"Love is a Song"

Love is a song that never endsLife may be swift and fleetingHope may die yet love's beautiful musicComes each day like the dawn 

- "Love is a Song," Bambi

 I think this has been the most crazy last week of my entire life.  That's probably not true, but it definitely feels like it.  I'm not used to so much change in such a short amount of time!

Friday afternoon I made the drive to Village Creek Bible Camp.  I had such a great time! All my best friends were back together again, and it made me so incredibly happy.  After such a long time away from having friends and hugs, it was exactly what I needed.  It was hard to leave Val, who's not exactly happy that I haven't seen her play basketball, but I'd been planning this and my other week plans since July, and I couldn't change it.  I hadn't laughed as much as I did that weekend, and our small groups were wonderful.  At school I have one person I can share things with, but she doesn't understand me, or what I need.  Sharing with people who really know me was an amazing relief, and very therapeutic. Specially for Bethany.  We're kinda at the same point as far as school, what we're going to do with our lives, and friends at school.  We also kinda have similar ways of coping with our loneliness.  She's wonderful and I love her very much!  Katie and me made a deal that she would only push me in the snow if I was fully dressed in my winter gear.  She kept her part of the deal, but I never managed to knock her down... Maybe it might be the fact that she works with cows and I work with paint. Possibly. 

If you can't tell, it's kinda been a blast :).  I also finished a painting for Sue that she's giving as a gift.  I won't be able to post it til next week because of that reason.

That Sunday, Katie, Alison, and I left for Alison's house to spend New Years there.  Before we could take off, however, I get the news that Grandpa Harold is at Mayo with two tumors, most likely cancerous.  One is wrapped around his lower spine, and for a time if he moved at all he'd be paralyzed.    It looked really bad for a while, and that whole time he was on his apparent death bed, I was watching people jump in a freezing lake and getting pummeled into the snow.  If he had passed I would have been so bitter.  I was told to go ahead and take my time with my friends, but it's hard to smile and ice skate when your Grandpa may be dying.


I have a great relationship with my grandpa.  He's the only one I have left, and even though he can be terribly embarrassing, I love him very very much.  I don't think you could find a more proud grandfather.  He stops by our house all the time with Grandma just to see us and cry over how amazing we are.  No joke.  I just want one more time to talk with him and let him know that I don't put my friends over family ever.  And how much I love the unique childhood he helped to give me.  Grandpa had a heard of deer when I was young, and every spring we'd go out into his field and find the fawns.  There are few memories as a child that I hold more dear than parting the grass to see a curled up little baby there in it's nest.  I love the pictures that I have of those memories.  But who I really feel sorry for right now is Val.  I was the first Vincent grandchild to graduate without Grandpa Lewie.  It was extremely hard for him not to be there. Val would miss both grandfathers, and I desperately pray that doesn't happen to her.  I'm going to Mayo Saturday with my family to finally see what's going on.  Mom just texted me to tell me that it's treatable but not curable.  That leaves you with the mystery of time.  What is it and how much do you have left? I just know that you have to accept the time you're given.  I've made so many promises of paintings for him and visits that I never bothered to take.  I have to take the time I have left to make it up for him.  Hopefully he'll make it to his birthday in February, and I'll be able to give it to him special.  He also helped my dad to see how important camp was.  Last summer my dad didn't want me to go.  He had so much work to do at home, and I think he just felt abandoned, or that he'd missed his chance when I was in high school to really take advantage of me living there.  Grandpa reminded him that I was essentially a missionary, and that there was no greater thing I could be doing with my summer.  I'm really thankful for that.  It was the best summer of my life.

I was going to go into the silly things that happened on the route to Alison's and the time we had there.  I was going to talk about my first day as a paraprofessional student, and how confusing it was.  But I just can't.  I'll write about Starmont tomorrow.  Tara gave me a book called "The Gospel in Disney," and it's a wonderful book; made to order for someone like me.  I wanted something relatable, and so I picked the sermon on the movie Fantasia, and it was rather spot on. It analyses the segment called "The Sorcerer's Apprentice." It's a Mickey Mouse segment, and it's very well done.  But the author uses it to sort of explain why bad things happen, but yet we have a God that loves us so infinitely.  He pegs it down to three reasons. You may have your own ideas or even have studied this more in a real academic fashion, so no arguments please.  This is just what Philip Anderson has to say.  The first is the gift of personal freedom.  The second is that God has structured the world with certain dependable laws, of moral and of medical and of science.  The third is life's relationships.  I found the whole thing rather fascinating, though I'm also content with saying it's because of sin in the world.  But that's not what got me.  With the struggles with my relationship with God, I constantly forget that He loves me and actually cares.   He cared that I had a monster headache all day, He cared that Autumn's car wouldn't start.  He cares about Val's basketball, Mom's back, Dad's work, and Grandpa's health.  Sometimes I think when we pray we're trying to convince God that we're worth Him stepping in and solving all the ills in our lives.  The thing is, He already knows we're struggling, He just wants us to go to him first.  My relationship with God should be like the relationship I have with my mother or Katie.  With Mom, we can talk for several hours, telling each other what problems we're having and how unfair they are.  We should both take a step back and ask ourselves if we've talk to God about them before we call each other up.  Every time something ridiculously 'Lindsay' happens, I automatically want to tell Katie.  I may be upset about it, but she has a way of making the not so good things seem hilarious and put a smile back on my face.  Why can't I just chat with God and laugh with Him? He's got to laugh at some of the situations I've managed to get myself in.  I would!

I've got school tomorrow, then a drive back home.  I love long drives, though I often pretend I don't.  Correction, I love long drives by myself.  I love to sing at the top of my lungs and blast the music through my ears.  But the best times are when I shut everything off and just start praying out loud.  I'm looking forward to it tomorrow.