here's to you, mrs. mosby

nothing good happens after 2am, so why am i still awake?

good question, carrie. let's go to sleep.

alright, optimist carrie. let's try that.

It's like ten-thousand spoons, when all I need is a knife

Looking back on the key moments in my life thus far, I remember how confident I had been, never feeling more sure about the direction in which I was moving than I did at each and every one of those moments:

. . . the visit to CMU that solidified my enrollment at Spring Arbor . . .
. . . the discovery that I needed to study English Lit. despite the fact that I want nothing to do with writing, teaching, publishing, or lawyering . . .
. . . the afternoon spent hastily filling out countless forms before an upperclassman would take the unexpected spot on the Uganda trip . . .

It’s not every day that I feel so much of God’s peace all at once.

I’m still too close to these moments to really understand why they occurred, but I could tell by the heat that I was on the right track.

I can tell by this heat that I am on the right track.

But this confidence is new to me and is making me antsy. I have so much peace that I am uncomfortable. Seems a bit counterproductive, eh?

My thoughts on NYC, playlist not included…

I hate Times Square the way it is now. It is obnoxious. It is dirty. It is full of people pushing, shoving, and shopping.

I love Times Square for the potential that it has to become something far greater (Go find Hutch if you don’t believe me. He hangs out on the corner of 7th and 34th. Talk about perseverance through trials. What an inspiration that man was).

After spending nine full days in New York City, I have been intentionally carrying myself differently. New Yorkers do not look up when they walk. Looking up means making contact, means seeing that homeless man on the subway, means seeing that there is a problem—this is a problem that is not going to just go away by pretending that it’s not there.

But then again, if I can’t see it, it’s not there.

Object permanence, folks. We need to develop some, because once you’ve looked up, you have two options: apathy or action. Apathy is undoubtedly easier. There is so much going on in the city that it only takes a few more steps before you’ve found something to distract yourself. All you have to do is run through the typical scenarios and keep walking. He would only buy drugs and booze with it if I gave him any money. What if I get mugged? What if I find out that I actually care?

Action requires a decisive move. It calls you to put aside your insecurities and a lifetime of stereotypes. So go ahead. Risk getting rejected, sworn out, and turned away. Risk being the only person in three straight days who even speaks to that woman. Risk finding out that you have more in common with that guy sleeping under a tarp than you do with anyone else. Leave behind your pride and let God break your heart.

To have passion is to suffer. Christ is passionate for us; it was His Passion that led Him to the cross, and until we allow ourselves to feel compassion—quite literally to suffer with Him—we will never fully realize the humanity of our brothers and sisters, let alone our own humanity.

I am sick of walking on the sidewalk and looking at my feet every time I pass someone I don’t know—or sometimes even a person that I do know. I’ll have none of that anymore, thank you very much. No. As children of God, it is our responsibility to validate one another, and all it takes is recognizing another soul when we pass.

/end rant