Accounting for these last 4 months

I've been pondering no less than usual in the past third of a year, which has elapsed quietly (at least as the blogosphere is concerned, with nary a post from me): not for a lack of things to say, but for a lack of energy, or perhaps eloquence, with which to say them.  That, and the fact that I generally quite like not having my private thoughts displayed on the internet.  I'd rather ponder them, bring them into prayer, perhaps share some with a particularly dear friend, but mostly just kind of let them mull; I've had a mostly lazy summer, which has included a surprisingly high intake of episodes of Chopped on The Food Network, and so the metaphor I'll choose is that I'd rather be eliminated from the competition, from the increasingly frenetic and dwindlingly private social spaces I see my generation occupying, than serve a dish that's unappetizingly underdone, only carried to partial completion and given woefully inadequate time to simmer and develop.

Still, to be completely private undermines the point of a blog (the purpose of maintaining which, after the inciting circumstance of my Bridge Year ended three years ago, I find unclear, though I endeavor onward because I can't shake the idea that there's something redemptive about writing it, whether for me or someone who happens across it).  With every intention of publishing a particular post, which has been percolating for quite some time now, very soon, prior to beginning my senior year in a couple of weeks, here is a sampling of some posts I began writing, but which were relegated to the archives of Blogger because the yolks were still too runny:

April. "How to Study All Night."

This post was to be a running commentary of the final 18 hours before my junior independent work, which ultimately amounted to a 25 page research paper on the anthropological critiques of obstetric and midwifery interventions during childbirth, was due.  Praise the Lord, in all seriousness, for sustaining me during that time of foolishness; unnecessarily esoteric, if exact, academic words; and harried editing, and may he lead me not into the temptation to ever do such a thing again.

May. "Organic Chemistry, or, How God Feels About Cs."

That's pretty much the summation.  I'll say I pushed through last semester (read: year) on pretty much one prayer: "Dad, I know you know how hard I'm working, and you know that I'm just exhausted and I can't really do more than I'm doing--but so long as you see my heart, which you do, I only ask that you be pleased with it, knowing, like you do, that all I want is for you, who do not judge from outward appearance, as man does, to get glory and praise from me and from all I do."  Ultimately, I ended the semester with a C in organic chemistry (which made me think very deeply about how God gets glory when people work with skill, but how I still knew he was not disappointed despite my evident lack of it), a lot of frustration and exhaustion, and, soon, a diagnosis (which, ultimately, was pure grace) of extreme--or, as my doctor called it, "abysmal"--iron deficiency that would explain why junior year felt to me like perpetually banging my head against a wall of academics.

June. "Wise, humble, and courageous."

Actually, this title was more a note to myself, but I guess I was going to expound it into a post.  It's the list I told my friend she she asked me what three qualities were most important to me in looking for a husband, given that he was a Christian.  "Courageous" was more of a placeholder for a word I never quite apprehended, but it was something along the lines of brave, or not fearing man, or something like that.  Valiant, maybe?  Still looking.

July (a). "Moving Forward."

I'm actually not quite sure what this was supposed to be, but I do know it contained a reference to the percentage of my life (approximately 6) during which I had considered myself "premed."  This leads me to believe I was intending to hash out all my reasons why I don't want to be a doctor and what to be a physician assistant instead, but the evidence was too overwhelming to corral.  It also included a link what I considered to be a thoughtful, nuanced, and horribly disturbing op-ed on the Trayvon Martin case, though the possible link between the two thoughts has escaped me; likely, there was not one.

July (b). "Church."

This sort of post is one that I've been considering writing since last summer, or maybe last spring, on my understanding of the role, the responsibility, the frayedness, and the ravishing beauty of the bride and the body of Jesus.  I went to two strikingly different churches (well, and my own at home, but that one I'm leaving aside) this summer, and their uniqueness inspired a lot of thought in me about what the church must be, what it can be, and what it should be.  This is one that will not be quite completed until I get to heaven and ask the church's groom to tell me, as I imagine his eyes glowing and fiery, all about his beloved, and how he sees her, and who she is to him (though from down here I get glimpses)--but it's something I don't go a week without thinking about.

So that's that.  I guess in light of my shrouded, and somewhat hypocritical, explanation on my blog of my ambivalence toward blogging, I'll close with one of the wisest pieces of advice I've ever heard on developing into a tool that Jesus can use, which in no way undermines the vital importance of wise mentors and dedication to a Christian community.  This from a wise brother named Daniel who loves the Lord: "Be formed in hiddenness."