Where's the food?

I have often wondered what kind of impact I will have on those in my life. What kind of legacy will I leave when I am no longer alive? What have I done to those around me to show the love of my Savior? How will people remember me? Will my life touch those around me, or will the people at my funeral only be asking one question: where's the potato salad?
Now I don't mean to make light the gravity of this topic. I'm really being serious. Never before today have I taken these thoughts so seriously. A few hours ago I attended a memorial service for the third time in my life. I am one of the rare people that has yet to experience the loss of someone close. The two previous services I have been to were for people dear to me, but not close enough to cause any real emotional damage. Even today, the person to whom almost a thousand people paid their respects was a person I barely knew: a simple acquaintance. But todays service "hit home" due to the fact that this person was only seventeen years old.
It is easy to know something in your mind, to be able to recite knowledge. But it is another thing entirely to process that information to the point of understanding. Today I finally processed the mortality of humans.
Life really is ambiguous. There is no way to know how many seconds we have left. I have known this. And yet I must regretfully say that I waste much of my time doing trivial things. How much time have I wasted watching movies, "hanging out" without doing anything productive, or even being on the computer? I doubt that when I get to heaven Jesus is going to come up to me and say, "Alexa! You watched the movie Pride and Prejudice a total of 1,213 times during your life. Well done good and faithful servant!" So what have I been doing that counts? What have you been doing? I challenge you today to find joy in the little things. Make each day as if it were to be the best and last day of your life. Don't let the sun set upon your wrath. Live with no regrets.
Make memories so that people can share for hours how they have been touched by your life. Pour God's love on those around you every chance you get. Impact every person that you encounter, and I guarantee you they will have more to think about than the potato salad at your funeral.

No.

I have often wondered how old one must be to learn the art of stubbornness. In the past several weeks I have come to realize that the answer is probably a younger age than you might think. I have learned this from personal experience. Constantly I have been amazed by the various ages of children that I "supervise" if you will. They never cease to grant me new insight or reason to laugh; or become frustrated. I am amazed when a ten-month-old can show defiance. He's not old enough to walk, and yet when told "No" he looks at me, gives me that adorable grin that says "whatcha gonna do about it?" and proceeds to reach for the electrical socket. Obviously you don't need the ability to talk in order to comprehend the all-powerful two-letter negative.
But even in the slight frustration that this causes, I just have to turn away and laugh where he can't see my smile. "The little booger!" I think. After many, many, many hours spent with THOUSANDS of children (okay, maybe I'm exaggerating just a bit), I have realized even more how important it is to raise your child in the ways of God right from the womb. I find it rather disheartening that most people don't grasp this concept. Case in point.
My family and I went to a baseball game at the Hawks Stadium just last night. Two seats to my left, a girl about the age of two was with her young dad and grandparents. Whenever she didn't get what she wanted she screamed and pulled away. And how did the adults respond? They gave her what she wanted. I wanted so badly to go over to them and say "Just say no. Stay firm in your decision and don't give in when she throws a fit. Then she'll know how to manipulate you to get what she wants." But of course I didn't. I'm only eighteen, people. I should not know more about disciplining children than real parents. And in many cases I don't.
So I guess I'll be awaiting the day that I have my own children. I'll love it for the joy and happiness they bring as much as for the satisfaction of being able to say, "See how he actually listens to his mom? That's right. That's MY kid."

For the love of music

I had wanted an iPod since the first day I saw one. When the kids from church were all listening to their sweet tunes on the bus up to camp, I was still in the early stages with my "SanDisk MP3 player". Even though I was taught from an early age that you're not defined by your possessions, I must admit I did not feel up to par. I needed to have an iPod.

And then it came.

The summer of 2007. Filled to overflowing with babysitting opportunities. In a matter of three weeks I had enough money. (side note: If you find that you hate your job I encourage you to try babysitting sometime. It works around your schedule, pays well, and you get good benefits of food, play time, and the occasional starbucks drink if your employers are feeling generous!) After laboring over the toilsome decision of what color to get, I finally decided on silver and then ordered my treasure from online. I was nearly ecstatic when it arrived somewhere between five and seven business days later. Ever since that time, I have had the intense pleasure of being able to take my music anywhere with me. I can take a baby for a walk in a stroller, walk around down town, or even sit at home - and I feel satisfaction as I pull my white headphones out of my pocket.
Amazing as this euphoria was, even greater were my feelings when I made the discovery of Podcasts. Whoever came up with this ingenious idea aught to receive a Nobel Peace Prize or something. As great as it may be to take my music with me wherever I go, even greater still is it to listen to Pastor Judah Smith on a walk, or Adventures In Odyssey in my car of children. It is through podcasts that I have been touched. It has been through those little white headphones that some of my greatest moments of conviction have transpired. So if I relate to you a moment of great revelation, more than likely it had something to do with my iPod.

So lately I've been having difficulty making decisions about college and pretty much the rest of my life. One major hurdle that I have yet to jump is the issue of finances. Is it just me or is college totally overpriced these days? I have an urge to create a petition and send it to the president with thousands of signatures. It would tell of the need for a decent education at a price that's not astronomical. However, money is money and a petition can't change inflation and all the other economic problems. So I'll just sit here and complain. Anyone care to join?
But in all seriousness, I hope I'm not the only college student who's genuinely concerned about this issue. Less than a century ago only the wealthy, strapping males were able to continue their education. Now the majority of young people go through some kind of classes after high school. But how deceived are we that it's just another step in life? We all think that getting a student loan is the quick and only solution. But why start out your adult life with tens-of-thousands of dollars in debt? That's just stupid. So if anyone has any insight, please. Enlighten me.

The child in me...

Despite the fact that I am old enough to be considered an "adult" (as long as you don't ask my parents), there are still times I feel like a toddler running around without a care in the world. A lovely lady that I babysit for, once asked me if I ever get tired of babysitting so much. The answer is a resolute "no". In fact, the answer is "heck no!". I love watching little kids because I can have authority and help "shape the minds of tomorrow" and still have fun at the same time. I get paid to play! I really don't know how I'm going to survive when I move this fall. No more babies to feed bottles and burp; no more toddlers to ask if they need to go potty only to find that they've already peed on the floor. No more little girls to play dollies with and no more boys that ask me to play star wars with them so we can have a light-saber battle. (which I won by the way, with one life to spare)

I'm quite certain that children are right below food, water and shelter on my version of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. They seem to be vital to my survival. So please keep me in your prayers. Ask God to send me many families with young children while I'm in college. Otherwise I might die of kid-deprivation. If I don't, who's gonna play with me?

The fourth of July has come again. People roam the streets donning their patriotic clothing that they probably purchased at Old Navy. The grocery stores are brimming with people buying last-minute watermelons and paper plates for their annual picnics. Yet again I have to question what our country has turned this holiday into. It's all fun and it's all about the fireworks. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the thrill of setting something on fire in the middle of my street. But I can't help but feel guilty about the sparse passing thoughts I give to the true value and meaning of the day. I honestly can't say that I spend much time dwelling on the great sacrifice that so many men and women have given for the sake of our freedom. It's doesn't feel like Independence Day any more. It's just the fourth of July: a day in the middle of the summer when we don't have to work and my mom forces me to help her avidly clean the house.
So today I'm thinking about our independence not only from Great Brittain in the eighteenth century, but also the freedom given us by our father in heaven. In the words of the great Thomas Jefferson, "The God who gave us life, gave us liberty at the same time."

Joy.

I can't tell you how many times I have felt like an idiot when I drive down the road with a huge grin on my face. I often find myself alone in my car when this feeling of ecstasy hits me. Sometimes it's a humorous incident of the past that comes to mind, or maybe something stupid I did which requires my good humor so I can "laugh it off" and not dwell on my complete ignorance. There are other moments when I am simply in awe of how freaking amazing my Savior is, and no matter how hard I try I can't wipe that stupid grin off my face.
The thing that bothers me though, is how I feel out of place when I smile ridiculously. I honestly don't mind playing the fool when I am justified in my joy, but why is it that so many around me seem dull and dreary? It saddens me to see the multitudes of people that don't know their purpose in life and therefore cannot understand the feeling of true joy. As a Christian, and even as a mere human, I feel I am obligated to share that which has made me smile. I find joy in the evidence of God's handiwork everywhere I look. As cliche as that may sound, I can't overstate its truth. When chasing a ten-month-old with flaming red hair around the floor yesterday, his giggles and screams of excitement made me laugh so hard my eyes were watering. Later as he fell asleep in my arms, I was overwhelmed not only by my love for him, but what God's love for him must be. Even though he's not my child, I love him dearly and am very protective of him, as with most kids I watch. How much deeper and stronger God's love for his children must be. These are the thoughts that cause me to smile and give me a desire to share that love with everyone. So I've created a new driving technique. Instead of attempting to stifle my delirious giggles as I drive, I try to make eye contact with everyone driving by. And then.... I smile at them head-on. Because I simply can't help it.