A Beautiful Contradiction

I. Love. You. Scary, I know.

2012-01-09T15:27:00.000-05:00

Language can be powerful. We tend to carelessly think about the words we choose to put together, but word combinations can be life-giving, destructive, healing, the list goes on. In a world where we’ve cheapened language, we don’t pause to think about the words we use. We’ve even gone as far as reducing laughing, something that is good for the soul, to mere letters. “lol”

On their own, the words “love”, “you”, and “I”, aren’t anything to bat your eyelashes at. We use them in a variety of combinations. “I really like this restaurant.” “Have you seen that new movie?” “I just absolutely love this brownie a la mode.” But put them together and they are powerful and can leave you vulnerable all at the same time: I love you.

I. Love. You. A trio of words where you take personally admit that you put someone above all else, that you value someone more than life itself, that you value someone regardless of what they do or where they’ve been. It may sound hokey, but it’s true. It only sounds hokey, because we’re afraid the admittance of that statement. When 1 Corinthians 13 says “love never fails” it means that the affection you have for someone never perishes.

I’ve noticed that our culture has become uncomfortable with the vulnerability and strength of “I love you.” We’ve cheapened it to “love ya”, “ily”, “I <3 u”, or we flirt with it by saying “love you.” We’ve denied personal responsibility for our love, too nervous of rejection or seeming overzealous. I’m not the only one that has noticed this. Even Beth Moore has noticed this. She mentioned in her recent conference, Living Proof Live, that we need to step up and put the “I” back in I love you.

Are you guilty of this? I certainly am. So here’s my challenge to you- either say it or don’t bother saying it. Be courageous and vulnerable and put the “I” back in your love you. Not just “I love ya.” Be specific. “I love you.”

"The Book of Man" by William Bennett

2012-01-09T14:37:00.000-05:00

Here it is! My first review! I picked an excellent book to start off my reviewing with. I've enjoyed it tremendously.

Title: “The Book of Man: Readings on the Path to Manhood”

Author: William Bennett

William Bennett’s “The Book of Man: Readings on the Path to Manhood” reminded me much of his “The Book of Virtues” which championed itself as a “treasury of great moral stories.” Now, fifteen years later, Bennett has done it again, except this time he is targeting men. “The Book of Man” is a compilation of essays, profiles, and poems on what a man of character should and does look like, hoping to set an example for the men of our culture when examples seem to be few and/or forgotten.

Even as a woman, I genuinely enjoyed “The Book of Man.” It is an excellent collection of stories both fictional and nonfictional to inspire both men and women alike towards uplifting character. It’s specifically a good reminder of the necessity of our men to fight for what is honorable as it pertains to six different areas of our lives: work, recreation, war, family, spirituality and country. The book is also put together well with gorgeous binding and a hard cover making it a treasury that could easily last several generations. This is a book I look forward to sharing and passing down in my family.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Book Sneeze

2012-01-09T14:36:00.000-05:00

As an avid reader, I have been given a great opportunity through BookSneeze to receive free books in exchange for honest reviews. I hope you enjoy the reviews that will occasionally be posted!

Interested? Check it out for yourself at BookSneeze.

Time Capsule: September 12, 2001

2011-09-14T13:27:00.000-04:00

Ten years ago my computer teacher wanted a way for her class of eighth graders to cope with the images they were seeing on the news at home. Although I knew that the attacks on September 11 were horrible, I didn't really know how I was supposed to respond for the assignment of "just write." I mostly stuck with the facts since I hadn't really developed an emotional connection to the terrorist acts. Thought it'd be appropriate to share since it's already been ten years since that clear Tuesday morning that turned dark so quickly... (Pardon any spelling or grammatical errors. I was 13.)

9-12-01

12:45 p.m.

Dear Diary,

I haven't written you since around the beginning of the school year. Things have been going great until yesterday...

Today's 911! Mrs. Deadwyler told us this morning. (September 11. (9-11-01) Paul goes today's going to be an emergency! We all thought nothing of it until lunch...

"The Pentagon's been bombed! We're all going to die." Kenny stated at lunchtime. None of us believed him, because Kenny talks about this kind of stuff all the time. Near the end of lunch Mr. Ingraham tells us not to be scared, and he read Psalm 46:1-7. Scared of what? Was the Pentagon really bombed?

Well, Kenny was right. The Pentagon had been bombed. So, had the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. Around eight o'clock a.m. three planes were hi-jacked from the Boston airport. Two of the planes flew toward Manhattan, New York. The other, the Pentagon, Washington D.C.

The two planes reached New York around nine. The first plane flew straight through the Northern tower. Nearly five minutes later the second plane dove through the Southern tower.

People at the Pentagon were gathered in one of the conference rooms. Watching the horrible pictures on the television. What in the world was going on in New York? About nine ten. The third plane dove and intentionally hit the Pentagon. The plane just desinigrated as it went through three of the Pentagon's building.

Another plane was hi-jacked yesterday morning from a New Jersey airport. The hi-jackers steered the plane towards Camp David. A vacation for the President, not far from the White House. Later, they found that plane on the ground in Pennsylvania. There were no found survivors.

The southern tower in New York stood for about two hours after it was hit, then it collapsed. Shortly after, so did the Northern. Around 5:30 yesterday evening, one of the smaller buildings of the World Trade, number 7, collapsed, even though it was not hit. The number 5 building is now so weak, that they said they might have to take it down.

Andy's sister and cousin works in the Twin Towers. His cousin left to get breakfast, shortly after she left the first plane hit the towers. She wanted to get in to find his sister, but guards wouldn't let her in an unstable building. Andy's sister is still unaccounted for as of now.

The Apsey's are right now vacationing in Manhattan. We haven't heard from them yet. I'm kind of worried. Dad's leaving the 24th on a business trip to D.C.

They still don't know who's behind it. They think it might be Osama bin Laden. An extreme Muslim. They have found a car at Daytona Beach. They think it might be related to the terrorism. People are scared. Bases are on High Alert. Even Kennedy Space Center is on High Alert. They found a car across the street from Boston Airport that is linked to one of the terrorists. It had a picture of Osama bin Laden (spelling?) in it, United Airline times, and it was loaned out to a student of a local college that taught how to fly one of the jets that was used.

People have been calling from under the rubble of the Twin Towers on their cell phones, pleading for people to come and rescue them. People all over the United States are donating blood. Nobody's been recovered yet, except for one man who had one of his legs amputated.

Last night, at 8:30, President Bush addressed the nation. He gave a phenomenal speech referring to the terrorists, and he also said that we need to look to a being greater than all of us (God) and then quoted Psalm 23.

Right now I don't know a whole bunch more, but I will keep a close watch. Now is the time to really pray. I just pray that God will use this to turn our nation back to him. We have turned away from Him, and he really wants our attention. I think this is one of the ways he is trying to grasp it. We also really need to pray for those under the debris, and they will be rescued quickly, and that they will look to God for protection. We also need to pray for the terrorists, that we will find them, and punish them, but not before giving them a chance to hear the Gospel of God. We need to pray for President Bush, that he will make the wise decisions discerning the terrorists, and clean up. I will close now. Hoping that justice will be done, and the terrorists will find You, Father.

Sincerely,
AGW

July 6

2011-09-07T17:43:00.001-04:00

I’ve had several travel goals this year. I’ve been compelled to get back to Ohio to visit the cemetery by choice. Not while having to bury someone. To get a small sense of closure and try to move on. Seeing my best friend was another one. Good thing she had just moved back to Ohio. The last one was to get to Tennessee to visit a woman who helped shape who I am today. So far I’ve reached two of my three goals. A couple weeks ago I visited Kate on my way to DC. She graciously agreed to take me to the cemetery. I thought I was ready. I was past the six months point, had been mentally prepared for this trip, and finally didn’t have the weight of being strong for everyone else. I could just simply go and let go.

What I didn’t anticipate was the drive over. The last time I had made this drive, it was to bury my grandmother. The time before that was with my grandmother to bury my grandfather- the last large chunk of time I had spent with Bear. It seemed like the closer we got to the cemetery, the more each corner held a memory of some of my final conversations with my grandmother- waiting at the airport to be picked up seeing her triumphant smile after living through her first airplane ride, hearing the GPS incessantly reminding us to stay on “30-Tweast,” passing the hotel with loads of memories, dinner at Frisch’s splurging on desserts, stopping at Walgreens to get lemon drops for her to suck on, me trying to convince everyone that Chipotle was really good, and all the random spots she’d point out that had some sort of childhood or family memory. The memories were playing out in my mind just as if they were happening.

The cemetery was beautiful… and blazing hot, a stark contrast to the last time I was there. As I got out of the car my one mental and emotional goal was to get to the plot. Poor Kate. In my determination to be ok and to not cry, I nearly missed her hug. For seven months I had wanted a shoulder to cry on and a hug, and in the moment I had it, I didn’t know what to do with it. I had become accustomed to doing this on my own with only God at my side.

Things looked good. All the engraving had been finished, and a plaque had been added honoring my grandpa’s service in the Korean War. My dad was able to join us, because he had been in town. Even though it was harder than I expected with memories vividly replaying in my mind, it was a relief to know that we were past the hard part. As we stood there, God reassured us that we were still standing. We weren’t the people that were standing a year ago, but he had brought us this far, and he would continue to help us through.

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2011-09-07T17:26:00.002-04:00

Life is rude. It doesn’t care to pause because you’re hurting. It continues on, as it did with us. We returned home and attempted to find a new normal, as if we even had a definition of normal to begin with. I wrestled with why I was still grieving. Grandparents are supposed to go first. It’s expected. It’s normal. Then why was it so hard? I immersed myself in work and tried to get back to regular life, but as I’ve said before, emotions shoved under a figurative rug can be dangerous. They decide to show themselves at the most random times.

My random time came at a routine dentist check near the end of January. I was told that I was going to have to have five fillings and braces and a bill that was way past what I could afford. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Darn dust bunnies. A normal person would have been severely bummed and asked about payment plan options. I started to do that, and I lost it. The tears I had been holding back came forth unbidden, and I began bawling and hyperventilating. I was emotionally out of control and no matter how embarrassed I was over my public display, there was nothing I could do to stop the flood.

The dentist and his wife were shocked at my reaction to fillings. I’m sure they hadn’t had such a reaction from a patient before. I tried to assure them that it wasn’t the bill, it was just too much bad news within a few month span to handle, but I was too busy crying uncontrollably and gasping for breath.

After a half hour, God mustered up some control for me, I apologized profusely to the staff, and left out the side door with head hung. I got into my car and started laughing at the whole experience. It was that or start crying again, and I had no more tears. That poor office. They must have thought I was a crazy person, but the crying jag had been cathartic in an embarrassing way. I went home, sat down with my money, and began crunching numbers with an extreme focus that I wouldn’t have been capable of before. God showed me once more that he was still in control, because somehow the numbers worked themselves out. And believe me when I say, there was no extra money in my budget before, but there was several hundred now. Just enough to pay for five fillings and braces. God wanted me to believe that he was still in the business of filling oil jugs, and he was still looking out for me despite whether I felt he was or not.

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2011-09-07T17:25:00.001-04:00

The family had been getting along so brilliantly that it was with great trepidation that we awoke the next morning to read the will. Dad’s Parkinson’s was reminding us that it was still present as his right foot started tapping and his right hand shook while he pulled out the legal documents that divided my grandparents’ things. I was so proud of him. He had such a great responsibility, yet he handled it with such honor. He read the document punctuating it with stories of my conversations from my grandmother while working it over with her. It was a special time, and although there were several surprises, such as my family would be moving to live in my grandparents’ house, everyone played nicely and accepted the terms with grace. The most special treasure I inherited? Bear’s wedding band, a simple band studded with tiny diamonds- a physical testament of how Bear & Pops had started with nothing and worked hard for the wealth they had.

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2011-08-19T16:55:00.001-04:00

The return to Ohio was better than the first. Everyone that should have been there was there. For those who were able to go in October, it was easier. We knew what to expect; however, this was the first time for my parents. Last time the phrase of the trip was, “We don’t do that here.” This time it was, “That’s what we did last time.”

Since it was the beginning of January us Florida people were praying for snow. In November my brother had said quietly, “Well, if she has to die… maybe I’ll get to see snow for the first time?” Bear, who loved snow, was tickled by that possibility. When we landed at the airport if you squinted you could see minuscule flurries and nothing more. I prayed harder. :)

We got to see family again and had to make arrangements again at the funeral home. I think the thing I was most surprised by was how good my grandmother looked. She had looked so bad at the end, no thanks to the cancer, that it had to have taken some sort of miracle to get her to look like herself again. Well, except the lip stick. She was wearing pink lipstick, and I don’t recall her ever wearing lipstick in my lifetime. It made my mother and I laugh. And her rings. Those were absent now obviously, and I don’t recall a single moment of my life where her hands hadn’t been decorated by a plethora of rings. As you perused the room, you could find each one gracing the individual hand of the ladies of the family.

The flurries were relentless, but they were too small to make any covering on the ground. The same was true for the day of the funeral. We greeted family members as little flurries continued to fall. As nice as it was to see family again, we really wished it would have been under different circumstances. An hour into the viewing portion of the funeral something caught my eye from outside the window- the flurries were becoming actual flakes. My brother and cousin ran outside to try to scrape a handful of snow off of everyone’s windshields to make a snowball. That’s all they got- a snowball.

We loaded into the cars to head towards the cemetery. The closer we got to the cemetery, the harder it snowed. We turned onto the road the cemetery was on, and the snow kept on coming. Dad finally started crying. We got our snow. We laid Bear in the ground amidst the swirling snow. It was the coldest I had ever been, but the scenery was beautiful. Flakes dusted our lashes and entwined themselves in our hair. The ground was finally covered in a thick blanket, and everything was silent.

We breathed a sigh of relief when we got back to the hotel. Again, we had made it. I don’t know why were surprised by it at that point. God kept proving himself over and over again. We spent the evening in the hotel lobby surrounded by family members simply telling stories and sharing laughter. It was good for our souls. The snow was good for my soul. It was still coming down, so I took time to take a long walk outside the hotel in the untouched snow. My footprints were the only ones. As I looked behind me at my footprints I was reminded how the single set of footprints as far back as I could see represented how God had been carrying me since October 1.

The evening wound down and people started retiring for the night. At ten, as much as we were ready for bed, there was a nagging in the hearts of the young at heart for something more. The day wasn’t quite finished yet. So we donned our jackets, bundled up, and ran outside. My dad, siblings, cousin, and I began an epic snowball fight. The snow was untouched, and the parking lot was mostly empty- the perfect scene for us mischievous ones. We were all bubbling up with gut-wrenching laughter. A nice reprieve from our gut-wrenching mourning. As I paused and looked around, I realized how much fun everyone was really having. My siblings were playing in the snow for the first time in their lives, my cousin was eating up the time with cousins, dad was releasing his inner child, and I was just soaking up the moment. You wouldn’t have known that we had been burying a loved one roughly six hours earlier. After an hour of tossed snowballs, pathetically small snow men, and sparkling snow angels, we headed inside with smiles plastered to our faces. God is so good. He brought laughter to us in our mourning. It was the perfect ending to a not-so-perfect day.

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2011-08-02T19:10:00.003-04:00

As the first emotional hurdles approached- Pops’ 79^th birthday, my grandparents’ 58^thwedding anniversary, Thanksgiving, and Christmas- we each formed goals. I think it gave us something to focus on to distract ourselves and to give us motivation to get through. I think everyone subconsciously just wanted to get to and through Christmas. My dad, as executor of the estate, focused hard-core on getting everything in line. In our eyes, my grandfather wasn’t supposed to go first. We felt as if we were prematurely robbed. Everything had been set up for my grandmother to go followed by my grandfather. We prayed for clarity and wisdom for him as he tried to emulate my grandfather’s role while praying against his Parkinson’s. My mom’s goal was harder to define. I think her goal was to simply get through Christmas and make sure everyone else did too. She was with my grandmother nearly every day, she supported my dad, and she kept me updated knowing a portion of how badly I wanted to be home. All the while helping her own mom with the demands she presented. One of her sub-goals was to be Jesus to our extended family since we were forced to spend much more time with them. A goal that sounds noble, but is a hard one to carry out.

My brother’s focus was the impending basketball season. My grandfather had always been a fan of my brother’s school, and he was an even bigger fan of Garrett’s basketball skills. Garrett poured his grief into training and practicing, often commenting that Pops was who he was playing for. Whitney… well, my sister is hard to read. She’s very private. Her goal must’ve been to show everyone that she was fine and to pour her love out on my grandma. When I was home I’d often find her no more than a few feet from her. My grandmother’s goal was very obvious. Her verbal goal was to get through my sister’s high school graduation in May, but the way she lived was to get the legal stuff set in place and live through at least Christmas. My goal? Finish the calendar.

The calendar was a family tradition that started in the 90s. My grandfather would take everyone’s birthdays, anniversaries, and deaths and turn them into a calendar accompanied by a plethora of family pictures. It was unique because it incorporated everyone- my grandpa’s side of the family, my grandmother’s side, and even included my mom’s family. Family members received their calendar every year at Christmas. Since it was October, my grandfather had started the calendar, but he hadn’t started assembling pictures. The task fell to me, and it was hard doing it while living out of town. I started going home frequently to be near my family and to work on the calendar.

In November I adopted Maggie, a nearly 2 year old black lab/pointer from the pound. I had always wanted a dog, and my grandmother loved dogs, so Maggie started going home with me to be spoiled by my grandmother while I worked on the calendar. When Maggie and I weren’t visiting my grandmother, she was calling to check in on Maggie and get stories of her antics.

Thanksgiving came and went. I didn’t get to go home. November wrapped up in a blur, as did December. It’s almost amazing how your mind can shut down. I honestly don’t remember much of those months. Each day became a mini-hurdle: get up, feed the dog, walk the dog, get the girls to school, and most days return to bed.

I returned home with one of my co-workers right before Christmas. My grandma seemed to rally as family came in, but it was short lived. She slipped in and out of consciousness two days before Christmas. The calendar was finished Christmas Eve. Christmas day was quiet. We tried to continue on with tradition. It was hard to do knowing that we were down one and about to be down two. Christmas dinner was eerily quiet. Everyone was fighting back tears as we tried to celebrate the reason for the season, but we made it. The day ended and we were still trucking on. We reached our goal.

Two days after Christmas, my grandmother passed on.

Sports Analogies

2011-07-15T11:00:00.001-04:00

I'm tired of getting the recaps. I want to be sitting in the stands. Will this ever change?

Going Home

2011-07-12T18:24:00.000-04:00

As I’m sitting here on an airplane heading south I’m contemplating the idea of “going home.” It’s an idea I’ve wrestled with for the past year, and I’ve come to realize that it’s a relative thing. Going home. What makes home home? Is it the location where you reside? Is it the presence of those you love? Is it things that are familiar? Is it “where the heart is.” Because right now I’m heading home, as in the place that I’ve been living for the past year and a half, but it’s not home. To me if it were home my family would be waiting to pick me up. Sarah or Kate would be there physically to talk to and unwind with at any hour even late into the night. It would be mountains rising up to greet me. My puppy would be there at the very least. Yet none of these will be true tonight. So what am I doing? Why don’t I pack my things tonight and relocate? It’s tempting to be sure. Why am I going back?

I’m reminded of the words from FFH’s song “Follow Love.” They’ve been so characteristic of my life:

“I’ve got a heart that’s full of dreams and a little bit of crazy.

I can feel it pulling me to somewhere I have never been.

I’m packing up and leaving home to travel into the great unknown…

So here’s goodbye. Here’s so long. I must go and follow Love.”

As I’ve made the conscious, crazy choice to follow Love, to follow God, no matter the cost. In doing so I have had to give up some things. One is an emotional connection to home. What makes it home is the fact that this is where God called me and the fact that this is where I’m to remain until further notice, despite lack of family, friends, or whatever. Just because I might not feel the emotional connection to this place doesn’t mean this isn’t where I’m supposed to be…for now.

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2011-05-18T20:38:00.001-04:00

The flight to Ohio was pretty special. My brother, cousin, and Bear had never flown before. The irony of the whole thing was Pops had loved to travel. He was always trying to convince Bear to fly around the country with him. Her response to him was always that “Bears don’t fly.” I kept joking with her that the turbulence was just raccoons we were running over on the road. She just nodded her head until a few minutes she remembered that we were up in the air. She quickly calmed down and enjoyed seeing the clouds and endless fields below us. She kept grabbing my arm to point something out to me outside the window. When she landed she had a huge grin on her face, wiped her hands together as if wiping something off them and said, “That was a piece of cake!” She was waiting for Pops to send her a personalized bolt of lightning her way. I told her if that was easy then she could go to Colorado with me. She liked that idea.

The rest of the day was a flurry of finalizing funeral details and visiting with family that had arrived in town, if you could call it a town. The place is smaller than Mayberry. Life there had reached its peak in the 50s, and it had been deteriorating ever since. Visiting the cemetery that had the joint headstone already engraved with both of my grandparents’ information was surreal. It brought a smile to my face to see that Helen Jane was followed by her “real” name- Bear.

Meeting at the funeral home was difficult. My grandfather was already laid out, my dad was in surgery, and we were exhausted from travel and grief and trying to make sure the following day would go smoothly. The funeral home was located amongst the rest of the handful of houses in town. The family had run the funeral home for generations, and they lived upstairs. The director went step by step through the next day’s schedule emphasizing that he wanted to make sure everything was done exactly to our liking; however, when we would make a suggestion the response would be drawn out, “Well, I don’t know how it’s done in Florida, but we don’t do that here.” The people there were nice, but dated.

The evening was spent reuniting with old cousins and meeting new and me fighting a head cold. Dad had come out through surgery well. Thankfully, it was none of the horrid options the doctors had warned us about. It was a strange case of his intestines wrapping around his appendix. It didn’t sound comfortable, but we were all relieved to know it wasn’t cancer.

My grandfather’s funeral passed quickly. Local veterans presented my grandmother with a flag honoring my grandfather’s naval service. The small-town veterans couldn’t remember how to fold the flag and dropped it repeatedly. The war heroes in my family were appalled. I laughed inwardly knowing my grandfather would’ve been cussing them out. It made for a special teaching moment after the funeral- the older men teaching the younger men how to properly fold the flag. That ended up being quite a special moment.

Looking back, it’s amazing how much activity we packed into such a short trip. We numbly walked through it all with plastic smiles adhered to our faces. We visited relatives in the boonies of Ohio I’d always heard about but never met, we did a scavenger hunt for a long-lost family cemetery my grandfather helped locate and remodel. It was beautiful. Strange description for a cemetery, I know, but with the fall leaves, family heritage, and my grandfather’s work, it was truly beautiful.

We returned home carrying our flag, because it wouldn’t fit in anyone’s luggage. It loudly announced to everyone that we had lost a loved one. Trudging through the airport we received many condolences and words of gratitude. After getting home and visiting my dad, it was back to the farm I went.

Foggy, Foggy Nights

2011-04-17T02:00:00.002-04:00

This has been harder than I thought. I know that writing all this out has been good for me, but it's causing me to revisit moments I didn't even want to live through in the first place.

I know that this will be good. Really. Maybe I'm simply trying to convince myself. It will be healing, yet painful like ripping a scab off an infectious wound. Excruciating, yet crucial to the healing process.

It's taking so long, because I'm having a hard time finding the words. Something that's been a rarity in my life; however, it's been common over the past six and a half months. Instead, it seems as if tears have been a closer companion than words.

Tonight I'm borrowing from Max Lucado's "No Wonder They Call Him The Savior." It paints a portrait much better than I could.

"Tears. Those tiny drops of humanity. Those round, wet balls of fluid that tumble from our eyes, creep down our cheeks, and splash on the floor of our hearts... They are miniature messengers; on call twenty-four hours a day to substitute for crippled words. They drip, drop, and pour from the corner of our souls, carrying with them the deepest emotions we possess...
The principle is simple; when words are most empty, tears are most apt." (p. 95&96)

"The fog of the broken heart. It's a dark fog that slyly imprisons the soul and refuses easy escape. It's a silent mist that eclipses the sun and beckons the darkness. It's a heavy cloud that honors no hour and respects no person. Depression, discouragement, disappointment, doubt... all are companions of this dreaded presence.
The fog of the broken heart disorients our life. It makes it hard to see the road. Dim your lights. Wipe off the windshield. Slow down. Do what you wish, nothing helps. When this fog encircles us, our vision is blocked and tomorrow is forever away. When this billowy blackness envelopes us, the most earnest words of help and hope are but vacant phrases...
If you have been in this fog, or are in it now, you can be sure of one thing-you are not alone." (p.115)

"He brings peace to our madness and comfort in our sadness. This is our God." -Chris Tomlin

Page 2...

2011-04-15T11:13:00.001-04:00

Needless to say, my birthday didn’t feel like my birthday. A whole slew of funeral arrangements were made. One set of arrangements for home and one for Ohio, where my grandfather was to be buried. Several neat blessings however were scattered throughout that day. 1) Nearly my entire family gathered together for a group prayer, a huge feat considering the unbelieving nature of most of my family. 2) All sorts of people, even people not very close to us, were supporting us with prayer, food, and encouragement. 3) Sarah kidnapped me for an hour to whisk me away to Target for Starbucks and my choice of a movie. My pick? “Sweet Home Alabama.” She then proceeded to talk to me the entire time as I had to drive 2.5 hours back to work. I wouldn’t have made it otherwise. 4) My grandmother gave me a pair of hot pink rain boots that had white polka dots on them. The last gift from both of my grandparents together.

I jumped back into work desperate for a distraction. The girls definitely provided it. They spoiled me endlessly as did my co-workers who rearranged their schedules so I could be gone most of the week. Sunday and Monday were blurs. I don’t remember them, but I returned home on Tuesday for my grandfather’s viewing. That morning, while I was trying to catch up on sleep, my mom rushed my dad to the hospital. He had been struggling with the stomach flu since Sunday, and he wasn’t getting better. While visiting my dad before the viewing despite his protests, the doctor said he was doing his best to get him on the plane for the funeral later that week, but it was dad’s choice whether or not to go that night. It was still unknown what was wrong with him. Convinced he had the worst stomach flu ever, he remained in the hospital while we continued on without him.

My grandfather had touched many lives over the span of so many years, so it was interesting to see who showed up for the viewing. I think the most unexpected were the pharmacists from the local pharmacy who had thought my grandfather was so funny. The viewing was touching because of how many people showed up simply to support us. My Dad’s co-workers, our small group, and my high school teachers were just a few of the people that surrounded us. I could literally feel God wrapping his arms around my family through the arms of our friends. He was my co-pilot as I returned back to the farm that night. Again, keeping me awake when I thought it would be impossible.

By Wednesday evening, the doctors still weren’t quite sure what was wrong with my dad and had scheduled surgery for Thursday, the day we left for the funeral. It looked like my siblings and I were going to his dad’s funeral without him. It broke my heart that my dad’s heart was breaking because he couldn’t be there. Sure enough, my siblings and I flew out the next morning for Ohio alongside of my grandmother and my aunt, uncle, and one cousin without our parents.

Page 1...

2011-04-15T11:07:00.003-04:00

The words of Job 1:21 are easier sung than lived.

“The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”

This chapter of my story starts nearly three years ago during the summer of 2008. Graduation was less than a year away, and I was dreaming of moving to Colorado. I was so determined to graduate and move that I was taking a couple summer classes to ensure my goal and save money. While sitting in Chemistry, doing all I could to make the equations make sense, my phone rang. My dad knew I was in class, so I stepped out to see what he needed. His formal, business tone instantly alerted me to the fact that something wasn’t right. My grandmother, his mom, had been diagnosed with peritoneal cancer, simply explained- a cousin to ovarian. It had already progressed rapidly to stage four, and the doctor warned us we had about twelve months left with her. I tried to reason myself into staying into class. Leaving was pointless, but I couldn’t focus, so I left. The only time I had missed that class- the class I was working my tail off to get a C in.

Fast forward to September of this past year, 2010. My grandma (Bear) was still alive and doing well. We had celebrated each holiday as if it were our last, and we were blessed with more, but we were preparing for the end. For that reason, my grandfather called me. He had been healthy as a horse, exercising daily and eating horribly, but the doctor had noticed a slight problem with his heart. He wanted me to know that he was having tests, but it wasn’t a big deal. Testing revealed that it was a slightly bigger problem than he insinuated. He needed to have double bypass surgery for a forty percent and a ninety percent blockages. He went ahead scheduled it, knowing that he’d have enough time to recover before my grandmother really started getting worse.

After a few schedule and thin blood conflicts, my grandfather (Pops or Poppie) worked out a date and went in for surgery on October 1, the day before my birthday, a day kicking off “birthday season” in our family due to the plethora of birthdays and even my grandparents’ anniversary in those first two weeks of October. A large part of my extended family surrounded Bear in the waiting room trying to keep the mood light, distracting her with photos and random stories all while we waited with bated breath ourselves. The entire family was home for various reasons, so we banded together and waited. My gut had been giving me all sorts of bad vibes for a few days, but I wrote them off with a sigh when the doctor pronounced that Pops had come through surgery beautifully and how he wished all of his patients did that well. We got to see him before we went home to rest. He looked really good. He wasn’t able to talk yet due to the ventilator, but he kept thumping his chest and then gave huge, empathic “ok” signs with his hands. I laughed and asked if that was his way of saying he felt good. He replied with another “ok.” I corrected myself and asked if that meant he felt great, and he nodded dramatically, doing his best to reassure us. I tried to laugh through my tears, but the laugh got caught in my throat somewhere. I told him that I was leaving but expected him to be sitting up the next day to wish me a happy birthday. The nurse said that he was progressing so well that that would be a definite.

My Dad and I decided to start the birthday celebrations early. He insisted that despite his exhaustion from his recent trip to Scotland, his Parkinsons, and the general stress of the day that we go out to lunch and then go shopping. We celebrated at Carrabba’s, picked my brother up from school where his entire basketball team lined up to shake our hands and offer their support for our family. It was such a relief to be able to offer them a positive report. After that touching gesture, we ran all over town to find a new pair of Nikes. My mom and sister were out of town on a school trip, so I was spoiled by the boys. We finally dragged ourselves home, physically and emotionally spent. Dad was starting to teeter, a sure sign we had aggravated his Parkinsons. I sent him to bed. I contemplated bed myself since my uncle had called around 8 saying that Pops was off the ventilator and doing well.

Then the phone rang.

I intercepted it so Dad wouldn’t be bothered, but it was my uncle insisting to talk to Dad. Dad stumbled out of the room, not making much sense, so I piled him and my brother into my car and flew to the hospital. All my brother and I knew was that Pops had taken a turn for the worse. We flew up the stairs of the cardiac unit despite a security guard running after us telling us we weren’t authorized to enter that way. When we reached the top, we waited- my dad, brother, aunt, uncle, cousin, grandmother and myself. For what seemed like forever. All we knew was that an electrical mishap had happened in his heart, there was a crash cart in the hall, and that we didn’t want the doctors coming out anytime soon. I gave my mom a heads up, and we waited some more.

The doctors eventually came out to talk to us. It was at this moment that I was thankful for nonverbal communication. Both doctors came trailed by nurses, orderlies, and anyone else that had helped. Every face was a look of sorrow, and the head doctor was honorably stumbling about his words and not making eye contact. He gracefully stuttered about how hard they had tried and how confused they were. I knew what he was saying, but my family wasn’t catching on. He continued for another minute when his colleague, Dr. Greene, clarified, “He’s gone.”

The next hour was full of shock, tears, having to tell my mom, and witnessing and experiencing grief I had never even imagined. I walked around in shock trying to get done the things that needed to get done such as calling in backups for prayer and forcing my dad to sit to prevent him from being admitted to the hospital.

One thing that I realized in those moments was that the doctors and nurses had one of the best and the worst jobs ever. They get to save lives and deliver miraculous news, but there is also the flip side. They also, on occasion, have to deliver news that makes families crumble. The sadness on their faces was very real. It wasn’t a staged emotion. You could tell they had thought that they had already given the miraculous news: “He made it, and he will be on track to help his wife dying of cancer!” I was thankful for their kindness as they did their best to tend to our family. They went above and beyond their call of duty. I tried to voice my appreciation accompanied by a smile, but tears overtook the smile.

We rallied together back at my grandparents’ house mostly sitting in quiet grief listening to the clocks tick away the seconds and my grandmother occasionally wondering aloud what she was going to do now. A little after one am my grandmother looked up and said, “Well, happy birthday, Amanda Grace.”

A Time for Every Season...

2011-03-16T12:15:00.000-04:00

It's come time for me to write. There have been many events in the recent months that have shaped who I am as rushing waters carve a stone. It's time to be open and share. Perhaps you'll find encouragement within the words, I'm hoping for healing and an ebenezer.

Be patient with me. It will take time, but be watching.

"The House That Built Me"

2011-02-03T11:44:00.000-05:00

If you asked me where I consider home, I’d have many answers for you. There is the house that I was born and raised in. I lived there approximately 20 years, and my parents still live there. Then, there is Home, where I plan on spending eternity- Heaven. Then there are untraditional places I consider home such as the church and K-12 school I attended. I have spent more time on that property in my lifetime than I have spent anywhere else. And there’s also the place I hope to one day call home- the gorgeous state of Colorado. But if I had to pick one specific location. Where do you feel the most at home at? That’d be easy. It is hands down my grandparents’ house.

Their house is, as Miranda Lambert says, the house that built me. Nearly every birthday, holiday, or major life event has been taken place in this house. That house is where I developed my love for dogs, especially big dogs. It was also here that I had many conversations that challenged my beliefs in God, shaped my perspective on education, and forced me to face how I was going to handle the issue of race. The news was broken to me in that house that my grandfather on mom’s side of the family had died, and it was there that we gathered to mourn after his funeral. I broke my first bone at that house, I fell in love with nature as I walked up and down many trails in the woods behind the house, and I learned the value of family.

In the past ten years, my grandparents started asking what we wanted to inherit when they died. Family members started claiming furniture, jewelry, and various family mementos. When my grandma pointedly asked me what I wanted, I told her simply, “The house.” She started to correct me saying that there wouldn’t be anything left in the house and that it wouldn’t be the same. Even though I was in my early teens, I knew what I wanted and held firm with my desire. Years passed and my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. A few months ago, my grandma called me up knowing that her time was short. She wanted to know again, seriously this time, what I wanted. I told her a few items that were important to me, but that I was serious when I said I wanted the house. She couldn’t fathom why I wanted the old place. All I knew was that I wasn’t joking and that the “old house” was the only thing that could keep me in the small town I had grown up in.

As my grandfather passed away unexpectedly and my grandmother deteriorated rapidly, plans were made and finalized. My mom didn’t give me specifics, but warned me to not hold onto the hope about the house. She was trying to tell me that, though not finalized, the house was going to be sold and the profit split amongst my dad and his siblings. My grandmother passed away and my parents went quiet. They had a good friend of mine move into the house “until further notice”, the outside was repainted, and things that were broken were fixed. I cried myself to sleep that night knowing not only had I lost my grandparents, I had lost my house along with all my memories and dreams.

The day before the will was read, my parents prepped my siblings and I not to react to anything and to be prepared for unexpected things. Again, I heard them saying, “Be prepared for the sale of the house.” As the will was read, there were a few unexpected surprises on my part such as my grandmother’s wedding ring, but the biggest surprise of all was the decision of the house. Apparently, at the last minute, my grandparents decided to go with an idea they had been contemplating with for a few months- leave the house to my parents and keep it as a meeting place for friends and family. I was so relieved in that moment that I literally started sobbing. Although I had known I wasn’t going to get the house, this was the next best thing.

My family is now starting the process of renovating and moving into the house. It will be weird seeing the house change, but it will also be really good as it starts a new phase. I’m looking forward to the many memories that will continue to be created there for many years to come. And maybe, just maybe, the house will be my own one day.

Best Friends

2010-08-22T21:56:00.000-04:00

If you didn't know, my friends mean a lot to me. Community is a common topic for me to write about. I've written about the importance of the people in my life over and over and over again. What can I say? God's put some pretty amazing people in my life, and I enjoy bragging about them.
My two best friends have been on my mind a lot lately. I think it’s because now they both live away from me and because they’re both doing big things, and I wish I could be with them to cheer them on in person during this point in their lives. I’m very proud of both of them. As much as I wish I could convey to you how much I am proud of them, words are limiting. Sarah is following God’s call on her life to be a teacher, despite her initial fighting with God over that call, and Kate is on her way to being a doctor, despite the fear of the unknowns.
I am shocked daily, and no, I’m not exaggerating, that I at least to get to be a part of their lives because of the unlikely way I became friends with both of them and because I’m undeserving to have not one but two adopted sisters. Sarah forced her way into my life when I wasn’t very pleasant to be around and Kate found me not very pleasant to be around as I tried to force my way into her life.
It’s comical to see my friendology doctrine change of the years. In elementary school, I distinctly remember discussing with my best friend at the time about how it was impossible to have more than one best friend. It was something I believed in fiercely. The very grammar of the term “best friend” alludes to this fact. If you are calling someone your “best” friend, that doesn’t leave room for another. It means that this person is the most important friend you have, they are the peak of the friendship ladder, and there’s no room for sharing. You know the rankings go something along the lines of not using an adjective to using titles of “good” and ultimately “best.” If the island question were posed to you, you know the “If you were stranded on a deserted island and you could only choose one person to have with you, who would you pick?” question, there would be no hesitation to your answer. It would be your “best” friend. Just because I had a “best” friend didn’t mean that I didn’t like anyone else. It’s just that my “good” friends weren’t my number one pick to be on the island with me. Needless to say, this flawed ideology caused jealousy problems for me as my best friend in elementary school believed that you could have more than one best friend. Apparently, she didn’t understand grammar very well.
As I got older, I laughed at my childish stubbornness and silliness, but nothing ever challenged my childhood beliefs until college. Sarah had been my best friend for five years when I met Kate. After a few months, I realized that I considered Kate to be my best friend, but I didn’t know how to tell Sarah. Kate wasn’t replacing Sarah, but I didn’t know how Sarah would react to sharing her title. Sarah understood with no problems. Kate still didn’t know if she wanted the title. I was the only one stressing over this issue of two people sharing the title of best friend in my life. My friendology doctrine still unknowingly impacted my thinking, and although it was obvious to me then that I could have two best friends, it seemed hard to explain.
At the time I was reading The Shack, and it neatly explained my nonissue issue to me. The main character, Mack, was learning about the depth of relationships. Sarayu, a member of the Trinity, was attempting to explain to Mack the uniqueness of each relationship in our life, and the light went off in my head.

“I don’t understand, Mack hesitated. “Are you saying that we can respond to one another in colors?” “Yes,” Sarayu nodded, or at least that’s what Mack thought she did. “Each relationship between two persons is absolutely unique. That is why you cannot love two people the same. It simply is not possible. You love each person differently because of who they are and the uniqueness that they draw out of you. And the more you know another, the richer the colors of that relationship… Perhaps the best way you can understand is for me to give you a quick illustration. Suppose, Mack, that you are hanging out with a friend at your local coffee shop. You are focused on your companion and if you had the eyes to see, the two of you would be enveloped in an array of colors and light, which mark not only your uniqueness as individuals but also the uniqueness of the relationship between you and the emotions you’d be experiencing in that moment… But suppose… that another person whom you love enters the coffee shop, and although you are wrapped in the conversation with your first friend, you notice this other’s entry. Again, if you had eyes to see the greater reality, here is what you would witness: As you continued your current conversation, a unique combination of color and light would leave you and wrap itself around the one who had just entered, representing you in another form of loving and greeting that one.” (Young, p. 213-214)

The flaw in my young thinking was that I was trying to define each friendship in the same way, but with relationships, that’s simply not possible. God made each person in my life uniquely special, and our roles in each others’ lives are uniquely special too. My best friends were able to understand that truth, but I had a hard time comprehending that until Young explained it in the figurative way that he does.
Whatever the explanation, all I can say is that I am blessed. So blessed. These two love me unconditionally, a task I make as hard as possible for them. Even though I miss them terribly, as cheesy as it is, I’m thankful to have them to miss, because my life wouldn’t be the same without them- without their accountability, their companionship, their honesty, their depth, their love for life, their love for Jesus. God has used them in my life to teach me how to love by expanding my ability to love and challenging my selfishness. One, I love them beyond what I ever thought was possible to love people. Two, I can joyfully and confidently tell you that I have two best friends and have no qualm about it, which means I get double the opportunity to love and be loved.

Hello, My Name Is

2010-08-11T14:24:00.002-04:00

There are few things in life that I truly hate. There are things I don’t like such as people driving under the speed limit. Let me tell you, people driving under the speed limit gets me ruffled, but it’s not something that I passionately hate. I would have to say that one of the few things that I hate is fake people. Perhaps, it’s because the experiences I’ve had with fake people over the years haven’t been pleasant. Perhaps, it’s because I’ve been comfortable in my own skin most of the time. Whatever the reason, fake people irk me.
The Bible says that wounds from a friend can be trusted. The truth of this verse didn’t really make sense to me until a few weeks ago. Recently, my best friend, long story short, called me out. Essentially, without saying much, she told me I had become a fake. Ooo, did that make my blood boil. I felt like I had been slapped in the face. I wasn’t mad at her but at myself. She was right. I had become what I hated most, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.
It has been a few weeks now and I am still wrestling at the implications of her honesty. I have been fake. I’m hiding behind an image, and since it’s a persona I’ve been wearing for a while, it’s not easily shaken. I subconsciously put it on every morning like I put on my clothes and make-up. It’s not who I am, but there are days that I wonder which side is truly me.
A question I’ve asked myself is, “why?” Why have I adopted this masquerade? The answer, I’ve decided, is two-fold. One, it makes me feel stronger, more resilient. Things are easier to laugh off, don’t hurt as much, and don’t faze me. I don’t feel as much with this fake id. Secondly, it doesn’t allow others to see the real me, diminishing the possibilities of them hurting me. I maintain the upper hand by only revealing small bits at my choosing. Let me tell you, both reasons are dumb and selfish.
So now what?... A journey of being humbly honest and open… Wow. That was hard to write. God gave me a specific purpose and a specific identity in him, and I need to live that so others see his truth in my life. If I’m living my life from behind a mask, his love will be misunderstood if communicated at all.
So, to my family, friends, and co-workers (a unique family of our own), I’m sorry. To my best friend, thanks for calling me out on my crap. Let’s start again.

Hello, my name is Amanda Grace…

Not Quite 23 & Invincible

2010-07-28T14:42:00.000-04:00

The band Boys Like Girls’ lyrics of being “23 and invincible” have resonated with me as of late. I have gotten to a point where my life is very full. I love the life that I live, and it is full of people that I love incredibly dearly. I had been feeling as if my earthly life would continue on infinitely… until today.
I was driving down one of the local two-lane roads when I noticed the truck in front of me was carrying cargo that was poorly secured. The flat-bed truck had two large panels of some sort standing straight up that were each around 15 feet high, 5 feet wide, and approximately 2 inches thick. My mind is notorious for generating myriads of what-if situations, and this afternoon was no different as I contemplated how I would react and what would happen if these large panels finagled their way loose. My heart skipped a beat as I realized that there wasn’t much I could do if anything happened and that every scenario had a very real potential of ending in death. I shook my head as I forced myself to reality, telling myself that I had let my imagination get the best of me again and that the possibilities of the panels getting loose were slim. I slowed down a bit anyway just in case.
All it took was a split second and my crazy imaginings became reality. The two panels flew off the truck and began spiraling quickly toward me. My stomach jumped into my esophagus, my heart began to race, and I cried, “Dear, Jesus,” as my lungs refused anymore air. I quickly looked to see if I had any swerving options, but I was walled in on a bridge with nowhere to go. I slammed on the brakes, and wondered if this was going to be it.
Just a few feet from my car, the panels suddenly dropped flat to the ground and slid to a stop, a mere inch or two from my car. It was as if I a giant hand smacked them flat. I tried to start breathing again as my stomach tried to revolt and a few tears escaped from my eyes. All I could do was wait until they were moved, because they took up the entire road and utter my thanks to God.
When the road was clear again, I took a detour home giving me time to process my thoughts and emotions. My mind took off yet again with what-ifs. What if this had been the end of my earthly time? What if I had finally met Jesus face to face? Would I have been ready to defend my earthly life? Were my relationships with friends and my family at places where I could be satisfied that they knew I loved them and didn’t have anything to repent of? What if my family and friends had gotten an awful phone call today? What would have been their thoughts and reactions? Could I truly say that my girls had seen Jesus reflected in me? Had I tried my hardest and could honestly say that I left no loose ends? Would Jesus have said, “Well done, Grace”?
I’m not trying to be cocky, but I honestly feel if those panels had sent me to heaven around noon today, I would have been ready. I think I can say with confidence that as of noon today, I have loved and lived for Jesus as fully as I know how. I don’t think I’ve left anything unsaid or undone… yet. If it was earlier this week or last, it might have been a different story.
Apparently, God’s purpose for my life isn’t completed, because I’m still here. So instead of living as if I’m “23 and invincible”, I need to live whatever life I have left as if I have “one life to live,” because that’s the truth of the matter. This is my one chance to give it all I’ve got. Lord, may it be so.

“You only get just one time around,
You only get one shot at this.
One chance, to find out,
The one thing that you don’t wanna miss.
One day when it’s all said and done
I hope you see that it was enough, this
One ride, one try, one life…
To love.”- 33 Miles

Arrival

2010-07-20T17:35:00.000-04:00

As I'm riding the Sky Link between terminals in Dallas' airport, it hits me. I've arrived. Yes, yes. My plane has arrived to the airport, but I've arrived!

When I was young, I used to dream of turning 16 and being able to have the freedom to drive. I loved 16. It was a good arrival. The next arrival I really anticipated was the ambiguous point in life where I would be traveling when and where I wanted with no one limiting me. I looked forward to grand adventures yet unknown. Today, it hit me. That point is no longer ambiguous and barely visible in the distance. That point is now. As I'm returning from the top of Pike's Peak, heading home, I've realized... I've arrived.

I can choose to live in the stress of life, or I can choose to embrace the joys. I prefer the latter. Arrival is so sweet.

"Better make it count, 'cause you can't get it back." -Carrie Underwood

Weeks 5&6: "Hurt"

2010-02-22T16:47:00.001-05:00

The past 2 weeks I finally read a book I haven't read yet. :)

Title: "Hurt"
Author: Chap Clark
Pages: 195 (including the appendixes but excluding the notes)
Rating (out of 5): 3.5
Reread?: No

Favorite quote: "It comes down to a commitment to a simple truth: The nurture and care of the young in society is the responsibility of every adult in society. Every adult who cares about the young must do whatever it takes to address and confront any other adult, organization, or policy that adds to the effects of abandonment. " (pg. 181)

Thoughts: This book is based on Chap Clark's study on teenagers and why today's teengers aren't the same as teens of the past. His main conclusion is that teens, more than ever, are feeling and being abandoned. After making this statement, he outlines several areas that this is noticeable such as family, school, sex, sports, etc. This book is one to be read if you have any contact with teenagers. It helps give an accuate view of what teens today are facing.
The reason I didn't give it a higher rating was because his writing led me to believe that a certain conclusion was yet to be made. In fact, he had already made a broad point and vaguely outlined areas where this point is proven.

Now reading: "The Retail Revolution: How Wal-Mart Created A Brave New World of Business" - Nelson Lichtenstein

Weeks 3&4: The Two Sides of Love

2010-02-01T13:49:00.000-05:00

We won't talk about how I wasn't successful again. With my crazy new job I'm thinking about modifying my resolution to every other week. Haven't decided yet, but be prepared that next week's book will probably take two weeks.

Title: "The Two Sides of Love- Using Personality Strengths to Greatly Improve Your Relationships"
Author(s): Gary Smalley & John Trent
Pages: 174
Rating (out of 5): 4
Reread?: Yes

Favorite quote: "Perhaps it's the natural warmth that seems to come from golden retrievers or some the way the sun reflects off their listening ears, but God seems to have put a clear mark on golden retrievers that lets others know they're His special counselors." -pg. 90

Thoughts: This is a great book on how to understand and relate to anyone you have a relationship with. We all have different personality types and "The Two Sides to Love" focuses on ways to relate to those whose personalities don't make sense to us. This book is particularly good for parents who need to be firmer or softer in the way they deal with their kids.

Now reading: "Hurt" by Chap Clark

Week 2: Failed

2010-01-20T10:45:00.002-05:00

So, I was supposed to give you a wonderful review of "The Grand Weaver;" however, I got a job this past week, moved to a new location in less than a week, and lost the book in the move. That means it is probably still at home. Don't worry. This week I am reading "The Two Sides of Love." Expect a review, because I'm expecting to not move again.

Week 1: "Captivating"

2010-01-10T19:32:00.002-05:00

The year is off to a great start, and so is my resolution to read one non-fictional book a week. I'll try to make sure I write a review for you each week, so that you may increase your reading list as well. Enjoy!

Title: "Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul"
Author(s): John & Stasi Eldredge
Pages: 218
Rating (out of 5): 4
Reread?: Yes

Favorite quote: This time around it was found on pages 180 and 181. "To have a woman friend is to relax into another soul and be welcomed in all that you are and all that you are not...When God gives a friend, he is entrusting us with the care of another's heart. It is a chance to mother and to sister, to be a Life giver, to help someone else become the woman she was created to be, to walk alongside her and call her deep heart forth."

Thoughts: "Captivating" is an excellent book that focuses on the special role that women play in creation. For women it is a must read to remind us that we were created with a very special and unique purpose. This book also focuses on the ways that our roles have been tarnished by the fall. Men should also read it to understand the hidden battle that many women fight spiritually and emotionally. Men should also read "Captivating"'s counterpart, "Wild at Heart."

Now reading: "The Grand Weaver" by Ravi Zacharias

New Year's Resolutions

2010-01-06T11:34:00.003-05:00

Welcome, 2010!

Typically I don't make New Year's Resolutions. I think they're overrated. If I'm going to set a goal, why does it have to be at the beginning of the year? Why can't I start setting goals whenever I want? Why does it have to be January 1st to start implementing goals? Well, anyway, I set one goal this year (two if you count securing a job), and that goal is to read one non-fiction book a week. I love reading, but I really love reading fiction. It's my escape, so I typically place the non-fictional books to the side. To keep my accountable to this goal, I'm striving to write a review of each book that I read weekly here. That way both you and I benefit.

Well, I'm off. Time to get reading! This week is half-way over already!

All I Want For Christmas

2009-11-27T12:40:00.004-05:00

I have spoken to you before about my joy in sponsoring my Compassion child, Vanessa.

This Christmas I get to be a part of another Compassion child's life in a unique way. I have volunteered to sponsor a Christmas child. By agreeing to "sponsor" a Christmas child, I am responsible for praying for this child daily and for finding a sponsor for this child.

So how about it? Are you a sponsor yet? You should be. My Christmas child is a sweet six-year-old boy by the name of Rodmar. Rodmar and his family live in the Philippines. Take time to pray about it. For $38 a month, you could provide schooling, food, clean water, medical care, and the opportunity to know Jesus to Rodmar. How's that for an excellent Christmas gift? Because all Rodmar wants for Christmas is you.

Waiting...

2009-10-25T22:38:00.007-04:00

Before you sit down, grab a snack. This is going to be a long one...

Nearly a year and a half ago, I sat down and was blatantly honest with God about my future. I told him what I would love to do, where I’d love to be, what I thought my options at the time were. I shared with him my fears, my excitements, and I attempted to lay it all down at his feet. I was still a year out from graduation, but I wanted to make sure that when the time came, I’d be able to follow in the direction God was taking me.
A few months later, the path I thought I was supposed to take was closed pretty blatantly in my face. I was ok with it. Bummed definitely, but I had been asking God to make it obvious if I was supposed to travel down that path and continue on to a different country. The program closed. Well, that was obvious. Thank the Lord!
The more I prayed and the more I listened the more it was stirred within me that I really wanted to move. I didn’t know what job I desired, but I had a location in mind: out West. I sat my parents down at Christmas, and told them of my desire to move and the current plans I was working on to help make that happen. Those plans included applying for several summer jobs to get my foot in the door and then pursue a full-time job once fall was underway. Needless to say, I didn’t get any of the jobs that I applied for. Ok, Lord, that didn’t go well, but I can’t wait to see what you have!
Graduation came and went without me moving or landing a full-time job. Right after graduation, I was ok with not having a job. I enjoyed the summer, hung out with an old friend, recovered from school, and was curious if a relationship with a certain someone was going to develop. Summer flew by, and I was disappointed. I thought I’d have a job by August at the latest. But I was still anticipating God to hand me that job out West. About a month ago, I was really wrestling with God. The relationship didn’t work out, I didn’t have a full-time job, my friends were across the country, and I was still at home! I was pretty bitter and had moments of depression. “Ok, God. I knew this was going to take time, but that’s why we talked a year ago. To start preparing me for whatever you have. Soooooooo, let’s go. I’m ready. I don’t like being here in the doldrums. I feel worthless.” My prayer then became, “Help me BE where I am. And be overflowing with thankfulness for being here. Show me why I’m here for this time.”
I have been doing pretty well with God’s help: I’ve gotten involved in a small group, God has provided several random part-time jobs, and I’m staying involved in youth ministry by substitute teaching! I even got a chance to visit my two best friends out West!! It was wonderful. While there, I fought with God again. I was offered a job. Doing something I love. In a place I love. Near people I love. What was the problem? As I was going through the interview I kept feeling God nudge me, “Grace, this isn’t it. This isn’t what I have for you. Keep waiting.” I wanted to yell back, “I’ve been waiting nearly 6 months!!!” Instead, I went home, tried to explain my insane logic to those closest to me, and then cried for 2 days.
20-something applications and resumes and 2 turned down jobs later, I’m still living at home without a full-time job. I feel as if I’ve been on quite the roller coaster for the past 6 months… and I don’t like roller coasters.As you can tell, the theme of my life lately has been waiting. God’s been teaching and stretching me a lot. During small group this week, Scott Krippayne’s song, “Sometimes He Calms the Storm” was playing in the background. And the lyrics jumped out at me.“Sometimes he calms the storm with a whispered, ‘Peace. Be still.’ He can settle any sea, but it doesn’t mean he will. Sometimes he holds us close and lets the wind and waves go wild. Sometimes he calms the storm, and other times he calms his child.”
And that is what he’s been doing. He’s been calming me. When I trust him, I see the good that has come out of this awkward time of waiting. I’ve been here for my family during some difficult times, I’ve grown closer to an old friend who has been such a source of encouragement, I’ve gotten to travel, God’s provided work so that I can be saving money, I’m learning to be flexible, I have gotten better about working out, I’m learning to trust in God alone, I’ve made a new friend or two, God’s putting me in the path of several unbelievers, and I’m pretty sure I’ll really appreciate it when God shows me the next step. God’s plan is sovereign. I can trust that he definitely has one for me, but his ways aren’t my ways, his thoughts aren’t my thoughts, and his timing is certainly not my own! But he can see the bigger picture. Praise the Lord that I’m not flying blindly! He has a plan and a purpose, and it WILL be fulfilled in his timing. So here I am I. Waiting for God’s perfect timing and plan.

Legacy

2009-07-06T21:32:00.004-04:00

As all these American icons have passed on over the past 2 weeks, many are reflecting on the legacies left behind by Farrah Fawcett, Ed McMahon, Michael Jackson, Billy Mayes, and Steve McNair. People are exalting what are perceived legacies and even in their deaths, legacies are created.
My senior year of high school I dwelt on what legacy our class would leave. We were the guinea pig class- the first to go from kindergarten to graduation. But that legacy wasn't enough for me. I hoped that our leadership would make a difference in the classes and lives that followed. I didn't want to be remembered as the senior who ignored those in the "lower classes."
This past week I got a taste of our legacy. The guidance counselor from my high school invited me and several other alumni to speak on a panel to the upcoming seniors- the 8th graders of our senior year. Three people from my class plus two other alums were in attendance. The guidance counselor opened with a bit of background for each of us. She started out by talking about our class and the standard we set. A standard which I was unaware of. She spoke of the way our class made it through the year only by the grace of God and leaning upon each other. She said that this set a precedent for the succeeding classes. A legacy of community. I was so encouraged, because I really did make it through that year by relying on God and my classmates. To know that others were leaning on each other because of my family brought great joy to my heart.
Where are you at in your life now? What legacy are you leaving behind you? Are you leaving one? May you be leaving a legacy of God's incredible goodness.

New Day

2009-05-28T23:01:00.004-04:00

On Tuesday night I had the opportunity of going to a Hillsong concert- a night of worship. I had a terrible time engaging my heart in the worship. It's a valley I'm going through- a valley of apathy. I hope the climb out comes soon. Despite my apathetic heart, God reached through and gave me this treasure.

One of the members was talking about how joyful he was because that day was a new day. I mentally rolled my eyes as I prepared for a carpe diem uplifting or a breaking out of clapping and singing of "This is the Day" by the hundreds of others there. Instead, the "new day" motivation was given differently than I've heard before. It was refreshing, and I promise you that I will butcher it, but I will try to convey the sense of the encouragement. It goes something like this:

Each day is a new day. God has a specific purpose and plan for each new day. It is unlike any other day. It's not the same old, same old. God has intricately crafted a specific purpose to this new day.

Well, when you put it that way, why am I living as today is no different than the next? Each day may be a gift and we may need to seize it, and we should rejoice in the fact that God created it, but also realize that God intended today for a very specific and crucial and possibly eternal reason. Now, go be a tool in His hands and let Him use you to fulfill that purpose. Go live!

Indecision

2009-05-27T22:36:00.003-04:00

Two of my friends, Janis and Sarah, and I decided to hang out together about a week ago. I was so excited to spend time with these young women. But we had a hard time deciding when to hang out: Saturday or Sunday. After weighing the pros and cons and realizing that none of us really cared which day we spent time together, we decided to hang out on Sunday afternoon after church. After all, it was important that we just picked a time, right?

In our excitement, we brainstormed about how we should spend our time. Should we go to the beach? Should we see a movie? Should we shop? Should we just stay at home? It was such a hard decision to make. Nobody was emphatic about any of the options. I was the only emphatic one. No beach. I had a headache from the intense sun already. In the end, we decided to go shopping.

As we left the house, we had the decision looming ahead of us: Where should we go shopping at?? There were so many choices. There was the quaint downtown area. Or we could bask in the sun as we perused the outdoor outlet mall. Or there was the indoor shopping mall with Dairy Queen! After much "I don't care. What do you want to do"s, we chose to at least start out at the outlet mall with the TCBY.

By this time the J part of my personality was getting aggravated. Why can't we just come up with a plan for the day? I settled down since we had finally made some decisions, but my aggravation was rekindled when my cohorts couldn't decide what they wanted to buy at Gap. As soon as we would decide to move on to the next store, one would see something new they just had to try on or the other would change their mind about that particular pair of pants they were mentally debating about purchasing. It seemed like we tried to leave Gap approximately 2583.283 times. It was probably closer to 7, but it felt the same to me.

At this point I confessed to them that I had decided to go shopping with the two most indecisive people I knew! Then I accessed Facebook via my iPhone and confessed to all 154 of my "friends" that I was with the two most indecisive people I know. For someone who hates shopping the only thing that could be worse is to go with people who love shopping but are quite indecisive.

Despite our continuous bouts of indecision, including should we go to the bookstore, should Sarah buy the gray shorts or the black shorts, and whether or not the dress I tried on was flattering, the day was quite lovely. We celebrated Janis' birthday, delighted in the gift of friendship, and tried not to dwell on the fact that God was leading us different directions indefinitely. I treasure these two friends deeply. And although I truly believe that they are some of the most indecisive people I know, it brings me great comfort to know that they are confident about one thing: their salvation. They each have an incredible relationship with Jesus Christ and it radiates from them. Because of their confidence in Christ, I think I can handle a bit of indecision when it comes to hanging out.

Life Together

2009-04-05T22:55:00.002-04:00

People are created for community. Community is a structure created by God, yet it always amazes me how much I need it. In Genesis, it says that it's not good for man to be alone. The Psalms say “how good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity!” Jesus longed for his disciples to be near to him in his last hours. God created a woman for Adam. People are so critical in one another's lives. They are wonderful for encouragement, for accountability, for learning, and for just being there.
Despite my introverted personality and need for time by myself, I also need people. I am not meant to live alone. For example, my roommate was gone 46 hours this weekend. Only 46, and I nearly went crazy. It is interesting to find out new things about yourself. Or rediscover things you might have forgotten. I have recently realized that although I like time by myself, I need people nearby. I just need to know that they are there. If I want to read a book, I tend to read with someone else close by. I don't want them talking to me. I just want their presence. I had a friend spend the night on Friday, and she worked on homework the entire time. We didn't exchange many words, but just knowing she was there was enough for me.
Having people around reminds me about my time at the Focus on the Family Institute. You should look into it. Really. The community there is unlike I've ever experienced. Even in high school and that was hard core too. I don't think I'll experience that sort of community again until heaven, but who knows.
Want to learn more about community? Reading the Bible is a good start. Stories like Jonathan and David, the disciples and Jesus, the early church in Acts. They're great. You could also read “Life Together” by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
Now don't get me wrong. Living with others is hard. Really hard. It strips you of your pride, it causes you to give of yourself in ways you may or may not enjoy, you have to learn to be flexible, you have to learn how to communicate and adapt to various communication styles, and I could on...
But it's also wonderful. You receive so much joy from living with others, your burdens can be shared and your joys can be shared. Burdens being shared causes them to be lighter and joys being shared multiplies. God works in your life to purge you of your pride, and you see him mold and shape the lives of others. You realize that God has undeservedly blessed you with the people in your life, and you catch a glimpse of eternity. Again the list could go on...
The lowest points of my life have been when my friends have walked out. I can't even begin to describe the hurt and the darkness, but the highest points of my life have been when I have had others surrounding me and we were just “doing life” together. During both times one of my favorite songs would be “Life Together” by Geoff Moore and the Distance. The lyrics say it all.
If you're not living with others or at least have a group of friends to be a sort of family, I encourage you to join a Bible study, an accountability group, or even to go out and make some friends. It'll be worth it, because you were made for it.
C.S. Lewis says it well: “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself (for God did not need to create). It has no survival value; rather, it is one of those things which give value to survival.”
I'll leave you with a bit of Bonhoeffer: “Let him who until now has had the privilege of living a common Christian life with other Christians praise God's grace from the bottom of his heart. Let him thank God on his knees and declare: It is grace, nothing but grace, that we are allowed to live in community with Christian brethren.
The measure with which God bestows the gift of visible community is varied. The Christian in exile is comforted by a brief visit of a Christian brother, a prayer together and a brother's blessing; indeed, he is strengthened by a letter written by the hand of a Christian. The greetings in the letters written with Paul's own hand were doubtless tokens of such community. Others are given the gift of common worship on Sundays. Still others have the privilege of living a Christian life in the fellowship of their families... Among earnest Christians in the Church today there is a growing desire to meet together with other Christians in the rest periods of their work for common life under the Word. Communal life is again being recognized by Christians today as the grace that it is, as the extraordinary, the “roses and lilies” of the Christian life.” (“Life Together” pg. 20-21)

"Albertine"

2009-01-04T22:07:00.003-05:00

Rwanda, now that I have seen, I am responsible. Faith without deeds is dead. Now that I have held you in my own arms, I cannot let go till you are…I will tell them, Albertine.”- Brooke Fraser

Brooke Fraser is a musician whose music I listen to frequently. One song in particular caught my attention, because I could tell there was a story behind it. A couple of years ago, Brooke decided to make a trip to visit the child that she sponsors. On the trip she met a young orphan in Rwanda named Albertine. This child inspired Brooke to write the song “Albertine” to tell her story.
The author James states in the first chapter of his self-titled book that we are “to look after orphans and widows in their distress… (James 1:27).” This is the same author that reminds us that our faith without deeds is dead (James 2:17). Just as Brooke (and the Bible) says, our faith needs to be acted out. That is why I want to take a moment to tell you about my own Albertine.
This past year I finally acted on God’s shoving me to sponsor a child. I now have the privilege of helping out Vanessa, a six-year-old little girl who loves ladybugs. I’ve written briefly about her before. My monthly donation helps provide her with the opportunity to go to school, the ability to see a doctor if she gets sick, food, and it also allows her to hear about God’s love for her and her family. Although I’m supposed to be blessing her by financially supporting her, she has blessed me with her childlike faith. I want to challenge you to sponsor a child. You might be thinking, “Are you kidding me? The economy is in shambles. I can’t pay my own bills. It’s just not a good time.” Let me be honest. It’s never a good time. It costs approximately $38 to sponsor a child each month. Essentially that is a dollar a day. Are you a frequenter of Starbucks? As helpful as it is, I’m sure you can cut back to help someone out. Do you eat on the run? Maybe it would be better to spend a couple extra minutes to pack your lunch (which is the cheaper and healthier route). Maybe you’re still thinking, “You just don’t get it. I honestly don’t have any money!” May I remind you of the story of Elisha and the widow in 2 Kings 4. The widow had absolutely nothing except a small amount of oil, yet, since she had a willing heart, God stretched that oil so that she could not only make food for Elisha, but have enough oil to sell and pay of their debts AND feed her and her son! I beg you. Pray about it. See what God would have you do. If he leads you, act. I had been pushing it off for a year or two, because I didn’t think it was a good financial decision, but God has provided.

There are two organizations, Compassion International and World Vision, that come to mind for you to check out with further information and opportunities to support a child. Go! Spend a couple minutes now praying about it and reading over the websites. I promise you that God will bless you for it.

Re-Visited

2009-01-03T00:30:00.004-05:00

I’ve written about this before, almost two years ago exactly: the depth of friendships. I should repost it, because it is no longer on the internet. I talked about the difference between gold friends and silver friends, taken from that dear childhood tune. Although new friends are wonderful and quite the unexpected blessing, there is just something about old friends. The history shared is something to behold: the many laughs, tears, inside jokes, stories, fears, and just simple moments help mold something very unique.
I hung out with Barta and Sarah tonight. Ok correction. We hung out all afternoon, evening, and most of the night. We chatted, tried not to fall asleep in our respective seats (mine being a quite luxuriously comfortable couch), escaped to Starbucks, and played the most non-competitive game of Mexican Train I’ve ever seen (those darn “1”s!), and then proceeded to talk in the garage as Sarah and I tried to tear ourselves away.
The comfort of being in the presence of old friends is hard to describe. There are no masks, no fences, just comfort in knowing that you’ve seen each others’ peaks and valleys and all the crazy times in between and there’s nothing to hide, just acceptance from years of hard work, fun, and God’s saving grace.

“Make new friends and keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.”- I’m pretty fond of both silver and gold.

"What Do I Know of Holy?"

2008-11-28T21:10:00.005-05:00

Dear God,

“I made you promises a thousand times. I tried to hear from heaven, but I talked the whole time. I think I made You too small. I never feared You at all. If You touched my face, would I know You? Looked into my eyes, could I behold You? What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood but the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?

What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

I guess I thought that I had figured You out. I knew all the stories, and I learned to talk about how You were mighty to save. Those were only empty words on a page. Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be.

The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees.

What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood but the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? So what do I know? What do I know of Holy?

What do I know of Holy?!?

What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame and a God who gave Life it’s name? What do I know of Holy: of the One who the angels praise?

All creation knows Your name: on earth and heaven above. What do I know of this love?

So, what do I know of You who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood but the shore along Your ocean? Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful? What do I know?

What do I know of Holy? What do I know of Holy? What do I know of Holy?”

Humbly,
Me

“What Do I Know of Holy?”- Addison Road

My Smiling Heart

2008-11-26T22:56:00.005-05:00

I like to use the phrase, "My heart's smiling" when I am truly filled with joy. Tonight my heart is definitely smiling. I heard from Vanessa, my Compassion child, today. Vanessa is a little sweetheart who lives in the Dominican Republic. Her 6th birthday is just three days away.
Her letter planted a huge smile on my face and may have caused a tear or two. She is very excited because her family is doing well and she has learned to write the letter "a" at school. But her favorite part? The ladybugs in the backyard at school. And do I like ladybugs? I am going to respond with a definite "yes."
But the most convicting part? Her thanking me for my prayers and her request for me to pray that she'll always be able to go to church. She's only 5 years old, but her prayer request is that she'll always be able to go to church. God, may that be so, and may she always have that desire.
I have not been doing very well in regards to Vanessa. I don't pray for her consistently, and I haven't written her yet, but I'm going to change that right now. I'm off to write about ladybugs and my favorite color and the fact that I'm an adult, but I go to school too! All are plenty of reason to be thankful this Thanksgiving.

(And if you want this amazing opportunity to help a child too, check out Compassion International at www.compassion.com )

"Friends & Family"- a deep cliche

2008-11-13T20:05:00.004-05:00

Today the kids at work and I were writing out at least one or two (or in one girl’s case, eleven) things we are thankful for. I wrote “Friends & Family” but then began to think of other things, because it seemed so cliché. It’s as if “family and friends” is always the cop out answer when it comes to listing things we’re thankful for, but I then I began to think to myself how true it really is. Let me give you examples.
(*Note- I cannot even begin to express how much these people mean to me or all the things I’m thankful to them for. I will leave huge things out, and I’ll most likely leave important people out too, so forgive me in advance):
-My parents: Where to even begin. All the time, money and love they’ve poured into me is incredible. A specific example is my education. They’ve spent extra money so I could attend a private Christian school my entire life, and this sacrifice has not been small. Additionally, my mom has carted me around to so many different endeavors when she could have been spending her time in other ways. My dad has supported me in all I’ve done whether he’s understood it or not. I could keep going, but you don’t have enough time to read it all.
-My grandparents: Again. Where to begin? Specifically: my music education. They’ve paid for almost every single piano lesson I’ve ever taken and have attended almost all of my concerts and recitals. My grandfather is always stressing the importance of education and has fostered my love of learning. My grandmother is always letting me know just how much she loves me.
-My grandmother: She doesn’t know how to show her love for me, so she displays her love financially and through gifts. Taking me to Olive Garden (because she knows it’s my favorite), buying me a new outfit, or giving me extra spending money is her way of telling me, “I love you.”
- Siblings: They’re crazy and have made life an adventure thus far. I might have wanted to kill them when they were younger, but I think I’ll keep them around now. :) Whitney’s crazy but serious nature always makes life exciting and fun. I’m so thankful that she stands up for what she believes is right. Garrett’s calls just to see how life’s going and the way he tries to act indifferent to Whitney and I is hilarious. I’m also so thankful that he’s learning the importance of discipline and pushing himself to greatness.
-Sarah: This is another one that could go on for awhile. She’s one of my main sounding boards. I don’t know how she does it, but she’ll listen (even if I’m being totally unreasonable!)and almost always provide good feedback. :) And she lives with me (and puts up with all of my schizophrenic sides). That’s plenty of reasons to be thankful for her alone.
-Kate: Again. The list could get a lil’ lengthy. She’s another one of my sounding boards, but I’ll provide a different reason too. She patiently pushes me to face and overcome my fears. Scared of icy, snowy roads? No problem. Just jump in behind the wheel. Afraid to go skiing again? No worries. I’ll push you down the mountain. Having a hard time trusting? That’s ok. I’ll wait. Don’t want to walk any further in the scary dark tunnel of death? Ok. We’ll turn around.
-Janis: She brings me back to the moment. The way she can just let life pause as she sits on any one of the various greens or outdoor tables helps me realize that I need to stop and enjoy the moment God has given to me. Homework is non-existent, decisions don’t need to be made, and problems disappear when you’re sitting with Janis. (Kinda like being on a jolly holiday with Mary Poppins.) Oh wait! One more: she’ll question how my relationship with God’s going, and it blows me out of the water every time.
-Marney: Her quiet and vivacious strength. She appears quiet, but she’s lively and lives passionately. Her random questions that challenge me to think about important things I wouldn’t think about otherwise are evidence enough. She always brings such wisdom to conversations while bringing some killer chocolate chip cookies at the same time.
-Mesko: She always seems to bring our conversations back to God. I’m incredibly thankful for that, because he is (or at least should be) the cornerstone of everything I do, and my speech should be reflective of that as well. I always feel refreshed and nourished after our talks, because their fun and serious and revolve around our creator. (I’m also thankful for her, because she keeps trying to marry me off!)
-Danielle: She teaches me about selflessness. I’m not saying she’s perfect, but at times it seems as if she is. Whenever we talk, she wants to know every single thing going on in my life, how I feel about that, and how she can pray for me. No matter how many times I try to shift the conversation to her, she manages to shift it back to how I’m doing.

As you can see God’s placed some pretty incredible people in my life. I guess “Friends & Family” isn’t so cliché. It's something much deeper than I often realize. I really am truly grateful for the ones that God has given to me, and I hope that I will always be thankful for them and not take them for granted.

See You Soon, Jordan

2008-08-26T21:14:00.001-04:00

Death has been on my mind a lot lately. Don’t worry. I’m not a morbid person. Jordan, my friend and teammate, just “died” of cancer just five days shy of his 21st birthday, and although I know he is with Jesus, it’s been really hard. I was wondering why it’s been so hard, because I know he’s in heaven. I’ll get to see him again. I doubt I would have seen much of him over the remaining years I have here on earth since he moved to SC two years ago. So really what’s the difference? He didn’t die. He just blinked from earth to heaven in a second. Shouldn’t I be excited rather than having my moments of tears and grief? Maybe it’s because it’s hard to imagine his family, my friends, the team of ‘06 and the earth in general without him. Maybe it’s because I know he won’t be at or in the weddings I’ll attend in the future. Maybe it’s because I know he would have been an excellent husband to some incredibly blessed woman and an excellent father as well. Maybe it’s because it breaks my heart to think of people I’ve grown up with had to carry their best friend’s casket. Maybe. Maybe we’re just taught that death is a time of grieving. Maybe it’s because death IS very heartbreaking… if you’re not a Christian. How hopeless. Thankfully I know that Jordan is cancer free. He is in even better shape than he was before he was diagnosed with cancer (which is hard to believe), and he is basking in the glory of God’s presence. How awesome.

We’ll miss you Jordan, more than words can say, but we’ll see you again soon.

Love

2008-08-04T10:27:00.004-04:00

Our culture has lost all concept of "love." I was listening to the radio yesterday, and these lyrics grabbed my attention...

..."she even cooks me pancakes, and alka seltzer when my tummy aches. If that ain't love, then I don't know what love is...I love the way she calls my phone. She even got her very own ringtone. If that ain't love, then I don't know what love is."

The fact that you've assigned your girlfriend her own ringtone is love??? I would say this group is right when they say that they don't know what love is, because love certainly is NOT having your own ringtone.

I could rattle off 1 Corinthians to attempt to define love: "Love is patient, love is kind..." but even those deep words have lost meaning. A speaker on the radio the other day really hit the nail on the head. We don't tell the people we love that we love them as much anymore, because we also love tacos, we love Starbucks, we love the weather, we love our favorite song, we love our pets... we have cheapened love so much that when we try to express the deepness of our feelings, we can't do it. Love, once the most valuable word, has depreciated in value.

I could try to define love... It's sacrifical. It's putting the other so much above yourself, you'd be willing to give your most valuable possession, your life, for them. It's sticking with them when things get bad. It's sticking with them when things get very bad. It's the highs and the lows. It's pure joy. It's vulnerability. It's risk. It's worth it. It's commitment. It's forever. It's a continual decision. It's a continual effort. I could try to define love... but I'd fail. It's a concept so much deeper than our human attempts at communication and definition.

I'll leave the definition to God. 1 Corinthians 13 in the Message translation defines love as this:

"Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always 'me first,'
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end."

Explosive Dust Bunnies

2008-07-26T22:08:00.003-04:00

There are basically two ways to deal with things: address issues as they arise or sweep them under the rug. We tend to stick with the second one, because, in the moment, the first is usually too hard. The problem with sweeping the problem under the rug is that the dust builds up. And although you think you can get by with dust under the rug at first, the dust bunnies pile up till they can no longer stay under the rug. In one way or another the dust bunnies explode from under the rug causing an even bigger mess than to begin with. Kinda like the scene from Snow White: The squirrels start sweeping the dust under the rug. Thankfully Snow White gently holds them accountable, "Uh uh uh... not under the rug."... and then they proceed to sweep the dust into the mouse's hole... but that's besides the point! The point is: don't let your dust build up. It's easier in the long run to deal with it as it comes, not later.

Child-Like Heart

2008-07-20T15:10:00.003-04:00

God calls us to have faith like a child. This child-like faith is complete trust, without abandon. But I believe we also need to have the heart of a child. It's amazing to regain a child's perspective on life. I work with kids for a living, and it's amazing! I get to look at life through the eyes of the kids I work with. Although it has its moments,I love my job. I get paid to play! It's so easy to get caught up in hardened vision of an adult, but why do we do that? Life is so much simpler when we go back to looking at life like a child does.

I dare you to experience the thrill of being a child again. Run through the rain screaming for joy. Spin so fast on a tire swing that you get so dizzy when it stops, you fall off. Go across the monkey bars, and feel the calluses you had as a kid come back. Instead of using the sidewalk, walk along-top the curb. If you're a girl, paint your nails hot pink with sparkles. Play dodge ball again, and really get into it. Draw a picture with crayons. Draw multiple pictures with crayons! Dance a little dance, even if others are watching. Play castle on the playground as you "fight off the villains" from invading. Learn to love to laugh and drink in life. I have. If this just seems too overwhelming and out of character for you, start with swinging on a swing. Try to flip over the bar or touch the sky. It's worth it. We had a childhood for a reason.

Remember Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

A Breath of Fresh Air

2008-07-11T06:52:00.006-04:00

I was late for work this morning... purposefully. I couldn't help it.

Mondays and Fridays. It never fails. I'm up before the sun. Having your shift start at 6:45 does that to you. It has its pros and cons. Cons being that no one should be up if the sun isn't up. Pro: a different sunrise twice a week. Today was no different. As the sun rose, I did my best to keep my eyes on the road, but they were quite disobedient and kept straying back towards the east. It made me think...

It's almost August. Which means another year has almost come to term and it's time for my annual tradition: watching the sun rise early one morning, at the beach, to reflect on the past year and welcome a new one with uncertainty of the new one. This tradition is a new one that started three summers ago. My friends and I decided to hit the beach early the last day of summer to grasp the final moments of summer before we became seniors and life forever changed. It's hard to believe that this will be the fourth year. This year is different. Every year has been different, but this one especially. I knew last summer would be the last grasp at it being the same, and I was right. Almost all of the friends I went with last year either are or will be married; some are gone. It's a weird thought, but life goes on... I'm debating how to do it this year. I'm glad I committed to making it a habit 'til the day I die last year, or I might not have done it this year, but I'm committed. I may or may not be committed to how it's executed this year. We'll see. I have a couple options this year: here or there; alone or with a friend; beach or Garden. Maybe I'll just do it twice, so I can cover all the options.

The closer I got to work, the louder the beach called and the grander the sunrise became. I couldn't take it any longer. The colors were soft yet overwhelming: purples with more gray than blue, pale yellows, and a clear sky-blue. I changed my route and headed toward the beach. I felt as if I shouldn't have been there as I breathed in the salty air that shocked me as it gave me life again, snapping my pictures, reveling in God's beauty. It was the first time I had truly been back to the beach. I've only been back three other times: 2 were at night and one at dusk. I think I've been avoiding it. As I finished my photos and realized I had to get to work, I walked by a kindred spirit. He too had been called by the beach this morning to soak it in and pathetically try to capture God's glory on film. We didn't say a word, but we understood each other. As he saw my work attire, he smiled knowingly and waved as I reluctantly left.

I pulled into the parking lot: 6:46 am. Joyfully late. Renewed by my Savior and a breath of fresh air.

Unscripted

2008-07-10T20:43:00.003-04:00

I feel as if I need to offer something: some sort of inspiration or profound thought. I could write about giftings, trust, facades, songs linked with memories or the baby lizard I saw trapped in the middle of a busy intersection running for his life not knowing which way to go, but I've got nothing. Maybe soon. Hopefully soon.

Change

2008-06-29T15:16:00.005-04:00

Another page, another chapter; another step, another mile. You know that "they say that sometimes moving on with the rest of your life starts with good-bye," but I think it also starts with "hello."

A Beautiful Contradiction

2008-06-23T20:51:00.003-04:00

As has already been stated, my writings have finally found a home. With a new location, I realized they needed a catching, yet thought-provoking name. After much debate, “A Beautiful Contradiction” was born. I think it’s perfect. We shall see, but here’s the logic and reasoning behind the name…

Everything about me seems to be a contradiction: I am an athletic musician, an extroverted introvert, an eternal being living a finite life, someone who desires God but doesn’t act like it, one whose needs and beliefs are “worlds apart” (Jars of Clay), serious yet goofy, a whore that will inherit the greatest Kingdom… Despite the contradictions, I am fearfully and wonderfully made; I am beautiful- a beautiful contradiction.

I think the idea of contradictions came as a result of musings on the latest installment of the cinematic The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. Although the musings about the movie were many, one in particular stuck out. At one point the professor is trying to challenge Caspian. Paraphrased he said, “You have the chance to be the greatest moral contradiction in history: The Telmarine that saved Narnia.” Caspian could have lived up to the terror and evil of his heritage or he could break that mold, go against “who he was”, and save Narnia. I really felt as if some great truth was to be gleaned from his challenge. I came away with this-as Christians we are to be moral contradictions: earthly, sinful beings living life for Christ; total opposites, total contradictions. It truly is beautiful.

"Finding Home"

2008-06-23T08:11:00.003-04:00

After much debate, my writings (well, some of them) have found a home. It's been a long journey. Mi casa es su casa. I would say "make yourself comfortable," but comfort isn't always what's best for us. Sometimes the most discomfort yields the most growth. So instead, "feel free to grow."

(If you've been a reader of other things I've written, you may see some old stuff re-surface here. I'll probably transition everything to here.)

Welcome home.

Friends

2007-01-09T22:53:00.001-05:00

Note: This journal entry was originally written and posted Tuesday, January 9, 2007 at 10:53 pm. No changes have been made to it, although much has changed. Spouses have been added, the first "family" child is on the way, the gold list has new additions, the silver list has dwindled significantly, and one is already in the presence of Jesus. How much has changed in just two years.

"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold."

As a kid I would relate this childish song to new best friends, but now that I'm older it has such deep meaning. God has blessed me with incredible friends. Old and new. But, like the song, they each have their categories: silver and gold. But each are very valuable. I've grown up with my gold friends. I can't even describe how much love I have for them. We're such great friends that we're kinda like a huge family. We all have our own lives now, but every so often we come together again to catch up. Man, do we have some great times. I love my "family of friends": Sarah, Joe, Michael, Randy, Kristina, CariAnn, Steph, Ralch, Meg, Paul, Charisse, Barta, Brian, Drew, Tom, Justin, Jordan, Elise, Ipsnitch, the list just goes on and on and on... I pray that years from now we'll be as close friends as ever and that "family" will have increased with wives and husbands and kids. I'd love for my kids to listen to Steph's stories as she tells them just as excitedly as ever about cockroaches invading cars and poodles getting stuck inside couches. I'd love for them to play basketball with Joe, Jordan, Paul, Justin, Tom, Jordan, and Drew along with their kids. I'd teach them not to drive like Kristina, but have her love for life. I'd show them that it's better to stay out of the bushes than in (RJ ). You get the idea. People say that your college friends are the friendships that are going to last a lifetime, but it's hard when you already have lifetime friends. I'm not saying that I don't have great friendships from college. They are (for now) my silver friends. I love them dearly as well. I'm so excited to see where my friendships with Alexis, Kim, Jescey, Brinton, Jonny, Brian, Abriel, Janis, Angela, Leslie, Michelle, Kayla, Tricia, Daniel, and that list also goes on, go. I hope that in time they will become gold friends as well. I love how our God is sovereign and has allowed me to know these amazing brothers and sisters while I'm still here on earth. It's such a blessing that I don't deserve. I'm so thankful that whether I'm near my friends or far I know that God is with them and that is all the company they need. They're in great hands. How great is our God!