shouts of joy

It's an overcast day in the Inland Empire. I'm drinking coffee at a local shop and beginning my work on finals for my last quarter. I'll be graduating in June as Kristina R. Rhuman M.A. As I use this weather to do what it calls me to do - contemplate - my arms are sore as I type from the spin class I went to this morning, strange it's my arms and not my legs. I excepted to see my friends, but saw no familiar faces. But it didn't bother me much, because I know those faces aren't far away. If I call they will come. And that is more than enough. I've lived here in the IE for 9 months now. My skin is sun-tinted and my freckles are loud. My hair is longer and sun bleached from the days spent at the beach. When I think about turning 26 next month I feel determined and scared. Even worse is my thoughts on June, where will I go when my student loans are no longer deferred and Cambodia calls me to come home.The past 9 months have gone by too fast. I'd like 10 ...

I forget things. Some things I wish I could forget, but can't. Then there are the things I wish I could always remember, like dreams and answers to prayer. Lately I've been remembering the pain that comes from loving and losing. I've forgotten how my prayers have been answered and that my dreams are coming true. I've forgotten about the times I've vowed to risk it all for whatever the case: adventure, service, passions, devotion and even love. I've forgotten how I've loved and been hurt, loved and been hurt, loved and been hurt and healed every time. I've forgotten how the impossibles become possible. I've forgotten the ones I admire and their stories of heartache, loss, rejection, brokenness and failures that lead them to their love, commitment, perseverance, strength and successes. Wow, how I've forgotten. Today I spent several hours over lunch with my friends Troy and Nick, good buddies from high school. We caught up at a small Lebanese jo...