after my wonderful piano lesson I just stood outside of the campus center and soaked the snow in. It was beautiful. It was falling horizontally; my parents warned me of this. I had never seen snow fall this way. I enjoyed it. It may be frigid but it is beautiful. There is something about walking outside and breathing in the cold air and feeling your nose hairs freeze. Refreshing. We must embrace this snow fall, even if it was on March 6th. Who knows, it may be the last snow fall of the 2007 to 2008 winter. Spring will come and the snow will melt, sometime. Iowa winters, I have heard, take up 7 months of the year, and people get sick of the cold and snow quickly. But, please, embrace the beauty of the cold, frigid whiteness. In its own way... it is gorgeous.

the tapping

I am… quite possibly… living in a fishbowl. I discovered that tonight. Some people randomly come up and tap on the glass; they make sure you are still there… that you are still alive, but there is no real communication.

I am sitting here, in the Bean, watching all the other groups. There are distinctive groups. The ones studying, not pretending, but actually getting their work done, are sitting in the corners. There are ones who are pretending to study—they have their books out and open but are talking with others or are even just staring off into space. And then there is the other group—they don’t even pretend to study. They are loud and do not care who they are interrupting. Yes, I know, if I really wanted a quiet place to get things done I would go to the library or to my room or somewhere else… anywhere else. But, it is the people here that really make it what it is, whether I like them or not (that is not meant to sound harsh, or is it?)

This fishbowl feeling is not prevalent just now, however. It is everyday. Who actually asks how you really are? If people really did that and if people answered completely honest we would have many more deep and heartfelt conversations. People like to pretend that they are doing more than just tapping on the glass. “How are you? Really, how are you?” “How was your day?” “Are you sure you are feeling okay?” These questions are ones I get every day, but do these people really, truly want to know?

I have a few people who are the ones who put the fish food in the bowl.

Does any of this make sense?

The people who actually interact and ask the questions that need to be asked come in few numbers. I don’t need a lot of them, honestly. But, sometimes I just want to scream all the things I am going through to those who think everything is okay. Maybe I have an anger problem… that is quite possible.

Yet, here I am, in the fishbowl. Watching.

comfort

It was clean, but it is supposed to be. I was the youngest person there. I did not expect to drive up to a cancer center. "This can't be it, it is a cancer center. This can't be it." But, it was where I was supposed to go. The shock of it all sunk in quite quickly. Looking around, soaking in the place I could call my future home, looking at the people who could become my future clinical family was such a huge thing to take in at once.
They handed me a huge pile of papers to fill out... Full name... Birth date... Address... Allergies... Religion... "Religion? Why do they need to know my religion?" The nurse told me it was for support groups. That made everything hit me. This is real. Real. It is happening to me, not a friend, not a family member, not someone I know distantly.
I am ready, however. After sitting in the waiting room for 45 minutes and walking back and forth from the blood lab to the C-Scan room I realized that I am doing what needs to be done. If something is wrong we are going to catch it. I am not sitting in my room and thinking that these bruises and the swelling is nothing of great importance; I am at a doctors office hoping to figure things out.
Thinking about what I could have is not going to change anything. I have what I have, or I don't have what I don't have and there is nothing I can do about it while I wait for the results. "Why am I so calm about it?" I honestly do not know. "How am I so calm about it?" Again, I honestly do not know. Something hit me in the waiting room. Maybe it was the old man sitting next to me telling his wife he didn't bring her purse out of the lab because he is a man and doesn't carry a purse, maybe it was the old woman who had 'Louis Louis' as her ring tone, I don't know. But, something hit me and made me realize that I am working on it.
The past couple of months have been a series of appointments here and there and I am working on it. I am not hiding from it anymore; I am not hiding from anything. Well, I am trying not to hide from anything. I am going to take the news as it comes.
I am, honestly, okay with what is going on. Some people may not understand how I am not insanely worried or even freaking out about all of this, but somehow there is a sense of serenity here.
In a place where comfort is not always found, I found it. Who knows how... but it is here and I am going to hold onto in as long as I can.
I am in a good place, a better place... for now.

the cross on the side of the road

Maybe only I can see it. Honestly, here, I am the only one who can see it. I may know it’s there, but its existence is not in full, yet. Being away from home for eight months of the year can, somehow, separate home from school. Two worlds do not really exist, but that is how it seems sometimes, especially when something like this happens.

It happened. He is gone. But, it does not seem real. Not because I do not want to accept it, but because being here, away from the place we both called home, no one knows his name. No one here knows his past, his family, his friends, and his insane ability to turn your worst day into your best. I don’t expect them to. It would just be nice to be able to grieve openly and with people who are grieving as well.

Home will be interesting. His face wont be at regular gatherings, his laughter wont surround our conversations, and his arms will no longer embrace me as I tell my ‘older brother’ that I need a hug.

I do not want to live in this grief and fear--not knowing of what will happen to me when I go home, but in order to fully accept what happened I need to travel north.

This cross I see every day follows me whether others can see it or not. What are we supposed to do when home and school become two different worlds?