All Good Things...

In nine days, I will take my last final and pack away the last of my belongings for either the long road home or the long summer in storage. Montreat is a second home to me now, or perhaps my primary home, and I hate to leave it. I will miss the people and the mountains. They are Montreat. They are home.

I have learned a lot this semester, about myself, about friendship, about human nature, about being in a strong community. There's no place like Montreat. I'm just glad I'm not graduating yet!

Another thing I'm grateful for is this age of cameras. I have hundreds and hundreds of pictures on my own computer and hundreds more I can access via Facebook. As I look back through my photos, a story comes out. A bit choppy, but a story all the same.

The first day of NSO. Here I am with (most of) my siblings. Eddie's goodness-knows-where.






Ah, there he is. This was my first time in my dorm room. It looked strange and new to me. Now it's my bedroom, office, kitchen, bathroom, library, and attic all rolled into one!





Me and some friends at the NSO coffeehouse. If I look depressed, it's because I was-- my family had just left, and I wouldn't see them for seven weeks.






Me, Marta, and Sarah. We're the Three New England Musketeers!








Look at me, all dressed up for formal!













At the end of Christmas break, five of my friends came up to New Hampshire and we spent a week bonding and goofing off. Here's me and my friend/future roommate Imari asleep one morning. I'm curled up in the corner, and little Imari-- she's only 5-2, she doesn't usually take up much space-- has most of the bed.



Me and Imari again, playing in the snow one day in January when school was canceled.








Here's me and a bunch of friends on our way up the Lookout trail. Yes, we're wearing short sleeves; it's about 70 degrees, but there was still snow on the mountain.





Me and my roommate, Laura.









Me, Marta, and her little cousins over Easter break. We stayed with their family for the weekend and went on hikes and had streamside picnics. It was a ton of fun.






Aha! Here's the awesome fort we Lost Boys had for Pan Day. We totally one-upped the pirates-- all they had was a propped-up strip of plywood painted to look shippy.






And here we are, at today. I have no pictures for what tomorrow holds; the future is a mystery. What happens over the next several days and months is in God's hands, and he'll take care of it. In the meantime, my adventure is at an end, and I prepare to bid Montreat and my dear friends a tearful and heartfelt adieu. But only until August. Then another adventure begins!

The Beginning of the End

"It's the end of the world as we know it." The popular song blared through the loudspeakers at the Spring Formal last night. It was a fun time of socializing and dancing after Pan Day, though it was rather an odd change of pace. The song was dedicated to the graduating seniors, and it made me sad. It really is the end of the world as they know it. They're moving out of the dorms for the last time, and the world outside Montreat is like nothing they've yet known.

And it's the end of the world I've become accustomed to, as well.

Summer is almost here, and we all have to leave. Will I be lost without all my friends? I'll have only my family and one or two old friends when I get back home. How will I survive? Will I be lonely? Will I die of boredom? I don't know.

I will always be learning, my faith is always with me, and it's tough to leave technology behind. So I'll be figuring out how to integrate the three all through the summer. Right now, my best example is this blog.

Think about it. First, I had to learn how to work this thingtechnology. Then my first few posts got me thinking about my faith. It was like a prayer journal, really. So I've actually been integrating faith, learning, and technology this whole time, and I didn't even realize it! Technology is a good way to learn, and a good way to express my faith. They really are connected!

Pan Day!

How do you know who wins? What's the point? To beat the snot out of each other?

Pan Day is an old Montreat College tradition. Few people remember how it really started, but at some point a couple students decided to reenact the battle for Neverland from "Hook," the movie. Sides were chosen, and Lost Boys and Indians joined together to pummel the pirates into the dust. The event grew, and now, Pan Day occurs every spring on the Dust Bowl down the road. We get to dress up in costumes, go to class with swords and scare the adjuncts, and then whomp the tar out of each other at the battle that afternoon.

So who does win? I really don't know. I was just in the Pan Day battle yesterday, and I'm still not sure. Though Peter Pan did kill Hook, so maybe us Lost Boys won.

The point of Pan Day is really to blow off steam. It's an excellent way to let out those end-of-the-year, oh-my-gosh-finals-are-next-week-and-I'm-incredibly-stressed feelings that build up over the last few weeks of the semester. Pan Day gets us outside, away from the technology and emails constantly reminding us what's next in our busy schedules.

When Jesus was tired, he'd take a break in the wilderness and pray to his Father. Refreshed, he'd return to the towns and feed thousands of people, heal the sick, and catch oodles of fish. The wilderness is important. Even Jesus left his schedule behind sometimes. We learned a valuable lesson from this. We took a break for Pan Day, and now that we've returned, we're ready to stand up tall and face the giants ahead of us. Sometimes, the best way to integrate faith, learning, and technology is to take a break.

The Lost Boys!









The Pirates. Grrr....

Spring

A hummingbird zips up to my third-story dorm window and sips from the hummingbird feeder suction cupped to the glass. So cute. Their little wings, little feet, little selves. They're tiny little bundles of magic.

I know a lot about hummingbirds. Well, birds in general, but I'm talking about hummingbirds now. They can't walk or hop on their tiny feet; they fly everywhere they want to go. They're literally helpless on the ground. Hummers are also the only birds that have the ability to move in every direction in flight; straight up, straight down, left, right, forward, and even backward. Their wings move so fast that you can hardly see them. Their feathers are iridescent, and the colors can only be seen at exactly the right angle. Otherwise, they look black.

God made hummingbirds. And seeing them reminds me of just how creative He is. I mean, I never would have thought to make such a tiny bird with such special abilities.

This is the first time I've had a hummingbird feeder. But I already knew all this information about hummers. How, if I'd hardly ever seen them? Books. Magazines. Online databases. Text books. All of those are part or results of technology. Ever since the printing press, the written word has been massively circulated. Field guides are very popular nowadays. They contain information on birds, trees, plants, and even rocks, depending on the book, all in a compact, portable form. Very convenient. I have several field guides for birds, a few for plants, and two for mammals. When I want to look up something in the house, if I'm not too curious about the organism itself, I type in the description to Google Images, and pictures will pop up. It's a fast way to get the information I want.

By learning about hummingbirds through books and my own observations, I learn about God. Have you ever seen the structure of an iridescent feather? It's really something. The light reflects off it just right, and a flash of color greets you. Beautiful. And who made that feather? I sure know.

Pushing Back the Curtain

I've been thinking about this faith/learning/technology mystery for a while now, and am only just now getting around to posting. I see a little bit of the integration when I'm writing papers and studying for New Testament class. For papers, sometimes I use Bible verses. It's a lot easier to go to Biblegateway.com and type in the phrase I want than to dig through my Bible for a reference. But that seems a weak integration. I could get along fine without the technology. It doesn't really have much to do with my faith, quite frankly.

I really need to define technology. It could mean computer technology, obviously, and that's what I've been thinking about, since this is, after all, a computer class. But really, technology is anything human-made. An axe is technology. So is the physical equipment I use in biology lab. So that's where I turned to next.

Just yesterday, I extracted my own DNA from my own cheek cells and poked at it with an unbent paper clip. The fact that all my genetic makeup was contained in that stringy glob of clear, thread-like structures was amazing. God made me out of that? That's how he told my body what to look like? He knit me from that tiny, delicate yarn? He knit everybody from such yarn? It seemed so impossible, at the same time so simple, and yet still amazing. My God is very great. That's what I learned from using the seemingly simple technology of test tubes, salt water, and ethanol. The technology helped me to learn about science, and about my God. Now that's integration!

Faith, Learning, and Technology

I finally saw an obvious integration of faith, learning, and technology. It was in biology class. We watched a video about DNA replication and protein synthesis. It was made by a Christian group of scientists, and touched on things like Irreducible Complexity while also teaching us about the science of it all. Irreducible Complexity is the idea that many things are so complex that if one component was removed, it would cease to function. So, there's really no way such a system or object could have come about by change. The complexity is so irreducible that it shows definite signs of intelligent and intentional creation.

It's been hard for me to comprehend the integration of faith, learning, AND technology. I've done faith and learning together, but I'm an environmental studies major-- technology is not necessarily big in my mind as something that can be integrated with my faith and schooling. It was obvious to me that you could integrate learning and technology, but how do you mix faith into all of it? That's the question I will seek to answer.

Cam Studio

As I type this, I am running the recording software, CamStudio. It is taking a video of everything I do on the desktop. Pretty cool. I could use this for dozens of things. I could even make tutorials of games and Microsoft word and stuff. See attached video.

Easter Break

For Easter break, my friend Marta and I went to Marta's aunt and uncle's house. They live about 40 minutes from Montreat, and it was much too far for Marta and I to go home to New England.



Two baby bunnies on the farm.


Unfortunately, I am allergic to bunnies. I swelled up like a balloon and had to take my asthma inhaler after this. =(


Marta and I on Easter morning. We got Easter baskets!


My mother had sent a package. Inside was candy and a stuffed bunny. This one didn't give me asthma!


After church that morning, we hiked Max Patch, a bald mountain that has a 360-degree view for miles and miles and miles.


Taking pictures on top of Max Patch.









Me, Marta, and most of the Ostergaard family on top of Max Patch. Sarah was taking the picture.


Quite the view.








Us and the kids at our creekside picnic lunch.









An amazing picture (I think) that looks like the head of... something. I thought a dragon. Marta said a fish. I think we should say parasaurolophus and call it even.

Authonomite

Just before spring break, I found out about a site called Authonomy.com. It's a website for writers, where you can upload your novels for other people to read. I decided to join, and uploaded the novel I wrote for Nation Novel Writing Month last November. Everyone who reads it and comments seems to like it, so I am content. It still needs work, obviously, but I guess it's pretty good.

Anyway, I know that God has given me a gift for writing. Maybe Authonomy is the way he's going to share my writing with the rest of the world. I hope so. That would be awesome.

Threads

Last Friday, there was a dessert banquet for all the Montreat students who achieved the Dean's List and Distinguished Scholar. I had wondered what that "Distinguished Scholar" blurb meant at the bottom of my GPA summary. Apparently, it means any student with a GPA of 3.9 or higher. I'd gotten perfect grades in all my classes last semester, so of course I made the list. (Uh-oh. Where did I put those ego pins?)

At the banquet, Dottie Shuman gave a little speechy-thing on the integration of faith and learning at Montreat. I started to think about my own faith and learning experiences.

"All knowledge is interconnected," Brad Daniel said today in class. "We just organize it into groups for our own convenience." New Testament class goes with biology goes with English goes with history goes with environmental studies. Maybe it's just me, but I can see how everything I'm learning fits together. Sometimes I get mixed up about which class I learned something from. It seems just as likely to have come from Chaplain Steve's class as Dr. McCarthy's. It all just matches so well in my mind.

Faith is just one of the many continuous threads in my studies. In history, we examine how human nature and religions have led to the shaping of the world as we know it. We see how worldviews affect how people treat the environment. We study the spiritual veins in the literature we read. And, perhaps most of all, we marvel at the complexities of the human body. How can you read Pride and Prejudice and think the words fell into place by accident? No one claims that. How can you look at a tree or a cell and say it came about by chance? God has embroidered his authorship all over creation. If we ignore the title page and the writer confronts us about copyright, what can we say? We are without excuse. And so men are without excuse when they ignore the handwriting of God.

Christians and the Environment?

One day last week, in my introduction to environmental studies class, Dr. Brad Daniel brought up the fact that, oftentimes, Christianity is not mentally connected to the environmental movement. We just often don't display that much interest in what happens to the world around us. We'll fight for unborn children and the sanctity of marriage, but we seldom show concern for the creation we inhabit.

Many are surprised to find that Montreat, a tiny little Christian college in the backwaters of western North Carolina, is very environmentally aware and active in the environmental education movement.

This is really a sad fact. Many non-Christians find our apparent lack of interest in the environment a turn-off to our beliefs. We contradict ourselves. "If you say that God made the whole world, why don't you care more about it? I mean, it's the work of his very hands, if what you say is true! So why don't you take better care of it?"

I, for one, want to break this mold. I am both an English major and an environmental studies major. I may want to be an environmental educator later, or an environmental lawyer. Tonight, I saw "Kilowatt Ours" for the kickoff of the Dorm Energy Competition. It gave me some ideas for living an environmentally sound lifestyle once I graduate from college (and probably grad school). But I've also got ideas for living in a more "green" fashion while I'm still here at Montreat, and the energy challenge is a good start. Also, I want to keep on top of things. I want to learn about God's creation-- how it works, and how best to care for it.

I'm a gardener. Have been for almost as long as I can remember. I have a beautiful and extensive flower garden in front of my house in New Hampshire. I love birds, too. They are the tiny little passions of my life, next to words and punctuation. But some day, the birds might be gone. That won't be for hundreds of years if it happens at all, but still. I don't want that to happen. And, as demonstrated in several episodes of Star Trek, if you alter the course of something by just a few degrees a long distance from its target, it'll end up lightyears off-course. If I can make a tiny little dent today, it might someday have enormous reverberations. The same is true of living in an environmentally injurious fashion. Your small action could even mean human lives in later centuries. A sobering conviction.

So how 'bout it? Are you ready to break some stereotypes? 'Cause I sure am!

In Memoriam

I never knew Howard Fisher. I probably I saw him around campus-- I don't think I could have missed him, from what I've heard-- but I don't remember ever meeting him. The first time I really remember anything about Howard was at the end of winter break. I got an email. Some kid named Howard Fisher was sick, and needed prayer. I kind of brushed it off, but then another email came. And another. And another. Howard just kept getting sicker, his situation became more dire.

Eventually, I discovered that many of my friends knew him. He was the captain of the Montreat soccer team, and well-loved by every person who'd ever crossed paths with him. I thought back, but couldn't remember this person who everyone described to me: tall, black Jamaican, always smiling, often laughing, very loving and loveable.

And then, last Wednesday, I came into the biology classroom and saw one of the athletes just leaving. He didn't look so good. I wondered if he was sick. One of my friends, John, hugged him and gave him an encouraging pat on the back.

"It'll be okay," John said quietly.

"Yeah," the athlete whispered, and slowly made his way out of the room.

I looked at John questioningly. "Howie died," he murmured.

Howie... Howard? Howard Fisher? But we'd just prayed for him in New Testament class the day before! He seemed on the road to recovery! That... that wasn't fair! My eyes threatened to fill with tears.

Dr. Daniel was very grave at the front of the classroom. He had us come to the front of the room and stand in a circle. He said the Native Americans had a tradition when they received bad news. They would gather the tribe in a circle and place those most concerned in the middle, so they could receive the news and immediately have loving support all around them. We did that then. Sarah, a girl also from New Hampshire, and a boy I didn't know well came to the center of the circle. They had obviously already heard the news, because there were tears in both their eyes. Dr. Daniel related the news for the benefit of the ignorant: Howard Fisher had passed away at 7:10 that morning. More eyes filled with tears, including mine.

The people nearest Sarah and the other boy came out of the circle and held them and laid hands on their shoulders, and the rest of us held hands as Dr. Daniel prayed for Howard's family and for those left grieving at Montreat.

I started to cry then, tears sliding down my cheeks. But that didn't make sense! I hadn't even known Howard-- I couldn't possibly be crying because I'd just experienced a loss. And I don't just cry at everything. I almost pride myself on my relatively homeostatic emotions. So... why? But then I looked at Sarah and the soccer players in the classroom and knew why I wept. Somehow, inexplicably, though I could never pick up on my friends emotions at any other time, I was empathizing. I wept for Sarah and the soccer team, for Howard's friends and those who had been touched by him, the people he had to leave behind.

"Weep with those who weep; mourn with those who mourn." I subconsciously acted upon this verse that day. I embraced my roommate as she wept for the sunshiny young man who'd always had an encouraging word for her.

I put my arms around another girl who sat in the chapel pew, her shoulders shaking. There was literally a puddle on the floor between her feet, where her tears fell.

"He... he was just too young!" she gasped. Tears spilled down my own face at that. It just wasn't fair.

The girl calmed down soon after I came to her, while I was left relatively distraught. I began to wonder if my spiritual role that day was an emotional intercessor. It made sense: I had no emotions of my own really attached to this tragedy, so I was able and willing to alleviate the grief of others by taking some of their pain. It was an interesting idea, and I still haven't figured out if that was really the case.

The pain at Montreat has dulled a little, I think, and celebrations have been held to remember Howard and his enormous smile. Every now and then, though, I still get tears in my eyes. I'm still empathizing. It's a novelty, but I'm willing to get used to it, if that is how I can best serve the body of Christ where I am now. I am reminded of the words to a song I like to sing sometimes:

"Here I am, Lord. Is I, Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart."

Ego Pins

I left my snowpants and heavy winter jacket at home in New Hampshire. "It doesn't snow here," I said, with a derisive snort. "You southerners have no idea what winter is." I would eventually eat those words.

I mean, sure it snows. Like, two inches at a time. And then it melts. And then we wait a month. And it snows two more inches. And then it's spring. Another North Carolina "winter" over and done. That was how I saw winters at Montreat. Nothing like the sometimes four feet of snow accumulation I was used to in New England.

I boasted all through the fall semester about how much snow we get at home. I assured my friends that it was like nothing they had ever seen. And then, just before break ended, a few of them came up to visit for a few days. Temperatures hovered at a relatively mild 27 degrees, and we had about five inches of snow on the ground.

It was embarrassing, to say the least. "Huh," my friends mused. "I thought it would be a lot colder. And more snowy. It's been just like this in North Carolina for weeks."

Still, we played in the snow and goofed off until it was time to return to Montreat for the new semester. And then, ten days after being here, it snowed. And it snowed good. Even I was impressed. We got some ten inches, which is the best I've seen at once this year.

"Hey, Audrey, what's that white stuff all over the ground?" my friends jabbed. "Is that snow? But wait, I thought you said it didn't snow! Were you wrong?"

I like to think I took it all with relative grace. I deserved it. Man, have I got an ego, and sometimes it gets away from me. My friends know me, and they correctly assumed their teasing wouldn't be taken the wrong way.

But I didn't just pay for my proud assumptions in some humiliation from others. I also paid a price personally. Like I said, I'd left my snow gear at home. I didn't think I'd need it. So here I was, wanting to play outside, but having none of the usual outdoor gear I'd been using since I was a toddler. No winter jacket, no snow boots, no snow pants, no sled. I was an embarrassment to New Englanders everywhere.

Pride comes before a fall, I remembered ruefully. Take it like man (or whatever) and get over it! So, I improvised. I put on fleece pants and rainpants over them, layered two coats, and pulled on my hiking boots.

I had a great time that day. We sledded, and explored our wintry landscape, and buried each other, and threw snowballs, and generally had some good, old-fashioned snow fun.

"It snowed!" I entered in my Facebook status later that day. "Like crazy! It's awesome! Embarassingly enough, I came ill prepared for snow like this. But that's okay. I need pins in my ego bubble once in a while."

I'm glad God keeps throwing things at me to keep me humble, or at least prevent me from being too egotistic. It's a real challenge at times, and I think it will always be something I struggle with. I just have an extremely high (though not at all unfounded) opinion of myself. I have a lot of great talents and gifts. I just need to remember where they all come from, and give glory to the Source, instead of hoarding it for myself, which is and forever will be a temptation. Just keep chucking those ego pins, Lord!

Class Practice

LEGO Star Wars

Back on Track

Early, yesterday afternoon, I sat among dripping rhododendrons and shielded my journal with my coat sleeve. “I have been so slack in my quiet times,” I wrote, “and it has taken its toll. I am often arrogant, unloving, and insensitive. I am not encouraging, and in general have been immature and a taxing friend, if indeed I can even call myself a friend. I am a burden even to myself at times.” For some fifteen minutes now, I had been lamenting my failings and begging God to once again use me his way. I had been far too independent lately.

I looked up at the gloomy skies. “I am sitting in the trees, halfway up the hill to the baseball field. It’s raining a bit, but I really wanted time with God, alone in his creation, so I threw on my raingear and came up here. I sat for maybe ten minutes and sang my favorite praise songs—the ones I remember, anyway.”

A sudden deluge prompted me to place my journal back in my bag to keep dry, and I wrote nothing further that day. But I still prayed. I was somewhat cold and definitely distracted by the rain, so my prayers were unfocused and did not accomplish as much as I had planned. Finally, I gave up and made my way back to campus.

A few hours later, I went to Graverobbers, the prayer group led by Stephen Long. Nathan and my roommate, Laura, were the only others there, but the four of us closeted ourselves in a study room in the library and prayed for the coming semester. Then Stephen prayed focused prayers for each of us. When he came to me, he said,

“Father, I thank you for Audrey, and I thank you that she is not a feeler, but a thinker”—which is very true, by the way—“because it gives her a very firm grip on who she is in you. The word that comes to mind for you, Audrey, is faithfulness.” My eyebrow shot up. I had been repenting of unfaithfulness just hours before. Stephen said a few other things I don’t specifically remember, about my loving heart and the deep, strong love I have for others.

I guess God was telling me I was still going the right way, even if I had taken a back road that wasn’t on his map. I’d found my way back again, and even though I will probably take a wrong turn again within the week, he’s still got plans for me that he’ll see completed.

Reflections and rambles:

My name still means “Noble Strength”— I just need to remember the real source of my strength. God will use that strength in his own way, in his own time, but I need his help to channel it correctly. Strength of any and every sort is a thing very easily abused. To whom much is given, much is expected—but I can’t do it on my own. My independent will and stubborn nature make it easy for me to attempt solo missions. But I was not made to be a loner. There may be times when no other human being will stand at my side, but I will always have Jesus. All well and good, but I tend to ignore him at times, especially when I haven’t been spending any quality time with him. So! Lord. Help me to spend time with you, learning about and reflecting on who you are and what you may have planned for me. Help me to remember that I should never do anything on my own. I will always have your help, and your help is the only way to do things right. Sure, I might get things done, but not as well as if I’d listened to you. Help me to keep that in mind for at least a day. You know how often I “conveniently” forget I need you. Just keep bugging me until I listen. I’ll get it… eventually.