Woohoo! God is so gracious! It’s the beginning of yet another school year. Which means I’ve survived yet another 12 months of…life. Awesome.

I’m excited to be progressing, and slowly working towards a theoretical graduation date. But I also find myself wrestling with a rather massive case of senioritis—or maybe it’s I-just-want-to-be-done-itis. And it’s only the second week of school. Oh dear. This might be a very long year.

But it’s going to be a good one, because life is awesome in so many ways!

It’s amusing to be back on the college campus again…you start to notice patterns. Every year, there are crowds of eager freshman, just out of highschool, who are quite positive that they will find the perfect woman or the perfect man within the first 24 hours of being on campus. And if not within the first 24, well, surely within the first week. After all, the odds are truly in their favor, right?

Note: It IS true that the odds are in their favor. Experience shows that it is indeed the odd ones who are the most intent on showering favor, love-smitten glances, and marriage proposals upon anything that resembles a specimen of the opposite gender…especially if they’ve been acquainted for more than 24 hours. Oh. My. Word. That’s like, um, an ETERNITY to know someone. And if you don’t propose to her NOW, well, then, gracious, the next guy’s sure to snatch her out from beneath your very nose!

Seriously? Chill, guys. Relax. Take a deep breath. Maybe take some sedatives. Whatever it takes. But just give yourselves like…three years…to kind of get the hang of things, get to know her, yeah, you get the picture. And then think about maybe…asking her to coffee. No proposals on the first date. Bad idea. I promise.

And the sophomores, juniors, and seniors…well, the closer you get to the finish line, I think the more you begin to feel like you’ve got ants in your pants…and as you pore over your textbooks, you secretly are earnestly longing for the day when you will sell every last textbook to some naïve freshman and move on to the next phase of life. Maybe not. But I secretly feel that way sometimes. Especially when I read Pharmacology textbooks.

But I have to say that studying nursing has been an extraordinary opportunity. It changes your view of people—and your understanding of God. It’s crazy, in an awesome kind of way, to catch a glimpse of the intricacy of the systems which make up the human body as you study human anatomy…or to marvel at the miracle of new life as you hold a slippery, wriggling newborn in your hands in the delivery room…or to feel how deeply God’s compassion towards us must be as you stand beside the distraught family members of a patient who may not live through the night. These moments—these memories—are gifts. And the longer I live, the more I feel that this is so. And I’m grateful.

But right now…I’ve gotta go read Pharmacology. And as I do, I shall think about selling my textbooks to a freshman—and giving her a smile, and a hug, and telling her with a wink that I wish her all the best. And then…just because I’d feel mean if I didn’t…I’d give her my phone number and tell her to call me when she had questions…or just needed a hug. ;-)

This past week, as I was bumping around Alexander County in my little car, delivering books to all of my customers, it was with mixed feelings that I realized that yet another summer has come and gone in a blur.

I’ve had an amazing opportunity to meet nearly 2,000 families this summer, however briefly. Some have been more memorable than others, for various different reasons.

For example, this past week, there was the balding, 60+ year old man with a Santa Claus beer belly and kindly brown eyes who informed me that more and more younger women are dating older men. I nodded absent-mindedly, and agreed that this might, indeed, be the case.

In hindsight, that should have been a hint or a clue, or something, but I was in book-woman mode at that point, and was thinking only of books and delivering books.

His next comment sort of caught my attention, though:

“So you’ve been down here for 13 weeks, and you still haven’t found a boyfriend?!”

I blinked, suddenly jarred slightly out of book-woman mode.

“Um, well, no, I haven’t found one. But to be frank, Shorty, that really wasn’t my primary objective in coming to North Carolina. I came to sell books, not to find a boyfriend.”

“Still,” he spluttered, “I’m surprised. A pretty girl like you?”

‘Oh please. Here we go again,’ I groaned inwardly, finally realizing where this was headed.

He proceeded to very generously offer to serve in the capacity of boyfriend for me, thereby remedying my situation quite dandily. He gave me his phone number, and insisted that we should keep in touch.

‘Riiiiiiggghhhhht,’ I thought, it’s always been my heart’s dearest wish to date someone old enough to be my grandfather. Or not so much.

Then there was the sweet little motherly woman who greeted me with the warmest smile I think I’ve ever seen when I returned with her books. She insisted on making me a tomato sandwich, and kept asking me if I didn’t want something else? And then, two days later, when I bumped into her at WalMart, she came racing over to give me a bear hug and ask me if we could keep in touch during the next school year.

When she turned to walk away, I stood there for a long minute, thinking wistfully that I loved her, and that I hope someday to be as warm, as welcoming, and as genuine as she is.

Each summer, there are people you meet out here on the field who shape you, influence the way you think, and challenge some of your long-held presuppositions…and this summer was no different in that respect. I’m incredibly grateful to have had the opportunity to serve as a member of the Varsity team for yet another year…and yet am still unable to comprehend the fact that classes officially start again in three short days. Where on earth did the time go?!

Whatever. Clinicals, here we come…

Week 7 on the bookfield is just drawing to a close. I apologize to my lovely readers for not updating this sooner—didn’t quite reckon on the summer being as hectic as it has been. But when I say hectic, I mean that in a completely positive way. Of course.

This summer has been a whirlwind of interesting scenarios, hilarious moments, memorable conversations, and new life lessons. I thought I’d learned a lot after my first summer on the bookfield, but I’ve since discovered that you learn infinitely more your second year on the field.

We rolled into Hickory, North Carolina seven weeks ago—four girls from four different states, with 24 hours to find a place to stay before we started our 12 week summer going to door-to-door. I love sales! And honestly, this summer, I have truly loved being a bookwoman.

Initially, I was planning to post an update on here every week so my poor fambly back home would have some idea of what life on the field looks like. However, between leading a team this year, and working more hours than I did last summer, there hasn’t been a lot of spare time for extras like blogging.

But today, I just wanted to put up a quick little blurb to let you all know that I’m still inhabiting the planet. Woohoo!

There have been so many laughable moments in the past few weeks…my goodness. I wish I had time to share them all.

One of my favorites happened this past week…I had knocked on a door not knowing anything about the family who lived there. When the lady of the house answered my summons, she had a huge smile on her face…and a parrot perched on her shoulder.

Maybe it was the retarded blinking of the parrot, or the fact that it seemed a little out of place—but I started laughing really hard. Which was apparently odd. So the lady of the house started laughing too. And the bird got very excited, and began in her squawky voice to say, “Hello, Sunshine!” Which really made the whole situation more laughable.

I discovered that the bird’s name is Sunshine. Throughout the entire demo, as I showed Bird Woman my books, the bird sat above us on the porch swing, and every time we got to an exciting part of the demo, she would lean over and squawk and tell us her name, or bid us hello (I confess, I was sometimes a little worried lest in her excitement, she might poop on us…but she didn’t. Happy day!)

Ah, I love my job. Never a boring day…

Only five more weeks until the end of the summer—I can’t believe how quickly the time is going. But 75-80 hour work weeks leave little time for reflection. Maybe at the end of the summer. :-)

One day this past week, after coming home from a long day at school, I was greeted at the door by a sunny little face with sparkling brown eyes and tiny pink lips that were turned up at the corners to form a beautiful little smile.

It was my landlord’s wee granddaughter, Isabelle, and apparently her family had dropped her off to spend the day with her grandparents. Well, and me, by default.

I had forgotten what it’s like to be a four years old girl, and to have the attention of a college student all to yourself. I’d never quite imagined what it would feel like to BE that college student, either.

We sat beside the kitchen table talking like grownups for a good while. Well, not entirely like grownups. Isabelle expresses her affection through touch, and her cute little sticky hands were always attached to some part of my person as we talked…until finally I began to catch on that what this constant touching was really communicating was, in fact, her need to be touched. So we started an on-going tickle fight that went on sporadically for most of the afternoon.

She was beside herself with delight when I told her that I was going to make tea, and asked her if she wanted to try some.

“Oh!” she gushed, “Ith it like the tea they have at McDonaldth? I jutht LOVE that!” (I love her lisp!)

“It’s a little different,” I said, “because this is hot, and it’s made with a tea bag…so it’s not sweet like that.”

She looked a little dubious at that point, so I told her I’d let her smell it before she tried it.

When I set the cup in front of her a few minutes later, she looked more doubtful still.

“It smellth thpicy,” she said, “and I really don’t like thpicy.”

“Well, I’ll just put a tiny bit into a cup, then, in case you don’t really like it,” I told her.

She stood there watching me with her head cocked to one side quizzically. I was trying not to laugh as I watched her take that first sip.

I really half expected her to spit it back into the cup or something—she’d been so sure that spicy was not her thing. But I think the fact that I was drinking it and apparently enjoying it might have influenced her reaction a little.

Slowly but surely, an awe-filled, rapturous expression spread across her face.

“My goodneth!” she lisped in her little four-year-old voice, “thith ith AMATHING!”

So we sat, and drank tea, and talked about her life. She asked me if I backwash when I drink tea. I told her I didn’t think so…but she thought she should probably look in my teacup to make sure, so I let her.

And then we put her hair in frenchbraids, and she asked if I wanted to play dress-up with her.

“And then after we get all drethed up, we can danthe for Grandpa! And he will pwobably say that we’re beautiful, and that he LOVES it!”

I just smiled, and thought to myself that if I dressed up and danced around in the living room for her grandfather, he would probably just think it was frightening and wonder if I had lost my mind. But I nodded enthusiastically, and told her that she was beautiful all the time, even when she wasn’t in dress-up clothes.

Her comment was striking to me, though: “he will probably say that we’re beautiful…and that he loves it!” I marveled to myself at how early this desire begins in the little feminine heart—the desire to be beautiful, the yearning to be admired, to be cherished, to be loved and treasured…to be thought exquisite, and unique, and desirable.

Oh, how fragile a thing is the heart of a child! How easily these little dreams are crushed.

As I finished plaiting little Isabelle’s hair and sent her off to be admired by her grandparents, I found myself silently resolving to do a better job of protecting the dreams of those I know…whether it’s a four-year-old who dreams of being someone’s princess, or a college student who dreams of becoming a missionary.

Because dreams are one of the things which make an ordinary existence both magical and extraordinary.

It is a beautiful thing when we find others who have spoken beautifully and poignantly to the pain which is a part of human existence--sometimes putting into words things which we ourselves find beyond our ability to articulate. Such was my feeling when I stumbled across a number of quotes by Khalil Gibran this afternoon. And while I may not agree with his doctrine, I admire the artistic skill with which he weaves his words together.

I've been thinking much this week about transitions--about learning to love, and learning to let go...about learning to embrace the seasons of life with enthusiasm, but to let them go without resentment, although inevitably, it will not be without a sense of loss.

Gibran said a number of things that I found thought-provoking, especially in light of certain recent situations.

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."

"When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."

"It takes a minute to have a crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone... but it takes a lifetime to forget someone."

"I have learned silence from the talkative, tolerance from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind. I should not be ungrateful to these teachers."