She asked if delight had died in us. Or she didn’t say it like that, but it stung like it, hanging dreadfully in the dusky air as we wound back home. I opened up the windows to see if that would clear it. And then I got angry and said I hated her question, though truthfully I wasn’t angry because I thought it wrong but because I knew it true. Once upon a sparkling past, we rode stranger’s horses and made out until 5 am and took midnight jaunts to the Canadian border for flick
I’m sick of being sick of being busy. This is what came onto the page. This is the sentence that is now ushering in the newest season of my life: learning to rest all over again. It’s Thursday morning, and I’m a couple Sabbaths removed from the nightmare-on-IKEA-way episode where I realized that something was wrong. It was a nameless cluster of bad feelings—heat, disconnection, restlessness— all of them oddly coming to a boil while we were waiting for our couches to get picke
There is no such thing as a smooth transition. Is there? I’d like to find one if I could. I prefer the director’s cut, the compelling story so cleanly contained in a singular rise, the heart-wrenching climax, and the tidy resolution. But do those actually exist? Doesn’t Hollywood trick us into believing that our life ought to follow a straight line? I am mostly thinking here of my time at Mercy Hill-- I'll no longer be their Student Ministry Director by month's end-- but lik
It feels like epic music has been playing in our life for the last month. Between graduation, job interviews, and looking at grad schools, our life has been chock full of big decisions. Never will our life be so flexible. We could try to have a baby. We could move out-of-state. Any given week, it's [somewhat] easy for us to go on a big road-trip. We could do PeaceCorps or some other sexy humanitarian stuff. We could switch jobs. By next year, we could be at some cool grad sch
Today, I graduate from college. I don't have any spitfire criticisms of Bethel, its institution or professors. Every institution is flawed, and I appreciate something about every single professor I've had. I admire the people I've met, though I can count on one hand who I'll still talk with in 2017 and beyond. It seems like yesterday I was up with the dawn, mulling through the grass along Lake Valentine, stealing some alone time as the cicadas hummed and sweat beading up on m
At one point or another, we reach the sharp turn to adulthood. We are wild with hope, untainted by “real world” thinking. Everything can be as our Instagram feeds portray. If we are fresh out of high school, we have barely known failure. If we are in college, we live in a world of lofty ideas. But we must take the sharp turn into adulthood somehow. In other words, we do get the 40-hour job, we pay the electric bills, we feed ourselves. We take responsibility for ourselves, an
It’s replete with crying babies, their equivalents, constant challenges, irritations, aging parents and grandparents, tiny joys, and sheer ordinariness. It’s the proving ground where responsibility shifts from classroom virtue to an expected lifestyle, the battlefield where you learn courage is goodness acting without feeling, and courage is something you’d better take everywhere. It’s long hours sometimes, it is Sabbath ½ of the time we plan it, and it is balancing the endle
I'm just trev.
I'm a 23-year old trying to make beauty out of life's raw stuff. I post stuff every Tuesday.