Poet Tree

Hello! I realize that its been a very, very long time since I last posted. Well, thats because I'm busy. Very busy. Working hard, schooling well, and playing long takes a lot of energy out of a girl, ya know? But this is not a post about not posting. This is a post about new posting! This semester, I've been in a poetry class with some very talented people led by a very talented and wonderful professor. Her name is Patty Kirk and I sort of love her. She's a writer. She writes essays that go into books that are funny, real, and sometimes make me cry. You should all read them because they're very good. She has a blog. But I won't post it because I don't know how she'd feel about that and I don't really want to ask her, either. Anyway. This poetry class is by far my favorite class that I've ever taken at JBU, which is really staying something, because I've really loved a lot of my classes. One of the course requirements is to publish some original poems. Well, I'm working on a couple that I want to try and have legit published, but like I said, I'm working on them. But! We are allowed to publish them on our personal blogs and since I have a personal blog, neglected though it may be, I'll be posting some of my work on the world wide web.  All of these poems, unless other wise noted, belong to me, so nobody may steal them, borrow them, or use them in any way without my permission, which I probably won't give you, because some day, I'd really like to have books published and these little lovies might possibly be in them! I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I've enjoyed finding them.

In my head, this is what every poem that finds me looks like.

Sparkling

            When I was working on an American military base in Stuttgart, my boss was a Scotsman from Edinburgh.  When I first started the job, I could barely understand John.  Eventually, though, after training myself to listen closely, I began to understand his lilting Scottish accent.  After we became friends, John told me that he had had trouble understanding my accent too, and he thought that I spoke way too fast!  John said the cutest things about his daughter—he always referred to her as his wee lass.  One weekend he took her to see the Stuttgart Christmas Market, which is one of the oldest and largest Christmas markets in Europe.  When I asked him if they enjoyed their time together, he answered with a sigh and said, “Aye, me wee lassie’s eyes sparkled more than all the twinkle lights of the city.”  While obviously a hyperbolic turn of phrase, the poetry of his Scotts tongue painted a vividly beautiful portrait of his little girl that I will always remember.

I made my prof cry!! The Story of English part 2

Last fall, I had the opportunity to live in Stuttgart, Germany, for a few months.  Not being independently wealthy at the ripe age of twenty one, I found a job at a gas station on the American Military base.  Working at the Shopette, as it was fondly called, offered me the chance to meet virtually every military-based Americans living in Stuttgart, as it was the only station of its kind on the four posts in the city.  The accents, from New Joisey to Georgah, were really interesting to hear. After talking to a customer for a few minutes, I could usually make a pretty good guess of where they had come to Germany from. Most of the people who came through my line asked me where in the South I was from. That always surprised me, because I’ve never thought of myself as having a Southern accent, but apparently I do!  Before my German experience, I never thought about how language has the power to connect people.  Once I met a lady who sounded so familiar, so of course I had to ask her where she was from. Turns out, she had recently moved to Stuttgart from Rogers! When I told her I was from Siloam, we had an instant connection.  Although the chances of ever seeing this woman again (I don’t even remember her name!) are slim to none, our accents brought us together for a fleeting moment, and as the snow fell quietly in the dusky German sky, I felt at home. 

The Story of the White Girl and the Bus

When I was in elementary school, I lived and went to school in a small surf town on the North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii.  My little sister and little brother also went to Haleiwa Elementary School.  The majority of kids and teachers at school with were locals, mainly of Hawaiian, Polynesian, and Asian ancestry.  They spoke English, but in a strange, broken sounding dialect of Pidgin.  During the first few weeks of school I could barely understand a word that was spoken to me!  A lot of kids made fun of the three little Abbeys for our white skin and our “Haole talk.” At first we tried to ignore it, but I realized we had to adapt after the first day we rode the bus home.

Our house was only a few miles from the school, and so, Mama decided, a bus ride would be a quick alternative to her loading up the babies and making the trek into town. After all of the necessary paper work was filled out and teachers were notified that we should be dismissed with the bus riders, the day of the first bus ride arrived.  Timidly, I walked onto the bus, followed closely by Hannah and Paul. The three of us shared a front seat close to the bus driver and began what would turn into a very long journey.  Instead of stopping and letting us off in front of our long and somewhat hidden driveway, the bus rumbled on by and started up the mountain.  Too scared to say anything and get teased for my Haole accent, I rationalized that the bus driver would stop by on the way back past our house.  Two hours later, a panicked Mama picked us up outside of Haleiwa Elementary School. 

The next day, Mama made us try again.  Small but proud, I was determined to get Hannah, Paul, and myself home safely this time.  Blonde head held high, I marched them up the rubber steps and back to our seat.  Once three backpacks were smooshed under two pairs of rubber sandals, I strode up to the bus driver, stuck my hands into the pockets of my cut offs, and took a deep breath.  I knew the time had come to use the language I had practiced in my head during the school day.  With all the courage I could muster, I loudly asked the bus driver, “Dis bus go Waimea?” To my great surprise and delight, he responded “Yeah, gurlh, you do tell me wen ya house come,” and I knew that I had made myself understood.  To this day, whenever we talk about Haleiwa Elementary School, Hannah and Paul, and I confess, I too, cannot help but remember with shrieking laughter the story of the White Girl and the Bus.

newsy update--an excerpt from an email to the grandparents!

My classes have been going great so far! I love JBU and I am so thankful that I am back there! I am taking a physical science course, which is my least favorite subject, but my professor seems to be a great guy and since its basically bone-head science (everyone has to take it) he is really good about explaining things and using visuals to help us understand what in the world he is talking about! My philosophy professor is really young, in his early 30s I think, and he is hilarious! He always has some smart-alec little remark to make, which cracks the whole class up every time! On the first day of class, he called roll and asked what everyone's favorite type of music is. One guy said he like bluegrass and told us that he played the banjo, so yesterday the prof let him bring his banjo to class and he played for us...it was a cool way to start class off! I learned one of the songs he played in choir back in middle school and I was tempted to break out into song, but couldn't bring myself to do it in front of everyone haha. I have had three of my professors before in the English department and it has been really great to reconnect with the whole department. I have a class with Jessa, Jimmy's fiance, too, which is fun! Its crazy to me that so many people that I know are getting married (Hannah, Jimmy, and lots more) and some are already married (like Bryn)! I am just not ready, and I am so OK with that! (Thank goodness! haha)

I just got back from chapel, where we got to listen to Dr. Franklin Graham preach. It was awesome! His voice totally reminded me of you, Grandpa! And what he said reminded me of you, too! He mostly talked about the need for all of us Christian to spread the Gospel of Jesus wherever we go. As an example, he used his ministry in Haiti. He said that when they were down there in a hospital (acutally, they still are) they would pray with every patient and give everyone a Bible. When he was asked by an American news reporter why they did this, even if it might offend someone, he replied that if they weren't spreading the gospel, there was absolutely no point in helping people, because they really wouldn't be helping them at all in the eternal scheme of things. That got me to thinking about our culture...a lot of people do good things for the sake of doing good things, because its the right thing to do, ya know? But it all will come to nothing if they don't share the Good News, too! I had never really thought of doing good things for that sake, and it really struck me as important. I'm excited to see how God's plan for my part in helping people find Him plays out!

JBU re-acceptance petition letter

To Whom it May Concern:

On January 1, 2009, the world lost a wonderful young man, and I lost one of my best friends, Will. His funeral was held at the Cathedral of the Ozarks on January 5. JBU’s spring semester started a few weeks later. At home, where I lived with my parents and four younger siblings, there were a lot of changes. My father began to commute to a town in south Arkansas and only came home on the weekends. My mother, who had worked only part time outside the home for the majority of my life, began working 40+ hours a week in Fort Smith. As the oldest child, I took on a lot of responsibilities caring for my two littlest sisters, taxing them back and forth between school, extra-curricular activities, and home, preparing dinner most nights of the week, and helping with homework. At school, I was enrolled in five classes, and barely passed three, with low C’s. It was as if I just didn’t care about school any more--I rarely attended class, never went to chapel, and sunk into a deep depression. I lost contact with friends, except for the few that had been closest to Will, and spent the majority of my time at home. I felt that God, if He indeed existed, had abandoned me. Before getting my grades back for the semester’s end, I had already decided to “take some time off.”

The last year and a half has been a period of unique growth, spiritual and intellectual, for me.  I spent six months working at a tanning salon and then began working at a local florist as well. Will’s sister, my best friend, decided to move to Germany to live with her mom for a few months and I was lucky enough to join her in October of this year. There, I worked at a gas station on a military base and traipsed around the city of Stuttgart for two fabulous months! While I was vagabonding though, I realized that I didn’t want to spend my life working low-paying jobs in order to just squeak by financially.

 I know now that education is one of the only means of moving ahead in this world. I’ve also realized that education is more than just showing up: it means hard work and dedication, and I am (finally!) ready to fully apply my potential as an A student.  My goal is to earn my Bachelor’s Degree in English and then attend a Master’s Degree program to obtain a Master’s of Education. I would like to move back to Germany, or wherever God sees fit to send me, and teach high school English on a military base overseas.

Spiritually, I have come to a place where I recognize there can be no alternative to believing in God.  Without His guiding hand on every endeavor in my life, my efforts are futile. He has taken me though the angry storm of disbelief and delivered me to the calm shores of His Divine Love. I think Oscar Wilde said it best, “Skepticism is the beginning of belief.” Because of my former uncertainty, my relationship with God has become much stronger now that I am certain beyond  a fraction of a doubt that God created me, He died for me, and He has “plans for hope and a future” for me as He promises in Jeremiah 29:11.

I am so excited about coming back to John Brown University. I am ready to dedicate myself fully to my studies and look forward to the intellectual and spiritual growth that I know will take place in such a God-honoring atmosphere!

Sincerely,
Morgan “Molly” Abbey

Funny the way it is...

So much can happen in the span of one week and one day!

Last week, I posted sitting in Echterdingen with the snow falling gently over the red tile roofs of the neighborhood.
Today, I post sitting in my parents lovely home in Siloam Springs,  Arkansas, with a parade of puppies playing happily in the back yard.
My adventure was, in some ways, cut short.
In other ways, it was the perfect length--Home for Christmas!!!!
After a few crazy days last week, I hopped on a plane in Stuttgart at 11 am on Saturday morning and arrived in Northwest Arkansas about 9 pm Saturday night.
So thankful for my wonderful parents, the fabulous Crystall and Brandon, and of course my Bryn and her lovely mama-la, Colleen, who helped last week make a crazy sort of sense. Without the support of them, and of course my awesome God, I think I would have lost it!

In my last post, I said I wasn't sure if I'd ever want to come back to Siloam. Lemme tell ya something, when the going got too rough, this girl was LONGING to be in Siloam Springs! Funny the way it is...
I have no idea, really, what the next few months will hold for me. But as my mom put it, there are so many possibilities and we cannot wait to see what doors the Lord will be opening for me! Pray for me, friends, that I will be able to choose the path thats best for me according to His divine plan, which is by far better than anything I could ever have "planned" for myself.

I'll leave you with this funny thought from my very wise and currently bearded little brother. In his western civ class last week, the professor asked the class to explain what control means. After several other students answered, Paul raised his hand and said, basically, "Control is an illusion. None of us have any control what so ever!" So true, little brother, so true!