Shattered

I am broken.

You are broken.

We are all broken.

But who will admit it first?

We build elaborate facades to cover and explain the cracks. We stuff, we bury, don't tell, we do anything to keep the intricate secret that we don't have it all together. No, I'm not depressed, I don't need help, I don't have anxiety, I don't deal with a rough past, I'm not confused or disappointed or afraid, I don't cry, I don't feel. 

Somewhere in the wall of nice outfits, fake smiles, and good grades we lose our humanity. Because let's be real, despite each of our panicked attempts to hide it, we are all broken. We all have demons lurking in the shadows. Life is hard. There are so many jagged edges, dark woods, and patches of quicksand that none of us makes it through unscathed. We all know that.

But we still are scared out of our minds that someone will find out....what? That we are just like everyone else?

And it doesn't just hurt us, it makes it that much harder for anyone else to own up to their struggles. Oh no! I'm the only one who hasn't gotten it right, what is wrong with me?! Facing demons is hard. Facing them alone is nearly impossible.

So this is what I ask: When someone tells you about their demons, don't put on a mask of sympathy. Don't swallow your own scars. Don't try to fix it all. Instead, just...

...break.

Because being broken alone only leads to pain - but being broken together leads to healing.

Don't Think.

The shrill beeps of my alarm send me scrabbling for my watch. I roll back onto my pillow, and thoughts are already racing into my mind, jockeying for position in my conscience: some random song from yesterday, the paper I have to print out before class, the fact that I should go running but probably won't, what day of the week is it anyway? I haven't even gotten out of bed, but my mind is in full gear - and that's just the start.

In chapel, in class, in seminars, during homework, in deep conversations in the wee hours of the morning - I think all the time. We all do. We are trained to be 100% on, 100% of the time because we don't want to miss anything, screw up anything, forget anything. 

When my head once again hits the pillow at the end of the day, I begin to relax. My breathing slows, my tired muscles soften....but my brain keeps going. I'm so used to being on that I can't turn it off. 

This is exhausting. 

So I snowboard. Ok, so that's a relatively new thing, but it's my current release from my mind. Hockey is the usual outlet, and running if I'm out of season, but this semester I had the good fortune to have snowboarding class fall into my lap. Yes, class. I get credit for hitting the slopes every Wednesday for six weeks. College is great :)

Not only am I having fun at these classes and learning a snow sport that always seemed so cool, I am resting. When I'm boarding, I don't think about homework, or applications for things, or whether I should go to bible study or FCA meetings. Instead, I feel the texture of the snow I'm carving, I pull my scarf over my chin against the rush of cold air, I focus on the bend of my knees and the distribution of my weight. Even on the lift, I pray and joke and gaze peacefully at the frosted trees. 

I get out of my head, and into my body. And it is wonderfully freeing. 

Yes, thinking is a wonderful thing, a thing to be done well, and often. But it is also a thing to take a break from. And I've found my rest in the rush of the slopes. 

Teeter-Totter

I once explained to someone that life is like standing on a seesaw: it's all about balance and finding that sweet spot where neither side is plunging towards the ground. The only thing is, my teeter-totter has about seventeen different sides, and new ones keep showing up every day. It seems that every time I get a few things balanced, I turn around and realize I've sent at least two others into a cherry bomb. Its a constant scramble to account for it all.

At 11:00pm, I stand alone in the backyard of a friend's house. If any of the inhabitants of the adjacent houses in this development happened to look out their window, they probably are wondering why someone is standing in the snow wearing a hoodie, swishy sweatpants, and boots, staring up at the sky. I'm dog-sitting, but my charge has been happily asleep for several hours now. And I'm thinking.

I'm thinking about my first semester of college, and how its over. The days sped by so quickly, I was left hoping that the next three and a half years will slow down so I can love each and every moment of it.

I'm thinking about what comes after these four years, and how scary it seems. I'm preparing for a career. For life. I'm growing up. When did that happen?

I'm thinking about distance, and how hard it makes things. What do you do when the people you love are spread out over too much space, and your arms just can't reach them all? If we could all apparate like Harry Potter, now that would be something.

I'm thinking about seesaws and balance and steadiness. I wonder if it's overrated. This is probably just life, and I'm only now realizing that it will be a constant struggle to try to get it right, to get all of it right.

I'm thinking about the times I've let the teeter-totter hit the ground. I can see the faces of the people who were sitting on the other end at times, see the shock, disappointment, hurt. I wonder how many more people I will let hit the ground.

I'm thinking about the fact that this all sounds dramatic and sad, but it's not all that bad. Really, its part of life. We let things fall sometimes, but we also hold so many. All we can do is try.

I'm thinking about the thrill of a seesaw, and how happy I am to have the chance to ride one.

I smile up at the clouded sky that is colored a soft, dusty pink by the city lights. Turning back towards the house, I scoop some snow and ice from the drift beside my boot and smile as I eat it. I'm not perfect, but I'm solid. And that's okay.

Mission Statement

As part of a transitions course for first years, we recently developed our own mission statement. Here is mine:

Identity

            I am Mariah Grasse Martin, a woman in progress, and I will be for my entire life. I am strong, determined, worthy; a hugger, a learner, a traveler. I believe in a good God. I believe in love. I believe in life.

Mission

            To grow in such a way that others see God through me and are brought to a fuller life because of it.

            I will do this by searching for the piece of God in each person, and loving that piece in the best way I can. I will strive to see the needs of others and fill them to the best of my ability. I will listen to other’s stories and share my own. I will attempt to live fully in each moment, making sure that all I do is done with the zeal of one who was made by and awesome God.

Vision

            I hope to be a compassionate person. One who can be relied upon for comfort, for a good listening ear, a hug, a favor – whether you are family, friend, classmate, colleague, or simply someone in need.

            I hope to be an educated person. One who is aware of what is going on the world, who is well-read and academically excellent, who is always eager to learn more.

            I hope to be an adventurous person. One who is eager to see the world and all its treasures, who isn’t afraid to meet the unknown, who will grasp opportunities as they come.

            Amidst all this, I hope to be a grounded person. One who knows that her ultimate allegiance is to God, that he loves her and all His children, and that He will never abandon nor forsake us. I hope to always be comfortable with the idea that I know and understand very little.

I value…

            the tension it takes to have a real faith

            the discipline of hard work

            the strive for the unknown

            meaningful conversation

the energy of laugher

            relationship – with God, nature, others, and ourselves

                       

Wild Geese -Mary Oliver

You do no have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Verna

Images flash before my eyes: 

Grandma’s teaching hands, guiding mine as she shows us how to use the wringer-washer. Standing on my tiptoes, I feed shirts and pants through the rollers while Hannah catches it on the other side.  She lets her chores become our game.

Grandma’s watching eyes, as she hangs up the laundry while we pin our doll’s clothes to the fence – our imitation, the sincerest of flatteries.

Grandma’s smile, as I stand next to my bunny-rabbit birthday cake. Food is her gift: pies, ginger snaps, mashed potatoes – all made in a way only she can master. This is her way of loving people.

Grandma’s neat cursive, gliding across the page of a letter. These perfectly formed letters, so flat on the bottom that you’d think she’d used a ruler, a reminder that a few thousand miles was not nearly enough to keep us from her thoughts.

Grandma’s touch on my shoulder, an affirming pat as I wash the dishes. “You’re a hard worker,” she says “your parents taught you well.” I smile at the high praise from this hard-working woman.

Grandma’s soft voice, rising to glide across the room in a hymn. Even when other things became foggy, she still knew all the words to those songs – proof of the deep faith and commitment she had for her God.

Grandma's photo albums, baked goods, quilts: an attempt to show the fullness of her life to the line of people who stream by.

Grandma's children, my dad and aunts and uncles, lined up on the other side of the room, greeting the same stream of people. They smile and nod and shed some tears as they listen to condolences and stories of this woman who touched so many.

Grandma's worn hands, folded neatly across the familiar pattern of her simple dress. Her covering is pinned in place and her glasses perched on her nose, things that I haven't seen for years now. She looks like Grandma, when she was really herself, before her mind let her down. It seems as though she's just dozed off, drifted into a nap - and for a moment, my eyes fool me into seeing her chest rise and fall. Then I squeeze my cousin's hand, not minding the tears that threaten to run down my cheeks, and finish my goodbye.

I Like Honeydew: 10 Ways I Have Changed In College

1) I decided at some point in my childhood that honeydew was yucky, and I hadn't tried it until I came across it in the cafeteria. Now I eat it about three times a week. I think it's better than cantaloupe.

2) I don't care nearly as much what people think. Maybe it's getting away from home, maybe it was a summer of growth, maybe it's a rebellious thing - whatever it is, I am thankful. Life is so much easier when you're not trying to please everyone around you.

3) I dance. As a study a break or weekend hang out, I get my groove on. This is attached to number two, because even though I don't know what I'm doing, I could care less, cuz it's FUN!

4) Also related to number two, I wear much less makeup. There are many more days where I wear none, and when I do take the time to put it on, I use it sparingly. Sweatpants also make a more frequent appearance.

5) I study. High school allowed me to pass tests by listening in class, but here I have to work for my grades. This means I had to teach myself how to study, and I think I did a pretty good job.

6) My sleep schedule is wacked out big time. I used to think I needed a solid eight hours to be personable, but I've found that that is not the case. Don't worry, I'm getting enough sleep - just not at the conventional times ;)

7) I make time for conversation. Its not just a nice things that happens sometimes, its something I look forward to and do purposefully. We talk about everything and anything, which is a great thing about having just met: we are completely new to each other. This means we aren't held down by the images that had been imposed on us, falsely or accurately, in the past. We say what is on our mind, share exactly how we feel. We talk. And this has made for some deep friendships, even in this short time.

8) People care about field hockey. No, we don't get the crowds that soccer does, but we do have a few dedicated fans. We get the same priority as other athletes. People ask about our games. When we jog off the field at half time or timeouts, someone is waiting with cool towels and a tray of gatorade cups. They take care of us.

9) I rock climb. A lot. Every single chance I get. I've climbed the wall, I've climbed real rock. I even recruited a group of fellow newbies to come with me. I want to take a technical rock climbing class. I'm pretty decent at it, and I love doing it.

10) I've found my favorite period of life so far: this one. I love college. A friend and I agreed that college was made for extroverts - so many new people to be friends with! Other than studies, we have no responsibilities, and an endless amount of opportunities are right in front of us. We can get into almost anything. And that's what I aim to do :)