An elephant never forgets

I like elephants. That’s a bit of an understatement, I love elephants. I also love monkeys, but that’s for another post. Well, I’m wearing a monkey t-shirt but the picture angle kind of hides it.

Elephants. An elephant never forgets, they say. A Nora never forgets, either. It in some ways a cool quality I have, I remember when my friends mention wanting something badly, and I try to make it happen for presents. I remember old nicknames and inside jokes. But at the same time, I remember old hurts, old aches, old pains. I don’t forget easy, and it’s hard because so many things I’d just rather forget. I’d rather forget how much pain I’ve been through and I’d rather forget where I’ve been. But forgetting the bad and remembering the good would hardly do me any good. It would only cause further pain.

But oh how I dream.
How I wish that I could just let go of all these things that have hurt me. And only remember the good.

“You can go on living as long as your heart believes,
although the scars of yesterday remain,
let’s stay together always.”

The scars will remain, both physical and emotional. The scars won’t fade, but it doesn’t mean I can’t go on living and hoping and wishing and dreaming.

What becomes of snow and Northwestern thoughts

“When the snow melts, it becomes spring.”

Sometimes I feel like the frozen spring. Completely trapped. The warm, serene summer is miles away and the crisp change of fall is nowhere to be seen. The spring, with new flowers, new blossoms, and new life is on the horizon, but still just beyond my grasp.

And why, I wonder, do I even want the snow to melt? For I’m warm and cozy inside. I’m safe, snuggled up with my blanket of secrets and my cup of hot chocolate tainted with fear. But it’s a false security, it’s not true warmth. I’m still, like the winter, cold, brisk, and bitterly cold. I’m still waiting to thaw out, so I can reach out for the new flowers blossoming along the sidewalk.

But yet, in some ways the thought of the snow melting scares me. Will I be a beautiful spring, or will I be the awful sludge that comes after the melting snow? Really, who wants to deal with the sludge? Who wants to be the one to clean that up? Who wants to be the one to reach out, and help clean away the sludge so we can see the beauty of spring?

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That’s enough of that section of this blog entry, I guess. But back to the real purpose of this blogs, thoughts about Northwestern. I sometimes feel like I don’t fit in here. Ok, more than sometimes. I have different views about abortion, different views about gay rights, different views about this and that and everything else. My family structure is vastly different than many, although I certainly don’t claim to be unique. And I often wonder… if I’m so different from the stereotypical NWC student, what on Earth am I doing here? I don’t like praise chapel. I have some issues (which will be covered in later entries) with other chapels. I am not Northwestern, and I often feel that I “darken the path” rather than “light the way.” I just wonder why I’m here and if I even belong.

For what place, if any, does a psychology and youth ministry student have if she still harbours this unpopular train of thought and this frozen fear? Northwestern claims to be accepting and loving, and I believe that at the core, their hearts are in the right place. But if they saw all the truth… would I still be loved and accepted?

For, after all, if I’m the frozen spring, then what would Northwestern want with someone who’s still overcoming such bitterness?