oh tis not in grief to harm me; while thy love is left to me

earlier this evening my sister wandered out of the den and asked me if i'd known a girl who went to baylor (another private school in the chattanooga area). the name didn't sound familiar and i told her so.

the girl my sister asked me about was a graduating senior who died at 12:53 this morning in a single car accident. there was allegedly alcohol involved.

initially my response was to ask my sister if she was sure she wanted to get her driver's license on tuesday? like really positive? like i hear chattanooga public transport is kind of on the up-and-up.

now sitting in my bed with the people i love nestled into their beds around me i find myself overcome with grief for this girl i do not know.

i don't know what it stemmed from - empathy or morbid curiosity - but i found myself on her facebook page. i scrolled through the countless posts from friends, family and peers. the condolences, the assurance of prayers, the guarantees of citizenship in the kingdom - they did bring me a measure of solace.

but there it a part of me that cannot help but to feel drowned in sorrow. even for this girl i do not know. as i sit here, mere days from getting married, another family's world has been ripped apart.

and this juxtaposition. this dichotomy. while it does not rob me of my joy - it makes me intimately and frighteningly aware of how precious this all is.

i often times approach life on this earth with such triviality.

of course i should graduate high school.
and go to college.
and be surrounded by people i love.
and get tickets to the national championship.
and meet the love of my life.
and get an incredible job in a cool city.

i am blessed beyond my own comprehension.

and so, sweet girl, i hope that you are nestled in the lap of our sweet Daddy.
i hope there are pretty wildflower gardens and all your favorite disney roller coaster rides and all your favorite snacks that you like to sneak into movies.

i hope you and Jesus play marco polo in the ocean.

i hope you know as i sit here and weep for the brevity of your life here on earth; that you have made me aware of all that i am experiencing.

i was never promised any of this.
there are no chapters in scripture which
declare my entitlement to
a full, rich life.

Father God please let me respond accordingly.

the chosen fellowship of the dragon tattoo

Sometimes when I'm really immersed in a piece of fiction, as I am currently with Steig Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series*, I realize how easily influenced I am by fiction authors. In that I become crazy when I read them.

I've always had an extremely empathetic relationship with fictive characters. This can be demonstrated through my firm belief that my slayer abilities will keep me safe during night runs. Or the utter devastation I was forced to combat sophomore year when the Lord of the Rings film trilogy concluded and I was made aware that I was indeed not a part of the fellowship of the ring. These seem like triflingly funny anecdotes meant to iterate my obsession with, for lack of a better term, various character phenomena. But it's so much more than that. There are demonstrable mood and personality alterations.

So I was not at all surprised when, as I read this book, I began to model characteristics demonstrated by the female protagonist of the book. This is somewhat unfortunate as Lisbeth Salander is an asocial computer hacker with a proclivity for violence and a possible case of Asperger's syndrome. Although much of the book is about her sociopathic inability to engage in trusting relationships with the people around her, I cannot help but be drawn to her vitriolic reaction to the repression (physically and emotionally) of women. While I don't agree with the violent ways this reaction often manifests itself it's somewhat encouraging to read about a female character who adheres, strongly, to her own self-discovered convictions. I won't offer texual support of this claim from the book because I want you all to read it.

Again, I promise I'll start talking about my own life again.

I think I may have begun to perceive this blog as an esoteric space in which the audience is people like Carey Mulligan's character from An Education, Willow Rosenberg and Dave Eggers.

I hope Sarah Jackson isn't this weird.

*I know everybody is reading it. Shut up. It's AWESOME.