Freshness (with a bit of cheese)

I'm not scared anymore

is the kind of thing that silly girls

in sillier stories

say to their whoevers

but I'm not.

It is also an indeterminate fraction lie

but I am complete

in the Word who became flesh

full of grace and truth

whom I fear

whose perfect love drives out all fear

silliness notwithstanding.

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A month or so ago I almost wrote a post on how I am constrained by fear in many of my unhealthy habits: judging arrogance because my pride scares me, internally belittling those who are painfully Asian in the US because I fear exclusion, asserting to those who see my international travel and (secondhand) leather bag that I'm lower-middle class because I know that money could intoxicate me, re-reading sent emails because I am chary of offending by thoughtless words or poor punctuation, stressing about my schedule this upcoming semester because I am terrified of my time-devouring newspaper responsibilities. I'm really glad I didn't write that post, because it wouldn't have been a complete one.

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Urbana 09 was a joy. I'm not going to do justice to it partly because that wouldn't be the best stewardship of my time. Not least because I just spent a couple hours procuring toiletries online. Bleh. But I'm choosing to not be annoyed at myself for how long it took because (a) I has to buy basically everything again, (b) I had to shop around my oddly specific allergies, and (c) it's been really cold today, approximately -15c, and walking to Rite-Aid from my new room would take half an hour in clement weather. Cocamidopropyl betaine aside, I'll note down Urbana snippets that I want to remember.

My Urbana was peppered with events that seemed like disappointing inconveniences but turned out to be blessings. Among them:

--an 11pm to 7am layover in Singapore en route, which let me nip out of the airport hang out with my siblings in their flat for the first time

--36 hours of travelling, which gave me plenty of time to prepare mentally and sleep, e.g. when I got three seats in a row on my fourteen-hour flight

--luggage getting stranded in Chicago, so my six months' worth of junk got delivered to my hotel instead of me having to drag it on the train and bus

--brilliantly leaving my US cell phone in my checked luggage so I couldn't contact anyone on the first evening. But as I left that first session I almost sarcastically asked God to let me run into some of the 26 Williams people in the crowd of 17,000, and five steps later I would've walked past two of the said 26 if they hadn't yelled my name

--ushering in the massive Dome, which meant that I had a set seat, which in turn would have meant that I never got to sit with my friends, except that I was fortuitously assigned to the section that the New Englanders staked out

I was especially fortunate people-wise. We were assigned to discussion groups, and the five guys in my group were all lovely exuberant people who pursue God rigorously. And seeing Williams friends again! During the first few days I screamed in several faces during chance meetings in the human flood and was hugged off the ground and generally couldn't believe that I was with them again.

There were many powerful speakers, who challenged us with their honesty as much as their ideas, and whose words will resonate in my head long after I forget their names. In particular, I heart Ramez Atallah.

I was profoundly moved by the staff at the convention centre. There was this cheering thing going in the huge dinner hall, where the food prep staff and the line of herded students would whoop and clap at each other as we made our way to the food. I didn't understand it at all, but it was beautiful. And when a speaker in the Dome asked if anyone wanted to start trusting in Jesus, some convention centre staff were among the hundreds who put up their hands in the dark dome. Hand raisers received glowsticks from the ushers, and I don't know whether I started bawling when I saw that we'd timidly underestimated how many glowsticks we'd need for our section, or whether the incredulous jubilant ducts opened with I saw a paid steward behind me lift his hand.

And of course there was the soft but insistent and eventually unequivocal reminder throughout: that I was made to glorify God, not to fear. A reminder that I will always need but have never been so grateful for.

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So half an hour into the new year I was walking back to my hotel from the final gathering, singing songs that praised God with whichever sibling-strangers who happened to be next to me, and waving at passing cars.

The next morning I got up early and walked through the frigid but dazzlingly sunny morning to the soaring Arch, then to a lake wherein ducks rested on ice sheets in between swims, and then to a few minutes of a St Mary's Feast (I think) service at a cathedral that I happened to pass. Then I got my stuff together and left for the last airport I'll be seeing in a few months. (Wait, I forgot the one I transferred in and the one I landed it. And now the mood it is dead.) (Good thing my God is all about renewed life.)

On my way to pray with some friends this evening, I was trudging through the feathery crystalline snow, face freezing and nose running, when on either side of the path twenty yards ahead of me I saw two deer. As they bounded away lightly I found myself quietly exhilarated about the new year.