I'm Not an Uninspiring Dewdrop.

When is conviction not enough?  Is there ever a point where God's calling isn't enough to rationalize doing something?  Are there ever too many hurdles or too much impending drama?  Are there bridges He can't mend?  Is there a point where God's will changes?  Is God disappointed in us for misunderstanding Him the way we become disappointed when others don't understand us?  Does God tell us His will years in advance so we have time to prepare?  Is that deja vu?  Or do we simply not understand it because we're not ready?  The God of the impossible is more than capable of handling the possible if only we let Him.  So let Him.

Merry-Go-Round

Last night a few friends and I ventured to the nearby city of Berkeley for a dinner of fondue and watery wine. Two of the others handled most of the planning, and I was surprisingly content with allowing someone else make decisions on my behalf. That is, I was content until I discovered that visiting Tilden Park would not be among our adventures for the evening.

To say I was devastated would be an exaggeration, but only a slight one. I don't know what it is about that park. I just love it. The merry-go-round is a merry-go-round much like every other I've ridden. It's surrounded by stand after stand of ornament vendors of things I'm sure will never fit the decor of my tree and yet seem so appealing. Hot cider tastes better, even if it's the same package I use at home. Something about the lights and anticipation of tradition gets me excited anytime I hear the park's name. I've never fought at Tilden Park. I've never been disappointed or angry. It's almost as though there is a magical protection keeping the sacred grounds from any 'bah humbug' spirits. I'm glad Christmas spirit is safe somewhere.

Faithful Father

Yesterday I waltzed into church a few minutes late expecting to slide into my normal row surrounded by my normal congregation members and worship in my normal way.  Ha!  As soon as I walked in, one of the ushers, who happens to be the father of an old friend, seated me next to her and their family.  "Ok, God, I get your point," I muttered to myself as I remembered back on our broken relationship.  We were friends in high school.  WERE is the key word.  There came an end.  See, she managed to turn my whole group of friends against me, exiling me in the middle of my senior year.  I was less than thrilled with the situation, and despite our multiple attempts at repairing the riff created, we've only recently begun to talk.

When the sermon began, I was struggling to connect and focus.  As Danny discussed basic apologetics from the pulpit, my mind began wandering.  I'd heard this before.  Then I realized what I was doing.  I was allowing the amazing goodness of God to become commonplace.  I'd traveled beyond a place of expecting God to move in amazing ways to a complacency with His awesome power.  As we talked about prophecies made hundreds of years before the birth of Jesus and the improbability of it happening by chance, I was reminded that I take for granted the faithfulness of our Savior.  He promised that He would atone for sin.  He promised that the King was coming.  He promised to provide for His people.  And He did.

I've got plenty of people in my life who have failed me.  In fact, I was sitting right next to one.  The beauty and love of God's perfect faithfulness is made unbelievable by our inability to show the same quality.  No person can ever be as faithful as God is.  What He says stands and it doesn't change, despite how much we may sometimes hope it will.  What you see is what you get with Him.

Thank goodness.  Actually, thank God.

Why Bother?

For the last year and a half, I've reconsidered not moving to Colorado. Almost as soon as I informed them I wouldn't be joining them for my planned internship, I wanted to call them back and pretend it had all been a joke. I knew God was leading me to stay, but I was bitter at Him for keeping me in the tri-valley area, especially after everything I felt like He'd dragged me through. I'd spent my summer preparing myself to be on my own, and had already thought through how I would reestablish myself in this place where no one knew anything about me except what I told them. I was mad at His timing and for allowing other issues to seemingly motivate my staying. All I wanted was the freedom to establish myself in Him and in ministry apart from my ties here. I've wondered countless times if I really did hear His voice. Granted, I'm really good by now at the presentation of the story where God told me His will, I followed it, and everything worked out perfectly, but honestly it's so far from the truth I feel like I'm lying each time I tell it. But what if I was wrong? It rarely ever happens (wink, wink) but there's always an exception to the rule, right?

Then again, I think I'd rather be here wondering if I misheard than have heard correctly and ignore it completely. Lately I've been thinking a lot about Jonah. I've blogged about him before, and I'll probably do it again because I'm pretty sure we're so similar it's scary. A large part of why I've been thinking about him lately relates back to following God's will when we're confronted with it. What if I had actually heard God's voice and had chosen to act in opposition to that? I'm struggling to even think of what good could have come, which is probably a good thing. Jonah had no clue of what was coming his way when God commanded him to go to Nineveh and he chose a safer, easier path. He had no idea it would land him in the belly of a fish. Where would it have landed me?

How often do we all make little decisions knowing they are in opposition to God's will? We know what He wants for us or what He has for us, but it seems so foolish or impossible so we attempt to find happiness our own way. For years people have thought me a fool for some of my convictions. I've seen visions that cause reactions that make others think I'm crazy. I've heard things I'd never believe coming from the mouth of others. I know that what He has convicted me of is true. I'm just tired of waiting for others who claim the same things while they act like it's never happened and it's insignificant. Maybe this is another time of learning patience. Pretty much sure God's never going to let me off the hook with that one.

Unanswered Questions

Do you ever feel like the answer to one question clarifies a situation just enough to leave you with 100 new questions?  Most of my faith journey has been spent this way, from trying to understand the concept of unconditional love to figuring out humility.  If you look at love, for example, the Bible tells you directly what it is in 1 Corinthians.  However, as nice as that definition is, it requires you to know what patience, kindness, humility and other such terms mean.  Not so nice.

Lately I've been discovering that my relationships in life are exactly the same way.  A friend and I sat down and were talking after months of being rather horrible to each other.  The major reason I'd wanted to talk with him was to figure out if we were or could get along and actually fulfill our title as friends.  As I drove home, I realized that from the simple question had stemmed so many more, and yet I'd lost the opportunity to ask them.  He's not particularly going anywhere, but the moment of freedom and honesty was gone.  The more I process our conversation, the more questions arise confusing me more.

I wonder if the same thing is true about our relationship with the Savior.  In the moments of honesty and truth, do we get so wrapped up in having an answer that we forget to think of the hundreds of new questions that will follow?  I pray that my relationship with Him would be so intimate that we never leave a state of truth sharing.

Maybe then my human relationships will follow suit.

Bartender

Addendum

Common known fact:  I work in a doctor's office.
Slightly less known fact, but still a fact nonetheless:  Sometimes we get addendums to reports.

Here's the addendum to this blog.

I really am happy.  Despite the fact that I'm bursting at the seams with humble pie and I'm struggling to keep my social life functioning, I'm actually really content.  God and I are at a good place.  I'm not jumping for joy at my grades or lack of free time, but I've found my niche in society where no one gets mad at me for asking "Why?" fifteen times in a row.  The restaurant isn't the end-all-be-all of jobs right now, but it pays the bills and is actually kind of fun.  School is a struggle, but for the first time in a year and a half (if not much, much longer) I actually have to work towards a goal.  I have to study and use the brain I've been blessed with.  It's good.

Just thought you all should know.

Humble Pie

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, mostly because of the food. My favorite parts? Stuffing, leftovers and PIE. As we've transitioned into fall my excitement for the BBQ turkey and potato salad have been growing, but not nearly as much as my anticipation for dessert. I even did what I could to twist arms into baking extra pies simply so I could indulge even more. As I whet my palate for the nutmeg-filled, whipped-cream-topped, flakey-crusted pumpkin goodness that awaits me, I've been served a very different kind of pie: the humble kind.

You see, I've never met a challenge I couldn't beat. Granted, I haven't always handled them as gracefully as I would like (namely food for houseboats), but in the end, I somehow always pull through. The second (and third and fourth...) winds of energy flow from nowhere encouraging me to keep working and keep striving.

Until now.

I'm at a breaking point. I think. Four months ago I discovered the profession made for me. It's a long-standing, well established discipline and I'm now fighting to find my place in it. I have at least two years of prerequisites in order to simply have a chance of getting into the required schooling, which will take more than another few years. I'll exit only to find myself in an internship of sorts for the next two or more years. I figured I would simply waltz back into classes and suddenly find my place again. I've always been an A student, with an occasional B from a lack of trying and a total of 3 Cs in my lifetime. This may be all about to change. I spend my nights with my nose in textbooks, and instead of listening to music as I drive I listen to lectures on electron transfer and kinetechores (pronouced kinetic-whores -- I'm still trying to find a good mnemonic to help me remeber what it does, but I can't get the whore part out of my mind long enough to be serious). As much as I'm expecting my studying to pay off, it doesn't seem to be making a difference. My goal for the next two years was to get a perfect 4.0 or something really close to it. Now I'm struggling to get an A in any one of my classes. For one of the first times in my life, there's something that I want and I'm not sure how to go about getting it. Apparently this fall I'll be enjoying a nice big slice of humble pie right alongside my pumkin. Great. Bah Humbug.

Not Good Enough

"The world bursts at the seams with people ready to tell you you’re not good enough. On occasion, some may be correct. But do not do their work for them. Seek any jobs; ask anyone out; pursue any goal. Don’t take it personally when they say 'no'—they may not be smart enough to say 'yes'."

--Keith Olbermann

For as long as I can remember, my mother would compare me to anyone or anything she could.  I would become frustrated and angry, but she relentlessly continued to the point of it affecting our relationship so deeply that we are not currently in communication.  I realized that until I either (a) no longer needed comparison to feel like a valid and worthy human being, or (b) could compare myself to the One worth the comparison that it would continue to tear me apart to hear her comments.  Guess what.  The old comments are still doing a mightily fine job of tearing me apart.

The quote at the top was on my coffee cup a few months ago, and it now resides on the bulletin board above my bed as a constant reminder.  I'm desperately afraid that I won't be good enough to pursue my dreams.  I'm afraid someone will find a flaw in me so great that they can't love me.  I'm afraid the schools will find a hole in my resume or I'll be too cliche, or even worse, simply not up to their standard.  I'm afraid that if I can't find the perfect Christmas gifts or know the right thing to say at the right time, the families that have so graciously taken me in as their own will suddenly treat me the way my own does, as an outcast who's simply not good enough.  Thankfully, each and every time I spiral down the path of destruction, I'm reminded that my acceptance into a school doesn't change who I am.  It doesn't change the way my Father looks at me.  It doesn't change the truth of the love I'm here to share.  And He knows that in those moments I'm struggling to find who He is as I try to find myself in Him.

Do You Know What You Have Gotten Yourself Into?

So true. So, so true.

Apologies

For the past few years I've been rather free in sharing my frustration with a few friends, who once they started classes managed to no longer pick up the phone, respond to e-mail or in other ways communicate. If you were one I gave a hard time, I owe you my most sincere apologies, so here goes. Sorry! I now understand your point of view. It takes me days to respond to text messages that involve more than 3 words. I don't use e-mail other than to find out answers to problem set questions I simply cannot solve, and 30-second voicemails take 30 seconds I'm not ready to sacrifice. I'd rather leave the growing number circled in red on my handy dandy new phone.

When I enrolled in classes for this fall quarter I knew I was setting myself up for a challege. Quite a few wise souls gently (and not so gently) warned me against what I had done, and I arrogantly proclaimed that I'd never met a challenge I couldn't beat. Ha. While that last statement may still be true, I definately should have listened. Now, instead of having weekly phone dates with friends far away and unpacking boxes with friends closeby, I'm a slave to flashcards and highlighters. My weekends have become consumed with study groups, library visits and running as many errands at midnight as I possibly can as to avoid crowds. Sleep is a luxury, and the average number of times I hit snooze in a morning between two alarm clocks and my phone is 8.  I knew my commitment would take over my life, I just had no idea what that would actually look like.  I've tried to maneuver a schedule in which I could take fewer classes (mostly failed), work one job (failed) or not work at all (totally failed).  I've tried micromanaging my time so that every minute is planned, but as soon as I get hungry my plan is foiled. (PS, I'm blogging while at work as to not waste precious seconds of studying time.  Pathetic, I know.)

I keep telling myself that this will be worth it in the end (because I know it will be), but the voice in the back of my head keeps whispering that there are better, more kingdom-serving things I should be doing.  I want to be volunteering with HSM, but by the time I get to Wednesday nights I'm pretty much useless.  Sunday mornings have become my one morning to catch up on sleep, meaning church sometimes becomes an afterthought.  What happened to the point in life where everything was focused around directly serving others?  All this studying is indirectly serving, but something still seems off.

Sooner or later this phase will come to an end, right?  The homework will cease, the midterms will disappear, and the fog will part on my future.  Oh, I wish it was that simple!

Life to the Fullest

My life is full right now. So full, in fact, that I went to bed before midnight for the first time in three weeks last night, but that was mostly because I couldn't bring myself to turn one more page or create one more flashcard. I started my quarter of crazy on September 23, and as you can most likely discern from the lack of postings here, I've been quite busy. Some Thursdays I drive from one work to school before working again at night. I haven't had a day completely off since the beginning of September, and photographs of me without a can of Coke or cup of coffee in my hand simply no longer exist.

Yesterday I had one of my first midterms of the quarter. It didn't go quite as well as expected. I spent the majority of the week before as well as the entire weekend studying to no avail. When I semi-confidently waltzed into my testing period, I knew I wouldn't be getting the best grade in the class but I figured I would at least feel confident walking out. Not so much. As I turned from one page to the next I felt my heart sinking. Total questions I knew the answers to: 5. Total possible questions: 50. My heart sank. Between the stress of my chaotic schedule and the pressure I've put on myself knowing I need to succeed at this, I was in tears by the time I trudged out of the classroom. This midterm was in a class I've taken before and therefore should have aced.

As I got into my car I managed to spill strawberry smoothie onto my floormat. Attempting to clean it up, I placed the mostly full smoothie on my center console so it wouldn't spill. Too bad I forgot I'd left it there right as I stopped at a stop sign and heard it spill all over my backseat. Soon after the tears of frustration and anger had cleared, I realized how much energy I'm putting into things that make so little of a difference. I know that I'll probably be dead by 50 from all the garbage I'm eating right now. It keeps me going and makes me happy. So what if ice cream and In-n-Out make up 3/4 of my diet? At the end of the day, does it really matter that all I've eaten is hamburgers? No. It does matter that I've had the energy (from the hamburgers) to love on others and to build them up. Does it matter that my car interior now has a lovely pink tint to it?  Not really.  I like pink.  Does it matter that I won't have the GPA I thought I needed (and probably do need)?  Well, we'll see, but in the end it doesn't even begin to touch the identity I've been given in Christ and the fullness of life He gives.

My life...

And no, this is just what typically happens, not what is currently taking place.

Please pray.

Nothing sudden or really even out of the ordinary, but I could really use some prayer.

I've struggled pretty much every day of my life with the answer to a simple question. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I remember as a child starting a list to answer that question. Every time I decided on a new life profession I would jot down. After two months and 30+ professions, I gave up. It didn't seem to serve a purpose if every profession I could think of went onto the list.

I changed my major so many times in college that I stopped telling the school -- it was easier to wait until they needed the information than to update them every 2 weeks. I graduated with a degree in some meaningless field knowing I didn't want to pursue it. Thinking and planning on moving out of state for a ministry internship was definitely God at work, and I thought I'd finally discovered what he had for me. I moved home so I could organize and pack before following the Lord to the great unknown. Until He stopped me.

Now looking back I feel like I've wasted the last year of my life. I dated a guy who decided his plan was better than God's when it came to ministry and life. I loved on students and then was told I was no longer welcome to be anywhere near them. My first job is and always will be shallow, meaningless work. I faced my biggest challenge in months convincing Mexicans to cook rice pasta for a customer with Celiac's. My second job is essentially a dead-end with no hope of advancing without significant self-funded training and causes me to lack compassion. It's hard to care that someone needs ranch dressing or didn't get a prescription for Adderall when last week I was talking with a friend about a six-year-old girl with a brain tumor, and when that brain tumor was removed she became completely paralyzed from the neck down.

Here's where the prayer part comes in.

I'm tired of wasting God's time and mine. This leaves a few different options.
1. He can reveal to me that He's not wasting either of our time and show me a little bit of what He's up to right now.
2. I pursue the most rediculous mission trip I've ever dreamed of. One year and 11 countries.
3. I pursue school. But not just any school. I've been told that what I'm considering will mean I'm sacrificing my entire life for my career. I think the Lord may be leading me towards this, but it's a "smart person" profession that especially as a woman, may cause people to be more than a little intimidated by me. (You know, because that doesn't happen already...)
4. I pour myself into launching a business. I've been working on it a bit lately and would completely love doing it, but I'm not sure the challenge would satisfy me.

I'm waiting one day at a time for the Lord to show me His will, and in all honesty, I'm tired of waiting. I need to make decisions rather quickly and this isn't exactly a simple chain of events to decide upon.

Pray that our Savior would lead me to become the woman He desires for me to be, whatever path that means I must follow.

Story of My Life

Vacation

va⋅ca⋅tion /veɪˈkeɪʃən, və-/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [vey-key-shuhn, vuh-] –noun

1. a respite or a time of respite from something : intermission
2 a scheduled period during which activity (as of a court or school) is suspended
3: a period spent away from home or business in travel or recreation

I love vacations. Really, I just love short changes in pace. I like knowing I can go home or go back to a sense of normalcy, but that for the time being I can mix things up a little. This past weekend was exactly that. When my camera is fixed I'll bring it along on things like this but until then you get the thousand words one is worth.

A friend and I went up to a cabin on the lake everyone in Danville visits and stays. She has a family cabin there, so we rushed out of town on Friday and returned home Sunday evening. Wonderful. From the moment we got into the car we started talking. Much like typical women do, we continued this pattern for the entirety of the weekend. We talked until 3:30am on Saturday night without realizing it. By Sunday I wasn't sure I'd be able to talk again, and I actually spent most of Monday without talking to make up for the weekend. The conversation was all over the board but focused on a few specific topics, specifically relationships, growing up and family, three rather touchy points for me.

A few bottles of wine and many soggy tissues later, life seems a little simpler. Saturday morning as I was sitting at the bar eating pancakes, the Lord put a few of the puzzle pieces together. I had an aha! moment unlike many others and was at peace again for the first time in almost 2 months. I realized that I was accepting responsibility for what wasn't my fault and I realized what I needed to be accepting the responsibility for. I so often am so afraid that people will let me down that I'm afraid to do anything to make them mad. Granted, I'm a bit of a joker and I do like to push buttons, but in my heart I'm desperately afraid that if I say the wrong combination of words everyone in my life will walk off. It seems to have worked more than once before. The relationships I know could end are the ones I'm most afraid of, and the ones in which I'm most afraid to be honest and be myself. I figure if people know who I truly am, they'll dislike me for who I am rather than who I've made myself out to be. More than a little ironic, all things considered. I realized over breakfast that I'd been afraid to confront pride because I didn't trust God's provision in my life. Scary.

Vacations are a blessing in so many ways. They allow us to remove ourselves from the daily hustle and bustle that distracts us from our Savior. They let us slow down for a minute and do what really matters. They make it ok to sit on the couch all day long and only leave it to fetch food from the kitchen. They give us time set aside to converse with the ones we love. They let us see a different part of the Lord's creation and His work in our lives. And sometimes we come back from them truly knowing what God is up to in this crazy adventure of following Him.

I love this.



Brilliant.

Love it.

Tips
for Avoiding
Swine Flu.

BY KRISTIN HILLERY AND JANICE CHAN

- - - -

Don't share drinks with livestock.

Disinfect your sty.

Wash your hands before and after eating garbage and dead insects.

Drink lots of fluids, but not the stuff that's been sitting in the trough for the past two weeks.

Cover your snout when you cough.

Walking

I didn't write this, but I'm stealing it in it's entirety, and only kind of giving credit where credit is due.

"My friend Greg used to talk about how a kid learns to walk. Parents are so proud when their little one takes his first teetering steps on his own. And they'll spend hours walking around the house letting him hold onto their fingers as he learns to pick his feet up and put them down. As he learns to balance on his own. And they'll hold him up before he starts to fall down. But gradually, he learns how to do it on his own. Slowly, they start to pull their hands away. At some point he realizes he doesn't need their hands anymore. He makes his way holding onto couches and chairs, toys and coffee tables. And parents' hands become more useful for picking up when he falls down. For comforting when he needs it. But eventually, he doesn't even need that. Eventually he is running and jumping on his own. Parents' hands are no longer needed at all. And that's the mark of success.

Somewhere along the way, we've been taught to believe that's how the Lord works. That he totters around with us holding onto his fingers while we start to figure things out. That he rejoices when we start to let go, when we start to hold onto other things instead. That he's proud of us when we start running and jumping on our own. That he stands there like a proud father with his chest puffed out, saying, "Look at my kid! Look what he can do!"

And so we try. We try to become good enough to let go. To fly and soar on our own. And with each step we take, we break His heart a little more. Not in the "I can't believe I'm watching my baby grow up" kind of way; but the "I never meant for him to do this on his own" kind of way.

Because the whole point is to totter around holding onto our Father's hands forever. Our success is not measured by how far we make it on our own, but by how tightly we are gripping his fingers with our grubby little hands.

So, no, I don't know why I keep waiting for this to get easy. But when I say it's hard, it's not a measure of difficulty, but of dependence. And I stop trying to pry my hand away and wrap my fingers a little tighter."

Forgiveness

While interning at CPC I was forced into giving a sermon for our high school students. I debated for months on what to speak about, but when push came to shove I was handed the book of Philemon. It's only got one chapter, and is actually a somewhat short letter to a dude named Philemon from Paul. The main point of the letter was that Paul was trying to convince Philemon to forgive his old slave for running away. At the time, I was pretty much the worst public speaker around, and I was also pretty confident that I knew what forgiveness was and had done all the forgiving I needed to do for the time being. Apparently not.

See, I went to lunch with an amazing friend and mentor yesterday. We spent almost three and a half hours talking and thinking and discussing. One of the things I love most about having older, wiser women in my life is they can often see me growing in ways that I cannot. The also tend to be able to see my flaws more easily than I can, which is rather scary. This friend in particular called me on the fact that I have yet to forgive myself. She was discussing it in regards to certain events in my life within the last year, but once she spoke truth I realized that it's been years since I truly have forgiven myself for mistakes I've made. I like to think I have a gift of waking up with forgiveness. Some people wake up happy, some people wake up pretty, and I wake up with forgiveness in my heart. As much as I try to not let the sun set on my anger, I've found that nothing can calm my temper and readjust my perspective like sleep. Because of this, I seem to be decently ok at forgiving other people. I often do it without realizing I have, and rarely do I have to make a conscious effort to forgive. Until now.

I have to forgive myself. I'm a screw up, and I can't keep thinking of myself that way. I've made mistakes and I know that God and everyone involved has forgiven me already, that is, everyone except myself. I haven't forgiven myself for not noticing things I should have, or for intentionally doing things I knew I should run far away from, or for letting opportunities pass me by. Instead, I chalk them up as mistakes that I don't want to repeat and I avoid them like the plague. I never let go of my mistakes and I most certainly never give myself a chance to move on.

Well, here goes nothing. I would love your prayers as I try something new: giving myself the forgiveness I've given to everyone around me. It's time for me to seize the forgiveness that Christ has given me and it's time to walk in freedom.

Camp, Part Deux

If you remember, I said in February that I never wanted to go to a camp again. (If you don't, no big deal, you can read why here.) I think I figured out my issues.

One of the things we as Christians do is judge. Especially me, and especially when I'm cranky. I want things to be my way all the time because as we all know my way is the best way to do everything. Even as I type this I'm waiting for the lightening to strike me. (I think I made it out ok...) I think I was so incredibly frustrated at camp because I felt judged. I felt like if I spent time with one student rather than another I was judged. I felt like if I was with a group of students I was judged. I felt like if I took a picture of my students I was judged. I felt like if I walked around with a camera but didn't take pictures I was judged. I felt judged for my t-shirt size and judged for my hugs and judged for my excitement and judged for my thoughts. I felt judged when I talked and judged when I didn't. I felt judged for having quiet time away with the Lord. Get the picture? Doesn't seem very fun. It wasn't.

What kind of group of people are we that we are so busy judging? I felt so judged and attacked that I was afraid to do anything, especially things that were a little daring and therefore had the potential to be amazing.

In October I went to NYWC, and one of my favorite speakers has started an organization reaching out to the gay and lesbian community in Chicago. He said a few things that have stuck with me to this day and have changed how I think about Christ. He said that one of the things that is wonderful about the gay and lesbian community is how accepting they are. They accept everyone. Isn't acceptance what we as human beings crave? We want someone to love us, to respect us, and to care for us. The sad news is that we as Christians are being out-loved by non-Christians. The Red Cross did a better job post-twin towers than the church did. Oh yeah. Huh. So how does this relate?

We, as lovers of God and followers of Christ, are called to live for the glory of God and the good of others (see Matthew 22:36-40). How is us judging included in us living for the glory of God or the good of others? Because I felt so constantly judged, I started to think through every single action I made to think about what it would say to those judging me. I became so caught up in what others were thinking and doing that I stoped focusing on what God was doing. In the process I'm pretty sure I became more of a hindrance than a help to his kingdom. I think it's about time we all step up and start living for our King rather than focusing on others mistakes and mis-actions so much.

Footnote: I did a little bit of judging at camp, too. At first my judging was somewhat pure -- more of an evaluation if you will -- since we were attending the camp they always put on. After about 3 days of feeling constantly judged, I became frustrated and wanted to feel better about myself so I started judging back. Did it solve anything? No. Did it make me feel better? No. Did it distract me from what God was doing? Yes. Moral of the footnote is this: love, don't judge. Seems like the same moral from the whole post, really.

You know you're pathetic when...

... you think this joke is AMAZING just like me.

"Rene Descartes walks into a bar.
The bartender says, 'Yo, Rene, how you doing? Can I get you a beer?'
'I think not,' replies Descartes. And then he disappears."

So good. I know.

God's a Fool?

While sitting in Borders on Sunday night, I was reading a new book by Brennan Manning entitled, "the furious longing of God". Even though I only got through about 20 pages of the book, I love it. It's not really even the book what Manning says that I love, it's the way what he says makes me think. For example, he quotes an old French hymn that essentially says "The love of God is His folly" and it started me thinking. I spent February reading the book of Proverbs, which is chock full of verses of fools and their folly. One that popped into my mind as I was reading was Prov. 26:11, which says, "As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly." Hence the dilemma.

IF "The love of God is His folly" AND "a fool repeats his folly", does that mean God is a fool? And if no, which is what I suspect, does the all mighty, all powerful, perfect Creator do things foolishly? Think about it. From a human perspective, yes! The way God pursues us really is foolish. He constantly speaks, constantly shows His love for us, constantly shows us how much we need Him, and He waits. He lets us make the decision. He allows us the free will to CHOSE Him.

Isn't that what love truly is? Absolutely beautiful.

When You Thought I Wasn't Looking

An e-mail I received today:

A message every adult should read because children are watching you and doing as you do, not as you say. When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator, and I immediately wanted to paint another one.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you feed a stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you make my favorite cake for me, and I learned that the little things can be the special things in life.
When you thought I wasn't looking I heard you say a prayer, and I knew that there is a God I could always talk to, and I learned to trust in Him.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and I learned that we all have to help take care of each other.
When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing, and I learned that those who have something should give to those who don't.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it, and I learned we have to take care of what we are given.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't feel good, and I learned that I would have to be responsible when I grow up.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw tears come your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it's all right to cry.
When you thought I wasn't looking I saw that you cared, and I wanted to be everything that I could be.
When you thought I wasn't looking I learned most of life's lessons that I need to know to be a good and productive person when I grow up.
When you thought I wasn't looking I looked at you and wanted to say,'Thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking.'
I AM SENDING THIS TO ALL OF THE PEOPLE I KNOW WHO DO SO MUCH FOR OTHERS, BUT THINK THAT NO ONE EVER SEES.

LITTLE EYES SEE A LOT .

Each of us influence the life of a child. How will you touch the life of someone today? Just by sending this to someone else, you will probably make them at least think about their influence on others. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

It got me thinking (as most things do). I realized how much I learned about love from my parents who divorced. See, when they thought I wasn't looking they fought with each other. In the process, I learned that sometimes things really are worth fighting for. I learned that when you give up prematurely, things get really messy. I learned that if you fight every single battle that comes along, you don't really want to fight about what matters.

It's funny to me how much my parents marriage and divorce taught me first about God and second about love.

Slow Club

In October I joined a club that some of you may have heard of. It's called "Slow Club". There are two rules to Slow Club: (1) NO running, and (2) NO hurrying. Sounds great, right? That's because it is. See, I love the peace and quiet of early mornings. I love driving my car with no music on so God and I can chat. I love slowing down enough to notice the goodness of God in everything.

Unfortunately, I let myself be dragged out of the club. It's hard to slow down life around you when life keeps racing faster and faster. In the process I started to lose who I am. I am a confident young woman who still has so much growing to do, but who is in no rush to do so. Part of me is so ready to grow up, but after enough days of waking up and wishing a day is over I've realized how much I LOVE Slow Club. Maybe that's because Slow Club never meets. It solely exists. Slow Club, unlike many other groups and clubs, has grace like God. It gives free will to leave and come back. If it had a preference, it wants us to stay and enjoy it's goodness.

So, Slow Club, I'm back! No more hurrying. No more rushing. Y'all can wait. Because I really am worth it. And so is He.

I am a selfish bitch.

Now that I've gotten it out on the table, please let me clarify. Let's start at the end. I am really opinionated. Duh. You'd be hard pressed to find someone who isn't this way. Unfortunately, you'd be just as hard pressed to find someone I haven't tried to force my opinion on. You see, I'm right. And not just some of the time. Every single word that comes out of my mouth (or in this case, fingers) is like dewdrops of knowledge from heaven. Right? Ok, seriously. We ALL know this is nowhere near true. But most of the time I definately live this way. People tend not to see this as a benefical characteristic, and because I'm a woman I generally earn the title of "bitch". Since we've all gotten over me swearing, let's move onto the selfish part.

I like me. Well, only kind of. I definately like my thoughts and dreams. If you don't listen to my opinons you're in for a verbal lashing, just ask anyone who dares not to listen. There was a time not too long ago where I rarely shared my opinions, mostly out of fear that no one wanted to hear what I had to say. I realized today that I've now turned into the opposite. I'm too busy telling everyone what they need to hear that I can't hear anyone. I'm so concerned about being listened to that I've forgotten to listen. Hense, "selfish". Me first. Listen to me before I'll ever listen to you. Love me before I'll ever love you. Serve me before I'll ever serve you. Funny thing is I was just nagging Danny a few weeks ago about his heart for missions. It's not exactly something he's focused on, which is ok. I have my areas that need growth too. But the words that came out of my mouth were from Romans 5:8. Christ died for me before I was a twinkling in my father's eye, before I could do anything in return. What a statement. UNSELFISH love. I've got so far to go...

Anyways, I'm working on no longer being selfish or a bitch. If I seem more quiet than ususal, it's because I'm biting my tongue. Give me a popsicle or offer me some ice cream. Most likely this will be a really painful process for me. But most of all, please encourage me when I succeed and pray for me either way.

Thanks,
The hopefully-no-longer selfish bitch

Benefit of the Doubt, Gossip, and Smacking People

Gossip is the bane of my existence. To say I hate gossip is to make an extremely large understatement. I avoid gossip like one avoids MRSA (pronouced "mersa", an extremely communicable disease that doesn't go away very easily) or the plague. My entire life I've abandoned close friends for hints of gossip simply to avoid the frustration and pain. If you gossip to me, I assume you gossip about me to someone else. This past week has been my own dip in gossip, this time with the victim being me. I think I'm so mad about it because I can't leave the persecutor in the dust. I have to just sit and take it.

See, someone apparently had a very small problem with me. I'm used to this taking place because I tend to be rather opinionated and pig-headed. The two tend to coexist. Anyways, long story short, instead of dealing with the issue at hand, said person told someone who told someone who told someone and then someone else got involved and then another person joined...you get the picture. Now I'm suddenly the black sheep because I refused to handle the situation the way everyone wanted it to be handled, and NO ONE gave me the benefit of the doubt. I specifically decided to handle the rumors one way, but after 3 days and 6 people telling me I should handle it differently, I caved. How stupid. Now literally everyone is or was mad at me. (Side note: I'm preaching on Daniel 1 this Sunday, which is, ironically, on standing up for what you believe is right. Figures.) Then because I was so hurt, the rest of my choices seemed only to go uphill. At least, that is, until I smacked someone I love over the head. Granted, I was provoked, but I still did it. I was stupid and I let my emotions get the best of me. I still did it though. Four words: I accept full responsibility.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could see how much we are hurting others by our words? My mom advised me to run away from the people who are hurting me. Funny thing is that I don't see that as a choice. And for some reason, it feels like this is me turning the other cheek. I wish that "forgive and forget" worked for me -- instead I feel like I won't trust this person for a long time. It's not that I can't forgive, it's just that I'm tired of being the moron who gets walked over again and again. I'm going to stand up for what I believe in: the Creator of the Universe does not desire for his beloved child to be treated the way I was, nor does He desire for me to act the way I did. What have I learned? Just because one is older or more mature does not in any way mean they know how to properly handle any situation. Also, I've figured out that I have a pretty good sense of what I should do, and I need to stick to my own intuitions rather than caving under pressure.