The best skaters have wet bottoms.

Me + Sports = Disaster in the Making. Let's just say that I'm not the most athletic person you've ever met. However, in my personal challenge to make my life more of a daring adventure and add some zest to the everyday, I recently took the opportunity to go ice skating with some friends. 

Lesson #1 of a life with wings: take every opportunity, even if—no, especially when—it means going outside your comfort zone.  

Untitled, a photo by brklynn on Flickr.

We went to an small outdoor rink in downtown Bentonville, not far from the starry glow of Christmas lights on the city square. We strapped on our bright blue skates and got out on the ice amid dozens of other people making the most of the winter night. My friends are far more accomplished than I, so while I clumped along trying hard not to slip, they were gliding across the rink (as the hours went on and I was invigorated with a s'more latte from the coffee shop, I did get to feeling more confident).

Many of the skaters were little kids, but there were also a few people with enviable skill. They swished around and around with their hands in their pockets, twirling a little here, making a lap going backwards...it was fun to watch but also a little disheartening.  

I've gone ice skating twice in the last 6 or so years, and I have yet to fall down. I might be proud of that—it shows that I'm not a complete lost cause—but on the other hand I realized something that night that applies far beyond the world of ice skating. 

Some of the best ice skaters out there were sporting wet spots on the backs of their jeans.   

How the World is Stealing Our Wonder

Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life—well, valuable, but small—and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? 

-You've Got Mail 

When I took my first-ever airplane trip, I expected to be amazed. I really thought that I would be knocked off my feet, thrilled, utterly flabbergasted by the completely unique experience of flying above the clouds, soaring so much higher than I'd ever been in my life. 


I buckled into my seat before takeoff, a bit apprehensive, then prepared myself for the roller-coaster feeling. It came, my stomach dropped, and we were in the air. When I looked out the window, the first word that came to mind was patchwork. The ground below looked like a patchwork quilt. And it immediately occurred to me how many times that word had been used in connection with flying. Books, magazines, movies, other people, they all describe the fields looking like patchwork.


This was the first disturbing thing. What followed was a few minutes of frustration as I tried to describe what I was seeing in completely original terms. It was hard. Every phrase that came to mind sounded hackneyed and cliche. The real shock was that even what I was seeing with my own eyes seemed not only familiar, but old. How many photos had I seen of the clouds? How many images of soaring wings? Dozens? Hundreds? It seemed so unfair that my first experience was almost spoiled because I had already experienced flying through blog posts, books, movies, etc. There was so little mystery, so little wonder.

Surrendering Dreams

I don't usually respond to posts on other blogs, but this is an exception. One of the Altogether Separate community members recently sent me to a post by Miss Raquel over at the God's Daughter blog. She told the story of a fellow Christian blogger who died in May, leaving a striking legacy behind him.


In the last blog post that he published, Joshua Steven Eddy wrote about the need to surrender everything— even those beautiful dreams that we hold close to our hearts—to the Lord. His words were inspiring:

To surrender a precious dream is a fearful thing, but to pursue anything but the full measure of the glory of God’s love is a wasted life.

About two weeks after he wrote this, Joshua was killed in a hiking accident. 

Flying the Friendly Skies....

You'll never guess what I'll be doing (God willing) this Friday: going on my first-ever airplane trip!

I've dreamed of flying for years and years, but thought that my first time probably wouldn't come until next April when I plan to fly to England. Now an awesome chance has come up to visit friends in San Antonio, Texas, and I'm taking it! 

As you can probably imagine, I am rather relieved that my first baby steps of travel will not have to be taken on a transatlantic flight. 

What is your opinion of air travel? Do you have any advice for a newbie? 

Untitled, a photo by John Steven Fernandez on Flickr.

Abigail's Day Out

Don't self-portraits always look a little funny?

Today I did something completely unprecedented: I spent the whole day (9:30 AM-7:30 PM) in town by myself! This is wild and crazy, let me tell you. The fact that I've never done this and I'm 19 years old should tell you that I don't get out on my own very often. As I just finished my first college semester, I decided that I needed a treat. This was a "grand adventure" for me--a chance to spread my wings and get outside my comfort zone, proving to my family and myself that I am capable of driving, eating, touring, and navigating without creating a five-car pileup, being robbed blind, or taking a wrong turn and ending up in Albuquerque. 


My first stop was to see an elderly friend of mine who is suffering greatly in a nursing home. It's a very sad story, but the long and short of it is that she has lost all physical and most mental power to control her own life, and everything must be done for her by others--which is her worst nightmare. This might seem like a weird way to start a "girl's day out", but it was good for me, making the subsequent pleasures of adventure and novelty all the more poignant and precious.

Mildred B. Cooper Memorial Chapel--you'd think they could have come up with
a more romantic name....

Just a short drive away from the nursing home there is a gorgeous little chapel that I had never taken the time to see. It's a small, arching structure of wood and glass, tucked away in a quiet wood, which looks like it's in the middle of nowhere despite the fact that the highway is less than five minutes away. It's popular for weddings, and probably funerals, but when I went there it was completely empty, warm, and quiet, with natural light streaming in through the windows and muted piano music playing in the background. I took photos and spent a few minutes drinking in my surroundings, marveling at this precious little gem so close to home, and thinking about my visit with my friend. Then I packed up the camera and headed out to my main destination. 

A diorama of Crystal Bridges as it will look when finished.

Perhaps you've heard of Crystal Bridges, the world-class museum of American art that was just opened last November (11/11/11) in Bentonville, Arkansas. It is a complex of concrete and glass buildings with curved roofs of copper ribbing (which looks like a huddle of armadillos), designed to blend seamlessly into the natural landscape. This is all built in, around, and over a stream which has been manipulated into a large pool, and the buildings jut into and across it like bridges. It's an amazing place and I'm privileged to have it right out my back door, so to speak. Thanks to Walmart, admission is completely free, so it is the perfect place to drop by and spend some time marveling at the fantastic architecture and beautiful works of art. I parked in the parking garage (first time!) and went inside, checked my coat, picked up an audioguide, and set off!