I am in Indiana. In West Lafayette, to be exact. I'm sitting in one of ENAD's many computer labs, to be exacter.
I made it; by God's will, I made it. To be frank, I don't have my semester entirely paid for; I have yet to make installments. However, I am satisfied in knowing that I am getting a month's worth of college before I am forced to hand over more money to the Bursar.
There are several things that I am still worried about, and I know that I shouldn't be. I know that I must just "give it to God" and let him deal with things. After all, under His will, I will be able to do anything and everything He wants me to do (even if it is manage two jobs while attending school full-time).
Several of my prayers have already been answered; I am only waiting for more. (It is my impatient waiting that is providing me with unnecessary stress; the stress that began the minute I hugged my mom goodbye and sped East, matching I-80 in speed in my 1993 Oldsmobile.)
I wish I had more time; now that I am back in school, I am unsure of what I will be able to do. The capability to maintain these two blogs while balancing the collegiate-you-pick-two-lifestyle: social life, sleep, good grades.
Once again, PRAYER is the answer.
I wish I could relate to all of you my Christmas vacation, my wonderful New Year's Even with A. I wish I could express my edgy homesickness for my mother, whom I feel I did not have enough time with while in Iowa.
Perhaps I will some some short, sweet, to-the-point post later. (Which does me no good, considering that I would love to address the sermon that I heard in church yesterday.) To summarize the summary of what was a wonderful sermon (for me, at the very least), you must be thankful. Psalm 100 demonstrates a variety of ways in which to be thankful: emotional, mental, and personal.
As a complainer, I realized that I could thank God even more than what I already do. (I usually fall asleep counting my blessings, just as Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney do in White Christmas).
I figure that I will slowly improve; take last night, for instance.
I had parked my car a few blocks away in free street parking, where it was blanketed by a few inches of snow. Standing in several inches what the plows had shoved off the streets, I scraped the soft crystals (and ice) off of my windows in the bitter cold. Granted, it wasn't the most fun; but I did get covered in snow. My hands were warm, I had an ice scraper, and I even had a car to clean off. Granted, it is not a classic; it is not new. It has more than 140,000 miles on it, and the engine is practically rusted through. However, my "granny car" is one to be proud of: it is the first car I ever drove and the first car I have ever owned. Furthermore, it has the ability to go eighty miles an hour, albeit the windows sometimes ice over from the inside out.