whitney dziurawiec

I'm sitting here wrapped in a jacket and blanket because my AC is cranked. Because I pay Grace thousands of dollars a year, I'm gonna suck up all their energy. And because it is a stifling, lifeless sauna outside. And I wish it was the calming, relaxing, breathable heat that greets us on June lake days and melts our ice cream in July. But no. This heat suffocates and smothers. This is the worst kind of heat, the heat that shouldn't be here, that has overstayed its welcome. This Indian summer sun that seems to furiously focus its ruthless rays right into the center of our souls; resulting in discomfort at even the deepest level. The world is attempting to hide in its air-conditioned shelter, waiting for the dizzying, blurry heat to stop oozing all around us. It is this kind of heat that pushes me to my knees in heat-exhausted oblivion, begging our Lord Jesus to come back, and to please bring a cold front with Him. The other night I got to enjoy one of the benefits...

A freshman on my hall hates me. I have said hi to her, I have smiled at her, I even made a joke today in the bathroom while we were both in our towels because I spilled the contents of my shower caddy. And she still looks at me with this snotty, unimpressed stare. As if I am the most obnoxious person to ever have spilled shampoo. As if she doesn't even see me when we pass each other in the hall. AS IF MY JOKES AREN'T FUNNY! I am determined to have a moment of connection with her. Keep an eye out, dear blog readers. Someday I am going to get on this thing and talk about how I have won her over. Honestly I would be thrilled with eye contact; a smile seems less possible right now than me actually getting organized this year. This year. This year I am the student body secretary (and therefore a formal planner and toilet talk publisher), an accompanist for a choir and an alto in another, keyboardist for two worship teams, half marathon trainee, piano teacher, student, youth ...

I'm back at Grace, for one more round. I HAVE SO MANY CLOTHES & SHOES and i would call this a duck lip success. finally. I'm not going to lie, I didn't really want to come back. I had gotten into my routine of summer and I had my worries about this year. About leading and about if my heart is ready for something like this. I think I knew God was going to do something, and I didn't feel quite worthy to be apart of--much less help lead--it all. But I packed and sent excited texts to friends I'd see soon and forced a smile when people asked me if I was excited to move back. And I'm actually lying when I said I packed. I ignored packing like the plague. My parents said, "We are leaving in an hour" and I frantically threw my things into boxes and suitcases and hoped I brought it all. Packing meant acknowledging I was coming back. And I like living in alternate realities if I don't like the one I'm in. Like when it's hot outside a...