March 31, 2013


They say Christ died for us in that garden and suffered for our sins and that the weight of it all squeezed the blood out of him like an olive press does to an olive. And I believe them, even though I wonder how much weight it takes to crush Jesus Christ. They say too that while he was in the garden he felt all the sadness we felt, and that because of that he can judge us perfectly. And I believe them there too. But even if you don't, I think you can still wonder about all the sadness that crushed Jesus Christ, who conquered even death. All the heartaches, the disappointments the siblings he watched die of cancer, how many tons of grain and rice and cotton he harvested until his thumbs bled, how much frostbite and all the hunger the goodbyes the miles walked away from home the cuts scrapes scars the abandonment left crying alone in your closet crawling from Tennessee to Oklahoma on your bare knees smelling the odor of your loved one's ashes of gunshots and shipping off to foreign shores and the smoke on the thirtieth floor stinging your eyes or down in that mine choking your breath and loss loss loss. It's all loss and that weight you feel in your heart that you can hardly bear. Our hearts are fragile. That weight doesn't have to be much. I don't care how you divide it, seven billion times anything is a lot, and that doesn't include all the people way back when. What would the world's sorrow weigh? I wonder sometimes if with all the sorrows trials and tribulations, if he felt all the joys too. And if he did, whether he divided it up so that he had all the trials and then could look forward to all the joys, or else if they were all mixed together like how we have it. And then I wonder if he felt the joys that came from bad things, like getting away with stealing, and if it was on the tribulation side or the joy side. And if the joys were so much that they hurt him too. The earth weighs 59,721,900,000 kg (131,664,251,759.7 lbs). It's such a big number it doesn't even matter that we are on it, the mass is still the same. They estimate 107,602,707,791 people have lived on the earth so far. And let's assume that during their whole life everyone accumulates just one pound of sorrow, then sorrow alone would be almost the weight of the world. And that's not counting all the babies waiting to be born and that's not counting all of the sins, and all the people who carry a lot more sorrow in their hearts. All the sins are just ways of keeping sorrow in your heart anyway. I'm not trying to evangelize here, I'm just saying that's a whole lot of sorrow, and a whole lot of world. But let me tell you, all the sorrow and all the pain and trial and tribulation would be a lot less heavy if we started helping each other out and lifting each other's loads. And if we stopped forgetting what each other was. Choosing sides is important, we all need to do what we think is right. But not if it makes us forget that He suffered just as much for them as he did for us. Even if you don't believe in Him don't forget that. Don't forget that everyone has a mother somewhere. Don't forget that judging someone doesn't make you any better than them, but more importantly that telling someone to stop judging you doesn't make you any better than them. Because we're all heavy, and all our hearts are creeping down our rib cage and they're going to keep creeping until we stop the dichotomies. It just makes the world heavier. It just makes us forget that it is a heavy world around us, that we got to stick together else the world's sure to cave in on itself.

Reposted from

March 27, 2013


The fluorescent lights flickered above me as I laid sprawled on the floor. My chest was rising, falling, gasping for air as I thought to myself, My innards are about to rip...I can't go on.

I shut my eyes for a second and I felt my breathing slowly return to normal. An odd rendition of that one "Harlem Shake" song was playing in the background. I was feeling lightheaded and the music began to fade. Was it the end of the song? Or am I losing consciousness?

Suddenly, a voice.

"Alright, if it hurts to go on, go to your happy place."

My happy place? My mind immediately began to trace an image of...of...of the most delicious chocolate cake I have ever seen. I began to taste the gooeyness of the chocolate chip cookies, fresh out the oven. Betty Crocker appeared in my kitchen and handed me a spatula and a bowl of brownie mix. Her eyes twinkled and spoke to me, saying, "Here, eat."

I closed my eyes...the corners of my mouth twitched into a smile. The chocolate was numbing my pain.

"Eden! Did you really just fall asleep?" My eyes flipped open, I lifted my head and looked to the left. My sister, legs propped up on an exercise ball and in a shaky V-position, was staring in disbelief.

"Hold for one more set, ladies!" The voice at the front of the room enveloped the "Harlem Shake."

"3, 2, 1 and alright! You're done!" Sighs of relief filled the room and finally, the Wednesday morning abs class was over. I closed my eyes again.

Betty Crocker reappeared.

Let's give a round of applause for my first three guest bloggers, Nicolle, Sam and Michelle. Absolutely brilliant. They made this past month incredible with their words. (More guests coming in the near future!)

And now the reason for this blog: my life. I thought school was my biggest obstacle in this past month with the most time-consuming midterm project of my life (honestly...we ended it with an all-nighter that taught me Red Bull causes me to stutter...).

March 22, 2013

25 Facts you Might Have Already Known about Michelle

Dear Friends,

This is my first experience being a “guest blogger” for someone and I am so stoked for the opportunity. So I thought I would take this time to introduce myself to all of you.

My full name is Michelle Erin Sutterfield. But my family calls me Michy (pronounced Mishy) or Mich Fish. I actually prefer being called Michy because it is what I am called by those who truly love me. I am 24 years old, 25 next month, but I feel like a teenager still with the imagination of a 5 year old. I paint, and draw, and take photos on occasion. And if I am feeling a tad more creative than usual, I make Haikus. I have spent a lot of my adult years trying to figure out where I belong, which is one of the main reasons I am 24 years old and still trying to get a college education. I love to laugh, and I also love to cry. I sometimes wonder if I just feel emotions more than normal people do… like… 100 x more. It can be hard sometimes, and even purely unbelievable, but I wouldn’t trade who I am for anything in the world.

I am the daughter of Juliana and David, though not married anymore, they are great parents. We have had our ups and downs as any family would, but ultimately, they are my everything.

Every once in a while a friend of mine would ask me how I took my parent’s divorce. And to be completely honest, I could not remember most of it. I was so young when it happened (about 4 I think) and do not even remember them being together. But I do remember using my parent’s divorce to get one parent to do something the other would not. I was a very vindictive child. Luckily I grew out of this (I hope) and have moved on to doing better things with my time… like writing Haikus. But I will say that over these 20 something years of having two separate, but equal families, I have learned a few things that I would like to remember when starting one of my own.

Maybe at some point I will share those few bits of insight with you, but to stay on topic… and by topic I mean the topic of ME let me share with you 25 things you might not have known about me:

March 21, 2013

Guest #3.

This is Michelle.

I love her so much. Michelle was the first person I met this new school year. Her flaming red hair, her deep blue dress and her infectious laugh was what lured me to her and I knew that I wanted to be her friend. Being around her is always the best. She makes you feel funny and clever and just good about yourself.

Michelle has the wonderful gift of making friends. Her personality is one that meshes well with everyone and when you see her, you are drawn to her, you want to know her. She is always up to doing fun things and I see her at every event that I go to. You know it's going to be awesome if Michelle is there.

When I get awkward or say something odd (i.e. knickers) and I start feeling flushed, Michelle's laugh always puts me at ease and I feel better about what just happened.

We went crazy in a photo booth once.

Michelle's wonderful and I love her.


Update 3/22/13: Michelle's post.
Update 4/9/13: Michelle's second post.

March 13, 2013

Up and over the mountain

I don't know most of you that will be reading this. Well at least I hope you read it. But I do know Eden and I love her and who she is. She brings joy into whatever room she is currently in. I like that in a person. I am happy she invited me to write on anything I desired. I have thought and thought about different experiences that I have lived through and one seems to pop out from my memory that I wish to share...

First some background of me, well there is only one thing you need to know. I hate hiking. I could rant about it for hours. I don't have that much time so I will just say it is horrible and you are constantly scared that you will die from exhaustion. Then you get miles up the trail and you are scared that you won't die. Either way, scoutmasters get you up on the mountains and you are just kicking yourself thinking that you agreed to go.

This death march occurred in the high Uinta Mountains. (Here is a link if you are unfamiliar: High Mountains )

The whole time driving to this location the road we traveled by was flat. This got my hopes up, surely the road was a good indicator. But no, like a bat out of hell, the biggest mountains my young 17-year-old eyes could see popped out of nothing. Jagged jaws of cliff reaching outward 13,528 feet made my little heart drop into my ankles instantly making them swollen with fear. Yes, that description is accurate.

So there I was, walking on a dirt path that blended and crawled up a mountain. I was with friends, my father was there, my pack wasn't that heavy, and yet I was mad. Mad that there was a man that decided to climb these battered punch marks spread across the world and call it fun. So fun that millions caught on and developed large backpacks to carry canteens and powdered food packets up and down these exhausting trails. I was bitter as you can tell. 

The path continued, we were so high that the trees themselves didn't dare to climb with us. I am not sure you readers have been above treeline before but it is high enough that trees cannot tolerate inappropriate environmental conditions (usually cold temperatures or lack of moisture). Why any human would want to be up where plants can't grow is beyond me, but there we climbed. 

It was day 4 of this march and I was sick from food packets and filtered water. I had just woken up to what seemed like 33 minutes of sleeping and 7 hours of trying to sleep when I hear "pack up and lets get moving!" What more do you people want to see! There is nothing up there that would be different from down here. What good is this trip, everyone just wants to go home. I wanted to scream at my leaders but only did so in my head. Sometimes that is the safest place to yell. 

March 12, 2013

Guest #2.

The following guest is a new friend of mine. Our friendship is budding. In fact, I think there's even a petal peaking out of the bud.

This is Sam.

I love him so much. (Too soon?) Practically every week, Nicolle, Camille and I partake in SWiS: Sundays with Sam. At these gatherings, we talk about everything, from our childhoods, to funerals, from Justin Bieber and his new heroin addiction to our recent happinesses or sadnesses in life.

Sam does not do things half-heartedly. Even if he would rather be somewhere else, he puts his all in whatever activity we are engaging in. He graced us with a reading of the Declaration of Independence on Presidents' Day and I eagerly await the day I play murder-in-the-dark with him.

He has yet to really see the awkward side of me, but I feel he is one to meet my awkwardness with understanding and kindness.

We played running charades once.

Sam's the greatest and I love him.


Update 3/13/13: Sam's post.

March 8, 2013

love, nicolle

Dear Followers of Eden,

This is a love letter. This is odd because I do not know you nor will I likely ever meet you in real life. How bold! I am going for it and I have committed. So look out, you rascals, one of us is gonna end up a little attached.....

Here it goes:

Only Eden knows what it means to me to be beyond category.  Duke Ellington once explained that the greatest compliment paid him was when he was described as beyond category.  I think that's lovely.  As we know from the documentaries on netflix and the evening discussions with my dad, Frank, Duke Ellington was named the Duke due to his eloquence and classy dress from a young age.  Contrary to the common Depression-era racial stereotype, Duke Ellington defied category and christened himself nobility. He played for audiences of all status and color and played music that only he could write. No one could ever replicate him.

It was my junior year of high school. I remember waking up one morning and looking in the mirror. I remember being so confused because I couldn't tell if I was beautiful or ugly.  My nose lost all meaning for me. The relative-ness of beauty had been festering inside me for a while but it all just hit me that morning.  I remember putting on clothes and staring at every part of me. I no longer knew where I fit.  Even my clothes were indifferent to the expectations of the world around me. I was no longer "hot" or "unfortunate looking."  I became Nicolle.  My face was very "Nicolle" and the way I talked immediately became very "Nicolle."  I stopped being a category created by my strange friends and acquaintances.  I became me.

I think too often we allow ourselves to categorize ourselves and each other.  We like to simplify the world in order to understand it better.  Sadly, I think it just cheapens the human experience.  Duke Ellington paid no mind to category and revolutionized the way the world thought about talent and skin color.  I am no revolutionary...if I were, though, I would revolutionize the way we looked at each other. I would have us all look at each other with our names in mind instead of the type of shirt we are wearing. I would have us look at ourselves as the beautiful and unique faces we are instead of the comparable trends we are matching.

Followers of Eden! You are all so free and complicated (to the point of undefinable). You do not fit small categories like "hipster" or "poser." You are too large in soul and personality to be shrunk to that standard.  I know that if I knew you, if I really knew you, I would be infatuated by your mind and unique ideas.  You are beyond category.

Duke Ellington (and his orchestra): 



March 4, 2013

Guest #1.

I think people are defined the most by those they surround themselves with. I have spent practically every day with great friends since school started in August and I think it appropriate that they share a bit of this blog with me. How can I blog about my life without having you meet the people that are a constant presence in it? So, pretty soon, you're going to see something new here.

That's right, I'm going to have guest bloggers. Or rather, guest blogger. Only one person has accepted my request thus far. (Mckeelicalmont, find the email and accept my request to guest blog. But no pressure.) And maybe they'll only write once. Maybe they'll be a frequent guest. It's up to them.

Anyway, before my first guest posts, I'd like to write a short blip as her introduction. And I'll do the same with future guest bloggers as well.

Here we go.

This is Nicolle.

I love her so much. She is one of my best friends and a great music enthusiast. The greatest gift you can give her is just a really great CD mix. Her blog is the soundtrack to her life. Each post has a song that is dedicated to a moment of her life and you really get a sliver of a glimpse into her soul.

Nicolle is passionate, and she's not pretentious about those passions. Granted, some of them don't merit pretentiousness, i.e. charades, The Terminator, chocolate twizzlers (which aren't too bad after the eighth time trying them). But other passions--the Gospel, music, making people feel loved--it's incredible what she sacrifices for these in her life.

She is rather tolerant of me when I get awkward or intensely quiet and when I grab her arm or hand for comfort in moments when I don't know what to with myself.

We took a bubble bath together once. (Don't worry, mom. With swimsuits.)

Nicolle's beyond category and I love her.


Update 3/8/13: Nicolle's post.

March 3, 2013

Mountains to Climb.

"If we have faith in Jesus Christ, the hardest as well as the easiest of times in life can be a blessing...We never need feel alone or unloved in the Lord's service because we never are. We can feel the Love of God."