Another Anniversary

One year ago today was the provenance of this blog. This is the eighty-second post.

"Hast thou not seen how thy desires e're have been granted in what He ordaineth"

One year ago today I learned I was accepted to Wheaton College. I remember running to get the mail that morning - as I had been for a good month - seeing the envelope from Wheaton, and retreating to the empty kitchen to open it alone. It held good news!

What a lot has happened in the last year!

I don't feel like I have a lot to say about the year- I've written a lot on this blog about the happenings and changes and discoveries. This day is a good day to remember all the blessings I have at Wheaton. I'm so glad for the friends I'm making and the things I'm learning. There are so many wonderful things.

It's been a good year.

Advent

While it's not yet Christmas Day let me share one of my favorite advent hymns. Mr. Berdos shared it with me; it was one of the first hymns I learned to play, six years ago. Verse four is my favorite. Hmm. Five and six are my favorites too. They're all good. I really "let it rip" when I'm playing this carol in church.

Lift up your heads, ye mighty gates!
Behold, the King of Glory waits;
The King of kings is drawing near,
The Savior of the world is here.

A helper just he comes to thee,
His chariot is humility,
His kingly crown is holiness,
His scepter, pity in distress.

O blest the land, the city blest,
Where Christ the Ruler is confessed!
O happy hearts and happy homes
To whom this King in triumph comes!

Fling wide the portals of your heart;
Make it a temple, set apart
From earthly use for heavens employ,
Adorned with prayer and love and joy.

Redeemer, come! I open wide
my heart to thee; here, Lord, abide!
Let me thy inner presence feel;
Thy grace and love in me reveal.

So come, my Sovereign, enter in!
Let new and nobler life begin!
Thy Holy Spirit, guide us on,
Until the gloreious crown be won.


Merry Christmas, my friends!

On Holiday

It's glorious to have free time. To not have to worry about practicing, or studying, or waking up for class is a measure of earthly bliss. Of course much of the reason it's so wonderful is that most of the time I do have responsibilities. I should be rather useless if I didn't, but there is a time for rest. Christmas break is all the better for the work done during the fall semester; I'll be all the stronger for the spring semester after relaxing during Christmas break, I think.

Furthermore, I shall be all the more grateful for Wheaton's "resnet" after suffering the maddening slowness of firefox with the internet connection at home. This should speak volumes to any Wheaton students. (Hey, I just learned something cool: "Internet" is supposed to be capitalized. I wonder how much longer that rule will last. I don't feel compelled to follow it.)

I've been reading voraciously since I got home from Wheaton. I didn't realize how starved for pleasure reading I had become. I just don't seem to have the time during the semester. There's always some task more pressing. Hence my "recently read" has turned to "not so recently read, mostly". I wonder if next semester I can make an effort to always be reading a book for fun, not matter how slowly I get through it. It would take a lot of self control. I get easily engrossed.

I can't say that I've been reading particularly high literature, though I do plan on reading the Fellowship of the Ring sometime during break, eventually. First I feel like taking the edge off my appetite with lighter fare. I'm reading hors d'oeuvres, if you will. Anyway, what I have read has given me an abundance of new vocab words, most thanks to Alexander McCall Smith, a few to Dorothy Sayers. (Lord Peter Whimsy is a new favorite of mine.) Check out the sidebar.

Would that my Scattered Wits may at times be lambent!

Thou Who Wast Rich Beyond All Splendor

This is one of my favorite Christmas carols, though it's not so well known. You can read what my step-uncle Chip Stam wrote about its interesting history here. It is sung to a beautiful French carol melody.

Thou who wast rich beyond all splendor,
All for love's sake becamest poor;
Thrones for a manger didst surrender,
Sapphire-paved courts for stable floor.
Thou who wast rich beyond all splendor,
All for love's sake becamest poor.

Thou who art God beyond all praising,
All for love's sake becamest man;
Stooping so low, but sinners raising,
Heav'nward by thine eternal plan.
Thou who art God beyond all praising,
All for love's sake becamest man.

Thou who art love beyond all telling,
Savior and King, we worship thee.
Emmanuel, within us dwelling,
Make us what thou wouldst have us be.
Thou who art love beyond all telling,
Savior and King, we worship thee.

- Frank Houghton, 1894-1972

A Short Rant

At Casa Verde in Reynosa there is no hot water for showers. Water is kept in big cisterns on top of the building. They only get as warm as the sun heats them each day. So after a long day at the work site, when we all get back hot and gross and sweaty, we can enjoy cool, refreshing showers. If you don't die of shock when the cold water hits you, it's actually quite nice.

Cold showers in the summer in Mexico are fine. Cold showers in Wheaton, Illinois "in the bleak midwinter when frosty wind makes moan" are less pleasurable.

It's been an interesting week.

It was the last week of classes for the semester. That means no more aural skills for me! I think the full meaning of this joy will sink in more next semester when I've fully recovered from the trauma. Now I have the feeling you have when you've just gotten over a stomach bug. It's great not to be so miserably ill, but you still feel kind of crummy because it messed you up so much.

In a month from today I'll be starting new classes. I'm registered for Composition and Research (the writing gen ed), Classical and Early Brit Lit (with three friends!), Intro to Evangelism (because Dr. Root is teaching it and I heard he's amazing), piano lessons, and Wellness 101 (I was wait-listed so I e-mailed the professor asking to be added. He said if I was Liz Harber's roommate I was very welcome!) I'll also have Music Theory II with Dr. Wheatley again. I like theory - a better understanding of music means a greater appreciation of great composers' brilliance. I didn't realize how many rules guide composers. If forced, I can write and harmonize a melody. Just follow the rules. It takes a musical genius to create music that will be played and enjoyed for centuries.

Last Sunday I lunched at the Ryken's house with Arwen, Erin, and Robin. We volunteered to help him out with something, and he and his wife thanked us by inviting us over for a meal. It was delightful. If, when I'm old and settled, I live close to a university I hope I'll be generous and hospitable with college students. It means so much.

As to why this week has been interesting . . . This week I lost my naive optimism about Wheaton and Wheaton students. It was a nasty jolt. I came in knowing Wheaton wouldn't be perfect, but I guess a lot of good conversations and experiences lulled me into glossing over its faults. It's good that I've "come to", so to speak.

Chapel at Wheaton has been consistently disappointing. It started off very good at the beginning of the year with a week with John Piper, but things went down hill from there. Some of my friends are similarly discontent and a few of us were, or rather are, planning on visiting Chappy K, hoping to convince him that reform is needed. We're tired of "chapeltisements", tired of poor worship music, tired of moral but gospel-lacking messages. Several weeks ago we had a psych prof who managed to speak without mentioning God until the closing prayer. But this past Monday was the final straw. Rev. Alise Barrymore came and spoke about what she has learned about the advent from watching Smallville. It's so shameful I'm embarrassed to write it. If you have a morbid curiosity, you can listen here.

Previous chapels saddened and disappointed me, but this angered me. Honestly I don't remember ever being so angry before - angry that my God was so disrespected, angry that chapel wasn't what was promised, angry that I had to be so disillusioned. It was frightening. What also upsets and saddens me greatly is that while others agreed with me that it was a travesty of chapel, few were willing to take action - to write to Chappy K, to express disappointment, to ask for reform. Anything. The general response is that some chapels are worse than others. That's the way it is here. I don't understand that complacency. How can that be okay?

On Wednesday I had lunch with Jay Thomas, the college group pastor at College Group. I was glad for the opportunity to talk about this disillusionment and seek his advice. I guess the danger for Wheaton students as they lose their optimism is to fall into cynicism. I want to walk the middle line of "idealistic realism". Jay said it wouldn't be wrong to think of Wheaton as a kind of mission field. A Christian witness is so important here.

I began a letter to Chappy K on Tuesday. But this week has been busy and I have not yet completed it. What further frightens me is that as my anger abates, my drive to get the letter written weakens. May I not become complacent too.

Let it Snow!!!

The first significant snow of the year was Tuesday. It started flurrying in the later afternoon and by the time darkness fell it was coming down wholeheartedly. I couldn't resist spending several hours outside, delighting in the weather. I have a lot of memories about snow - late night walks with the family, sledding at Colgate field, Mrs. Cutler calling about school cancellations, watching Lewie hop around and puppies bound, the blizzard of 1996, playing in the mounds of snow at the edge of the school parking lot during recess, and the year it snowed on Christmas and we had to drive David to the airport in treacherous conditions.

Erin, Arwen, Swims, and I walked through the snow to Lawson field where we danced and goofed around. Swims had to return to work, but the rest of us walked further through the neighborhood, singing Christmas carols together. There's something magical about a snowfall at night. Then we headed to the stupe for ice cream and coffee. And later that night we got raided. It was a good day.

Erin and me.

I saw this guy on the way back from the conserv after practicing last night.

Below is the view from my dorm window. I live on the "U" but at the end of the hallway so I can see a little more than just ugly Fischer. Snow makes everything prettier. I even love the contrast between the bare tree branches and the white sky.

Officially

The official word is that though I never entered the conservatory I have to transfer out of it because the registrar got confused.

So. . .

On Wednesday I declared an English major.
On Thursday I submitted the form requesting to transfer into Wheaton's College of the Arts and Sciences and declared a music minor. (perhaps I should have done this before declaring the English major. Hopefully the registrar can handle this . . . )
And today someone walking out of Fischer said to me, "Hey, you're a conservie, aren't you."

NO!!!!

A special day

This past Saturday was my nineteenth birthday. Birthdays make me so happy. I start thinking about all the people I love and the ones who love me and all that has been good in my life, and I become very joyful. I wish I thought like that every day. Attitude makes such a difference. Why is it such a struggle other days of the year? On Saturday I was counting my blessings; today I'm tired and grouchy as I fight off another cold, I'm afraid, and worried and frustrated after practicing for aural skills several hours, probably to no avail.

Every year, despite my better intentions, I get so excited about my birthday that I tell people weeks, or even months, in advance. So funny, that I should read this post by my more mature friend in Mexico on December first. But I think we love birthdays for the same reason.

My friends helped make my birthday a special day for me. Jeremy hooked up an answering machine to take all the calls I missed. Liz and Katelynn surprised me with a room decorated with balloons and streamers, breakfast in bed, a giant card signed by lots of friends, and the extension set to Settlers of Catan. I spent the morning practicing at the conservatory and then was thrilled to open the door and see snow coming down! Liz and I braved the elements and spent several hours in downtown Wheaton. Supper was off campus with friends and the evening finished with a game of Settlers in the lobby. In short, it was a wonderful day. And I didn't have to eat at Saga all weekend!

Two more weeks of classes, a few days of exams and I'm done with the semester! I'll be ready. Especially for aural skills to be finished. . .

I'm thankful for my family

John and Mary

Mother

Daddy

David

Ruth and John

Kate

Jodie and John

John

Radu and Ruth

John

I love them all, but John is cutest!

Ukrainian Eggs

Mary taught Kate, my Mother, and I how to make Ukrainian eggs. She
had lots of colorful dyes and a book with different designs that we could choose from.





We started by finding the poles of the egg and drawing a line through them to divide the egg in half. We drew designs in pencil and covered those lines that we wanted to stay white with wax. This is painstaking work.

I put my whole egg in blue dye and then had to cover every part of the egg that I wanted to stay blue with wax before putting it on brown dye. You can see the tool that you use to put wax on the egg in this picture. You melt wax into the little well and it comes out through the really tiny point. I spent hours bowed over the table focusing on that little egg. It was fun, but I honestly don't think I have the attention span to do it again. At least until I'm old and mature.

When the eggs are dyed you have to poke holes in the poles and blow out the innards. This was pretty gross. I didn't want to document with pictures. It made me think of my nephew John who had a bad cold at the time.


Mary put our eggs in the oven until the wax was liquid and we wiped it off with paper towels. The egg in the picture below is my masterpiece.

Catching up

It was so nice to see some friends over break. I stopped by school on Wednesday afternoon and talked with my old principal and caught up with some favorite teachers. Mrs. Bonsell, my Great Books teacher junior and senior year, treated Susie, Andrew, and me to breakfast on Friday morning. I love TCS and while I'm glad to be at Wheaton now it's still nice to hear what's going on there. And it was especially good to be with Susie and Andrew again! We all are having such different college experiences. Andrew is a plebe at the United States Naval Academy. He made it to regionals in track again this year, in spite of some ankle injuries. I'm sure he ran better than he was willing to tell us too. Susie is excelling at Seton Hall's honors college. And Mrs. Bonsell is teaching and missing us dreadfully.

One of the highlights of the trip home for me was seeing Mr. Berdos, my old piano teacher. He listened to me play and we talked and then he took me and Tim out for coffee and we talked some more. It's comforting for me to know that God is sovereign and there's a reason I have my current piano teacher, though he drives me nuts. But that doesn't make me miss Mr. Berdos any less. I wish I could be in NJ on Sunday to hear him conduct Handel's Messiah at Hilltop again.

An Excursion

Shortly before I left, on Sunday afternoon, Mary, Mother, and I visited Kip's Castle in Verona. I didn't even know a castle, of sorts, existed so close to my home. It was built by an eccentric robber baron by the name of Kip. I think it was in private ownership until recently, but now it's open to the public. The grounds are just beautiful.

It was a gorgeous afternoon. I'm so glad that autumn hung around so long for me to see some beautiful colors. The prettiest foliage was mostly gone by Sunday, but I saw some stunning reds and golds. There were some beautiful trees here in Wheaton, but I didn't realize until I came back to New Jersey how much I missed the sight of a whole hillside aflame with color. Illinois is flat. There is no hillside, just flatness.

On a clear day you can see the NYC skyline. You can just barely make out lower Manhattan here.

I love the way the light shining on the trees makes the leaves so bright.

A Screw

I think there is an expression about a screw in a system. Or perhaps I have a few screws loose. My wit's diseased. Or at least scattered. Hee hee.

Count the allusions in that last paragraph and report back.

I'm in an odd mood.

Anyway, I am the screw in the Wheaton College system. When I registered for classes I noticed at the bottom of the page that it said "Carol Miner, Wheaton Conservatory of Music, Undeclared: Music Education". Therein lies a problem. Though I applied belated to the Conservatory I was never accepted. Last spring I declared my self undeclared: music BA (do you wonder why I'm confused?!!) During the summer I sent in my audition; during orientation Dr. Horn said he had seen my audition and had chosen to evaluate me after a semester before deciding if I could be admitted to the conservatory; a day or two later I realized I would never want to be in the conservatory and told my adviser and piano teacher so.

Anyway, I went to the conservatory office after my lesson today to ask about this because it affects recital concert attendance requirements, and potentially jury requirements too, I imagine. Thirty minutes later I left the office. The conservatory has never had to deal with such a nutty case. I confuse myself.

I had a teacher in high school who said university officials were the most infuriating bureaucrats. I can imagine that this could be the case. But thank God for Susan Brinkman, a conservatory secretary, who is a beacon of all things good. "You can practically hear the milk of human kindness sloshing around in her."

I'm thankful to have had this time in the conservatory, as a BME or BA or minor or whatever I am or have been or will be. Most Wheaton students don't get to know conservies. I don't want to be one myself, but I'm glad to know many of them. They are (for the most part) talented, interesting, kind, odd people. (conservatory humor amuses me. Do you know anyone who jokes about parallel octaves or the "new melodic concept"?)

I should get cracking on my dictation assignment. But I'm not a conservie. At least, I never thought I was. . .

Fun Things

I have lots of pictures to post from Thanksgiving break. I'll post them as I find time this week. Here's the first batch. Ruth and Radu brought dominoes up from Maryland and we all enjoyed trying to remember how to play Mexican Train after Thanksgiving dinner. I remember being very, very sleepy. . . .

Ruthie

David

I brought home Settlers of Catan, the game which was so popular at our family reunion in July. We played for hours. It's a wonderful game, so long as you don't lose too badly too many times in a row. . .

Kate
(I lost the game. There's a double meaning in that!)

Sometimes playing with the extra settlements and roads is more fun, especially when you never collect enough resources to put them in to use on the board.

Mary

One of the wonderful things about this game is that it's so aesthetically pleasing.

And this is proof that I didn't just play games all break. I practiced the piano for a few hours. In some ways it was easier than practicing at the conserv. I could almost trick myself into thinking that Mr. Berdos would be giving me my next lesson. Ah, if only it were true.

Back at Wheaton

Having arrived back at Wheaton after Thanksgiving break I have a few quick observations:

The Good: Seeing friends again and working hard to finish off the first semester
The Bad: Getting up for an eight o'clock class on Monday morning
The Ugly: The large, partially-lit star behind Blanchard. That beautiful hall demands classier
decorations.
The Pretty: The Christmas lights on the trees and wreaths on the buildings.
The Funny: Noticing all the guys whose moms made them get their hair cut over break

When there's not much to say, but writing is fun. . .

Hearing little dissent, I've retitled my blog "Scattered Wits". I also added a page element on the side bar - cool new vocab words. I'm pleased.

I'm writing this while flying back to Wheaton after Thanksgiving break. I've been reminded this Thanksgiving break of why I don't love airline travel. I really shouldn't complain. The days I flew are some of the heaviest travel days of the year yet I didn't have to wait in any long lines. But I did spend many hours waiting at the gate while everything in me was itching to be on my way. Both my flights left late. But in this case the ends justify the means. Traveling is worth the cost of growing old in the airport. I'm so glad I got to come home for Thanksgiving.

The only work that I brought home to do was to read The Next Christendom by Philip Jenkins for my Gospel, Church, and Culture class. It is mildly interesting at points, but far from scintillating. I managed to get through the last chapter by rewarding myself with a carrot stick after each page turn, like the way I remember eating crackers to pass the miles on long car trips. Now I'm snacking on M&Ms at my pleasure as I type. I like this better.

Thanksgiving break was wonderful and I feel ready to tackle the three and a half weeks left of classes and exams before Christmas break. I'm looking forward to posting some of the pictures I took.

A few good quotes, I think

I recently read Great Expectations for the first time for my British Literature class. Dickens has a way of writing with a touch of humor that saves a dark subject matter from being overwhelmingly depressing. Here are some excerpts that amused me.

I pointed to where our village lay . . . a mile or more from the church. The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside-down. . . When the church came to itself - for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go head over heels before me, and I saw the steeple under my feet - when the church came to itself, I saw, I was seated on a high tombstone.

My sister, Mrs. Joe, . . . concluded by throwing me - I often served her as a connubial missile - at Joe.

All of in a moment some confounding remembrance of the Havisham days would fall upon me, like a destructive missile, and scatter my wits again. Scattered wits take a long time picking up; and often, before I had got them well together, they would be dispersed in all directions by one stray thought.

He had glittering eyes - small, keen, and black - and thin wide mottled lips. He had had them, to the best of my belief, from forty to fifty years.

Let me introduce the topic, Handel, by mentioning that in London it is not the custom to put the knife in the mouth - for fear of accidents - and that while the fork is reserved for that use, it is not put further in than is necessary. It is scarcely worth mentioning, only it's as well to do as other people do.

Unless I deceive myself on a point where my interests or prepossessions are certainly not concerned, I saw that Mr. and Mrs. Pocket's children were not growing up or being brought up, but were tumbling up.

I also loved the parts that talked about Mr. Wemmick's father, referred to as the Aged Parent, or simply the Aged. It made me think affectionately of my own "APs".

Honest Thoughts

Only a four page poetry explication stands between me and Thanksgiving break.

I'm so ready to come home, see family and friends, eat good food, and have a short break from studies. I want to come back to Wheaton rejuvenated and renewed in my enthusiasm for learning.

Sometimes I become very frustrated with myself. I want to make the most of my time here. The past few months have flown and I'm already about twelve percent done with my undergrad years! With the notable exception of aural skills, I am doing pretty well academically. But sometimes I wonder if I'm working as hard as I should be, if I'm redeeming the time. Am I doing the minimum it takes to get a good grade when if I worked harder, I'd learn more? It's the knowledge, not the number that's most important.

There are days when I feel like the only productive thing I've done is laundry.

I don't entirely understand the Wheaton community. On the one hand, most students are highly motivated and success-driven. On the other hand, it seems like students are so affirming of each other that it would be easy to slip into complacency. I feel like the encouragement and affirmation from friends has given me greater confidence, which isn't such a bad thing. But at the same time I hope it hasn't had negative side effects as well. I don't really know.

More family

I love these people. They became part of my family when my grandpa married Jane Stam. I guess they are "step-extended family", but I just call Clara my cousin. They are Chip and Doris Stam, Marty (whom I met first while he was a grad student in NYC), and Clara. I'm so blessed that they are part of my life!

Redeemed

Last night I withstood the frigid temperatures to watch the Wheaton men's soccer team beat Carroll College. It was a playoff match for the NCAA tournament and Wheaton won 3-0. It was excellent. This was good because I don't think I could stand another disappointment like the loss to Carthage that I witnessed.

Let me add that it was mildly confusing to hear my name cheered by the opposing fans. And to hear some comments from the Wheaton fans about Carroll. . .

On Saturday the ladies are playing St. Scholastica. (No confusion there.) They (I mean the Wheaton Thunder) have a winning streak of 40 games.

Unfortunately Wednesday nights tend to be stressful because dictation assignments are due Thursday. It was a late night and I'm exhausted and headachy. I have decided to be a music minor instead of a BA music major. This relieves so much pressure. It's such a relief, I think it must be a good decision. Aural skills isn't the only reason for this decision, but it thrills me to no end to think that I have only two more dictation assignments and then I will be done with aural skills forever! Assuming I pass. . .

So sad, so strange, the days that are no more

Yesterday I walked with my friend Erin to La Spiaza, a coffee shop in downtown Wheaton, to enjoy a cappuccino and Tennyson. These lines, "So sad, so strange, the days that are no more" and "So sad, so sweet, the days that are no more" captured my attention. Those days for me now are my high school days, though I was happy to move on. How strange to think that in just a few years I shall be looking back on college in the same way.

Thinking about those days reminded me that I had some pictures of Yosemite from our senior trip that I hadn't posted yet. You can view them here, with the rest of my senior trip posts published in July.

And I'll share with you another Tennyson poem that I love:

Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known,-- cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honor'd of them all,--
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
to whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,--
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me,--
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads,-- you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Can you guess my favorite lines?

RAID!!!

We threw a raid for the brother floor on Thursday night! A raid is an underclassmen dorm tradition - a themed surprise party in the middle of the night. Our theme was a "mom" raid. We all dressed as different "types" of moms, served the guys PB&J sandwiches with juice-boxes, and made them compete in contests, etc. It was pretty much nothing short of amazing.

Liz was the overly-supportive mom, dressed completely in Wheaton garb. I was the over-worked, frazzled mom. This was fitting since I had a quiz the next day I still needed to study for. (It went well.)

My suite-mate, Katelynn was the emcee. She looked stunning, as always.

Amy and Allison.

Jaime and Cara.

On the couch are the judges for the competition - Destiny, Allison, Liz, and Bethany. Taking pictures are two of the girls across the hall from me - Kelli and Allison.

Mary Claire, Katie, and Amy.

Four moms interviewed a group of volunteers to find out which of them would make the best husbands for their daughters. Erin was the always-pregnant mom. She's working on the "baker's dozen".

Mandy is grilling Duggin and how often he thinks it necessary to shower, or perhaps, what's his favorite way to cook his road-kill.

Laura was country club mom.

Kelsey was business-mom.

These guys enjoyed the show - David, Peter, Clark, and John.

And so did these guys - Justin, Caleb, John, and Josiah.

Other volunteers competed to see who would make the best mom. They had to wipe the peanut butter off these balloon faces with their licked finger. It was pretty funny.

And then they had to put a diaper on these stuffed animals. They were rated on all their motherly skills by the panel of judges.

They also had to feed baby food to another guy sitting on their lap. John didn't want to take it from Josiah.

Rob was a cheerful dad. I think he tried to old airplane trick.

Ben and Nick followed the rules, but Peske pored the baby food into Jeremy's mouth. I think they were disqualified.

A lot of it went down his shirt.

It was a fun night.