tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21229975875118068772024-03-14T03:23:40.345-06:00Blurbs, Contemplations and Everday WordsAJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-43975089698504810362011-03-25T00:51:00.000-06:002011-03-25T00:51:42.730-06:00You can have me."If I saw you on the street<br />
And you said "Come and follow me"<br />
But I had to give up everything<br />
All I once held dear and all of my dreams<br />
<br />
<i><u>Would I love you enough to let go?</u></i><br />
Or would my love run dry<br />
When you asked for my life?<br />
<br />
When did love become unmoving?<br />
When did love become unconsuming?<br />
Forgetting what the world has told me,<br />
Father of Love, you can have me.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">You can have me.</span><br />
<br />
If You're all You claim to be,<br />
Then I'm not losing anything.<br />
So I will crawl upon my knees<br />
Just to know <u>the joy of suffering</u><br />
<br />
I will love You enough to let go.<br />
Lord, I give You my life.<br />
<br />
I give You my life.<br />
<br />
I want to be where you are.<br />
I'm running into your arms<br />
And I will never look back<br />
So Jesus, here is my heart."<br />
<br />
-Sidewalk ProphetsAJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-48750297666141964462011-01-24T20:53:00.000-07:002011-01-24T20:53:01.105-07:00Coffee. Coffee, COFFEE!<br />
How I love thee so.<br />
When all else has let me down,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/TT5IfwkQXCI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/KrixhvFJ_A8/s1600/215822%257EA-Steaming-Cup-of-Coffee-on-Coffee-Beans-Posters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/TT5IfwkQXCI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/KrixhvFJ_A8/s320/215822%257EA-Steaming-Cup-of-Coffee-on-Coffee-Beans-Posters.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>You give my heart a go.<br />
<br />
When I'm feeling sleepy,<br />
You always wake me up.<br />
Every moment when I rise,<br />
I know that I am loved.<br />
<br />
When I'm far away,<br />
The times I need to roam,<br />
All I need's a cup of you<br />
To feel like I'm at home.<br />
<br />
Coffee, coffee Coffee!!!<br />
I thank God for you.<br />
What more could a girl ask for<br />
Than you! (and Jesus too).AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-73292412153820718582011-01-05T09:37:00.001-07:002011-01-05T09:44:43.131-07:002010<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">How fleeting these emotions are,</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">They trick my troubled heart;</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I’m filled with joy I can’t contain,</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">To see it fall apart.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">My heart’s too eager to accept</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The love it’s waiting for,</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">And so instead accepts a fraud</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Who’s broken down the door</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">In hastiness I find myself</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Back from whence I came:</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Sorrow-filled and all alone</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">With just a tinge of pain.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Though my head is still confused</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">As to what will be,</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">My heart is patient as it must,</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I know in time I’ll see.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">I know not why I trust in man,</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">This fickle human breed.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Full trust in God is all that counts.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Surely He is all I need.</span></i></b></div>AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-30053044736092269112011-01-04T21:37:00.004-07:002011-01-04T21:43:31.887-07:00"How Are You?"(also from 2008<i>)</i><br />
<br />
<i>My heart aches for</i> <i>someone close,</i><br />
<i>With whom I can share my heart;</i><br />
<i>I feel a desire to whisper secrets with one -</i><br />
<i>To know they are genuine</i><br />
<br />
<i>This world is so superficial.</i><br />
<br />
<i>I long to tell my dreams to one</i><br />
<i>Who will both hear and listen.</i><br />
<i>But I already know such a One.</i><br />
<i>Should I tell you about Him?</i><br />
<br />
<i>I don’t know.</i><br />
<i>You seem so superficial.</i><br />
<br />
<i>The voice inside my head convinces,</i><br />
<i>You won’t want to hear.</i><br />
<i>Why waste my time?</i><br />
“I’m fine!” I reply.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>I’m so superficial.</i><br />
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</style>AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-10936820254329254352011-01-04T13:58:00.001-07:002011-01-04T14:00:39.007-07:00"One poor sonnet will kill it stone dead"<i>"I wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love."</i><br />
<i>"I thought poetry was the food of love?"</i><br />
<i>"Of a fine, stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination I'm convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead."</i><br />
<i> -Pride and Prejudice (2005) </i><br />
<br />
Many times my writing comes out in the form of poetry. Sometimes the lines rhyme and I find myself speaking in perfect iambic pentameter, and in other instances I find myself writing "freestyle" in a way that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I rarely share these poetic verses with anyone, partly because of my lack of confidence in my skill as a poet, and partly because I don't want to kill any friendships "stone dead" due to my terrible writing of verses. However, after going through several years' worth of poems, I came to the conclusion that some are meant to be shared. So I hope I don't kill off any "vague inclinations", and perhaps someone may even enjoy one of these that I hesitatingly call <i>poems</i>. I'll start with the earliest ones, and hopefully you'll notice that they improve a bit over time.<br />
<br />
Here is one from 2008:<br />
<br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Friends may come, and friends may go.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Some leave quickly, Others slow</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">But by and by they all are part</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Of what I am,</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">my piece of art,</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">necessities that fill my heart</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Some only linger for a while</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">And it may only be their smile</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">That tells me who they really are-</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">They are my friend,</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">For me they care,</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Even if a short time we share</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">But some friends stick like glue, you see</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">And many last eternally</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">They are the ones that mean the most</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">They’re always there,</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Despite what goes.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">They are the jam upon my toast.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">But whether near or far or wide,</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Right next door or across the tide</span>,</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Friends are what grow,</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">Teach, and love me.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">They influence who I am becoming;</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;">They put that warm feeling inside my tummy.</div>AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-87270009616941696412010-03-17T10:45:00.002-06:002010-03-17T11:05:51.779-06:00Carrots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/S6EHKZYHBzI/AAAAAAAAAJk/0TQ10biZn0A/s1600-h/mixed+veggies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/S6EHKZYHBzI/AAAAAAAAAJk/0TQ10biZn0A/s200/mixed+veggies.jpg" width="195" /></a></div>Her frail, shrunken body looked so small in the wheelchair. A blue sweater lay across her hunched spine. Her frizzy red hair was peppered with white and grey, and her skin was decorated in spots of sun and age. Only speaking when spoken to, only eating when prompted, I sat beside her in my scrubs, urging her onward. Very slowly, deliberately, she moved the metal fork with her fingers and tried to skewer the food on her plate. The first poke proved futile. The second and third also resulted in failure. In her sunken eyes I could see slight frustration, armed with determination. On the fourth try, the fork punctured the carrot. In a slow and slightly shaky movement that seemed to last for eternity, she guided the fork up to her mouth. It seemed as though every centimeter required great energy and focus. With the fork turned sideways, the carrot seemed to be barely hanging on to the metal utensil. I wanted her to feel accomplished and to feed herself. So instead of helping her, I watched with my breath held and wished that all the forces in the world would keep the carrot from a shameful death by plummeting into the depths of the napkin below. Twenty seconds later the carrot had successfully arrived in her mouth. So much pride welled up in me, for this woman I hardly knew. I would have given her a bear hug if her petite frame could have handled the pressure. Instead I kissed her on the forehead, and said in a voice loud enough for her nearly deaf ears to hear me: “Good job! I knew you could do it!” After a few seconds to process, she slowly turned her head my direction. Her blue eyes that were usually clouded over, seemed, only for a moment, to light up as she smiled and mumbled “Thank you.” My heart overflowed.<br />
<br />
I never would have thought that a small meal could be filled with so many emotions and so much love. Never before have I been so grateful to a carrot. Never before have I had experiences quite like these. These are the moments I cherish.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-78507852805054238492010-03-02T23:38:00.000-07:002010-03-02T23:38:18.969-07:00Discomfort<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/S44DALsVABI/AAAAAAAAAJc/yofi4VLO06w/s1600-h/comfort_zone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/S44DALsVABI/AAAAAAAAAJc/yofi4VLO06w/s320/comfort_zone.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Due to major changes and shifts in my life the past 3 months, I have been terribly inconsistent with blogging. I left the incredible Seattle and have moved back to my beloved Idaho. My frantic searching to find a job has moved writing down to the bottom of my priorities list. (but praise God I now have a job!)</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">With all these changes I have felt in a constant state of upheaval. I have been frustrated with God for allowing so much change at once. College life had finally settled into a comfortable routine, I had made some amazing friends, and had fallen in love with Seattle. I had a good idea of how the next three or four years would come to pass. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I never would have admitted it then, but now I can see that I became complacent. I have always been one to find the road of least friction. Conflict and I do not get along well. As a result my impulse is to avoid anything uncomfortable. I had fallen into a routine - found my niche - and wasn't too worried about life. But by avoiding conflict and discomfort, I also bypassed many opportunities to grow. Settling for what I felt was satisfactory didn't allow for God's best. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So here I find myself, back in Idaho, away from the friends I had made, away from my comfort, yanked out of my "plan". I can't help but feel that all this was necessary to shake me a little, and remind me once again that I am not the one in control of my life.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's been a difficult season of life, and I hesitate to think that it will ever become as easy and carefree as it once was. But life is not about ease, and it is not about comfort. <i>Life is about growing, learning, and becoming</i>. So instead of asking for security or serenity, I'm working on asking for grace - to grow from my discomfort. Learn from my failure. And become less of what I want, and more of what He wants.</div>AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-21487371029508329752010-02-07T23:23:00.000-07:002010-02-07T23:23:29.812-07:00SimpleThe elderly gentleman looked quite out of place sipping his black coffee from a ceramic mug. His gray and white faded hair had been neatly combed into place. He was the only individual who looked over the age of twenty-five in the coffee shop. His tied leather shoes rested flat on the floor, his aged and weathered hands rested on the table top around his drink. He was a picture of serenity amidst the surrounding tumult of modern living. Pop-Indie music played loudly, accompanied by espresso machines, loud conversing, and a nearly audible technological hum of laptops, iPods, and Blackberries. He had brought nothing with him "to do". He held no book, no newspaper, and didn't appear to possess a cell phone. His simplicity stood out like a sore phalange.<br />
<br />
I was struck by how uncommon was this peaceful lack of clutter. For all I knew, our elderly friend wasn't aware of how he didn't seem to fit this modern coffee shop. Whether reviewing memories of years passed or contemplating the quality of his purchased coffee, he seemed content to sit alone with nothing but thoughts demanding his attention.<br />
<br />
I wonder how long I could last without the many things that clutter my life. Surely I would go nuts if I didn't have my phone for an entire day. Even my macbook has become somewhat of a fifth limb. While it is impressive how far we have come into the world of technology, I believe it is also a hindrance. I can't help but think that I would notice more, would think more, would be more attentive to life, if I didn't have so many distractions. <br />
If only I would simply turn off the cacophony and listen.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-52003481193474435112009-11-02T14:19:00.001-07:002009-11-02T14:20:57.037-07:00StrugglesI am the silent distraught.<br /><br />Difficulties -<br />I hold them tightly within.<br />Fear -<br />To let go would erase<br />my sense of control.<br />Control -<br />My own fabrication.<br /><br /><br />I am my own confidante.<br /><br />Worry -<br />Surely all have their troubles,<br />enough weight without mine.<br />Sarcasm -<br />An insecure façade.<br />Smile – <br />Both genuine and pretense.<br /><br />I am the formidable insecure.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-46205787387339023492009-09-28T20:20:00.003-06:002009-09-30T01:12:36.526-06:00Categorical Cathedrals<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/SsMDrcCthOI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Ju67xSBlQiU/s1600-h/DSCN2803.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/SsMDrcCthOI/AAAAAAAAAI0/Ju67xSBlQiU/s320/DSCN2803.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387153624062067938" /></a><br />I sat on a hard wooden pew in a dimly-lit cathedral. The immense doors were propped open to welcome the people of Seattle accompanied by a chill evening breeze. I watched as people found a place to sit in the pews, on the stage, or lining the sides on the hard concrete floor. They had come to this Catholic cathedral for the same reason that I had: to listen to the beauty of acapella bounce off the vaulted ceiling. The singing monks of St. Mark's Cathedral attracted all kinds of people. Some entered with an air of confidence while some tip-toed to a back pew and quietly sunk to their seat. Couples spread blankets on the ground and lay next to each other with a view of the lofty ceiling. One young man with a full beard and multiple facial piercings sat amongst others on the stage and assumed the cross-legged position of contemplation.<br /><br />While waiting for the monks to enter, I pulled "The Red Book" from the back of the pew in front of me. Filled with hymns, psalms, and liturgies, this hard-bound book kept my interest for several minutes. One particular thing I noticed was the categories that the songs were placed in. Some of them were: <span style="font-style:italic;">Praise to God, Jesus Christ our Lord, The Holy Spirit, The Church,</span> and <span style="font-style:italic;">The Christian Life</span>. I was struck by a thought that perhaps whoever assembled this book thought that these types of songs needed differentiation; that "Praise to God" was categorically separate from "The Christian Life". While I understand that Catholicism has a different view of the trinity than I do as a charismatic Christian, it still intrigued me. How many times have I been guilty of pulling out my "normal life" box while placing my relationship with God in a box that I label "Faith"? It's so easy to switch from one mindset to the other without realizing that they should coexist. <br /><br />As the monks robed in white sang reverent songs of praise, the simplistic notes - sometimes united in melody, other times divided into dramatic harmonies - sent chills up my spine. Regardless of how these Catholic monks perceived their Creator, the music they sang evoked emotions of awe and gratitude deep within me. I glanced at those around me and wondered if they too, knew how much God had given for them, and how deep was his longing to be actively involved in their lives. How many of them had come, like me, simply to hear great music? How many of them perceived a Sunday night worship service merely as something to check off the list of weekly tasks? Sitting on that uncomfortable pew among several hundred fellow listeners, with a large glass window in front and pipe organ in back, I knew without doubt that God should not be placed in a box, written on a list, or even confined to a church building. My God was too grandiose.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-31045758944496695222009-08-06T10:18:00.002-06:002009-08-06T11:21:02.802-06:00Immature thoughts of maturityWhen I am old enough to feel old....<br /><br />...I want to freely discuss my mistakes with my family and close friends.<br />....I want to sit down with a friend who I haven't seen in over twenty years, and be able to laugh at old stories of foolishness.<br />...I want to have the sense of humor to still laugh at myself.<br />....I want to look back at my past and know that every time I fell, no matter how hard, I grabbed a helping hand and got back up again.<br />...I want to still be undeniably sure of the fact that God is with me during every stage of my life - even the times when He seems to be silent.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I feel as though I'll only be mature when I realize that I'm not.</span> <br />I'll never be rid of moments of loneliness until I realize that human relationships were never meant to be all-fulfilling. There will always be seasons where I am meant to be with God, and work only on my relationship with him.<br />I will never find myself beautiful until I realize that I am made in the image of the exquisite God, and to call myself anything less is to demean my Creator.<br />I will never feel as though I have anything to contribute to the people in my life until I realize that I never had anything to begin with.<br />I will never find joy if I never pursue it.<br />Contentment isn't something I will suddenly happen upon one day. It's something I must choose. I must be cautious of when and with what I choose to be content.<br />No matter the number of times I settle for it, mediocrity will never be comfortable. It's only easier. <br />I've never heard of easy work as being successful. Only of it being easy. <br />Hard work is never easy. Don't expect to achieve anything without working your butt off and giving up things that you want.<br />In order to comprehend complex ideas and concepts, I must first grasp the simple.<br />If I suggest to someone how they ought to improve, I certainly should be either firmly established in that area myself, or share upfront that I'm working on it as well.<br /><br />While I am young enough to feel young....<br /><br />...I want to take advantage of my youth, pursue the things that matter, and realize that God's timing, for <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">everything</span></span>, is perfect.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-88701217360836427752009-07-06T17:55:00.003-06:002009-07-06T18:35:50.065-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i127.photobucket.com/albums/p158/gzuzfreak/slapaho.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="http://i127.photobucket.com/albums/p158/gzuzfreak/slapaho.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />The other day someone shared some words of encouragement with me, and said I had "so much to offer" to others. I was having a rather grumpy day, and my first response was a laugh that I kept to myself. For nearly two days I pondered exactly what it was that I had to offer. In my relationships with other people, whether family or friends, was I a "giver" or a "taker"? In most aspects of my life, I find that my problem is being over-generous, either to the embarrassment of the other person, or to the point that I spend my money unwisely. But when it comes to relationships, I don't even know whether or not I "take" too much from others. (In retrospect, I also find it very humorous that I have internal monologues with myself about my social habits.) <br /> Finally, after spending far too much time worrying about what this person had said, I had an epiphany. (Don't ever say something to me and forget to mention the fact that it's a joke. I tend to over-analyze most every conversation.) I was sitting in church, still rather bothered by what I had to offer to other people in my life. I had come up with a few cheesy things, but why did that make me good friend material? Then it hit me. Actually, Ethan hit me. But the epiphany came pretty close to the same time. I realized that the entire reason that I would even want to gain new friends and strengthen the relationships that I already have, is not because of what either of us has to give to the other. It's because of what God gives each of us; whether it's life stories, the ability to extend grace, or the general desire to be in a community with others. I am nothing without Christ, remember? *hits myself on the forehead* Duh! I'm rather frustrated with how elementary some of my conclusions are. Apparently I need to be reminded of basic things. Part of life I suppose. Some things won't stick until they get hit into you. It's likely that I'll be covered in bruises by the time I'm thirty.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-80274448991692743902009-06-28T16:24:00.004-06:002009-06-28T16:53:32.024-06:00Trust me.Have you ever had one of those moments where you're just overwhelmed by the wonders that make up your life? Have you ever had a sudden realization of how, despite the negative, there are so many positive blessings in life? I find it interesting that when these sporadic moments pop into my life, it's usually accompanied with a time of difficulty. It's when I feel that the world is about to run me over, when I feel completely helpless, that I see the good. Isn't it ironic that the times when I feel helpless are usually the most help-FUL? When I realize that I can do nothing within my power to change my circumstances, it is then that I see how much faith I have placed in myself and how futile that is. After placing my plans, goals, and dreams back in God's hands where they belong, I see amazing things happen. I see the people he has placed in my life that build me up and encourage me. I see His grace and beauty in the little things. I see his mercy in regards to my own life and choices. <br />After continually trying to figure out my life on my own, to no avail, each time I come back to the conclusion that I am nothing without my Savior. As harsh as that may sound to some people, it's an amazing conclusion to make. It takes all of the pressure to perform off my shoulders. All I need to do is surrender to God and trust that He will always know better than I do. This is no easy task, let me tell you. Forcing yourself to be dependent rather than self-determining is an insurmountable task. But it's a heck of a lot better than running my own life. Trust me.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-10817271349909481832009-06-10T22:18:00.001-06:002009-06-10T22:29:17.923-06:00JourneysI find myself wanting things I can’t have. There are times I wish my sister was closer to my age so we could have more meaningful conversations than the arguments we currently have about whether or not her clothes are coordinating. “Lexa, would you help me pick out clothes to wear today?” Of course I agree. After presenting my choice to her she wrinkles her nose and in a whiny face says “But that looks funny! It TOTALLY doesn’t match.” After nearly five years of arguing with her about clothes I’ve just about given up.<br />And, of course there are times I wish I had a few more siblings, just to make life more interesting. Boy would that be interesting indeed.<br /><br />I also find myself impatient for things somewhere in the distant future. There are many times when I feel as though I can’t wait any longer to have my own children. I want to hold an infant in my arms and know that it’s a part of me. I want to be overwhelmed up to my ears in dirty diapers, sticky fingers, and a messy house. I want to be able to relieve my stress by laughing at the curiosity and idiosyncrasies of a toddler while consuming imaginary drinks that my daughter makes in her plastic toy kitchen. <br /><br />I want to work as a nurse in a place where things are crazy-stressful. I want to give quality care to patients who need the emotional support just as much as the physical. I want to be the person in the background who takes care of the little things. I want patients to connect my name with that person who gave a smile and a few extra words of encouragement when needed.<br /><br />As I sit here thinking towards the rather unforeseeable future, I realize that wishing and hoping doesn’t get me anywhere. Having goals and dreams is an excellent thing, don’t get me wrong. But even the things I feel that God has spoken into my life are quite meaningless unless I take action and do what needs to be done to get there. God has placed within me certain desires and longings, but they won’t instantaneously come to pass unless I get off my backside and do my part to fulfill his will for my life. Before I can help my patients, I have to get into a nursing program and pay for college. Before I can play one of Bach’s Concertos perfectly I need to practice piano scales and arpeggios on a daily basis. Instead of wishing for extra children in my life, I need to work more on pouring into my siblings.<br />Instead of being overwhelmed by everything that needs to be accomplished, I need to take it one step at a time. God tends to do more with the journeys in life than he does with the end results. I’m beginning to see that a little each day…AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-23776105033257220512009-05-24T00:14:00.006-06:002009-06-10T12:01:30.656-06:00That's MY sink!!!!!<span style="font-style:italic;">“In truth, the only difference between those who have failed and those who have succeeded lies in the difference of their habits. Good habits are the key to all success.”<br />-Og Mandino</span><br /><br />I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. We form an excessive amount of habits over the course of our lives, many of which we don’t even realize. We establish some that are good, and some that are destructive. Sometimes it’s just the <span style="font-style:italic;">lack</span> of good habits that allow us to fail. <br /><br />Now that I’ve finished my first year of college out of the house and on my own, I’ve realized the true importance of good habits. There are certain aspects of my life that I have to do habitually or else I’ll never accomplish them. Especially when it comes to academics, if I don’t have a regimented time of when I’m going to study, it’s easy for me to forget or put it off.<br />But looking at the opposite side of the spectrum, I’ve also realized how habits – even decent ones – can be a bad thing. There are times that I don’t deal well with change. I easily fall into a routine, and if something breaks that routine I can get a little frustrated. I find a method that works and I stick to it religiously. At school this year, I had to adapt to a bathroom with three sinks that was shared with about fifteen girls. This wasn’t much of a problem at night, since I generally stayed up ridiculously late. There were hardly more than two people in there at once. I had one specific sink that I always used. The drain wasn’t clogged with hair quite as much as the other two, it had temperatures other than freezing and boiling, and it was just generally better. So at night I always used my sink. But in the morning, when we all got ready for classes around the same time, it got a bit crowded. The counter was covered with makeup bags, curling irons, hair-straighteners, and <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">my</span></span> sink, which happened to be the one next to the electrical outlet, was often taken. I have to admit that at first, this bothered me. After using the same sink for two weeks, I wasn’t about to switch to a different one. I just wasn’t used to it. Pathetic it may have been, but what can I say? I find refuge in familiarity. <br /><br />Habits are all about balance. (What in life isn’t?) Acceptable habits need to be formed in order to avoid lethargy and falling down a slippery slope. At the same time, we also need to be willing to accept certain changes. Nothing besides God is always constant. Anyone who clings to routine and won’t step out to unfamiliar territory is going to have a really tough life. Hence the reason I’m working on this myself.<br />So here’s a tribute to both change and habit; may they both be present in your life, but may neither define you.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-27737732664734647452009-05-21T08:34:00.003-06:002009-05-21T08:55:39.455-06:00Wap!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/ShVq9h7lrWI/AAAAAAAAAHY/y9qUIy6lBJg/s1600-h/batman+hit.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/ShVq9h7lrWI/AAAAAAAAAHY/y9qUIy6lBJg/s320/batman+hit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338290538630458722" /></a><br />If you have known me for any length of time you know that I am not the most outgoing person, particularly around people that I don’t know. Over the course of my high school experience God really worked on my lack of boldness. I feel that there is definitely a confidence in me now that wasn’t ever there before. However, I am still not very outgoing and I tend to battle this on a regular basis. Some of it is my personality, and I accept that. I will never be the person that always speaks what is on her mind – I will never be the extremely social person who thrives off of other people. I will probably always have a desire to think things through before I take action – I will always enjoy sitting in the background and observing what is happening without any desire to be part of it - and I’m perfectly fine with that. It’s part of who I am. But there are certainly circumstances where I wish I could force myself to be loud and almost rash. When a friend makes a stupid mistake, I sometimes feel that my firm and quiet discussion and reasoning through of their choice isn’t as effective as a wap over the head and a proverbial slap on the hand might be. And there are certainly circumstances in which I NEED to be unreserved. There are times when I sit in large of groups of people and I look for the people that I know and am comfortable with and I won’t bother to meet anyone else. Why would I need to be the one to initiate conversation with someone I have never met? I have a terrible problem with stepping out of my comfort zone. I realize that this is completely selfish. There are people out there who are searching for a friend, who are looking for someone to improve their day or just encourage them with a slap on the back, and I have the audacity to sit in my own pitiful comfort zone because I suck at initiating conversations. A friend of mine recently told me “no risk, no reward.” As elementary as that is, it’s definitely something I need to drill into my head. <br />So if you ever see me and notice that I’m retreating into my shell, please wap me over the head and say “Go talk to people, woman!”AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-85734892079883448132009-05-21T08:24:00.003-06:002009-05-21T08:34:16.188-06:00George the ThirdFinally, after nearly two decades, I can admit that I struggle in commitment and in following through with things that are difficult. If something seems impossible, my first instinct is to let go and find something easier. I give up too quickly. I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to admit to it.<br /><br />College. I’m attending this amazing school where I know God has called me for the time being. The odds against my finances are insurmountable. My first tendency is to say “Oh well. If the money isn’t there, then I guess I should go somewhere else. Screw this!” I let go and settle for something less than what God desires for me. After several conversations with people, it finally got through my thick skull that letting go when it gets difficult equates to giving up. Amazing revelation, isn’t it? Once I sat down and sorted it out on paper (free-writing has always been the best way for me to synthesize my jumbled thoughts), I realized that I was running away from circumstances that were out of my control. It didn’t seem logical for me to stay in a place where I was not able to guarantee that I could take care of things myself. I am incessantly in awe of how ridiculously daft I can be. After being raised in the church, after thousands of sermons and worship songs declaring that God is sovereign, that he is bigger than my circumstances, that he is always in control, I still don’t get it. What are a few thousand dollars in the perspective of the eternal creator? If I believe with all my heart that Jesus holds the whole world in his hands, then why in the name of George the Third do I act as though he can’t handle my predicaments? I am speechless. I have flabbergasted myself.<br /><br />But I suppose that now I am finally having the epiphany that having trust in God is most definitely a daily task. Sure, I have asked him to take control of my life, but that doesn’t mean that I have let go of it. It’s like giving someone a gift that you secretly want to keep for yourself. As you place it into their hands you stall and grip onto it for as long as possible. Here God! I give you my life! But I still want to hold it too! <br />We can share.<br /><br />Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Am I the only one that struggles with this? I certainly hope not, or I may have to just give in to the lies of the enemy and start drinking decaf.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/ShVmSTMGvBI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/mlBy44Zt_So/s1600-h/decaf.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/ShVmSTMGvBI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/mlBy44Zt_So/s320/decaf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338285397892316178" /></a>AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-33527727821585149012009-04-19T19:27:00.003-06:002009-04-19T19:32:44.073-06:00AntiquityI haven’t asked many college students how they feel about antique shops. But I think I can safely assume that the number of young people who find pleasure in browsing through the belongings of dead people is relatively small. For some reason, I am part of the minority that can spend hours in places that smell like my great-great-grandma’s house. I have a great love of history in general. But it becomes even more fascinating when I can tangibly experience someone’s forgotten treasures - the items that surrounded them in their daily lives. I rummage through children’s books that were published in the thirties and forties and would have been read by those living during WWII. I look through piles of yellowed piano music and wonder how many times the songs were played and whether they were endured in silence or shared in the company of loved ones. I see some dresses that would have been beautiful and all-the-rage in the fifties, and some dresses that are so hideous that it’s a wonder the person wearing them wasn’t shot. (Maybe they were.) I peruse cases of old jewelry – some sparkling with jewels and some tarnished and long-neglected – and wonder from whence they came. I see random articles from China, Germany, and France, and imagine the long distances they traveled in various conditions to arrive to their final destinations. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i211.photobucket.com/albums/bb26/nuimselfdefence/pyzamantiquesaleeh1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 386px;" src="http://i211.photobucket.com/albums/bb26/nuimselfdefence/pyzamantiquesaleeh1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />But the one conclusion that I always draw from my visits to these shops of antiquity is that of human morality – of how incredibly fleeting life really is. Whenever any one of us dies, those close to us may rummage through our belongings and relive memories for a short while. But eventually everything that we own will be reused, sold, or even thrown away. All that will remain are the people you have impacted, and the legacy that they leave with their lives as a result of how you touched them. That’s why antique stores are some of my favorite places to visit. I can literally get a grasp on the past and what was once dear to people – and at the same time realize that these items are only objects. The real antiques of times past are the people you talk to everyday - those whose lives have been touched by generations of long ago in ways that even they don’t know. So instead of attempting to improve your TY Beanie Baby collection or spending your time searching for rare Russian nesting dolls, I would suggest investing more time in the people in your life. It’s definitely something I need to work on. I think I would rather people remember me for my life than for the copious amounts of faded piano music I might someday leave behind.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-16485634146849925322009-04-18T20:22:00.005-06:002009-04-19T19:24:27.952-06:00Worth it.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i127.photobucket.com/albums/p158/gzuzfreak/vintage.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="http://i127.photobucket.com/albums/p158/gzuzfreak/vintage.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I’m spending the weekend in Portland, and there is a plethora of quaint stores, boutiques, and coffee shops. But last night we visited what is definitely one of the most commemorative coffee shops I have ever spent time in. They had incredible coffee, but that was not the climax. This particular shop was connected to a hotel lobby. We ascended the stairs to a loft area with stools, a bookshelf, a mac computer (of course), and a huge chest of drawers that took up most of the wall. This huge piece of furniture with around thirty or forty drawers was filled with hundreds of notes. People have written varying things on small pieces of paper. Some are random drawings, abstract art, confessions, loves notes, and doodles. We spent close to an hour pulling open random drawers and examining their sacred contents. The subjects ranged from humorous, to perverted, to absolutely depressing. Out of the many notes that I read last night, one in particular stood out to me. Like most of the notes I looked at, it was anonymous. All it said was, <br />“<span style="font-weight:bold;">I want to be worth it.</span> The sad thing is, I never will.”<br /><br />I never thought that a four-by-six piece of paper would affect me so much. My heart broke for this unidentified person. I would give almost anything to be able to find them and tell them that they ARE worth it. Not because of anything that they have or have not done, but because of the Grace that has been offered them.<br />It made me realize how fortunate I am to have not only been given this grace, but to be in a place where I can openly accept it. I have a fresh desire to bring a Love to the rest of the world that is not related to the world's definition of the word.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-17511879002459551592009-03-29T22:52:00.000-06:002009-03-29T22:53:16.175-06:00Hang on tight!Trust in Lord in all your ways and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your paths.<br /><br />There are many people that I trust. But I can’t say that there has ever been a specific time where I have had to trust someone with my life. I’ve never experienced one of those scenes from a movie where you both have to descend down the face of a cliff to avoid being shot by machine guns, and you have to climb onto the back of the person with the rope. You know, those scenes where the guy tells the girl to get on his back and hold on tight. She replies with “You’re crazy!!” He looks her in the eye and the gunfire pauses for dramatic effect as he says “Just trust me.”<br />Ya, never been there. I wonder which people I would trust with my life like that. It makes me question not only my trust of humanity outside the people I’m close to, but also my trust in my savior. <br />So many times I “lean on my own understanding”. I plan out the details of my life without making sure it’s what God wants me to do. I act as though I am omniscient – as if I am the one in control of the universe rather than him. <br />There have been moments – and they are becoming more frequent – when I feel as though God is looking me in the eye, offering me his hand, and saying “Just trust me.” A year ago I would have honestly told you that trusting God wasn’t such a difficult thing to do. I suppose I had never really been required to fully rely on Him. But now that I’m going through a more realistic part of life, I’m realizing just how hard it is to trust him. It’s not a piece of cake. I’ve finally had the revelation that the more trust I put in God, the less I have to rely on myself. In the end, relying on myself is not a good thing anyways. I consistently let myself down, and no matter how hard I try, there are always some things that I will never be able to accomplish with my own strength and determination.<br />As I currently sit on the airplane above the clouds, I see the red sun setting behind the mountain peaks and I wonder why I have difficulty placing my circumstances in the hands of the Creator. But despite whatever the reason may be, I’m attempting to overcome it. Not because I have any ability myself, but because I’m choosing to reach out and grab the strong hand in front of me and say “I trust you.”AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-27416003127772025382009-03-23T18:56:00.002-06:002009-03-23T19:03:58.951-06:00play a song<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/ScgxVwrLUSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/7B-gYgBrsuM/s1600-h/purse.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/ScgxVwrLUSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/7B-gYgBrsuM/s200/purse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316553610023883042" /></a><br />The wait was as long as the line. I stood there with my piano purse hanging from the crook of my arm. <br />A small boy standing behind me decided that he would make the most fun out of his line-waiting experience. He started pushing on the "keys" of my purse and played me a little song. "Dooooo-dee-doo-dah". I just grinned as his dad whispered "stop it!"<br />It's little things like this that tend to poke me a reminder about my perspective. Waiting in line really isn't terrible. Especially if I make the most out of it. The longer the wait, the greater the song I could compose in the meantime.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-62802626754156967362009-03-13T23:20:00.003-06:002009-03-13T23:37:58.991-06:00Sad beans.Embarking on this adventure called college has proved to be anything but predictable. And while I knew I wouldn’t know what to expect, there were definitely things that I didn’t expect to be unexpected.(?) In other words, I had no idea what college life would be like, but one thing I wasn’t prepared to have change was my life back at home.<br /><br />Coming home during school breaks has been a source of comfort and familiarity for me. While away at school I desperately miss this place I call home. Returning once again has a calming effect on my nerves. However, that security is thrown off kilter when there are things that I don’t recognize in my own town; when I go to the church that I have attended since I was 4 years old, and half of the people I don’t even recognize. My siblings talk about friends whose names I don’t know. That genuinely bothers me. My brother has basketball practices that I can’t watch. My sister is playing in her first piano recital and I’m not going to be there. My baby brother is suddenly taller than I am. I long to be there for my siblings – my family – in times of need. And I have this ache I’ve never felt before. A feeling of being left out of my own life - of things going on as normal, without me. <br />Is this what everyone experiences when they first leave home? Certainly no one has ever told me about it. Honestly, I am at a loss as to how I should handle my situation. Should I leave the things of my past behind and move on to boldly embrace my future? Stop dwelling in the past? Perhaps I should attempt to be a part of both worlds: the one called college and the one called home. Or perhaps I should give up an out-of-state college so that I can live at home and be able to sustain all of my relationships. I am deeply saddened when I realize that many friends are now only acquaintances, some acquaintances have fell off the face of the planet, and the people that have replaced them are random individuals I have never seen before. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being overly dramatic. Perhaps it's hormones. Maybe that bean burrito did it.....AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-63091752265286364292009-02-03T02:23:00.005-07:002009-02-03T02:51:37.898-07:00Divine Humility<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f279/yadrin44/giftWrapped.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 157px;" src="http://i49.photobucket.com/albums/f279/yadrin44/giftWrapped.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"I call this Divine humility because it is a poor thing to strike our colours to God when the ship is going down under us; a poor thing to come to Him as a last resort, to offer up 'our own' when it is no longer worth keeping. <br /><br />If God were proud He would hardly have us on such terms: but He is not proud, He stoops to conquer, He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him, and come to Him because there is 'nothing better' now to be had." -C.S. Lewis</span><br /><br />This quote from one of my favorite authors of all time convicted me. I am often reminded of the stunning splendor of God's grace. If I think about it for too long my head almost hurts. No human will ever be able to fully comprehend it. But what strikes me most from the above quote is the truth in the statement that we often "offer up our own when it is no longer worth keeping". Honestly, I have absolutely nothing of value to offer to my Savior. Even when I do offer him what I have, I still fumble and tarnish my gift that much more. I am <span style="font-weight:bold;">eternally</span> grateful - <span style="font-style:italic;">literally</span> - for a Jesus who humbles himself enough to stoop to my level and accept this crappy gift called my life.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-72194319514372373222009-01-26T00:31:00.003-07:002009-01-26T01:04:19.615-07:00M&Ms...or Med School?I often wonder how human beings can be so continuously ridiculous. Why is it that this weekend, despite my intentions to be productive, I spent the majority of my time doing nothing of importance? I suppose I'm asking the age-old question: why do I do things I don't want to do? I understand that sitting on the couch all weekend will not help improve my life. When there is homework to be completed, putting it off until the last minute does not make it go away. Watching the Lord of the Rings does not, despite my wishes, make me more like Frodo so I can go save the world. Watching Pride and Prejudice will not bring me any closer to my Mr. Darcy. So again, I ask, why do I waste my time? I'm no Albert Einstein, but my I.Q. is not 15 either. I understand that <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/SX1uNlsCLqI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/fr-FeUH_uQc/s1600-h/peanutm%26ms.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p6XzsfMCkH4/SX1uNlsCLqI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/fr-FeUH_uQc/s320/peanutm%26ms.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295509916591730338" /></a><br /><br />watching movies will not change my life. Why is it that I act in ways that I know are completely futile? Why do I eat so many peanut M&M's, when I know that an apple is much healthier? Something is definitely wrong if I am no longer satisfied with what is "good" for me.<br /><br />I hate to admit it, but there are times when I grow weary of doing right. I'm just sick of eating salad with a turkey sandwich on whole-wheat bread, and drinking water and cranberry juice. Give me a bag of M&M's! I wonder why it is that so many people in my generation have this same problem. We are so easily deceived by looking at the temporary. I think it's because we are such a demanding generation. We want everything now, not in five minutes. I feel like eating a huge tub of ice cream and M&M's, so that' what I'm going to do! I don't take into consideration that I could easily gain twenty-five pounds and eventually have a heart attack due to an inadequate diet. I don't <span style="font-style:italic;">feel</span> like doing my homework right now, so I'll watch a movie. If I were to instead, step back and say "Well if I don't do it tonight I won't have any time to work on it the rest of the week. Then it will be rushed, I'll get a poor grade, and my semester grade could be affected. If I don't keep my GPA up, I'll never get into med school! I better start on this assignment tonight." While that may be a bit extreme, I believe that long-term goals and delayed gratification are two things that people today really need to work on - myself included. If I stay focused on the end result I want, it's easier to stick it through and finish what needs to be done. When I realize that, hey - I don't want to become obese - it's easier to exhibit self control when it comes to eating ice cream. <br />But hey. It never hurts to sneak a few peanut M&M's every once-in-a-while.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2122997587511806877.post-18827439506371814282009-01-08T14:35:00.002-07:002009-01-08T14:37:57.537-07:00One of my favorite scenes from the newest Pride and Prejudice movie goes like this:<br /><br />Mr. Bennet: “How happy for you, Mr. Collins, to possess a talent for flattering with such... delicacy.”<br />Elizabeth Bennet: “Do these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous study?”<br />Mr. Collins: “They arise chiefly from what is passing of the time. And though I do sometimes amuse myself with arranging such little elegant compliments, <span style="font-weight:bold;">I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible</span>.”<br />Elizabeth Bennet: “<span style="font-weight:bold;">Oh, believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed</span>.”<br /><br />I feel like this is the story of the majority of my visits at Starbucks. While there may be a slight few exceptions, it seems as though the light-hearted gaiety of the baristas are somewhat…how to say this…premeditated: forced. To be perfectly honest, I feel as though their obviously feigned bubbly-ness is just downright ridiculous. I look forward to the day when I ask one such maker-of-expensive-caffeine how their day is going, and they answer that it could be going better. I would prefer to have honest people to converse with rather than absurdly happy people. Don’t take me wrong. I’m sure this situation has a lot to do with the company itself rather than the actual people. But I wonder if either understands the difference between happiness and joy. I’m not attempting to be critical. There <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-style:italic;">have</span></span> been a few situations where it seems that they are genuinely happy. I struggle with this myself sometimes. Just thought I’d make an observation.AJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11735255760228943679noreply@blogger.com0