So it is 2:12 am and I can't sleep. I can't imagine how many blogs have been started under these exact circumstances.

Several things woke me before the dawn this morning, the main culprits being the following:

(1) I live in a home that was built in 1945, and at night, if you close all the heating vents in all of the common areas of the house, you get adequate heating in the bedrooms. I have determined through careful empirical observation and experimentation that if I leave the vent in my bedroom only half-way open, (or half-way closed depending on which school of glass-half-empty &/or full you hail from) then my husband and I stay comfortable throughout the night and my son stays toasty in his room as well. Tonight, upon entering the bedroom and feeling a noticeable chill & ignoring the months of data I had collected, I made the rash decision to leave the vent fully open. As I'm sure you have already surmised, I awoke around 1:30 this lovely morn feeling much like we had been relocated to the place of my ancestors directly on top of the equator. Now as often as I proclaim that I come from a tropical people and the cold is not for me, one thing I cannot abide is slumbering in temperatures that make a sauna look breezy. That is what woke me up.

(2) This is what kept me up. High-school. Bizarre I know, especially since I am a good 10 years removed from my Alma matter. I had a dream about one of my two big high-school crushes. And, no not that kind of dream. It was completely innocent, just like my crush and the dynamic between us. In my dream, we had been planning a school event and there was a miscommunication followed by a sweet realization that is was indeed a miscommunication and that the friendship was still in tact. The dream was about as complex as an amoeba. Not much to it really, but what kept me awake was all of the wonderful memories from high school that the dream unearthed . I fully acknowledge the rarity of enjoying high school, especially when that stage of adolescence is full of teen angst and insecurity and, while I had my fair share of that, I was surprised at what stood out in my memory.

I remembered choir trips to Tacoma, Washington for Musical, a choir camp and competition for schools in the Northwest. I recollected goofing off and singing my heart out with friends, & losing my voice every year before the command performance. One of the most pleasant memories about Musical, oddly, is the bus ride. It was about 4-8 hours on the road, depending on which chaperons drove and how often we stopped for snacks (we were always ravenously hungry), and it was a solid day of uninterrupted time with friends. There was ample time to chatter with girlfriends, work up the nerve to flirt a little with Mr. Crush, talk with said girlfriends about said flirting and then satiate my near super-hero metabolism with cheese puffs, Bit O' Honey(Mr. Crush's favorite) and Blue Raspberry Blow-Pops. There was no homework, no responsibility other than to sing and have fun, and hope that the next time I am sitting next to Mr. Crush, that he just might hold my hand.

The next memory that shook me from nodding off was of "Mini-sessions". I attended a small private school, and 2 weeks before school let out was Mini-sessions, a week long go at various moderately educational, mostly recreational activities. We could sign-up for adventures such as rock-climbing, white water rafting, a coast trip (which always included stopping at the outlet mall), and some more local gigs like cooking, and sewing, and art. There was something for everyone. Freshman year I took cooking and learned how to make quite literally the best cinnamon rolls I have had opportunity to try. The next 2 years in a row I went rock climbing at Smith Rock with our choir director (who also happens to be a skilled rock and glacier climber) It was no coincidence that Mr. Crush dabbled in rock climbing, but truly I loved the sport. As I reminisced, I could almost feel the dirt under my fingernails and adrenaline pulsing through my biceps and quads as I replayed reaching the summit of a tough climb in my mind. The images of friends and the pristine skyline as the sun set gently over the cliffs will be forever imprinted on my memory. It was an amazing trip.

Another random phantom that stirred me from the bliss that is slumber, was of a day after school in the spring, just before mini-sessions my junior year. It began to rain the kind of giant rain-drops that wash the ground clean & smells faintly of fresh cut grass and the neighbor's roses. One of my best friends and I immediately took off our flip-flops without a moment's hesitation and splashed around in the puddles on the sidewalk. This morning as I lay in bed, beneath the sweltering heat of my down comforter that has now been kicked to the edge, I could feel the cool water like silk between my toes, and I had to smile.

My thoughts turn to my baptism, going down into that icy creek in July 15 years ago and knowing that I would never be the same again. I remember the presence of friends and family, but most of all, I remember savoring being under that water, though it was only for a second or two. But, I swear water never felt so good. It wasn't cold under the water like it was when I first got in, it was the perfect temperature, like the same cool silk between my toes the day it rained after school. I just let is wash over me and take all the the things that held me back downstream. And truly, I have never been the same.

I have always been a hopeless romantic with a visceral memory and random dream pattern. I marvel at the way God has shaped me over the years and revel in the wonderful memories He has afforded me. And from where I stand, there is nothing but blue sky up ahead.