departure: on a personal note

They say that old habits die hard. The same could be said of old friends.
I wonder, however, if new friends don't die hardest.
It's been a crazy year, certainly. I would be dishonest to say that there hasn't been times when I considered dropping my current expenditure all together in the pursuit of something else. For better or worse, my outlook on Bible college has improved this semester. Not only am I coming to realize it's practicality and what it has actually done already to improve my skills but I have also begun to meld with a community. I have come to find some level of human syncronicity which I believe is about as valuable and biblically a part of the Christian and human experience as it is comfortable and wonderful and painfully difficult to consider leaving.
I have built friends. Friends die hard. The old ones can pass from direct correlation with less pain perhaps because of the unbreakable tie which already exists and which we both know will not break. New friends, no matter how much my personality connects with them or the intense experiences we've shared or conversations we've delved into, don't perhaps have that same unbreakable tie. Though I may not think much of it later, right now it is difficult.

My room right now is in slight disarray. Things are in boxes or general piles in preparation for eventually moving out. It is another reminder that the end will probably come upon me quickly, and before I could ever have thought to have tied up loose ends and said adequate goodbyes.

It seems I've never been that good at goodbyes. I'm not sure if it's because I'm afraid of vulnerability and so decide to be senseless and overly-practical on the matter or if I simply see no worth in too much emotional expulsion when all things come to an end, its the future and the present we strive for (not things past), and after all- most of my worthy friends I'll see again one day in this life or the next. Why get worked up over a few years? Does that sound cold? Life is a battle, casualties are regular and those closest friends to me have often been friends expendable as myself to the cause at hand. Hmmm... Perhaps that's what makes it so difficult and confusing. It's not pure sadness regret or even anger. It's a confusion coming from a deep connection; and though the will is keen and the mind decided, the emotions are hard to express and the heart hard to read.

My thoughts and feelings bear a resemblance of a kind to my room. They are messy and being put aside to be dealt with later. I wonder, however, if I won't be able to just throw every thought into the back of my head like stuff into the truck box, but rather loose conclusions and work projects into loose ends and unconfirmities as I walk along the road of tying down the bird cage while the pheasant flies away with my heart. Ya, unsorted thoughts indeed. Don't mind me.

On a different note, I drove to Ashcroft last weekend (just before Cash Creek)- a little interesting update for you. It was a fun time. For a good story: we ( my traveling companions and I) prayed that my truck would make it and that it would have enough gas to get us there (as we began to think she was hitting rock bottom with no stops left on the route.)
I think God might have had some good humor in response to that prayer- or maybe He just knew I needed a close call to learn to rely on Him - yet again.
The truck coasted down the last bit of the highway, across the Thompson river, into Ashcroft, down the road, and brought us practically to the doorstep of our destination (with minimal pushing). Now that was rad! (Although next time I'd better fill up the tank).