March 2, 1996 – Saturday – 10:00 a.m.

All of us went to see Braveheart last night.  Vince and I sat on the front row.  It had been nearly nine months since I last saw it.  Such an amazing film.  It is so much like life.  You try to find peace and quiet, but it is taken away.

It amazed me how Murron looked at Wallace.  I can’t ever remember a woman looking at me in that way.  How happy they could have been.  But, they killed her.  And for her, he led his country to freedom.  He fought his way through the trials and the hard times.  He believed and had faith in other people, yet they let him down and betrayed him.

In my life, I see that happening.  Although other Christians are all around me, I sometimes feel as if I’m doing this all on my own.

Vince and I talked in my room last night after the movie.  He felt really moved.  Originally he had planned to go to Florida with Charlie, Kate, and Allen, but now he feels as if he should go home.

I sometimes forget that these people had lives before they came to Lees-McRae.

We talked about a lot of different things last night.  It seemed to stretch on forever.  We played Counting Crows’ August and Everything After and I began to talk about Emily.  I told him about the abandoned streets of Crestview on that warm summer evening, over half a year ago, when all my hopes and dreams were within an arm’s reach, but at the same time, they were slipping away beyond my grasp.

I don’t think I fought for Emily.

I’m not sure if I fight for anything at all.

No one has completely betrayed me, I suppose.

They have just left.

Or I have left.

Wallace had friends.  They loved him dearly.  And they wanted him to say “mercy,” but he didn’t.  He would not numb his pain.  He believed.  He truly believed.  His heart, soul, and spirit were insanely brave.

Every man dies, not every man really lives.

I don’t simply want to die.  I want to live.  I want to make a difference.  Have I done enough to change this world?  Are Jenna, Tenielle, Jonathan, Vince, Dan, Curtis, and Allen, are they enough?

And in the end, whose face will I see as I am dying?  Whose smile will comfort me?  This body I live in has already begun to break down; I’m writing this with a broken finger.

Although I technically know that I am not alone, I often feel alone in my thoughts.  I truly doubt if others see the world the way I do.  I wonder if the beauty that I’m surrounded by will last past college.  I wonder if others walk around and wonder the same thing.  Are others as painfully aware of how fleeting all of this is?  Do the people I see on this campus go to their rooms to think about me, and how much they enjoy my company, and does the fact that I might not always be within walking distance make them sad?

In a week’s time, I will be on my first plane flight since my parents returned to America from Germany when I was 6-years-old.  Arizona seems so far away and so big, yet my own brother was born there.

After this semester, there remains a summer and two more years.  I know that life will not stop, but I often wish it would.  Just so I could stare all of these people in the eye, and tell them that I’d gladly die for them, so that they might truly know Jesus.

But I also think that might be the easy way out.  The only way to truly lose my life, is to live it.

I believe in Jesus.

I trust him.

He will not betray me.

Nor I him.


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