First Day

I remember exactly what I wore my first day at Auburn University. I wore a yellow Ann Taylor shirt, which I still have, and still wear, and a pair of gray pants; of course I was wearing my rainbow flip flops (before the hole in the left heel was born) which my friends graciously bought me my freshman year at Alabama Southern. I also had the exact same rusty orange backpack I had in eighth grade, and which I still have today. There are less working zippers, more scratches, but I love it just as much now, if not more, than I did then. And the question, “what does MLAR mean?” never fails to earn a laugh.

My first class of the morning was Sociology, followed by Spanish, followed by Ethics, and I didn’t have Tuesday or Thursday classes my first year: In summary, a mi me gusta espanol, pero yo hablo muy poco; I learned “good is a feeling like yum or yuck” in ethics, and I don’t remember really what happened in sociology other than learning about the “glass ceiling” and thinking it was crap.

I fell up the stairs at Brown. My flip flops fell down the stairs, my back pack went over my head, and the only person who laughed was me. I think everyone else just stared, but I bet “I saw a girl fall up the stairs today” was said in more than a few kitchens or living rooms or bedrooms that day.

I was 19. I had above shoulder length hair, which was not its natural sandy but a dark brown, and by the end of that year, it would be reddish brown, emphasis on reddish. I weighed about 30 pounds more, so much for freshman 15. I also lived with a girl named Alicia Ellis on 420 East Magnolia. And I was an English major who was listening mostly to Damien Rice and Dashboard Confessionals.

After watching a video blog of myself (yeah I just wrote that) a week or so ago that I found in a dresser drawer from Monroeville, I found out that that same year I decided I wanted to be a missionary in Africa, I wanted to learn how to play the guitar, I wanted to write a book, I wanted to do many mischievous and adventurous things, I wanted to go to Italy, and I wanted to get a degree in English with a fifth year alternative masters. I had no idea what I was going to do with English, but I went full steam ahead anyway.


Today was the first day of my last year at Auburn University. I wore a white t-shirt and some vintage looking rolled up shorts, and of course, my flip flops that my friends graciously gave me 5 years ago (and the hole is ever present in the left heel), as well as a locket that was handed down to me by Martha Lee, my grandmother whom I’m named after. Maybe several years from now, I’ll remember it all as vividly as that first day walking towards Haley.

This morning I went to Food System Operations Lab, then Food System Operations class in Spidle. And others in the following days will be: Nutrition in the Life Cycle, Medical Nutrition I, Professional Issues in Dietetics, and Methods of Teaching in Adult Education.

I didn’t fall up any stairs. I didn’t get lost. I didn’t worry any, at all, none. In fact, walking into the library for the first time in a few months, I felt beyond at home in my little nook. The blue chairs there should know me well, as should the books on the fourth floor where I’ve left some of my little thoughts.

I’m 23. I have way below the shoulder length hair now, also known as long. It is once again, and will forever be, it’s natural shade of sandy or dirty blond as my mom used to say. I weigh 30 pounds less than I did my first year at Auburn, and it only took about three years to accomplish this. Don’t worry, I believe in slow and steady, and treadmills. I live with a girl named Hayley Carnes on a completely different street because Alicia Ellis is now Alicia Vining, and also the mother to a baby boy who is only nine days old.

Though I don’t feel called as a traditional missionary, so to speak, I do love the idea of working overseas, especially after going to Africa before my first year at Auburn. I ended up getting, and learning how to play the guitar. I’m not great, but I can do it. I am now on chapter five of my novel, Burning Autumn. I have done some mischief, though, probably not as much as I would have liked. I will have a B.A. in English BUT I will also have a B.S. In Nutrition and Food Science/Dietetics. And these days, I’m still listening to a whole lot of Damien Rice, but Damien Rice Pandora is even better.

I guess, if you read my blog, you’ll notice that this is what I mean by “before” and “after” when speaking in terms of time. Big changes. I think my life has had a many big changes since I got to Auburn. Looking back, I remember how nervous and scared, but excited, I was. And now, thinking about May- when I’ll be graduating- I know I can’t even begin to imagine where I will be, what I will want, or what I’ll be doing.

Maybe writing will work out. Maybe clinical dietetics will work out. Maybe working overseas in Africa will work out. But the point is it WILL work out. And 5 years from now, I’ll probably be laughing to myself looking back, just like I am now, thinking of how beautifully all things come together.

Coming Home

Put down your paper plate
come to the table made
deep blue china
found on the table by the wine
so fine

it brings out flavor
like You bring out color in life

oh, I miss You so
the feel of forever
oh, that taste I know
it hurts to remember
unfortunately high
ironically dissatisfied
I miss You
I miss You

oh, I miss You so
the feel of forever
oh, that taste I know
it hurts to remember

I had a fleeting thought this morning
and I mentioned you today
it breaks my heart just to know You in part
and not to be with You where You are


I close my eyes because this place is good. I close my eyes because- like the lyrics of a Phil Wickham song say- “Father I'm running, Father I'm coming home. I cannot go on; your child is running, Father I'm coming home, back where I belong.”

And I raise my hands, because I hope that He’ll be close enough to let me touch Him. Just the corners, or the edges…any little piece will do. And I hope, and pray, that He can take all of my little, beating heart..or stony heart…or cracking heart…or overflowing heart.

And in the stillness, and in the quiet, my heart knows Him so well, and hears Him so well, that it doesn’t ache, or want for anything else, but for that little stillness to last, forever. I don’t need to see him, because I feel Him, and I don’t care how ridiculous that sounds, when the Holy Spirit is near, you can’t possibly confuse it with anything in this world.

This place is good. This place is home.

You might be wondering what the “point” of this blog is. I can’t really say, other than to have just a little moment of thankfulness, and to have a quiet moment to just be in awe of a God who meets with us, and hears us, and lets us run, weak legs and all, into His presence. And welcomes us despite all else.

What a beautiful God. What a beautiful, beautiful, God.