Let it Snow

        This week we got our first burst of winter weather. The storm was accompanied by sharp winds, slippery sidewalks and the kind of cold that makes your nose stick together if you breathe too deeply. Despite these mildly uncomfortable conditions, I am a firm believer that there is nothing more magical than walking in the snow. As I toddle my way to class, in boots that are a size too big, I can’t resist the urge to stick out my tongue and lick the snowflakes that fly in my face. Everything around me is covered in a beautiful layer of icing and I am in awe of the way my daily trudge across campus has become a wonderland stroll. The bare trees and muddy grass, which were leftover from fall, are now transformed into a glittering display of icicles and fluff.

The old is gone. The new has come. These are the words that ring through my ears as a snowflake kisses my cheek. And then I am reminded of a song I have sung in church thousands of times, “My sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.” I begin to sing it under my breath. As it turns out, this line comes almost directly from the Bible. So this week I made time to read Isaiah 1:16-19, which says, “Stop doing wrong, learn to do right! Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow. ‘Come now, let us reason together,’ says the LORD. ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land.’”

What a perfect picture of forgiveness! Snow. This year has been difficult for me. At times, my heart has felt like the ugly, barren trees. I have felt useless and hopeless, unsure of my purpose. I have doubted God, hurt others, and tried to handle everything in my own strength. Then the words of Isaiah remind me that I have a choice in the matter, “If you are willing and obedient” then you will be cleansed. I can invite forgiveness into my life. I can invite the snow to cover all of my grime and make me glimmer. However, I believe there is one important difference between the literal snow and the healing that can be received from our Heavenly Father. Snow melts. It only temporarily covers the muddiness beneath the surface. But God’s forgiveness and love transforms us permanently, making us beautiful on all levels.

I am so thankful for the snow that has brought joy into my daily routine. But I am even more grateful for the renewal that has been sent from my Father. Today I choose to embrace forgiveness. I choose to let go of the past, the hurt and the disappointment. Make me clean, Lord. Make me new. Let it snow!

Algebra and Tylenol

For one year of my life I sat dazed in fourth period while my high school algebra teacher tried to convince me that quadratic formulas actually matter in the real world. Well, I hate to break it to you, Mr. Dub, but I haven’t gazed at a coefficient in several years, and I’m doing just fine. Math was never my preferred subject in school. In fact, at times it was my arch nemesis. Honestly, I didn’t care if x equaled y, and come to think of it, the unanswered question still doesn’t bother me. I remember spending hours trying to work up the courage to open my textbook and begin tackling the problems. After a valiant effort and two Tylenol had failed to help me, I would wail and moan and call my uber-genius friend, Jordan. Somehow he always seemed to know what x equaled. Although I have never reconciled my differences with algebra, Mr. Dub was one of my favorite teachers. The thing that I admired most about him was that he was enthusiastic about the classes he taught. Creative, witty, and patient, he approached the subject from every possible angle in an effort to connect with each of his students. I want to be like Mr. Dub. Not a math teacher, of course. But I want to be passionate about whatever I do.

The question then becomes, what do I do? As I stumble around for answers about my future career, I am inspired by the words of Howard Thurman who said, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” I take comfort in the fact that God has given me specific gifts for a purpose, even if I’m still learning how to use them fully. While I continue to put the pieces of my life puzzle together, I feel nervous and excited in the same moment. But just as Mr. Dub found his calling, I trust God will reveal mine to me. After all, the world is craving a little God-inspired passion, and I might as well be the one to catch it.

Big Kid

I am convinced that family reunions are a mild form of torture. There is nothing more mind-numbing than sitting under a backyard tent in the middle of July sipping watered-down lemonade and eating burnt hamburgers with people who share your blood line but know very little about your real life. Family reunions are filled with unbearable small talk about the odd weather we’ve been having, the unpleasant details of Grandma’s knee surgery, the news on which cousin just moved out of the house for a third time, and how the Detroit Tigers just can’t seem to catch a break. And there is always that one aunt. You often find yourself questioning if she is even a member of the family or just stumbled into the yard when she saw the sagging balloons dangling from the mailbox. She wanders around the party, giving everyone a smelly bear hug, exclaiming, “Well, my land! Look how big you’ve gotten!” Although I’m never quite sure if she is referring to the few extra pounds I’ve gained in college or if she is alluding to my more mature hairstyle, I can’t deny the fact that time is rapidly passing. Every year I feel more like a “big kid”.

My freshman year of college was one of adjustment. I was on my own for the first time, making new friends and drinking plenty of coffee. Generally, the year was carefree and most of the time I felt like a kid at summer camp. My second year has been remarkably different yet distinctively special. So far, this semester has been one of growth and pain and worry and joy. It has been filled to the brim with both tears and laughter. As I dive deeper into my courses I am getting a clearer picture of who God has made me to be. I am discovering my passions. I am realizing my weaknesses. I am thinking about the future. And the reality is, the future is not so distant anymore. Sometimes its nearness keeps me awake at night, left alone with my anxious thoughts and the clunking air conditioner. Other times it makes me enthusiastic and expectant, ready to see where God will take me.

Upon entering college, I was set on my field of study and convinced that I knew what I wanted to do after graduation. Looking back, the word naïve comes to mind. I was determined not to be one of “those people” who changed their major, but God decided to humble me and show me that, in fact, I don’t have it all together. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I was wrong. And although it terrifies me to take a new direction, I am eager about the possibilities. Passion is stirring inside of me, and it’s waiting to be unleashed. Apparently, my eccentric aunt was right, I am getting bigger. So, no matter how much I want to deny it or how much it rattles my tidy plans, real life is looming on the horizon just waiting to be grasped.  

Good Old-fashioned Heartache

Chalk up another one. My list of failed relationships with the male species is expanding yet again. You know how most people “never make the same mistake twice”? Well, apparently I missed that memo and have become an expert double dipper. I feel like a miserable failure, I hate hurting other people. Although I continue to knock myself out in the dating arena, I have learned one incredibly effective maneuver. I have found the cure for good old-fashioned heartache.

This weekend I took a mini road trip with my three roommates, Noelle, Leah and Lindsey. We made the three and a half hour trek to Wheaton College to watch Lindsey’s brother start during his senior football season. We stood huddled together in our Mickey Mouse ponchos and flowered umbrellas as the typical mid-west weather graced us with its presence. Although I would not classify myself as a football fanatic, it was a great afternoon with the Carmichael family. After the game we trudged our way to a favorite Chicago pizza joint and let our soggy, rolled jeans escape from the rain. The rest of the weekend consisted of relaxing in the hot tub, late night television marathons in our pajamas, church together on Sunday morning and a visit to the local apple orchard. Our car ride was filled with heartfelt discussions about boys, family and how time seems to be speeding up now that we’re in college. In between our serious talks we wailed along with Noelle’s ipod selection of classic pop songs.

You see, there was nothing magical about the weekend, but there is something incredibly healing about spending time with a few of your closest friends. I truly believe that friendship is the cure to heartache. With each floundered relationship I am increasingly grateful for the friends that remain by my side through thick and thin. These girls have seen me in my prime moments and in my worst. They have seen the way my hair sticks up in the morning, they have listened to me whine about my frustrating professors and countless times they have patiently waited for me to apply my eyeliner, even though I am already running five minutes late. Through it all they still love me. They push me, hug me, and call me out on the carpet if needed.

So, you want relationship advice? Don’t ask me. You want friendship advice? I say the more the merrier. Surround yourself with people who know your heart, with people who see past your charade, because true friends bring joy to your life. True friends help you stitch up your heart.

An Ugly Epidemic

Have you ever been in the midst of a conversation with someone who barely had time to look you in the eyes? They asked the standard, hollow questions, as if rehearsed for quickest expulsion. And if that wasn’t bad enough, their gaze was constantly wandering as you answered. You knew that little, if any, of what you said was comprehended. Before long, they flitter off to the next event, leaving you with a case of mild whiplash. You should have saved your breath.

Unfortunately, I have been both the victim and perpetrator of such meaningless conversations. I have many theories for why these interactions are becoming more common. Maybe they are a result of a fast-paced 21st century world. Maybe they occur because most Americans would rather hear their own voice than sincerely listen. Or maybe they exist because most people are completely unaware of the growing problem. But the more I consider this ugly epidemic, the more I believe that it is the result of a “next big thing” syndrome. We are constantly looking to the future, and although this mentality fuels engineering, business and technology, it does very little to build relationships. In fact, I believe that it is not as much an issue of looking to the future, as it is a refusal to live in the present.

I have trouble with that. Truly living in the beauty of today. I would rather daydream about next year, or what my life will be like in ten years, instead of living for today. During the summer I wish that I could be Christmas shopping. In the dead of a mid-west winter, I long to drive with my windows down, the warm spring air brushing my cheeks. Contentment is something that I struggle with almost every day of my life. Just like the person who cannot pause for a meaningful conversation, I find it difficult to stop and enjoy the magic of the here-and-now.

I know that God has given me big dreams and an eager heart for a reason. But I also know that He wants me to slow down. Recently I listened to Bill George, a Harvard professor and an influential businessman. During his talk he said, “Follow your compass, not your clock.” How true that is of me! God has given me desires, but they do not need to be fulfilled right now, I just need to keep moving in the right direction.

So, as I sit in an over-airconditioned Starbucks, sipping a half-melted caramel frapuccino, staring blankly out the window, hoping to find some answers, I can hear His voice.“Be still, Heather, and know that I am God. I have everything under control. Stop worrying about tomorrow. Stop worrying about the next ten years. Stop worrying about the next ten minutes. Enjoy today. Enjoy the relationships I have given you. Enjoy this time in your life. Draw closer to me, and in my time I will give you the desires of your heart. Be still.”

Prince Charming?

As a little girl, I thought that Prince Charming was perfect. He was gentle and strong. He would sweep you into his arms and dance with you until midnight. He protected you by fighting off dragons or evil witches. His kiss brought you back to life. He even found your shoes if you dropped them!

Although my idea of the perfect guy has shifted slightly since these days, the basic elements are still there. I want someone strong and courageous. I want someone who adores me, but also loves other people. I want someone adventurous, someone who drives fast with the windows down. I want someone who puts God first and is a reflection of Him. I want someone with ambition. I want someone who lives life to the fullest and appreciates the little things like a sunset or the way clouds look after it rains. I want someone who sings at the top of their lungs and isn't afraid of what other people think. I want someone who respects their parents. I want someone who challenges me to become a better friend. I want someone who keeps me accountable as I grow with God. I want someone that I can spend the rest of my life loving completely.

I am coming to the end of a fabulous book that Lindsey recommended to me at the beginning of the summer. It's called: When God Writes Your Love Story. I've developed a sort of love-hate relationship with the book because each time I pick it up I am reminded that God truly does have an amazing man saved for me. But I am also thrown into a whirl of frustration because it convicts me of my lack of patience. The book is always reminding me that singleness is a blessing from God because it allows us grow into the people that He wants us to be. Singleness strengthens us because we have to find our identity in God instead of our worth in a relationship. Oh! How I want to be more patient!

Recently, I've been praying for my husband almost every night. It's a strange thing really, because as far as I know, I haven't met him yet. But he's out there. And I wonder what he's doing right now while I sit in my girl-ish world and dream about him? Although it's nice to dream, I want to stay far away from the idea that it takes another person to complete me. God didn't make me a half person, wandering aimlessly in search of Mr. Wonderful! He made me with a specific purpose. I want to be patient and enjoy this time, building deeper relationships with God, my family and my friends, not just waiting for life to begin when I meet Prince Charming. One last thing I've been learning is that I want to be pursued. I'm done chasing after relationships and trying to make things work out between every frog that comes my way. Since when did initiating become the girls job, anyway?! The man God has for me is out there...and I want to leave it up to God to bring us together in His perfect timing. I'm trusting that God is preparing both of our hearts at this very moment.

Until then, to the man of my dreams...I'm waiting for you.

Slippery Summer Success

To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty,
to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better,
whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier
because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

True success is difficult in the summer. In my brief 19 years of existence, I've come to realize that summer opens the door to sleeping in until the day has past, laying around the pool as though it were an occupation, eating too many gallons of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and altogether looking at one's belly button more often than one should, because after all...what else is there to do? Although none of these things are bad... (and believe me, I enjoy sleep, ice cream and a tan just as much as the next girl!) I've wasted one too many summers on myself alone. This summer, I decided, would be different.

Before I left school I made a list of 21 things that I want to accomplish this summer. (Maybe I'll post it later. We'll see...) Those 21 things range from reading good books, spending meaningful time with God and learning how to drive a stick shift! Although none of my "goals" are incredibly groundbreaking, I believe they have the power to transform my thinking. All for the simple reason that they are forcing me to live my life to the fullest, not just watch it drift away by the pool. Pastor Mark just finished a series based off the book "One Month to Live", and it was great! (Props to Mark.) If I only had one month to live (or one summer), would I lay in my bed or would I get out there and do something exciting and even a little dangerous? Would I let my Bible collect dust or would I pursue a more vibrant relationship with Christ? Would I sit by myself and watch a movie or would I reconnect with an old friend over coffee instead?

My summer "To-do" list has motivated me to make this summer truly successful. I would encourage you to find meaningful ways to spend your time this summer. ENJOY RELAXING, of course! But don't waste all your time on yourself. Bless someone else's life while you live yours full tilt!

3 Way Calling

Now that I've been home for a month, the fact that a few of my favorite people are hundreds of miles away is becoming all to real. It is truly amazing to me that I have only known these girls for 8 months, because I feel like they know me inside and out, upside down, on my best days and in the moments when I am approaching unlovable! They've seen it all. We've cried together, laughed hysterically, shared our deepest thoughts and challenged one another to become better. And I miss them terribly!

This week was especially hard for me. Don't get me wrong, I love being home! I'm blessed to be working at the church, spending extra time with my family, re-connecting with old friends and relaxing with a good book. It has just been a little difficult, and I wasn't expecting that, in all honesty. Tonight the three of us were finally able to connect at the same time! We updated each other on the boys in or lives (or lack there of--in my special case!) we talked about our summer jobs, mission trips, upcoming visits to various states, our new room decor, family, and the challenges of being home. Let me just say, it was what I needed. Thanks, God for placing amazing friends in my life, both at home and at school.

So, here's to three way calling! I miss you, Noelle and Lindsey!

Cold Tangerines anyone?

I officially love this book and I recommend it to anyone who wants a quick, refreshing read for the summer! Shauna Niequist writes honestly, with incredible imagery and enthusiasm. She reminds her readers that TODAY is a gift from God, and we should never take the little things in life for granted! Her insightful fascination with everyday events has made me laugh out loud and has also brought tears to my eyes. Check it out! Seriously.

"Today is a gift. And if we have tomorrow, tomorrow will be a gift"

My Coffee Shop

This summer I'm taking some time to do something I love...writing. Below is a rough draft of a few of my thoughts. I just couldn't wait for them to be perfect, so decided to share them a little early!


There is something magical about my hometown coffee shop. As I sit nestled at my usual table, with my laptop and favorite drink, an iced caramel marvel, within reach I begin to consider the possible source of this inimitable feeling. Maybe it’s the aroma that greets me when I walk in the door. Maybe it’s the classic jazz music that floats through the air. Maybe it’s because the barista knows my name. Maybe it’s the oversized green chair with yesterday’s newspaper draped over its arm. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight pours through the windows and drips onto my table. Or maybe it’s because a coffee shop is the most suitable spot for almost any occasion.
I have several significant memories in this quiet shop. Each table is home to a special conversation or turning point in my life. For example, the first time I entered the doors of this coffee shop was when it opened during my freshman year of high school. My best friend and I bopped through the doors, and we instantly felt like sophisticated women instead of silly teenage girls. Of course, this new aura of maturity was probably not evident to the other customers in the shop, but for a moment, it was our reality. I ordered a tall mocha with extra whipped cream. Although I would have never admitted it, I thought it tasted terrible and wished I had ordered a hot chocolate. But I knew that worldly women who frequently grace coffee shops would never order such a childish drink, so I forced myself to sip the bitter beverage. Angela and I sat in the cozy green armchairs, and talked for over an hour about the cute boys we had seen on the drive over, how annoying our parents had suddenly become, and how we wanted to cut our hair for the summer. Although we probably looked out of place among the businessmen discussing next month’s quota and the young couples holding hands from across the table, for that hour, I felt grown up.
During the next few years, I would frequently meet friends for late night talks over a cup of coffee. Although I cannot record every conversation word perfect, I know that it was during those evenings that I learned more about myself. With each discussion I envisioned the type of friend that I wanted to be, the type of man that I wanted to marry, and the type of career that I wanted to have. Of course, these ideas have both grown and shattered. However, I truly believe that it was those heartfelt discussions about love, faith and the future that have made me the young woman I am today.
On the night before I left for my freshman year of college, I felt both excited and timid. Despite the fact that I still had most of my packing to do before leaving early the next morning, my young, beautiful, youth leader took me out for our “last” coffee together. We sat at a small table near the window, as I poured out my fears for the upcoming year. She gave me wise advice and assured me that I would have a wonderful year. She was right. My freshman year was filled with both challenges and blessings. As a result of late night cram sessions, uncontrollable laughter, aching tears, and countless cups of coffee, my heart became knit together with several life-long friends. Upon returning from college, my youth leader and I recalled the conversation we had had at the corner table many months before. It seemed impossible that almost a year had passed, and even more impossible that I had changed so significantly during that time.
Another important conversation took place in the back nook of the shop, at the table near the fireplace. My boyfriend and I sat across from one another, gripping our drinks and gritting our teeth. It’s always difficult to begin a serious conversation, and we tortured ourselves with small talk, until we finally and awkwardly broke into the real issue at hand. Although the coffee shop was deserted, we spoke in hushed tones, determined to get to the bottom of our age-old communication problem. This was our first real fight and at the time it seemed like an impossible obstacle. To my surprise, we had a mature and profitable discussion. He patiently listened to my frustrations and I gently acknowledged my part in the conflict. Our conversation ended when one of the baristas cautiously approached our table and told us that the shop would be closing in ten minutes. He held my hand and we walked outside to his snow-covered car, leaving our troubles at the lonely table. Although our dating relationship only lasted a few more months, we happily remained close friends. Once again, this conversation shaped my mental picture of the type of person that I ultimately want to marry. I envision someone who isn’t afraid to sit in a deserted coffee shop and honestly confront a problem as it lays strewn across the table.
So you see, coffee shops really are a place for every occasion. They are the perfect home for first dates and last drinks. They contain armchairs for both serious conversations and carefree reminiscing. They are the perfect spot for writing a paper or reading a favorite book. They provide inspiration and a sense of familiarity to those who enter their warm atmosphere. Undoubtedly, they are one of my favorite retreats from the world and also one of my favorite places in which to face the world head on.

slacker

Below is a fiery email I sent to the GAP a few weeks ago...
(And yes, I know I have been slacking in the "post department")


"Every girl searches for the perfect pair of jeans. You know the ones.
The ones that make you feel confident when you walk into a room, the
ones that look great with heels or tennis shoes, the ones that make your
legs look just like the women in the advertisement. One month ago, I
thought I had found my perfect pair of jeans at your store in Toledo,
Ohio. The only problem is, they are wrecking everything I own! Despite
washing them numerous times, the jeans are constantly bleeding a deep
blue. They have permanently stained my new pair of boots, they have
rubbed off on my favorite bag, ruined several pairs of socks and
continued to stain my skin. Needless to say, I am a little frustrated.
The jeans still fit great, and I even get compliments when I wear them.
But at a price of $70.00, I never thought I would be battling a new blue
skin tone.
Although I doubt that this letter will restore my money or remove the
stains from my boots, I think you should be aware of the problem.
Customers expect high quality from your store, and clearly my purchase
was anything but that. When I get compliments on your jeans I wish that
I could echo the comment of, "I love your jeans" with "Thanks! I love
them, too. They're from the GAP!" But instead, I find myself whining
about the hassle that they have become. I do not know how you would like
to resolve this problem, or if I will even receive a response, but
please know that I am a very frustrated customer and it will be a long
time before I enter your store in search of the perfect pair of jeans."


Surprisingly, they responded in less than 24 hours. A charming woman named Vicki sent a personalized email apologizing for the lack of quality, and she offered me a full refund or exchange at any GAP store in the country. Although I have not found the time to take the jeans back yet, I was impressed with how they handled the situation! Who knew such a big company would still respond to one little girls frantic cry of jean-bleeding? So here's my shout out to the GAP...keep up the good work!