Sincerely Sophi

“We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words — to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.” - C.S. Lewis I came upon this C.S. Lewis quote last year and have been thinking about it recently. Our longing for beauty is not just a longing to witness something beautiful, but a desire to actually participate actively, fully, with it. Perhaps in doing so we become, ourselves, beautiful. What a wonderful image for what it means to behold beauty. To behold is to participate in, to grasp, to display, to mingle with. As we immerse ourselves in it's glory we unite with beauty itself.  As a theatre artist and writer, I desire to craft beautiful work. To tell stories with quality artistic execution. Beginning with my childhood love of the ocean, ornate books, and wildflowers, I have always been drawn to beauty, especially

I want to believe grief is graceful, flowing like a majestic river, pouring out of my soul like a symphony.  My grief is a river and it is full of grace, but the river is sometimes rough. The tide ebbs and flows, from still to steady to rough, bold, winds. It winds down and round and rushes through the hills. Then calm, serene, trickling over pebbles, twists and turns and churns over course boulders, cascading down. Water, thundering, crashing, breaking, forming, molding, shaping.  My grief is a river. It is beautiful and it is ever changing, ever moving, ever flowing. Some moments soft and life giving. Holy. Other moments it thunders and I can't hear a word above it's noise. Holy too. I fear it will drown me if I dwell too long in its churning waters. But this river is not a well of despair. It is not still and dead, it is moving and changing, flowing fresh with hope, alive and abundant. Life giving water -- sacred, holy, grief -- baptizes me with grace. I relax and sink into

The song "Sun is Gonna Shine Again," from the musical Bright Star has been floating around in my mind recently -- and not just because it is incredibly repetitive. This song was a moment of persistent hope in the face of suffering in Bright Star. The community of women at the railway station move downstage in a line facing the audience, looking out at the tracks and reminding themselves and each other that the sun will shine again.  Recently, on a hike with some folks from theatre, we came upon an old abandoned railroad station. It looked exactly  like what I imagine this moment in Bright Star to be like. I stood on a ramp looking out past the train tracks at the rainy trees and grey, cloudy, sky. Only a few days ago, I had felt the senioritis slump hitting hard. But then, the sun came out. My mood, energy, and motivation rose significantly. I felt encouraged and reinspired to hit the last few weeks of school running hard.  The sun faded after a few days and I continued to dr

In my acting classes we begin class with a check - in. This is an opportunity to say whatever you need to say to be more present. My professor said something along the lines of, "I'm learning to be friends with the feeling of being behind." Already overwhelmed with my full schedule and many assignments, I sunk in my chair and muttered with a laugh, "well the feeling of being behind and I are going to be besties." I didn't realize at the time how true this statement would become. As a recovering perfectionist, learning to be okay with failure and not getting everything done all the time has been a continual life lesson. Sometimes being behind is due to procrastination or laziness -- but in the case of this semester, constant striving and hard work has left me with many assignments overdue on the "to-do" list. I'm grateful for professors who have been gracious and worked with me, trusting me to get the work done as I can.  So this semester, I'

Last semester I wrote a monologue from the point of view of a broken piece of pottery being transformed into a new creation of Kintsugi, broken pottery made new with liquid gold. This Kintsugi metaphor has been a powerful image in my life for God's grace and love as He works in my weakness and makes me into a new creation. It illustrates Christ's words in 2 Corinthians 12, "My grace is sufficient for you. My power made perfect in weakness." At first, I was terrified to share these words with my Epiphany theatre ministry ensemble. We write our own songs, scenes, and monologues using stories from our lives and find God in them. This piece was written for our ensemble but it is a tender and vulnerable experience that I wanted to keep close to my heart -- yet, I had a strong feeling I should share it with the group.  Shaking, I read it out loud. The piece was recieved well and it ended up in our final set. I struggled to memorize it, my words being so similar and stream o

Chugga....chugga....chugga...chugga...choo choooooo!! The train of progress and effort is chuggging along this semester. As we neared Newberg last night, coming home from a week long theatre conference in Spokane, my chest tightened as the reality of my to-do list and the fullness of real life weighed in on me. But in another moment my eyes rested on the soft, orange and blue sunset glittering on the river as trees whirred by. Beauty. Peace. I was reminded of another sunset, on a lake, last May. A sunset in the midst of a May thunderstorm as a friend and I waited out the rain and lightning storm to go kayaking. That sunset was far more golden, filling big clouds across the sky, sparkling on the water and illuminating a tripple rainbow. But the feeling of stillness, chaos and peace colliding inside me, and remembering the nearness of Jesus was almost the same as this sunset on the way home from Spokane. The thunderstorm sunset last summer was right before I left for a summer of working

For the past week I've been in Spokane, WA with 12 other beautiful people at the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival. The week has been full of workshops, auditions, presentations, response sessions, invited productions, deep conversations over dinner or a walk, and coffee shop homework sessions. It has been a very full week but in an incredibly different way then my day-to-day chaotic rhythms at home.  As we have removed ourselves from our daily classes, rehearsals, and rhythms - or as my professor has said, entered the Twilight Zone - many of us have found ourselves in spaces of 'what-if?' Not the 'what - if' that questions and regrets the past, but the 'what - if 'that dreams about the future, actually allowing judgment to subside for a moment and consider possibility.  Tuesday, my friend sent our group chat a text: "you guys I made a journalism pitch and they all really liked it" followed by, "my little anxious introverted sel

I’ve been a bit out of my writing grind and as I sit here, blissfully engaged in my 16oz oat milk cappuccino, spacing out in one of my favorite local coffee shops, I am feeling entirely uninspired. Usually, the brick walls of this coffee shop and its bustling atmosphere of people sparks inspiration within my little writer’s mind.  But here we are, on a Thursday afternoon, with muscle fatigue, a long to do list, a delicious cup of coffee and a sudden, unfamiliar lack of words.  I’ve been told stories exist all around us. I wonder what inspiration is hiding in the conversations and lives of these coffee shop goers.  To my right are three millennials - embracing the classic hipster look with flannels and beanies. The two young men focus intently on their hp and dell laptops - their lack of macbook informs me that they are computer people. They prefer a laptop that they can personalize and adjust its settings instead of the less nuanced, user-friendly macbooks that permeate the worklife of

  I expected my last semester of senior year to be sparkly and magical – full of epic projects, fun events, and coffee dates with friends. And while it is full of sparkles, projects, events and coffee, it has also been full of a demanding schedule, a never ending to do list, and well…it’s just been exhausting. As an extrovert, people time is incredibly important to me, so the last several Saturdays have been full of Bible studies and coffee dates, which have fueled my heart but have not left much time for napping or homework. A constant battle of priorities. Sometimes, I feel like I’m running a marathon with no clear end in sight. Instead of looking to Friday or Saturday as the moment of reprieve, I’m looking a few months out towards graduation and the hypothetical relief of the summer…though the summer seems so unknown that doesn’t seem to bring much relief quite yet. But … in the midst of all this, I’m learning to embrace the chaos and fullness in this season and to find joy in all o

Well, folks, it’s a new year! And with the start of a new year usually comes new resolutions, goals, habits and bucket lists. This new year I found myself feeling a little discouraged on the habit front. Everytime I start a new habit, be it doing my dishes, Bible reading, or working out, I always hit a point in my life where my schedule, exhaustion, or general lack of discipline lead the habit to ending. I mean -- let’s be honest -- the majority of us don’t stick with our habits forever.  But, I also know some of these goals I can’t give up on forever. I’m still called to read my Bible as a Christian, seeking truth in the word of God. My roommates still rely on me to try and do my dishes and my body needs working out to be healthy.  So I find myself in a new year. With a strange awareness of the impending failure of some habits I’d like to recommit to again. But, I also have come to realize that life is full of fresh starts and new seasons for this very reason. We fail all the time. We

" It’s the most wonderful time of the year!!" (S ung to the tune of 'It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year') Well, it certainly is full of wonder. As cheesy as that classic phrase is, when you break down the word--”wonder…full” it does sum up this season of heavy reflection. Wonder exists in two different definitions. Wonder as “awe”...the kind of wonder we experience when witnessing something of majesty. Wonder that is worship. There is also wonder in which we question something…we ask and think critically…maybe look at something in a new light. Often in my directing and acting classes we use the phrase “I wonder about…” to give feedback. This holiday season I have found myself filled with both kinds of wonder: curiosity and awe.  Wonder at the miracle of Christ’s birth. Wonder at the virgin Mary. And the shepherds and the bright star. Wonder at the future--where will I live this summer? What will I do when I graduate? Will I go on any trips…save up to buy a c

Sips of warm, rich coffee soothe my throat. Sniffles and an ache at the back of my chest remind me that I am still weak. Recovering from sickness. But the energy to write and think…even a little bit reminds me of the grace of God. What a gift it is to be healthy at all!  Illness can be a frustrating, fickle thing. It grows and changes…you heal and then you don’t. It doesn’t discriminate and it usually doesn’t care how positively busy we are. But then again, is there ever really a good, convenient time to be sick? I suppose it must strike eventually. I have found myself sick at the worst of times during my time at Fox. Sophomore year I caught covid and had to finish my semester quarantined at home, seven hours from campus, missing several crucial musical rehearsals, the opportunity to direct my ten minute play in person, and endless group projects.  And yet, God was still good. And I saw abundant blessings in the access to vitamin protocols and medicine to help with my sickness. I saw a

              Something I wrote in the week leading up to Romania and my passport appointment: Lord, would you prepare my heart for Romania.  I prayed this, not fully knowing what I was asking of God. I know it is something to pray for. To ask others to pray for. I know I want to be prepared. I want God to work and grow my heart. But I had no idea what that might look or feel like.  This past week has been incredibly hard. But in the midst of the anxiety and struggle I have become more aware of God. More aware of His presence. His goodness. His provision and protection and peace. His control over all things.  There seems to be a constant battle. Waves of peace wash over me and then something happens that threatens to drown me in grief and anxiety. I feel as though I’m breaking to pieces but then I feel a soft assuredness in God who is holding me together.  I knew the process of going to Romania would be one that would stretch and grow my faith from the moment I committed to the trip. B

It has been a childhood dream of mine to be a “regular.” To show up to some place and have the barista or waiter ask, “your usual?” only to hand me the anticipated drink or food item before I even pull out my card and sit in my everyday seat.  Today that dream came true, mostly. I walked into Chapters Books and Coffee, a coffee shop my friend Emelia and I regularly attend. I pretty much order the same iced oat milk latte every time. Today I came a bit early by myself. I had earbuds in, which is unusual for me when walking, but I was having a hard day and listening to Shane and Shane’s “Psalm 46” on repeat. A declaration of scriptural truth I need to hear right now. I set my stuff at a table and walked up to the counter where my favorite barista asked, “Are you getting your latte today?”  I was surprised. She remembered? “Yep! My iced oat milk latte please, oh with cinnamon!” She also asked how I was doing.  “Not too great, but I’ll be okay, what about you?” I asked. She said she