When we were RAs together, she somehow got the nickname Minty Poo. I honestly am having trouble remembering how that happened. I think she told a story about minty poo, or she really liked someone's story about minty poo...can anyone help me out with this one? Wow, this is a terrible memory about Stina - it involves me not actually remembering. Fail. Oh, except I remember that Stina had such a great sense of humor that she thought it was hilarious to be called minty poo for an entire year.
She once made turkeys out of Nutter Butters and candy corn and then made a video of the turkeys falling in love.
Stina had a contagious smile and a contagious joy.
|Her smile almost supersedes the fact that this might be the worst picture ever taken of me.|
In my sophomore year of college, I heard some bad news one night and I could not stop crying. I did not want to talk about it. I could not talk about it. Stina happened to be stopping by our room and instead of plying me with questions or trying to fix things, she simply stood by my loft bed and laid her hand on my ankle until I cried myself to sleep. I'm certain she was praying. I will never forget that.
Stina was silly and totally inappropriate. She liked to play a game called BVB. I hated that game. She also liked to play "take video of residents while they're showering without showing any nudity, of course." I lived in fear of that. She never got me, but the girls who did get videoed got her back with a bucket of ice water dumped into her hot shower one morning. She took it in stride (by running out of the shower and tackling them).
|Just some normal college kids...and Karl.|
She played the violin beautifully, but I don't think I knew that until she was playing at a recital. It was like - surprise! She was humble about her skills.
Stina was fun. I only got to see her once after she graduated, at our RD's wedding in Oregon. She was my date - picked me up from my hotel and everything - and even though we hadn't seen each other in almost two years, it was like no time had passed. She was that kind of friend. You could just pick up where you left off and feel instantly comfortable.
At the end of my sophomore year, Stina held our last section meeting and told us that if we felt led, we could wash the feet of anyone who we wanted to serve in that way and pray for them. Two hours later, I think we had all washed each other's feet and we had just as much water as when we started because everyone was crying. (WOMEN. AmIright?!) Stina could facilitate community and worship. She could facilitate it something fierce.
|Standing in a pond, like you do.|
You know how when people pass away, we only remember how wonderful they were and we sweep the rest of their memory under the rug? Well, I know Stina wasn't perfect because she was human and all, but I cannot come up with one bad thought about her. She sought to glorify God in everything she did, she had a great sense of humor, she was loving and generous and kind and talented and beautiful. I hope to be more like her when I grow up.
I miss you, Stina.