The Green, Lumpy Places

When people ask me why I transferred to Western, I wish I could just read chapter 9 of "Blue Like Jazz" to them. But I usually just say it was for the English program or something like that. Of course, this is completely true, but it's just a small part of an entire truth. Donald Miller talks about when he was working in Houston as a youth group leader and he describes a conversation he had with a pastor there. He says, "I can't be here anymore. I don't feel whole here. I feel, well, partly whole. Incomplete. Tired." The talks about the "lumpy places", and I know exactly what he's talking about. He means, when you fly across the country from Chicago to Washington, the land changes from flat patchwork to lush, green, lumpy mountains. He says, "the real me was out in the green lumpy places". I love the green, lumpy places far more than I could ever say. But Donald Miller says it pretty well in only a few words. Right now, out the window of my apartment is a big, tree-covered hill. In England, it might be called a mountain. There are no houses on it. It's perfect. It's a lumpy place.
It's hard to explain how I ended up in any of the places my life has taken me. Except that it all just kind of happened. I think it's a good sign that I don't know how to explain why I'm here. Because it doesn't make sense by the standards of this world or this culture. No one would suggest to a high school student to spend their first year of college halfway across the country, the next year in England at a Bible school, the next back at the first school, and the rest of college at a University close to home where most of their credits don't transfer. But here I am, and I wouldn't change any of it! I've gone wherever God has wanted me, and it's been crazy, but SO, SO good.