Tying the Knot

She met him on our first day of classes at Grove City College...about four years ago. Things started out rocky for Amy and Geoff, but within one year, they were inseparable.

This past weekend, I was honored to be one of Amy's bridesmaids, along with two of our best friends. Amy was gorgeous. The wedding was really nice, and being in the bridal party was so much fun! I absolutely loved it.

Emotions were abundant. When Amy's dad gave her away to Geoff, tears filled my eyes. My friend, one of my closest companions, was sealing the deal. I was witnessing the most important covenant she'd ever make with another person. It was touching to stand right by my bud as she made her wedding vow. Thankfully, no tears escaped my eyes.

But light-hearted fun was also plentiful. For example, during the wedding ceremony itself, the groomsmen played a great prank on Nate. And the whole weekend was party after party after party... It was such a blast.


...And then I got home and hit a deer.

Every Season

Every evening sky, an invitation
To trace the patterned stars
And early in July, a celebration
For freedom that is ours
And I notice You
In children's games
In those who watch them from the shade
Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder
You are summer

And even when the trees have just surrendered
To the harvest time
Forfeiting their leaves in late September
And sending us inside
Still I notice You when change begins
And I am braced for colder winds
I will offer thanks for what has been and was to come
You are autumn

And everything in time and under heaven
Finally falls asleep
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation
Shivers underneath
And still I notice you
When branches crack
And in my breath on frosted glass
Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter
You are winter

And everything that's new has bravely surfaced
Teaching us to breathe
What was frozen through is newly purposed
Turning all things green
So it is with You
And how You make me new
With every season's change
And so it will be
As You are re-creating me
Summer, autumn, winter, spring

Lyrics by: Nichole Nordeman

The End of an Era

There's no denying it. My college years are coming to an end. And during this final stretch, everything is a last. Today I turned in my last paper, and tomorrow I'll hear my last GCC lecture. Some people seem absolutely thrilled to leave Grove City, but it's a very sobering experience for me...a time to reflect on the past and anticipate what's to come.

The future is uncertain. Although I have a vague conception of where I might be next year and dreams of what I'll be doing ten years down the road, it's all speculation. I suppose life is always that way, and this is yet another lesson in trusting God with my future. Trusting can be so difficult. But on the other hand, part of me likes this uncertainty. Where will I end up? The possibilities are endless, and it's as if I'm setting out on an adventure to discover what God has in store for me. Nevertheless, the beginning of this adventure marks the end of a wonderful experience.

The past four years have been amazing. I have made so many memories with some of the best friends I will ever have. [Entering sappy, sentimental mode] We've been together through thick and thin. We've grown together and learned together. We've laughed until tears were rolling down our cheeks on so many occasions, and on May 20th, we'll probably all cry together. College is nice, but relationships add the flavor, the sponaneity, the love, the depth, and the value that make it all worthwhile.

During the past four years, I have also learned about myself: my weaknesses, my strengths, and things that make me feel alive. Oh yeah, and all that academic stuff, too...like thinking critically, arguing somewhat cogently, yada yada yada. In all seriousness, though, Grove City has provided me with a wonderful, well-rounded education. It's a great school with an incredible faculty and a remarkable student body.

Although it's hard to say goodbye, to watch this fabulous time of my life come to a close, I am so thankful. God has richly blessed me with friends, experiences, a college, professors, and even classes that are worth missing. I will always look back on my time at Grove City College with thanksgiving. I am so blessed to have spent for four years here.

Two College Students Reside in Local 24-Hour Grocery Store

Many people pass through aisle 13 every day, but few call it home. However, two college students were found perched upon the shelves last Wednesday night.

"These shelves are much more comfortable than the beds in my dorm room," remarked Libby Greene of Grove City College. "Plus, when I'm up late writing a paper, in desperate need of caffeine, all I have to do is reach up to the shelf above me. Then I ring a little bell and the cashier comes over so I can pay for my pop. It's so convenient!"

Lindsey Carner, of Mt. Vernon Nazarene University, prefers the chip shelf. "I wish we had a 24-hour supermarket near my school where I could live," asserts Carner. "There's nothing like the bustle, the halogen lighting, and the corny soft rock of a grocery store to fall asleep to. It sends you right off to dreamland."

Aside from the comfort of their metal shelves, Greene and Carner also find that the grocery store environment provides a plethora of entertainment options...

Just kidding.

The end.

P.S. I've come to terms with the fact that I am not cut out for journalism.

[I've been a major blog slacker over the past few months. I could blame that on a chronic case of writer's block, or on my inability to come up with an interesting topic. But all excuses aside, this blog is back in business.]


But we have this treasure in jars of clay...

My last post addressed the dramatic changes that I experienced 10 years ago. When I reminisce about those days as a 12-year-old, I am dumbfounded by my simple understanding of Jesus. The message of Christ made so much sense. I believed "with faith like a child," and I loved Christ for the salvation that He had so freely given to my undeserving self.

The question: Have I changed since then?
The answer: I have. And yet, I haven't.

Over the years, I have grown and struggled and learned. Many of those lessons have been repeated over and over...and over...and over. Along this road, I have frequently learned the importance of humility. Again and again, I am brought to the realization of my own inadequacy, my complete need for and dependence on God. I have learned the truth of David's words in Psalm 51: "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." But the story doesn't end there. In the face of my weakness, my shortcoming, my brokenness, God reveals His majestic love and strength. It's a beautiful irony.

Humility is one of the most important foundations of Christianity. It brings us to repentance. It illuminates the overwhelming contrast between God's infinite strength and our weakness. And when we are truly in touch with God's mercy and our unworthiness, we cannot help but love others.

Jesus' humility and servanthood go against our very nature. Instead of looking out for number one, as the world and our internal instincts tell us to, we are to put others first. It's truly counterintuitive, but that's how things often are with God.

Although the Lord has taught me these things on several occasions, it is still a daily struggle to put them into practice. Some days, weeks, and months are better than others.


"Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things - and the things that are not - to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him."
~ 1 Corinthians 1:26-29


Song of the day: "Nothing Without You" - Bebo Norman

10 Years

Ten years ago tonight, I was a 6th grade tomboy. A child in both mind and stature, the events of that night were beyond me. However, they altered the course of my life.

Ten years ago tonight, 40-year-old Amy was plagued with inner turmoil. She attributed it to the fact that her parents hadn't called on Christmas or New Years Eve, but the problem went much deeper. She felt hopeless and incapable of change.

Ten years ago tonight, Amy cried deperately in the one small bathroom of her beachfront home. Her husband and children didn't hear, depite the bathroom's central location, but there is One who heard. To her surprise, a voice said to Amy, "Your Father loves you." She knew exactly what that meant and could not doubt it because of the rich peace that poured over her soul. Leaving the bathroom, Amy retreated to her bedroom to read the small Bible that someone had given her years before.

Ten years ago tonight, my mom, Amy, became a Christian and began 1996 in her new life as the Lord's adopted daughter. For the next several months, no one else knew of her newfound faith. However, in April of that year, her husband (my dad) also accepted Christ as his Savior, at which point the fabric of our immediate family changed profoundly.

Ten years ago tonight, I neither asked nor understood what was happening. Nevertheless, my life was also changed. I am who I am today because of the Salvation that Amy discovered ten years ago tonight.

A Less-Than-Optimal Way to Say Goodbye

I laid in bed for eight hours, nervously tossing around as my portable alarm clock ticked away. And then the dreaded time arrived. At the sound of my alarm, waking up felt different than ever before. Usually the horrible sound rouses me out of my unconscious state. This time, however, I didn't need to be roused. I was semi-conscious, and it seemed that adrenaline was rushing through my veins even as I slept.

Everything went according to plan as I quickly got dressed, made a weird breakfast with the remainder of our food, and said goodbye to our once homey apartment. Because I was the last to leave, there was no one to say goodbye to... As scheduled, I left my apartment 20 minutes before the metro opened for another busy day in Athens, Greece. The streets were dark and unlively as I attempted to prevent myself from being run over by my suitecases, which eagerly rolled downhill. You see, our apartment was located halfway up Mt. Lykavittos, a prominent hill in Athens. Five minutes later, I was at the Evangelismos metro station, with hundreds of stairs to decend before reaching the ticket counters. A little old lady offered to help, but I declined politely in Greek. The next few minutes are fuzzy in my memory, but somehow I brought two bags, which were each approaching 100 pounds, down four flights of stairs.

Once my bags and I were safely underground, I had ten minutes to blow before the airport metro came. The metro ride was wonderful. Apparently, hardly anyone is insane enough to ride the metro at five o'clock on a Sunday morning. So I reclined on a couple seats and watched as the rising sun illumined the bleak, mountainous terrain. Once in a while, a couple of confused white people - sometimes speaking English, sometimes not - boarded the metro. They were obviously tourists, but not me... I was a temporary resident of Athens, not a tourist.

The metro arrived at the airport two hours before my plane was schedule to board, and I patiently joined the long line for British Airways passengers. In front of me, a couple of the CYA students loaded their bags onto the scale and were rudely told to get rid of some weight. Those poor kids. We had no way of weighing our bags in our apartments...how were they to know that their bags were overweight?

Thanks to the slow-moving Greek airline employees, the wait was over an hour. I didn't mind it though... Nothing could take away the excitement of finally going home, or so it seemed. But as I plopped by enormous bags onto the scale, something horrible happened. My luggage was a total of forty pounds overweight! With an already full carry-on, I had no where to put this extra weight. But just like the students ahead of me, I was told to "get rid of someting." Now, my family has had overweight bags while traveling to Belize in the past, so I knew that my dad just paid an extra $100 for the extra weight and asked for a box, which he then scrupulously duct taped. Admittedly, it sucks to fork out this extra money, but my mind was set on going home. Nothing could crush my enthusiasm. After attempting to reason with this lady and refusing to throw anything away, she handed me a small woven nylon bag with a poor excuse for a zipper. When I opened the bag - which was one cubic foot in volume - the zipper broke off. No joke. Feeling as if someone had thrust a knife into my abdomen, I prayed that God work "all things out for the good of those who love him."

And He did. Brad, a fellow CYA student, saw me struggling and helped pack two of those little bags with the heaviest items from my suitecases. When I asked the airline employee for tape, I received a blank stare in return. Ahhhh! But duh, of course they had tape, so Brad and I used sticky yellow "caution heavy" tape to completely cover my weakling nylon bags. Thank you Brad!! I needed that psychological boost of compassion and camaraderie.

The next thirty minutes are a blur. I remember being shuffled off to another desk (about 200 feet away) to pay for the extra bag, leaving the airline employee to watch my luggage. I decided to use the last of my euros and informed him that I would pay in cash (big mistake). When I asked the price, he glanced down at the 140 euros that dangled from my hand and replied, "140 evros" (that's how Greeks say euros). Although I knew exactly what was happening, I didn't want to confront the man who held my ticket home. Instead, indignation boiled within me. The man took 15 minutes to make a phone call and then told me that I probably woudn't be able to get on my flight because it was overbooked (despite the fact that I had just paid for an extra piece of luggage). Flustered, I grabbed a handful of papers, tickets and passport and ran back to the ticketing counter. (I must have been quite a spectacle.)

Now the British Airways lady had really done it... "Your flight was overbooked, and you should have been here on time," she stated waveringly. No, no, no! I reconfirmed my flight the day before, and my seat was reserved...my seat number was in the computers, and I knew that this woman was lying through her teeth. I fought it and tried to reason with her, but to no avail. And then I broke down, sobbing like a baby. I just wanted to go home. I didn't have enough money to buy another plane ticket (which I would not be reimbursed for, according to my newly-acquired adversary). I couldn't take this. Alone in Greece, alone in that airport, alone in my hopelessness, I couldn't take it. Again, I prayed.

And again, God delivered me. That callous Greek woman showed mercy, handed me my passport and boarding pass, and allowed me to take one of the small nylon bags as an extra carry-on. "Your plane leaves in less than five minutes. You need to run." Ignoring the fact that she could've made that decision ten minutes ago instead of lying to me, I thanked her and dashed for security. No one was in line. My student visa was quickly stamped, I hustled to the plane, and was warmly welcomed aboard. Plopping myself, two carry-ons and my "personal item" (purse) onto my window seat, I accidentally flung my loose passport (still out from the visa-stamping station) under my seat. CRAP! As the stewardesses went over the usual rescue mask and emergency exit schpeal, I searched for my missing passport. Minutes later, a man two rows behind me found it under his seat. Phew.

My first flight was uneventful and even peaceful. The Alps were visible on that clear day, and once we disembarked the plane I met up with several other CYA students traveling home. The London Heathrow airport is a horrible maze, but we were enamored by English: we could understand what people were saying and read all the signs. For the first time in four months, I could speak the native language. :)

The long flight over the Atlantic was fine. Needless to say, it was good to be back in the United States! When I arrived at the Continental ticketing booth for my flight to Cleveland, a kind elderly man voluntarily wrapped those despicable nylon bags in travel-worthy sacks, and he even let me check my second carry-on for free. Americans are so much nicer!!

Upon my arrival at the Cleveland Hopkins Airport, my amazing parents greeted me. Their presence assuaged my feelings of unrest after that 36-hour traumatic journey. Unlike the rest of my study abroad experiences, I had never written about my trip home until today. So congratulations...you just experienced the unabridged version of (one of) Libby's traveling fiasco(s). The good, the bad, and the ugly...

~Libby

Song of the day: "How Great Is Our God" - Chris Tomlin