Just A Flock of Birds

"Still I always

Look up to the sky

Pray before the dawn

'Cause they fly away

One minute they arrive,

Next you know they're gone

They fly on

Fly on

So fly on

Ride through

Maybe one day I'll fly next to you

Fly on, ride through

Maybe one day I can fly with you"

The other day my mum was talking about how it's smart to start collecting dinnerware or thrifting for future living room furniture when you're done with school and making a little bit of money; I giggled thinking about how far removed those thoughts have always been from my mind.  In the very first minutes of Outlander, a steamy time-travel historical drama set in the Scottish highlands, the main character, Claire, window shops in England; upon reaching an odds-and-ends store she stops and thinks, "I've never owned a vase.  I've never lived in a place long enough to justify having such a simple thing.  Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I bought that vase and made a home for it.  Would I have been happy? Who could say?"

It's no secret that I've had those thoughts on multiple occasions.  Family tradition in this part of the world, "the American dream," is to graduate high school, get a good degree at a good school, settle in with a lifetime career making more money than your parents did, marry a decent man/woman and start a family no less than 20 miles away from where you grew up.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with choosing that way of life, and often I find myself feeling jealous that I don't fit into that particular formula of life after childhood.  I could have that life if I wanted to create it, but I would be feigning contentment to keep up with the Joneses, secretly yearning for much more than story book happiness.  Instead I find myself like Claire, staring at a beautiful set of silk maroon napkins in Tuesday Morning thinking, "These would be so nice for Thanksgiving dinner, such a great color for autumn."  After running the material through my fingers once more, I reluctantly place them back on the shelf, knowing that any previous signs of being settled in one location are obsolete, absolving the purchase.

In recent years, traveling has become my formula of adulthood, a means for me to explore the lives of others, gaining wisdom from watching how they converse, how they cook, how they pray, how they dress, how they overall react politically, morally, ethically and culturally in situations. It's difficult while at the same time exciting, knowing my life, at least at this moment in time, is meant to be lived floating along the edges of others' settled comfortability; I arrive and leave just as quickly as I come and the outlook remains a bit foggy, but by no means distorted.  I'm constantly reminded to walk with caution, without haste, with bravery, and without fear during each new adventure.  I'm not destined for a Disney movie ending, not quite an On The Road or Into The Wild ending either, but a different ending that's yet to be written, sprinkled with elements from each genre.

One of the hardest things about being diagnosed with wanderlust as a lifetime ailment is the challenge it poses for all relationships. I struggle so much, almost more than anything, to understand why relationships have to be so challenging sometimes.  But when a person is physically unsettled, emotional settlement must rely on spiritual settlement; it's a testament of how important it is to have faith and hope in Christ.  It's hard to accept the fact that some people are only meant to be temporary, clinging to our hearts and souls but no longer wandering through our daily physical life at this time; we need Him to share the sadness and pain of leaving others or others leaving us, whether temporarily or permanently.

As I've grown and spread my wings, flying away from my tree planted in Pennsylvania, my branches wound throughout the States and across the seas, bearing fruitful relationships that have planted seeds for new trees, adorned with a new flock of birds.  The more I keep flying, the more trees I see spring up in various locations, witnessing them being nested by another set of friends.  It's a beautiful image, the way these relationships branch off one another, but they need support so they don't become weak or broken.  This is where love, faith and hope are my anchor, rooting me in something much stronger than myself, and will continue to be my source of energy and refreshment when my formula of adulthood feels like too much to handle, or when I find myself slipping into those jealous thoughts: "What if I bought those napkins and created a home for them . . . would I be happier, would it be easier than this life?"

I believe in depth over distance; I believe love can conquer anything; I believe we can still keep relationships, even create closer relationships, when there's more effort required to communicate and more reliance on God needed for strength and encouragement during the inbetween.  You will know when to hold on and when to let go.

I don't know how to answer a lot of my questions but I do know this:

1. The American dream is not mine and that's okay.  It's okay to have a different dream.
2. To love a life of travel is tricky, often confusing and comes with a lot of change, adjusting and heartache. As long as I keep seeking what is greater than myself through these journeys, I have no reason to feel scared, lost, or broken. Patience, patience, patience is needed for the weary traveler.  Everything has a season and reason. "He has made everything beautiful in its time" Ecc 3:11
3.  We encounter many people, some for a moment, but some for a lifetime.  Seek those lifetime relationships with faith, hope and love, but know that some are meant to be short term.  1 Corin. 13:13

Psalm 121:8 "The Lord will watch over your coming and going now and forevermore."

xx
Hillary

Seize the day, Peter Pan

Like most beloved fans of the late Robin Williams, I couldn't help myself but to pull out every movie I owned of his and start watching them, reminiscing about how much each and every one of his roles has taught me as I've grown into a young adult.  Out of all of his movies, though, I'd have to say Hook left the biggest impression on me as I was growing up.  After re-watching it a few nights ago, I remembered why it was deemed as one of my all-time favorites.

"To live will be an awfully big adventure." - Robin Williams as Peter Pan

At the end of the film, Tootles yells "Seize the day!" and my little nerdy self smiled way too big as I connected Hook to Dead Poets Society.

Neverland in Hook

The story of Peter Pan, created by Scottish novelist and playwright J.M. Barrie, is about a boy who never wants to grow up, so he flys away to Neverland, where he can battle pirates, swim with mermaids, fly with fairies, run through the forest with Native Americans and go adventuring and escapading with the Lost Boys.

While Barrie's creation of Peter Pan may have been solely to comment on the selfishness of childhood, I think the character more importantly gives us the freedom to escape once we've reached "the real world."  The story of Peter Pan retold in Hook illustrates key factors in living creatively and lovingly as an adult.

In Hook, grown-up Peter Pan had forgotten what it was like to be a child, unaware of his adventures in Neverland.  He had forgotten how to love like a child: innocently, whole-heartedly, imaginatively and creatively.

Adult Peter Pan became so obsessed with his work, that his family was pushed aside; he'd taken the sacrifice to leave Neverland and grow-up in order to love his wife and teach his children the importance of adventure and curiosity but instead overwhelmed himself with the drama of worldly patterns.

Watching Hook as an adult made me remember that although my career may be important at some point in my life, nothing will ever be as important as the simplistic joy that comes from living life imaginatively and faithfully, and by wholeheartedly investing yourself in every relationship; to live is to make the most of every little day, every little gift and every little moment we are blessed with in our life's small brush stroke in God's painting of the world.

Seize the day, Peter Pan.

x
Hill

Grape Discernment

"Life is about being adaptable; all things change, but it's about remaining true to yourself." - Psych seas. 8

Sometimes we convince ourselves we don't have a plan when in reality, we've been creating a master plan for our lives without letting the pieces fall into place the way the Master has planned for us.

Someone once told me it's like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole; cliche, but undeniably true.  As driven individuals we sometimes refuse to give up on something that masks itself as perfection . . . the one and only answer to ultimate satisfaction and happiness.

We can continue to convince ourselves over and over and over again that something is right for us or meant for us, but know, deep at the heart of whatever the situation is, that it's not our calling, at least not at this time in our life.  Sometimes we want these things so badly that we're willing to do whatever it takes to get them, selfishly pushing aside all of the signs that are pointing us in a different direction on our path.  The other day I was running at Pearson Park, reminiscing about my younger days and journaling some of those memories.

The sun was streaming through the forest I'd grown up in where I'd walk next to my grandparents on hot afternoons.  The trees never really changed height because as I grew up, so did they.  Although the paths in the forest felt more magical when I was little. . .more intriguing and more mysterious, they weaved down the same line of trees.  The park holds in those memories like a snow globe, easily rewatched when the leaves are rustled by a similar breeze from 13 years ago.  I remember the bag of freshly washed grapes staining the brown picnic table, my grandma's soft hands plucking a few and depositing them in my palm eagerly yearning for the crunch of the purple fruit.  She would tell me stories about her childhood even when my eyes kept peaking at the R.L. Stine novel in my lap.  Dad's band would play those boring songs not anywhere near as cool as Britney Spears or the Backstreet Boys, but, they'd eventually become some of my favorites over the years. 


And when we would get back on the trail and take those long walks with Grandpa, the rocky path seemed to go on forever and ever, and I could never figure out which end of the trail we started on.  They'd walk hand-in-hand and I'd lag in the back, staring in awe at the hand-carved initials of young lovers adorning the giant birches' trunks.  "One day it'll be me," I used to tell myself, wrapped up in the fairytale day dreams of a typical 9-year-old girl.

Now the carvings have grown in number, the couples older and probably with kids of their own, hearing stories about their parents' great love and that time they snuck away at the family picnic to graffiti the wildlife.  As my tennis shoes padded past one of the trees, an inescapable giggle flew from my lips, amidst exercise-induced breaths.  The initials haunt a teenage memory that never was.  I created my own path through the forest, writing my initials on rocks and the inside of book covers.

And even though it's the same place, it's always going to be different.  And even though it's the same path, running in a different direction delivers a new perspective.

After that day in the park I couldn't stop thinking about how weird it was when I ran the trail backwards instead of the way I'd always gone before. Although it was the same as it has always been, it was different and I had only failed to notice what was right in front of me.  It made me think how sometimes, in order to find our actual direction, to discern our passions, our driving force and the joy behind our smile, we need to change our approach.  It's the same process, but taken from a different angle.  When we're willing to go a different way than usual on the same course, that's when we find what's been hiding from us.  It's like being in a room with a two-way mirror.  If you're on the inside, you don't realize there's something on the outside looking in.  Unless you step outside of the room, and change your point of view when looking at that same mirror, you don't realize what's always been there staring right back into your own eyes.

It's incredibly easy to miss the signs that are right in front of us when we think there is only one way to achieve or answer a dream, a hope, a goal or a prayer.  Blindsided, we keep running in circles; we're unaware of the fork to the left that's been waiting for us to notice it, hidden behind the cobwebs that have formed from passing it by too many times.

Don't ever stop listening to that voice nudging you to change your direction or your approach.  God's hand is always at work, His voice calling us from every angle.  We have to be willing to take off the blindfold, step out of the mirrored room, brush away the cobwebs and listen - intently and honestly. Just because the doors seem to be closing on a dream or goal, doesn't mean that God hasn't mapped out another way for you to achieve it.  Change offers us a chance to stay true to ourselves and discern our heart's ultimate desires. Don't give up; keep searching.  You will find it and you will be found.

Never stop running the race set out before you.
xo
Hill

A Reflection, A Reminder and A Recipe

"The joy of life consists in the exercise of one's energies, continual growth, constant change, the enjoyment of every new experience. To stop means simply to die. The eternal mistake of mankind is to set up an attainable ideal."

-Aleister Crowley-

This summer I’ve spent quite a few nights at the old family farm house.  In the backyard, my Dad has been nursing two tomato plants.  Even with all of his tender love and care, specifically spending his time to make sure he’d have bright, red and juicy tomatoes to put on the dinner table, the plant that’s producing the most fruit is the one left alone in a bucket by the window.  All summer he’s left it untouched, thinking that by properly caring for the other two plants, it would mean they’d develop the most successful fruits.  But all he needed to do for the other two was initially cultivate the seeds, give them a kiss of water, a hug of sunshine, pat the soil and whisper “You’re on your own now; learn how to grow strong stems and flavorful fruit.  I will be here when you go through a storm or a drought, to help rebuild and replant; but for now, trust in your strength and the strength of your creator to meaningfully fulfill your purpose as a tomato plant.”

So what do tomato plants have to do with summer time besides how good they taste on a homemade pizza? Personal growth can’t be gained when someone does all of the work for you.  To truly flourish, you need to let go of the nourishment from your parents and your other crutches in life; you must find what makes you buzz, come alive and continuously produce fruit even when you must go through those inevitable transitional periods of drought.  The transition from childhood to adulthood isn’t easy, and the easiness of always running to your parents for money or asking them to make decisions for you will never allow you to develop your own unique fruit.  Neither will staying indoors watching re-runs of Boy Meets World and Mythbusters allow you room to grow when you’re cut off from the sunlight begging you to explore outside and see how you can spread your fruit to others. Save those Netflix marathons for a stormy night after a long day of work.

Now that I’m back in a vulnerable state of transition again, the tomato plants left untouched in the bucket are a reminder of the gift my parents gave me: support, solitude, and space to grow.  It’s when we leave old areas of comfort, enter the scariness of the world outside of the window and trust in the unknown that we’ll truly learn how to consistently produce fruits in the present and cultivate our own seeds in the future.  To find your path which will lead you to produce healthy and hearty tomatoes, you must be willing to let go of what pulls you down and drags you back to unhealthy pasts and habits.  Be still; be present. Water your soul; rest in the light.

Fresh Margherita Pizza

1 frozen pizza crust (recommend Augustine’s)

2 tbsp olive oil

1/2 bag shredded mozzarella

1/4 cup grated parmesan

2 vine-ripened tomatoes

1/2 vidalia onion, sliced

10 leaves of fresh basil

2 cloves of garlic

salt & pepper to taste

Sprinkle the crust with part of the olive oil and top with the mozzarella.  Evenly spread out the tomatoes, onions, basil and garlic on top of the mozzarella.  Add the sprinkle cheese, salt and pepper to the pizza toppings and top off with the remaining olive oil.

Bake in oven for 10-15 minutes at 400 degrees F.

Galatians 5: 22-23 “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

xo

Hillary

Hemingway once told me. . .

". . .all you do is sit down at a type writer and bleed."

Summer 2014 started off with a bang.  I was with energetic high schoolers excited about being in the woods, learning about God and making s'mores merely 48 hours after getting off my flight from Glasgow.   It was hot, it was tiresome, but it was so fulfilling.  Now that I'm back on home base after a few months of galavanting, it's almost more overwhelming to have loads of free time in the evenings when I arrive home from work.  Going from living out of a suitcase to having three fully filled closets is enough to make someone re-evaluate their life decisions.  A little dramatic, but the quarter-life crisis has gotten the best of me recently.  So I took Hemingway's advice.

* * *

The twilight air smells electric, encompassing the pines and maples looming over the gravel drive.  Veins of leaves are exposed as the Northern wind ripples

through the forest, begging for rain’s accompaniment. Outside her window she loses herself in the breeze, forgetting the soul-drenched sadness that comes every so often.  The earth is her medicine.  The dew drops an elixir in the morning, the stars a stoney prescription for the restless evening. The wind and nightingale echo her message, her prayer.

Queen anne’s lace pepper the hills, patches of clover peaking through the tufts of kelly green grass.  One glance outward, one breath inward, erasing the fear.  Maybe we are only supposed to wonder, stashing wisdom and insight in our back pockets as we continue through the woods.  Maybe answers can never be found, but common understanding help us connect and help us love.  

Softly moving a fallen piece of hair behind her ear, she sighs and rests her head against the bed frame. The trees stare back in silence as the fireflies teasingly glitter in the approaching darkness outside. Thunder softly rumbles in the distance; another storm, another night.

xo 

Hillary

A flightless bird, an American summer and a mixed tape

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” -Aldous Huxley

Summer is a time of refreshing, recharging, rearranging and rediscovering.  Summer was always the 3-month gap between each school year, where so much seemed to change: not only the colour of our skin or the length of our hair, but our favorite song, new friends and memories from nights staying up way too late and laughing way too much that you've worked off all of the junk food consumed during the three-hour conversation around the campfire.

Now that I'm nearly done with undergrad, the magical concept of summer doesn't seem to fade with time like I thought it would.  Maybe it's the extended daylight hours, the green forests begging for company or the seemingly endless back roads that lead to nowhere, anywhere and everywhere.  But something about the summer pushes away all of the anxiety, stress and fear felt during the other three seasons; you forget just how difficult the previous 9 months were and relax in the present, not wanting to waste one day of sunshine.

But something about the summer is also bittersweet because it usually means the end of another journey: the end of another school year, a final track season, a semester abroad, an internship, a lease with your roommates, or what society defines as 'childhood.' The changes are inevitable and unavoidable, but the softness of a cool summer breeze, the cooing of morning birds, the sweet taste of farm-fresh strawberries and the smell of fire lingering on your favourite flannel ease the transition; I'd like to think it's another way God has given us to find peace and comfort in difficult times.

With each summer, music becomes my best friend when real friends are scattered across the globe in Africa, Colorado, Spain, Idaho, Scotland, North Carolina, England, Pine Springs, Iraq, Northern Ireland, France, and Illinois.  My relationship with music has helped me bridge the distance between oceans, lakes, interstates and roundabouts. I find that music can create emotions that words on paper or by mouth can't always suffice on their own.  So, when another summer rolls around, I've realised mixed CDs keep the summer spirit alive and allow for communication with faraway friends that goes beyond the screen of a Skype date.

The mysteries of summer hide among the pines and beneath suntanned skin; the revival of creation refreshes our minds, spirits and bodies; music finds a way to bring together the emotions, the senses and the comforts to keep us connected even if it's just by taking a drive with the volume cranked or taking a run by the river with iPod in hand.

Summer '14: Rooted "The joy of nothing is a sweeter something and I will hold it in my heart"

1. Heart and Soul - Huey Lewis & The News
2. American Girl - Tom Petty
3. Down On The Corner - Creedence Clearwater Revival
4. Amsterdam - Peter, Bjorn & John
5. Magic - Coldplay
6. Islands - The xx
7. Time Keeper - Grace Potter & The Nocturnals
8. Misunderstood - The Tedeschi Trucks Band
9. Barton Hallow - The Civil Wars
10. Soul Singing - The Black Crowes
11. Another Kind of Green - John Mayer Trio
12. Help Me Lose My Mind - Disclosure, London Grammar
13. Open - Rhye
14. My Blood - Ellie Goulding
15. Dreams - Fleetwood Mac
16. Sing To The Mountain - Elephant Revival
17. Rye Whiskey - Punch Brothers
18. When You Come Back Down - Nickel Creek
19. Lonesome Road - We Banjo 3
20. Fire and Rain - James Taylor
21. Gypsy - Suzanne Vega
22. Joy of Nothing - Foy Vance
23. Me & God - Trent Dabbs
24. No Woman, No Cry - Bob Marley & The Wailers
25. I'll Be Seeing You - Billie Holiday

“Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination

and life to everything.” - Plato

xo 

Hillary

To be expectant is to be vulnerable

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." Ecc. 3:11

If you ever think doing the same thing twice means it will be a repeated experience, think again.  The last time you walked into town to buy groceries, did you see the same people? Did you buy exactly the same food? Or did you veer from your usual broccoli and cereal shopping list? Was the weather the same? Were you in the same mood that day? Chances are, nothing was exactly same even though the task was; albeit there were similarities paralleling each other between the two trips, you had a different experience.

A lot of the time people get caught up in the belief that doing something twice will mean you receive the same experience.  When I decided to study abroad again at the same University, I couldn't even count how many times people asked if I was expecting to do the same things I had last time.  It took a while for people to understand that the reason I was going back wasn't so I could relive an amazing semester I had in autumn 2012, but yet I was hoping for a completely different experience; my bucket list was full of the things I DIDN'T do on my first trip, and ideas of new ways I could expand, grow and explore a place I'd already been.  If you believe that doing the same thing means it will have the same outcome or results, you are automatically signing up for inevitable disappointment and failure; no matter how hard you may want to re-create or relive an experience, it isn't possible.  And why would you want to live in past experiences when you have the opportunity to establish new ones?

Another problem with "repeating" experiences is remembering negative connotations or outcomes associated with the last journey or event.  When we dwell on those bad experiences, they seep into our present lives, causing us to think that trying something again that we previously failed in will have the same end result; we let those fears hold us back from picking up the broken pieces and finding a new way to make it work.  For instance, the first time I tried out for majorettes, I didn't make the squad.  I was completely devastated, as most 15 year-old girls usually feel after rejection, but the next year I was able to embrace my fears and give it another chance, fully aware that I might fail again but knowing there was an equal chance of succeeding.  Terrified and more nervous than my first try-out, I was the best version of myself in the gymnasium even though it wasn't a perfect routine; I showed the judges that I wasn't willing to give-up on something I loved, even though I had faced failure in the past.


The joy about doing something twice is being given the opportunity to recognize your growth. After coming back to Stirling, I can say that this experience has been 100% different from my last trip.  This semester I've noticed how much I've changed since my first time here, which may have been something I wouldn't have picked-up on if I didn't come back for a new experience, remembering my first experience.  To think that I am the same person I was on my first semester abroad would be insane; I look at the girl and ask "what the heck was she thinking?!?" Growing up means growing into the person you were made to be, day by day, month by month, year by year.  Whether it was a past failure or a past success, our personal development isn't limited to a negative or positive journey.  Regardless of the situation, time equals change, and it scientifically cannot be denied.  When you are about to embark on a trip or involve yourself in a situation you've faced in the past, it is best to enter the situation with a blank slate.  But if you want to set goals for yourself, don't base them off your past; instead, create them as a way to build-up your future self.

This summer I will be returning to Camp Ligonier, a past experience that has shaped me into the woman I am today.  As much as I may wish I was working with the same staff or would have all of the same campers or would re-live all of the funny memories from 2013, I'm so excited and expectant to see how else I can grow as a leader, a friend, a role model, a woman and a follower of Jesus.  I have no idea what this summer has in store for me, but that is the beauty of having a blank slate.  I can use the wisdom from my first summer as a counselor to help me be a leader toward new staff members and also further establish a comfortability and vulnerability in sharing my faith and life experiences with others.

Be open; be vulnerable; be expectant; be willing; be trusting; be motivated by faith.

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Cor. 12: 9-10

x

Hillary