Let's just say that a breakfast of scrambled eggs with sharp cheddar cheese and organic cilantro salsa make the Indiana Veteran's Home less daunting.

Together Happiness

Tonight, as Julie and I were walking into Target holding hands, she stopped and looked up at me,

"Cookie! We're together!"

My little heart became very happy, and I replied,

"Yes, we are together. I like it, don't you?"

She smiled and sighed contentedly, "Yes."

Define: seek (sēk) v. sought (sôt), seek·ing, seeks: To try to locate or discover; search for, To endeavor to obtain or reach

This morning, I spent some time on Psalm 105:4, and the following struck me...

If it is my job to seek God, and if the riches that follow such a quest are as great as they are, why is it that I so constantly get pulled away and distracted? The competing activities and thoughts all come down to one thing:

I do not know my God.

Could I but see a glimpse of the power and overwhelming beauty of my Savior and God, no doubt all else would be wiped from my mind, and I could not even entertain viewing another as more important than the Almighty.

A life that is lived seeking the glory of my God is accomplished by knowing that same God. That knowledge erases all other thoughts and distractions. How simple is the recipe for Christian growth! How gracious of God to make it so! Only through knowing him, having an increasing knowledge of his love, grace, mercy, justice, sacrifice... (etc.) can I expect life-transforming change as I become the creature he created me to be for his glory.

What a delightful quest! How pleasant the painful task of change becomes when I realize that I am not in the foreground. My God is.

Lord, allow me to follow Psalm 105:4 today...

"Look to the Lord and his strength; seek his face always."
(Ps. 105:4)

Vacationing in Motherhood

My parents are out of town (celebrating 28 years together), and I've been staying at their house, playing "mom." Tonight Julie, my three year old sister, walked up to me cradling a bottle of baby shampoo.

"Cookie, 'dis is Baby Sutton." I look down, distracted from the fifteenth checking of my e-mail in the past twenty minutes.

"Ohhh... that's Baby Sutton?" She nods, bouncing the baby on her non-existent hip.

"And Cookie, Baby Sutton not happy now. She need Cheerios."

"Will Cheerios make Baby Sutton happy?"

"Yes. She need 'em. She grumpy." (Hmmm... there are days when I could do with a handful of Cheerios...)

I obligingly got the cereal down from the pantry, and we both picked out a "baby" bowl that was suitable for Baby Sutton.

"Now, Mommy Julie," I said, "you need to be careful, and help Baby Sutton eat her Cheerios. Sometimes babies choke if they don't have help." Her eyes opened wide, and she nodded seriously.

"I be careful. Promise, Cookie."

For the remainder of that hour, Baby Sutton and Julie went everywhere together. Julie told her "be kind, have a happy heart, Baby!" and rocked her, introduced her to the various family members, and sang creative, yodeling lullabies that only she and Baby Sutton could understand.

As I watched her ministrations to a bottle of shampoo, treating it as tenderly as she would have any baby, I remembered something I heard one of the sponsors of the college class say this morning,

"I have the best job in the world- I'm a wife and mom."

Tonight, cuddling Julie on my lap, making yummy yogurt smoothies, and playing "pretend" with a shampoo bottle, I couldn't help but think: no matter what the world may tell me about "building my career" and "not letting your talents be 'wasted' at home," and no matter where others may tell me my worth lies (money, fame, etc.)- I think I could ask for no better job than to listen to yodeling lullabies and teaching colors one Crayola crayon at a time. Thank you, Julie and "Baby Sutton", for reminding me of that.

:)

Wordless, in need of Wisdom

Written words are my delight. If I am unable to verbalize something, or incapable of communicating what I truly mean, I sit down, and begin to write. I write when I'm happy, sad, nostalgic, contrite. I write when I learn, when I want to learn, and when I don't even know that I need to learn. I write to make people laugh. I write to make people think. I write for the joy of stringing together words such as "glinting gossamer" and "merciful justice," creating new ideas and new pictures, and new thoughts.

However, although it does not happen often, sometimes I am completely unable to write. I have no words, only emotions, and typing over and over again does nothing to coherently convey what I'm attempting to tell.

That's what's happening tonight.

I don't have the words, I don't have the wisdom, and I don't have the knowledge. I can't put a series of vocabulary words together to make sense of what I'm attempting to convey. But "every word of God is flawless." (Proverbs 30:5) and "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." (James 1:5)

Lord, tonight I lack wisdom. But you create flawless words, give me some of those... Because tonight Lord, I really need them.

Truth

I think there are days when following Philippians 4:8 is just a wee bit harder than it is on other days. Of all the attributes we are to imbue our thoughts with (true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy), I believe the one I struggle with the most is "true."

For example, from the time when I was a young child up until I left home, I would stand at the window, waving goodbye to my parents, convinced that they were never going to come home and that this would be the last time I would be able to tell them that I loved them. Clearly, they're still here, and I wasted many hours, fearfully believing something untrue.

Or there were the times when I didn't play hide-and-seek because I was convinced that as soon as I made myself vulnerable at any angle, then I would be attacked by the monster who had just taken up residence under our coffee table. (He only lived there during hid-and-seek.)

Of course, as I got older some of my fears seemed to become a little more tangible. (Although I still remember hiding from the Hound of the Baskervilles in eighth grade...) Fear of not graduating, fear of not getting a job, fear of failure, fear of never getting married, fear of getting married...

Rather than choosing to build my beliefs and my actions around things that were true, I spent my time hypothesizing an entire slew of possible errors, failures, and mishaps.

Today, the old army of fear is at it again. Amazing how I can face the same enemy in such an assortment of ways. My untrue thoughts today are focused on something I never thought I would fear. But here I am...

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.... And the God of peace will be with you." [a]

Merely stating, "oops, that's an untrue thought!" is not enough. I must actively search for truth to replace my lies.

But I am like an olive tree
flourishing in the house of God;
I trust in God's unfailing love
for ever and ever.

I will praise you forever for what you have done;
in your name I will hope, for your name is good.
I will praise you in the presence of your saints. [b]

I will trust.
I will praise.
I will hope.

"Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him." [d]

This is the truth.

************
[a] Philippians 4:8, 9b
[b] Psalm 52:8,9
[c] I John 4:8,9

My poor little brain is all tied up in knots and decision making... :)

“When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.” (A.A. Milne, "Winnie The Pooh")

**The Manhattan Chronicles**

The man sitting across from me in the terminal is talking. Loudly. About a crisis. I’m like emotional tofu- I absorb the emotions of those around me, and his stress is slowly seeping into my psyche. I just put my iPod in my ears. Maybe it will leave… of course, the sequence of events that I just went through were stressful, so I didn’t need much more to make me want to snap.

This morning was lovely. I was drowsy, but I ambled my way down 6th Avenue to find Magnolia Bakery, my new favorite New York spot. Apparently it’s famous, I just happened to stumble across the name in my browsing for “Things to see in Manhattan.” But this little pocket of heaven on 6th and 49th would be enough to make even the grumpiest person smile on a summer morning. The interior looks as though it has not been touched since 1950, the décor is tiny tiles and dainty pastels- asif it were your grandmother’s kitchen freshly scrubbed with Clorox, for the entire place is spotlessly clean. I ordered a decidedly fat-filled mocha latte and a mini chocolate swirl cheesecake. They packaged both in clean white cardboard, and my dear little cheesecake was in a delightfully marked, dainty box. I fell in love.

Cradling my coffee in one hand and my newly purchased box of heaven in the other, I trotted back down 6th to Bryant Park where I wrote, prayed and nibbled. I believe I’m a Bryant Park junky. It’s so petite, so movie-esque and feels safer than Central Park. I believe, that should I live conveniently located in the city, it would become a tradition.

After my leisurely morning, I was in need of a nap. I have been sleeping about 3 to 5 hours a night, walking and running all day. I knew that with my flight schedule tonight I would need to drive until the wee hours of the morning in order to make it home. So I took a nap. I love napping. I wish I could nap every day…

When I woke up, I ventured out once again. I hate doing “touristy” things. I like to blend in and look like a native. But I’ve never been to the top of Empire State Building, and considering that I’ve been to NYC repeatedly, this is really inexcusable. Besides, I heard the view is incredible. I love incredible views. To make my venture to the top a little less touristy, I decided first to find a delectable frozen yogurt spot called “Pinkberry.” Let’s just say, smuggling creamy pomegranate frozen yogurt to the top of the highest building in New York, and eating it while looking at historic landmarks is amazing. Which is good because being herded like cattle on and off elevators, being surrounded by foreign men who have no concept of personal space, and being subject to grossly over-priced tickets is hardly enjoyable. The experience was good because a) the structural feat of this building is phenomenal, b) all the limestone is from Indiana (represent! Whoo!), and c) I can now say that I’ve done it.

I then packed up, said goodbye to my delightful friend Elisha who was good enough to house me, and sallied forth. I navigated the subways and the bus successfully. I was the only white female on the bus. The looks I got were enough to make anyone anxiously chuckle. I didn’t believe that segregation still existed until I visited those parts of NYC. I got lost at the terminal, which is quite large and kept running, trying to find my ticket counter almost missed my flight, but it was delayed, and then again, and then again. And am now currently waiting in the terminal with a random bunch of disgruntled business men. Once again, I appear to be the only white female…

I’m definitely going to need to acquire some caffeine in Chicago..

**After hours of delays, lost luggage, dashing through airports, and a debate with a Mormon on the final flight, I finally landed in Indianapolis around 1:10 a.m. It's now 3:10 a.m., and yes, I just got home. Exhausted... my Manhattan adventure is officially over.**

“You know that you are in love when the hardest thing to do is say good-bye"

**The Manhattan Chronicles**

Well, my dear reader, my Manhattan time has come to a close. As I write this, my bags sit beside me (still open, much squashing will be needed to close them), and I sip one more sip of Manhattan water while trying to find the best way to say goodbye to a city who never even knew I was here. While at the airport I shall no doubt hash out my last day's adventures, views personal space, and Pinkberry yogurt, but for now, a vague settling of the feelings inside of me must occur.

Over the past three days I have experienced fear, exhilaration, confidence, paranoia, doubt, joy, sadness, contentment, pleasure, loneliness, hesitation, and desire. It would be wonderful if this trip had solidified my purpose and cemented my future, but I feel that the exact opposite has taken place. Something about this place terrifies me, but in my terror, I find myself peeking through my fingers (as one does in a scary movie) hesitantly wanting to see what's about to happen.

I love this city. And I love the corn fields of Indiana- I'm going home!

I've grown a little in NYC, and regardless of what the future brings, I shall always hold a fondness in my heart for the Big Apple of the East.

Goodbye, my love, Manhattan.

**The Manhattan Chronicles**

Well, my fair reader, you were neglected shamefully last night. I had every intention of arriving at the apartment in dusky twilight, filled to the brim with creative and witty anecdotes, and, while I did arrive around dusk, I was hardly filled with witty narratives. I was exhausted. I had walked over one hundred blocks- actually spent the entire day walking- and I was not ready to sit down and expound. I was ready to crawl into bed.

However, sleeping in Manhattan always seems like a sacrilege, so I decided to rest a little before going back out. Alas, a violent thunderstorm allayed my plans. Umbrella-less and scared of wandering damp streets alone, I curled up with several movies and spent a blissful night wrapped in fictional characters' problems.

But yesterday was delightful.

I went to Bryant Park, Rockefeller Center, Saks, St. Patrick's Cathedral, browsed homes on Park Avenue, shopped on Fifth Avenue, and found the most amazing hummus and organic mint green iced tea.

I began my day quite confidently- I was standing at a street corner, when a little lady with a child pulling her arm out of her sockets, asked me in a harried way which direction Fifth Avenue was. I gave her incredibly lovely directions and earned a "thank you" and a confidence that I was becoming a New Yorker. (I know, I know, Fifth is easy to find when you're standing on Sixth, but please give me some credit.)

Bryant Park, where I nibbled on fresh fruit and iced coffee, trying in vain to keep the heat at bay, was filled with people reading at little tables under the trees. Across the lawn was an outdoor yoga class. If I hadn't been attired in a skirt, I might have joined them in their downward-facing dogs. I mentally noted that law enforcement officers in NYC seem particularly attractive, but then remembered that I'm scared a lot in NYC, and this could be the reason for their attraction...

At Saks, I met my new best friend "Javier." He was delightful. And incredibly flamboyant. We talked make-up and he gave me a make-over while we chatted it up about graduate school and different skin tones. He's going back to school in the fall- to be a teacher. Just to have a little Saks' bag hanging from my wrist, I bought some concealer and bid Javier "adieu".

The rest of the day was browsing, amazing hummus lunch in Central Park (complete with the world's best mint tea).


I decided that since I had never been to mass- I should go at St. Patrick's. The beautiful cathedral was awe-inspiring. But mass was not. More thoughts on that to follow. But as I sat there, flipping through the hymnal, I realized I didn't know any of the songs in there. Wracking my mind for a song they might sing that I would know, a sudden thought popped into my head, "I wonderful if the have 'A Mighty Fortress Is Our God...'" Then realization of what I had just thought made me stifle a snort of laughter.

Of COURSE they wouldn't have "A Mighty Fortress"! Martin Luther and the Catholic church HATED each other! Why would they be singing a song penned by one of their old arch-rivals? I resisted another urge to chuckle. What on earth was I thinking?

As I wandered the burgs of the socially elite, glancing in store windows and trying on impossibly expensive shoes, I was trying to stifle an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I don't have much recreational alone time. Granted, during school I'm alone a lot because that is my mode of studying, but when I do fun, random, Fifth Avenue type of activities, I'm usually surrounded by a bevy of family with a sprinkling of friends.

Every now and then the reality of what I would be doing, should I choose to come to NYC hits me at a different angle. I would be so lonely out here. If I'm plagued with loneliness in West Lafayette, (which I have been as of late) with my family and friends near-by, then how much more so would I be plagued in a mammoth city, all alone? I know, I know I would eventually make friends, but there would be quite a long while when those friendships would be just planted and new, timid shallow things. And that's always a hard time...

All well. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, won't we? I won't know if I got the externship until the first week of September. I'll let my worries take a snooze until then. Who knows, they may not even need to be awakened...

Okay, last day in the city! Going to visit a famous bakery and try to see the top of the world from the Empire State Building. Then I've been told I need to try some delicious frozen yogurt called "Pinkberry." Hello, Wednesday in Manhattan!

Apple Update!

Can't escape my need to communicate everything in written form.

This post is being penned in the Apple store on a Mac that apparently loves German. Currently it's telling me that every word in this sentence is misspelled. All well, gotta love free WiFi.

I was bummed I left my yoga pants in W. Laf, because I definitely could have joined in an outdoor yoga class at Bryant Park this morning...

Okay, now to Central Park and the Met, then I think, on my way back for dinner, I'm going to stop at St. Patrick's Cathedral for mass. I've never been to mass, and I think it's about time I went. Don't worry, I'm a fundamental evangelical to the very core of my soul.

It's so hot my make-up from Saks is melting!

P.S. I'm buying this MacBook Pro as soon as my current favorite, "Bob" dies. Don't tell Bob.

If I'm less chatty, don't take it personally...

**The Manhattan Chronicles**

Hello, all!

I am heading out for a brilliant day on the town. I will probably walk until I fall down from exhaustion.

I jotted down little notes in my "little black book" so I know exactly what's on the to-do list today! Unfortunately, I'm not like my gifted siblings, so I shall not return to you this evening with a crop of pictures perfectly capturing my day. But I do have my faithful pen and my tiny little book- so I'm sure you shall not escape the day's random observations.

Happy Tuesday!

I should probably buy a map...

The Haven of Renewed Purpose

**The Manhattan Chronicles**

After my interview and casual browsing around town which followed my interview- I spent the majority of my afternoon here



in the New York Public Library.

I think I could move to New York just for this building. It makes me happy...

I ate dinner at a little cafe/diner with bright orange tiles on its walls and a grumpy man behind its counter. I'm staying with one of my brother's college friends these two nights, which is wonderful, but due to an error with my phone, we spent two hours not communicating.

And I people watched. Observations from people watching:

Wedges and gladiator sandals are incredibly popular footwear.

When you put this many people together, you see more attractive men per minute than you do anywhere else.

There are quite a few New Yorkers who have none of their city's acclaimed fashion sense.

Dresses are in- in- IN! So cute.

No one looks very happy...

I was feeling rather demoralized after a hot, sticky afternoon- lonely in the big city and wondering if I was a crazy fool to leave the comfort (and cheapness) of the Midwest to forge my own little path in the big C of NY. But then I arrived here:



a tiny sanctuary, and I remembered why I wanted to move to Manhattan. Yes, it's big and bustling, and scary, and I'm horrible at trying new things all alone, but there are so many people here who are so sad, and hurting so much- I saw some of them at the rehab facility today, and even more as I mused at a coffee house window. And although all the glitz and glamour can be at once overwhelming and enticing- it's not everything there is. There are little cubbies of peace, like this one, into which I can retreat. Little pockets of comfort which can be home, and into which I can welcome other tired, demoralized people.

I like the city again- I think I shall venture out to procure some flip-flops, mace, and a "thank you" for my hostesses...

Interview and beyond.

**The Manhattan Chronicles**

Okay, so probably the best interview I've ever had! I don't think that's any credit to myself. It would actually take VERY little to surpass my horrible interview track record. Yuck. I stink at interviews.

But today I just "played a part." My character was focused, while still sweet, qualified, and perky. It made for a lovely interview. The real me should never go on interviews. The me who can act should always go.The head of pediatrics and the head of adult rehabilitation were both there. It was just over forty-five minutes long, and throughout the interview these ladies mentioned their love of Purdue and my "astounding credentials" probably about ten times. Amazing. (Even more amazing when you realize that my credentials aren't really that astounding...) Now all I can do is pray that I get this placement- apparently they've had more than their share of qualified applicants and it's going to be a tough call. Yikes. Pray-pray-pray!

In other news: NYC is blistering (yes, I can literally see the sidewalks bubbling) in sweltering humidity. I have probably sweat close to a gallon of water since my arrival. Yuck.

Ah... yes, my arrival.

After I landed I went to the bus terminal.

I missed the first bus because I was too shy to get on it (yes, I know I'm twenty-four years old). I missed the second bus because I didn't know that the bus driver only accepted change. Then I caught the third bus and spent the entire ride staring at a VERY attractive, yet slightly creepy man trying to decide if he was gay or an incredibly uninhibited metro. He caught me staring at him about twelve times over the course of a twenty minute bus ride, but I have a wonderful, Midwestern shamelessness, and I just kept on staring.

I got off the bus at the wrong stop and couldn't find my subway. (Remember, I'm in a suit, pulling luggage, and it's ninety degrees outside). I had gotten off in a rather seedy part of Harlem. Honest to God, I was the only white person for about five blocks. It was awesome, but I didn't get a chance to bust out my gansta-speak. So I'll have to go back there, fo' shizzle.

Lost, and in the middle of Harlem (at least I knew I was in Harlem!), I hailed a suspicious looking taxi (he had no formal taxi markings other than his license in the front windshield). Hopping in I glibly reeled off the address of Rusk Rehab, and then pretended, yes pretended, to talk on the phone the whole time so that he'd think I was a grown-up (in my world grown-ups are busy and always making phone calls). I was so paranoid of being carted off to some deep, dark alley and losing my darling little Coach wallet. Poor driver. He was just doing his job, and my over-active imagination turned him into a felon...

Now I'm sitting in the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue. I'm finally regaining a stable core temperature (although my hair, even after 30 minutes, is still saturated with perspiration). In about an hour and a half I'll venture out for food and hydration before hiking to my resting place for the night- I'll probably be a horrible house guest for Elisha- I've been up since 3 and all I want to do is crawl into bed...

Photographic documentation of a bored college student on a tiny airplane...

Professional me, glibly drinking mediocre airline coffee as I jet-set across the country.




Totally goofy me imbibing too much caffeine on an empty stomach.



This is the way I felt all morning- CRAZY!!!

:)

Spread Your Wings and FLY!

**I will do my best to keep you, my wonderful reader, updated on my goings-on in Manhattan. I will actually write rather frequently given my solitary status and the wealth of adorable coffee shops to sit and ruminate in…**

As I write, the sun is seen only occasionally as we dip in and out of clouds. During take off, just as the sun was rising, it was like flying through golden gossamer. (ahhh… waxing eloquent.) All the lakes, dwindling to puddles, were screaming sunrise orange in my eyes. I want the color in a can- but unfortunately not even Behr can package that radiance.

“He makes the clouds his chariot and rides on the wings of the wind.” In Indiana we often see beauty, but not so often grandeur, and rising through mountainous clouds, my breath was stolen by the thought of how BIG my God is. “He covers the sky with clouds.”

In other (more frivolous) news: going to the airport now resembles checking into a concentration camp. Denuded of my shoes, jacket, purse, necklace, watch, and carryon, trudging slowly through the line, in the grumpy silence that non-morning people inflict, I couldn’t help but grimace. What idiot first decided that smuggling weapons in stilettos and jewelry would be a good idea?

Oh, and apparently my Mac Book, “Bob,” looks like a terrorist threat.

Adventure for one, please

Crack-o-dawn early on Monday morning, I shall be flying to my delightful "dream city." The reason for this expensive, incredibly terrifying journey is the interview of my dreams. Allow me to explain...

In my graduate speech/language pathology program at Purdue University, that delightful institution puts us through the paces for exactly four and a half semesters. Midway through that fifth semester, we are cast into the world to sink or swim. I am completing eight weeks of an "externship" at a school (probably in Zionsville) and another 8-12 weeks at a hospital or medical setting.

Our educational placement is determined for us. I have no control over where I am placed, but the medical placement is another story. We are required to find our own medical placements. Most of my colleagues have already done so. But most of my colleagues aren't gluttons for punishment, as I appear to be.

The creme de la creme of medical placements is located in Manhattan. Rusk Institute of Rehabilitation Medicine is one of the nation's most pretigious rehabilitation facilities. My application for an interview was more work than my application for graduate school.

But I got an interview.

Monday, at one p.m.

My parents, perfect paragons of generosity, have bought me a suit, and a plane ticket (I provided my own support-top pantyhose and stunning accessories), and sent me into the wilds of Manhattan to see if the prior five years of effort have all been for naught. I have no back-up plan.

I AM SCARED OUT OF MY MIND.

I'm not used to forging my own trail, going out on my own. I always order the same thing at restaurants. I call my Bunny five times to make sure the shade of red I chose for a nail polish is okay. I text my mom seven times when picking out a necklace to wear with my new top. Every vacation I take- I take with family members. You know how girls always go in groups to the restroom? I invented that. I need constant affirmation, companionship, and validation. I can do new things- when surrounded by a comfortable bubble, but I am so incredibly afraid of doing new things by myself. I am not a good trail-blazer.

And on Monday, I have to do that.

Prayers appreciated.

Okay. **deep breath** Here it goes.

NOW I have an interview in NYC: August 17th at 1 p.m. **fingers crossed!**

Today I ate so much watermelon that my fingers turned raisin-y.

I spent eleven hours on campus writing and attending final meetings.





Oh, and I just finished my first year of graduate school.



WHOO-HOO!!!!