long words

Saturday I spent time preparing for a lesson I gave today. I pulled out boxes from under my bed and old journals off the shelves with doodles in the margins and notes tucked inside. I spent a good hour reading. Much of what I read were records of college days when life was fairly routine and academic: français, color theory boards. An observational drawing class taught by a German professor I could barely understand, save his finger movements above my drawing pad indicating more shading here, more detail there. American History in the most historic building on campus, which seems only fitting.

Then there were the things between academics: Sunday dinners on the ping pong table in the basement by the fireplace we weren't allowed to use; nights we talked at the kitchen table until 3 in the morning, after which we miraculously made it to 8 am class; cupboards full of sugar cereal and six loaves of bread (we were somewhat territorial, but brownies were fair game); calls on the apartment phone, the cord stretched out into the laundry room for long calls and attempted privacy. Taking turns being rolled in the laundry cart down the hall between the storage cages, crashing haphazardly by the computers at the other end.

I read about the time we drove to Vegas on a whim. The time we "borrowed" a bright green E from a shake shop in Heber. The time we were locked in our own apartment by the boys in the next building -- a morning none of us made it to 8 am class. The weekend we played multi-level Spoons and nearly died running flights of stairs when someone got four of the same card.

I came across weekly emails sent by Grandma and Grandpa to the college-age cousins, full of love and support, encouragement to keep at it and a reminder that they prayed for each of us individually every day. I shared one such email in my lesson. The point of all of this being, I'm glad I kept record of it. Even the bad days. In one of my journals I found the following quote:

We don't choose our stories. Our stories choose us, and if we don't write them, if we ignore them, we are somehow diminished.

Write it out. Jot it down. Doodle in the margins. You'll be glad you did.