Beyond Babylon

Catalyst

2012-02-09T01:06:00.000-05:00

Last Thursday night at house church I was asked what I would like to be remembered for. Not when-I'm-dead remembered, but when-I'm-no-longer-in-a-person's-life remembered. Slight difference.

My answer: I would like to be remembered as a catalyst for growth.

I am absolutely enthralled by growth in Creation. Plants, animals, humans. Height, knowledge, behaviour. Positive change entrances me.

I have had the exquisite pleasure of being able to spend the last 4ish years of my life in situations that blatantly encourage and spur on growth. And I've had the even more poignant experience of seeing my best friends become better than best.

One of those dear friends is Christopher Hunt. My very first AP, the one who successfully suckered me into believing in myself as a capable teacher and leader. He's moving to Vermont in a matter of hours. And although I don't often see or speak with him, it's a bit disheartening to know he's not going to be just a couple hours away, just in case. But that's my selfishness. I know he will thrive in the Very northern Vermont because that's just what God does with Chris: catapults him into unexpected situations that allow creativity, leadership, hilarity, kindness, humility, and strength to freely flow. Good thing Jesus also gives Chris those needed things in abundance.

So anyway, there you go. Chris, I know this will be difficult but fantastic. And as much as I want to steal your life as my own right now, I also know that God's writing my story just as fantastically as yours. You'll have frozen tundra while I have frozen yogurt...trade?

Rantin' Rampage

2012-01-28T02:57:00.000-05:00

I just want to get some frustrations out. You can call this complaining, arrogance, impatience, a little gossipy, and other various terrible things and you'd be right.

But as of this moment, I don't care very much. Another terrible thing.

I worked 3 shifts today. I was in a very small store, the same store I'm in almost every day, from 10:30am-6pm, and again from 9pm-1:15am. That's a lot. The morning/afternoon shifts went by fine. I worked with mostly friends and we got mostly stuff done. Tonight though...ugh.

It felt like a wake-up call about my own generation and it makes me glad I'm not in school anymore.

Practical Common Sense isn't so common anymore. One of my coworkers was having what seemed to be legitimate mental struggles in trying to figure out how and why we refill the syrup bottles every night.
Why? So the morning shift has one less thing to worry about. And no, it's not unsanitary if you do it the right way (meaning: hey, the syrup comes out the bottom of the bottle, so refill it from the top and it naturally cycles through in an appropriate amount of time. she's been filling them from the bottom this whole time, turning the bottles upside down.)
How? In the top. But the syrup is so thick and has been refrigerated!! How do i get it from the can to the bottle? Hmm..this is difficult, I know...let's see. We work..where again? 3 Spoons? ohh...duh. Think, woman!

The other coworker: hey, we're kinda busy. one of us is working the register, one is cutting fruit to replenish our rapidly diminishing supply of strawberries...i know! i should make waffle cone triangles, and forsake my responsibility to keep the toppings clean, yeah! because those are in high demand and are definitely NOT the distinct responsibility of the morning shift. (last sentence, sarcastic to me, a legitimate thought to him)

Maybe I was just tired and that made me frustrated. Maybe I just know that every time that one guy closes things get half-way done. Maybe I just know that the girl is like too many girls I knew at Liberty. Maybe tonight was a reminder of just how insanely broken I am.

Especially because I come home to a very excited puppy when I am not excited in the least. And she wants to play while I want to cry and curl up and either write-to-express-it or read-to-escape-it. And she greatly dislikes her crate, so she spends 20 minutes barking and whining at 2am before she tires herself out/realizes I'm not going to take her out, all while my roommate yells at her about 10 minutes into the barking session. This does the opposite of quiet the dog down; it gives her hope that someone is coming. It's called self-soothing for a reason.

You can stop reading if you want, but I'm not going to stop writing just yet. Another couple paragraphs should do it, though. Persevere!

I think the real source of my inner-tantrum is my impatience with God. I feel like I've been waiting for a long time for something, anything to happen in my life. I've sought out opportunities. I've taken what opportunities have come my way. I have failed in righteousness and returned to grace. And still...I'm here, in the same place.

Two part-time jobs. One of which is mind-numbing, and irksome. Tiny house which doesn't even feel like mine enough for real home-ness. Dog that I love but is being quite the brat lately. Emotions leaving me anxious and disappointed, again and again, despite my highest of hopes. Hopes that I really thought were based on reality this time. Not seeing my dearest of friends often enough to encourage the sharing of all such things.

I want so badly to live a real life. This is not the life I want. I want to work with middle school students. I want to help men become men and women become women. I want to have enough room to dance. And yes, to be quite honest, I want the freedom to love a man and to be loved in return; I want to be someone's helper, someone's Eve. I want Jesus to tell me where to go, what to do next and now.

But I'm still....freakin'....waiting....

It's supposed to be sunny tomorrow. That's good.

5 kilometers is 3.1 miles

2012-01-23T00:36:00.000-05:00

I'm running a 5k on the very last day of March in Atlanta.

I've never run a 5k before.

Here are 5 things that begin with k or k-like-sounds describing my training:

1. (k)ontinuous bad weather: Supposed to run today? Yeah? Well, here's some rain! and Wind! woo!

2. (k)ompetition: with the 295734 runners in the Clemson/Central area. I definitely live in a college town.

3. (k)omposure: because I run with my pup, who is only mostly leash-trained and afraid of real trains.

4. (k)ravings: I forgot about this part of exercising. Who knew burning calories made you hungry?

5. (k)ounting: Miles, minutes, muscles, and other (k)onvenient things that start with "m" I'm sure.

None of those words actually began with "K".

January is a bad time to begin training if you do not have a gym membership and do not wish to invest in one. Noted.

On the bright side, I've discovered that I don't hate running as much as I used to. Running outside helps that. Also, running without music actually is better for me. It leaves me free to think instead of focusing on the music. I think it's because I normally listen to music while doing something else, so when I run with music my mind gets bored because I'm not writing or reading or painting or driving or anything-but-just-running.

On another and brighter side, I've realized that I'm running this 5k to have fun and train my body to perform better. I can't believe I'm about to say this, because it's never happened before, but I am satisfied with how I look. I am content and I know God has made me beautiful.

I have come to love my particular "imperfections" and actually revel in them because I know that if a man ever calls me beautiful it'll be (mostly) aimed at those things that will not droop with age but rather grow stronger and more refined.

I'm running THIS 5k!

A List. Of things I haven't been doing.

2012-01-13T19:09:00.000-05:00

1. Taking a Sabbath.
2. Tithing.
3. Caring about what I read in the Bible if the Spirit doesn't reveal something to me in the particular words of the day.
4. Being still.
5. Being patient.
6. Reading books consistently.
7. Being open in spite of my fear.

The first two are related. I'm highly anxious about my finances, even when I know they are fine. I've not been very generous, and even when I've been scheduled for an entire day off, I tend to pick up an extra shift to make some more money. What days I have left completely off I have spent traveling and with friends/family.

That's it. That's all I have to say. So long!

Called Out.

2012-01-08T23:15:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was straight up called out on the lack of effort I put into this. Thanks, Andrew Sims.

But really, thanks.

I want to write, and let everyone know how I am, who I am, whatever. But I often find myself starting a post then not publishing it because I don't think anyone will care enough to read it because it's not earth-shatteringly important, essential to the understanding of life, pertinent to the increase of wisdom, nor does it cause instant smiles at well-timed-and-focused photography.

It's just me. Living my currently just-so life. Which even I find boring. And if my life seems boring, I MUST be boring, right?

Maybe I am, but just right now. Only right now.

I say that because this has been a very silent few weeks. I went through a rough spot about a month ago, but things have eased up a bit mentally. Since then, and truthfully during then, I have not heard anything distinct from the Spirit. He's revealed wisdom to me and given me what seems like peace but hasn't really told me anything. The peace scares me, because it doesn't fit with my previous convictions and that gives me pause as to whether I've forced the peace or it's been given. I hope that makes sense, because I can't be very specific on the worldwideweb. And peace is usually, well, peaceful. Yet here I am fretting about having peace and wondering just how much control of things God allows us.

So I feel boring because God hasn't said anything to me in a while.

I feel boring because I have a part-time job at a frozen yogurt shop in a college town despite having graduated with a 3.97 GPA and Summa Cum Laude with a B.S. in Counseling and Clinical Research Psychology almost 2 years ago, with another part-time job at an after-school program at which I serve as monitor/math guru.

I feel boring because I see my friends so rarely, and I actually have fun with the people with whom I work at said shop.

I feel boring because I'm not in school, and not trying to be in school again, like most others.

I feel boring because I have no direction for my life. I'm simply doing what I know to do.

I feel boring because the few dreams I have for my life are exceedingly simple and seem very far-off due to lack of resources/connections/outlets. Ask me about it, I'll tell you. Just not here.

I feel boring because I'm waiting on something to happen, someone to follow, or...something.

I guess it all comes down to me feeling a little lost, a little alone in my situation, a little desperate for joy, and a little like someone who had to grow up before most of her friends without the particular relational perks that some of her other grown-up friends have.

Well, yeah. I'm fantastic at being uplifting, I know, you don't have to tell me.

I suppose contentment and productive use of waiting-time are my goals.

(absolutely nothing to do with) Heaven.

2011-09-16T00:07:00.000-04:00

I don't often do this.

Really. I don't.

But it's been a solid month without any gainful employment, and I get bored sometimes.
Yes, even bored enough to do this.
An iTunes shuffle answer-these-questions-with-song-titles quiz.
Don't judge me; believe me, I've already judged myself sufficiently enough.

Surprisingly, some of the shuffles were truffles, treasures, truths. And some were plain out funny.
Yep, it sure has been a long month.

1. If someone says, "is this okay?" you say:
For the ladies [KJ-52]

2. How would you describe your personality?
Remembering [Disciple]

3. What do you like in a guy?
Sweet Misery [Michelle Branch]

4. How do you feel today?
The Call [Regina Spektor]

5. What is your life's purpose?
Back Here [BBMak]

6. What is your life's motto?
Runaway Car [A Goofy Movie Soundtrack]

7. What do you think of your parents?
Deathtrap Daisy [Staple]

8. What do you think about often?
On Fire [Switchfoot]

9. What is 2+2?
Gotta Get Thru This [Daniel Bedingfield]

10. What do you think of your best friend?
Barlow Girls [Superchick]

11. What do you think of the person you like?
Not What You See [Kutless]

12. What is your life story?
Until You Rescued Me [Dizmas]

13. What do you want to be when you grow up?
Love (so beautiful) [DJ Maj]

14. What do you think when you see the person you like?
Grounded [The O.C. Supertones]

15. What do your parents think of you?
Let's Go Back [Everyday Sunday]

16. What will they play at your wedding?
Sick Boy [MxPx]

17. What will they play at your funeral?
Touch [Delirious]

18. What is your hobby/interest?
Adding to the Noise [Switchfoot]

19. What is your biggest secret?
Raindrops [Regina Spektor]

20. What do you think of your friends?
Beautiful Disaster [Kelly Clarkson]

21. What will you post this as?
Heaven [Derek Webb]

Loud Laude

2011-09-13T17:34:00.001-04:00

I still don't remember that vocab word.

About being Chosen, and Seen, and Set Apart. It put the fear of God in me. I was elated, finally to have realized my identity, but suddenly timid, finally to have realized how important my identity makes me.

Wow that sounds arrogant.

I mean that Father has set apart some destiny for me, some life that isn't along the same path as any majority of travelers. I am one among few, and I don't yet know where we are but I think I've met a few of those few, and we've been charged with a mission. It's good to know that I'm not alone in this, but it makes it even more essential that I find some of those few wherever I go. I cannot be alone. I've been Alone before. Nothing good comes from Alone. Nothing.

singled out, but not alone

I began holding back, trying to more and more understand precisely what He means when He calls me by my names. I retreated into the uneasy comfort of my mind because there were very few, sadly few, people on Summer Staff this year to whom I could speak and expect understanding and wisdom beyond what God had already given me. (Wow. Still arrogant...)

I have to say, Father and I make a pretty efficient pair: Summer 2k11 allowed more immediate internal and personal growth than any of my other summers. [Disclaimer: the more recent the memory the more vivid and thus the more seemingly powerful. So I don't really know if that last statement is true. More than likely it was simply a continuation of past learning and God had prepared me for middle school rather than elementary.]

An unfortunate but natural result of all that time as an Us instead of a Them was a lack of deep connection to all but those few that I brought in close or that sought to be brought in. Ninety-four point 7% of my time was spent out in the stairwell of chapel instead of in the Bear Den where I couldn't hear Greg or the Spirit teach. It was the ultimate Distraction Destination. In there it was easy and I didn't want easy (gasp!). I wanted challenge and growth and yeah, I wanted fun. But I didn't want fun at the expense of the other two and that's mostly what I saw when I was passing through.

Please, I don't mean to sound completely judgmental because I'm only being a little judgmental.

Okay. Here's an explanation: I like to fill in gaps. Wherever something is needed, I want to supply it. A balance-keeper, a jack-of-all-trades, a mound of clay am I. This summer had an overabundance of frivolity; I balanced it with sincerity. This summer had an overabundance of on-a-whims; I balanced it with intentionality. This summer had an overabundance of laughs; I balanced it with tears. I've lost you, haven't I? Now you think I'm being dramatic and artsy, and that's because I almost went there.

When you're the reality check, the voice of wisdom and experience, the elder...guess what happens? People don't call you fun, exciting, adventurous, and they don't yearn for the very moment you walk into a room.

Hello Summer 2k11. I'm Stacy. I don't think you know all that I am because at most moments I am required to be one facet of myself: PARENT.

Green Hill Park, Salem, VA

In a world of abbrev.'s why haven't we come up with one for "To Be Continued"?

It's okay. I dislike abbreviations with the same passion with which I dislike the phrase "To Be Continued."

Summa Cum...1.5 years ago.

2011-08-30T01:22:00.000-04:00

I really wanted to impress you with my knowledge of psychological terms.
(That is, after all, my area of study.)
Unfortunately that language is not colloquially used,

(Who knew?)

See the lady?

so I forgot the words.
Also, notice that I still managed to use an uncommon word. Score.

The principle I was looking for was from developmental psychology, when a child is gaining some healthy independence from the parent but continues to maintain visual and auditory lines of communication for security purposes.
Yes, there's one word for all that. Would've been nice.

Grow that toddler up by about 19 years and you've got what I was all summer. Indeed, what I still am and hope to be for ever. I'm not sure that I told you for certain that I was working at Look Up again this summer: I did. I was the first gal to work 4 summers in a number of years. No, I do not know that number.

I was frightened of this summer until it actually began. Frightened because Summer '10 was so powerful and enjoyable and distinct: I would have been satisfied leaving my legacy like that. I was at peace. Frightened because I thought Summer '11 was going to be powerful and miserable and wanting-to-be-forgotten because that's how things work, right? They go in patterns, in cycles and usually the best things that happen to you are the hardest things. Or so I thought.

See the algae?

Paradigm shift within the first week. Yeah, that happened. The powers that be at LUL had a guy come in and teach us some things, and this guy had us ask Father what His name for us was. You know, what He calls us, kind of like a pet name but way more like a True Name between He and us as individuals.

He calls me His Intended, His Chosen One. Ideas of being a bride and a messiah flood my mind when He calls for me this way. (No, I'm not claiming to be the second coming. Just coverin' that right now.)

He says that I am pure and beautiful and seen. That one word: Seen. It holds such power in my heart, probably because I have long struggled with feeling adequate in the visual realm, probably because I don't meet the standards for physical beauty by any comfortable stretch of the imagination. Father sees me, completely SEES me and has chosen me out of not-quite-but-seems-like infinite amount of other people. He has set me aside for some reason, elevated me and prized me, placed on me a crown and rings and a fragrance.

See how proud of this photo I am?

To be continued. Whenever I'm not so sleepy and you've not just read half a novel's worth of my writing.

I found this.

2011-08-27T22:22:00.000-04:00

After 4 months of absence from the blogging world, you'd think my first post would be significant, reflective, and insightful.

Instead, here's a list I found on my computer of some of my favorite things (coming soon: a list of my unfavorite things):

chipped fingernail polish
composition notebooks
bare feet
showers
handicap toilet stalls (because the door swings out, not in)
the southern twang
saying movie or any other “mo” word (because evidently I say it oddly)
laughing
stories
rides in any sort of vehicle
birds (including chickens and ducks)
farm animals
history
the number 2
trees
footprints
warm snow days
waking up rested
tan lines
scars
anything that glows in the dark
cereals hot or cold
the idea of theming a camp after a hallucinogen (which I did when I designed my own program)
the french language
big cats
wolves
the bible
music
writing
making posters
my art tub
being and getting messy
eating
reading
sports
card games
building blocks
little kids
big kids
bigger kids (adults)
slides
grey hair
spelling things with the british spelling
pictures
dreadlocks
not matching clothes
meeting people who know people you know
meeting people who know where you live/work
jesus
clocks
keys
bugs
blankets
psychology
anatomy
microscopes
learning
walking
playing
being sore
smelling things
swing sets
trying food you didn’t like before in order to see if you like it now
string jewelry
bread
picture IDs
water guns
geography
road trips
asking why not
filling in gaps
blogs
conversations
tye-dye
free stuff (especially food)
t-shirts
ice cream
milkshakes
gym shorts
jigsaw puzzles
being loud
water
dancing
watching other people be talented
coming up with new ways to say old phrases
surprises

And Dogwood trees and their flowers.

I'm quitting so I don't care if I get fired.

2011-04-08T02:04:00.000-04:00

If we are going to run after the Christ, we cannot only go half-speed and half-way. That mentality and that lifestyle is what killed my generation’s faith. We saw our parents and grandparents simply going to church, praying over meals, and trying to be decent, honest people. Does not Jesus call us to something so much more than that? What He calls us to is so much deeper, so much more difficult, and to be quite honest, something so much more fulfilling. His call is divisive. Have you paid attention to how many scattered from Him when He taught something hard? He had lots of followers, but most were around to see the miracles and to have something to talk about later at supper. His true disciples were those that lived under Him, followed Him in the sincerest manner of the word.

Jesus wouldn’t give so many warnings or question so many motives if mediocrity was acceptable. He asks His potential followers if they would become poor for Him, become ridiculed for Him, die for Him (in spirit and in body). He doesn’t want comfortable, Southern Americans who happened to be cultured into Christianity. He wants believers, followers, revolutionaries who happen to live in the American South. We do not believe in a culture, or a church for that matter. We believe in a God who did some insane things to get us back, to begin the process of Restoration towards the Created Order.

We cannot take the kids to church, prayer breakfast, devotional times, etc. and expect great and good things to come from it. Those things may happen, I’ll not limit God. But even the C.A.R.E. training is relationship-focused. How many kids respond to preaching versus teaching? How many kids respond to hearing how to live versus seeing how to live? How many kids respond to verbal acknowledgement of beliefs versus the acting out of beliefs?

They can read falsity. They know when we don’t act on what we talk. We emphasize this so much in the cottages, follow-through on our words. We cannot, should not, expect them to acknowledge Jesus, know Jesus, love Jesus when we do not acknowledge, know, love Him ourselves through our actions.

He tells us to “work out” our salvation, our faith (Philippians 2:12). Surely you know that our physical muscles must be worked else they weaken, they atrophy. It is the very same with our Jesus muscle. If we don’t act on faith, by faith, in every aspect of our lives, we will lose our muscle, our faith in that area. We’ve given God no chance to show up there, so we assume He isn’t there. In the Southern culture, gosh, we’ve just gotten so good at covering our weakness with strong tongues and cautious actions.

(And have you ever thought about why the apostles hardly ever pray for healing of the sick in the New Testament epistles? Possibly because that was the least of things to worry about. Hearts and souls are more important than bodies. Sorry, just an irritant of mine.)

Neither can we treat each child like they are believers. We cannot use that language, the “what would Jesus do” mentality with kids until we know they care what Jesus would have done! And more importantly, by talking with the kids in that way, we may very well be leading them astray, letting them think they are saved when they are not. Oh, how dangerous! Jesus said it was better that a millstone be tied around our necks than we do that.

I know I’m young. I know I have a lot more freedom in my life than do some. But I do not believe that my beliefs stem from that. I’ve read over the four gospels several times and I cannot construe the words of the Christ to mean what Southern American culture deems them to mean. I have a saying that I like to live by, one of many actually: “Leave room for the miraculous.” It simply means to leave room for God to show up, not in a “Hey, are You there? If You are You better fix this!” way but in a way that means, “Hey, I trust that You are there, and that You will provide what I need. Not what I’m comfortable with, not what is normative, but what I most desperately need.”

These are just some thoughts I have, and some have a great deal to do with why the heck we run this place anyway. I mean, even TDAR’s website says that we supply the “Christian needs” of the kids. Of all the things we do well, this is one at which we falter.

This is my opinion. Take it or leave it. Thanks for hearing it out.

Suggestion Box

2011-03-31T00:14:00.000-04:00

I haven't mentioned this before, but during this Lent season I decided to fast from volitional music. This means that I cannot turn on music or willfully expose myself to it. It has been difficult, and sometimes the silence is overwhelming. I knew it would be, but I did not know it would also be oppressive.
I came into this expecting to hear things that I had been missing, like the voice of God in certain situations, but so far it's been mostly missing things that I want to hear. At the least I know I'll have a greater appreciation for music than before. I've been listening to a lot of teaching when I drive, because the silence lends itself to sleepiness because I mostly drive early mornings and late nights. That's been great, and I think I'll continue that even after Easter.
That being said...I have less than a month to go. Before my birthday and Earth day and Good Friday. Also, before Easter, two days later.

I'm wondering...what should be the very first song I listen to when that glorious day dawns? Suggestions?

Run, Story, Run.

2011-03-25T23:01:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I let my stories run away with me.
Like this time, with this person, in this situation, in this not-sure-it's-really-real hope of mine.

I read an article the other day that made an argument about the nonexistence of true drama in most of our lives. Growing up we hear stories, read stories, watch stories that ebb and flow, rise and fall to and from great heights. We come to believe that our lives should look like this, and adding to this the sitcom-watching culture, we believe it should look like this all the time. Disappointment and despair arises when life is actually...real life.

I listened to a teacher today (via Internet) talk about how the Psalmists lamented and yearned for decades before God would show up in the way they pleaded for Him to act. Sometimes it never happened in their lifetimes.

Boom. Where's that hope and patience now? Am I really willing to wait for time to catch up with God's plan, assuming my story matches His?

Most of my hopes for my life include adventure and exploration and the continual growth of knowledge and wisdom and love and peace. Average is my worst nightmare. I don't want to settle. Ever.

Anyway. Here are some pictures of my hair that I took today. It's now been nearly 3 weeks since it has seen anything but water and conditioner. Several days since any sort of combing action.

it's gotten so long.

i made those earrings for my gauges today.

Naturally

2011-03-14T22:43:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I'm okay with the idea that only my mother reads these posts on a regular basis.
Now is one of those times.

Because I haven't shampooed my hair in over 2 weeks. I haven't used any sort of cleanser on it in over one week.
I have however, rinsed it out with water nearly every day, conditioning only the ends so they don't get dry. And last week's cleaning was with diluted baking soda.

You. Would. Not. Believe the difference it has made in my hair's health. No frizz. No tangles (and I haven't brushed it in at least 3 days). And suddenly I have this incredible curliness that I haven't had since I was a small child.

It is only itchy late at night when I'm tired (and I'm almost certain that itchiness is my body's "hey, i'm tired" mechanism anyway). And it looks clean, as if I washed it yesterday. It does eventually get greasy-looking/feeling, but then out comes the baking soda, which surprisingly leaves my hair soft and super clean without the crunchiness. Two tablespoons+16 oz of water does the trick. My goal is to see just how long my hair can go looking and feeling good without a cleanser attacking it. I'm hoping for at least two weeks.

I was pretty nervous about this experiment at first, but my cheap and natural-method-lovin' self couldn't help but give it a chance. I may be converted. The true test will come with the sweaty summertime. If I remember I might take a picture tomorrow and show you what it looks like 9 days departed from a cleanser.

Preservation.

2011-02-25T00:16:00.000-05:00

My apologies to the trees I will destroy in the future.
(I can't believe I just said that.)
(I can't believe I'm advocating the loss of forestry.)

I miss the feel and smell of paper. I knew it well once, and I want those in the future to know it well too.
So, whether or not anyone in the future has an interest in reading what I have to say, I am going to attempt to write, literally write, whatever I usually type. Because although the internet and computers may always be here, there's simply nothing like memories preserved in a physical form of some sort.

This idea was spurred by this post by Lacey Keigley, which spurred my heart to much sentimentalism and good heart-hurt. So thanks, Lacey, for all the hand cramps and pen purchases I may endure.

I also wish I took more pictures of people, instead of places and things. And that we still printed pictures. I want a photographer for my life. Who's up for it?

A Français Kind of Day

2011-02-04T00:25:00.002-05:00

My adoration for the French language has been reawakened. Maybe because one of my girls is taking Spanish and I feel I must prove superior the language I spent 5 semesters of my life learning. But I do so love it.

But that only serves as an introduction to this post, which can be best described as une mise à jour: an update. Because of late I've only been writing about theories, things I like or dislike, etc. rather than what is actually happening in my life.

My bad, yo.

I'm still working at Tamassee DAR. Everything is pretty peaceful, until my co-Teaching Parent comes in on Wednesdays. The girls don't like her all that much, and it's pretty rough on the both of us. I don't know how to stand up for her when I don't completely agree with how she does things either, but I can't bear to hear the girls talk about her like they do. Two of my eight original girls have gone home (One for good, for the good; One possibly for good, but unfortunate). All of the girls have come to trust me, like me, respect me, and obey me...for the most part. They are human. So they say.

I'm still living in Central, SC, where I'd hoped to stay relatively warm through the winter. I'll blame it on this Southern Weather, 'cause it ain't happening. My relationship with my housemate has gotten better, so long as I don't turn the heat above a chilly 68º and use a lamp instead of the actual lights.

I'm still searching out a lot of things, like where I'll be spending the days of this upcoming sweet summertime and how to trust God actively with my heart. I've gotten much better about the latter of those. The former...is coming to a close. I'm about 85%-90% sure where I'll be, and it's a very familiar but frightening place. The frightening piece is new for me. And usually that means that something big is going to happen. I'm also starting to wonder if the other 10%-15% will be told me or if He's asking me to live that Life of Giant Leaps and just jump. One week to decide.

I've been listening to a lot of Baroque music and French talk radio on iTunes Radio lately. The Baroque is beautiful, calming, and helps with clarity. The French is beautiful, refreshing, and boosts my confidence in meager amounts because every now and again I know what they're talking about.

I've also gotten frustrated with my writing style. I try to be grammatically correct most of the time, I really do. In my writing anyway. But it's not me most of the time. Sometimes it is, don't get me wrong; but sometimes grammar steals my voice like laryngitis.

Bon nuit, mes amis et lecteurs fidèles. J'espère que ces mots vous trouvent bien.
Au revoir pour maintenant!

Also, 1 Corinthians 1:18

2011-01-28T01:02:00.002-05:00

Too many times for my liking in recent weeks I have been referred to as a Child or Young or other phrases that essentially mean that I don’t know what I’m doing with my life at the moment and will eventually wise-up, changing my convictions and lifestyle to be “more responsible.”

(Just FYI, ANY amount of times is too many times for my liking.)

This is one of the very few things that a person can do to really get me riled up. Boy, I get mad. It’s so frustrating because they don’t even know me or my life.

Yes, I’m only 21 years old. But look at my life thus far. Please, tell me where I’ve proven my foolishness and overt stupidity. Please, tell me why you feel you must advise me about how to be successful in this supposed “real world.”

Honey, please. (Also, “Honey” is the name I use when I’m being condescending but wanting to sound nice. Welcome to Southern culture.)

I’m sorry it bothers you that I don’t believe in saving $50 a week so that when I retire I’ll have a million dollars. (And don’t doubt me when I tell you I don’t WANT a million dollars. I don’t.)

I’m sorry it bothers you that I’m not too sure I believe in retirement at all.

I’m sorry it bothers you that my definition of success is not financial in nature, and that I believe I can be successful without opening my own counseling office.

I’m sorry it bothers you that I believe in taking a true Sabbath, despite the adverse effects on my other days.

I’m sorry it bothers you that I believe in taking each day as it comes, and letting God be God over my future.

I’m sorry it bothers you that I am young and free.

If all these beliefs and convictions I have are simply sprung from my youth, so be it. Let me be young. Let me enjoy the Free Spirit my Father has given me.

If all these beliefs and convictions I have are simply sprung from my youth, about 4 people severely misquoted the Christ.

You, for whom my heart aches, are trying to teach me Westernized Christianity.

I have tried for several years to rid myself of that, and I shall never return.

Yes, I am young. Yes, I am learning, and will continue to be, for the duration of my life. Yes, I am capable of acting in foolish ways. Yes, I am unsure about where my life is going in this temporal world. Yes, I would love financial security and to have planned out everything and to take control of the situation.

No, I will not bend my ways. No, you will not be allowed to teach me shallow and faithless ways. No, you will not call my actions foolish when my Saviour lived an even more “foolish” lifestyle than I. No, I will not try to figure out where I’m going and when. No, I will not seek financial security and control.

God said He’ll provide for me.

To have faith like a child, I must take Him at His word.

And I’m doing my daggum best to do just that.

Call it what you will.

“Let no one look down on your youthfulness, but rather in speech, conduct, love, faith and purity, show yourself an example of those who believe.” -1 Timothy 4:12

Wisdom Is A Spirit.

2011-01-28T00:22:00.003-05:00

I have terribly misunderstood the role of the Spirit for the majority of my Christian journey.

He does not (only) exist to provide me with an emotional sense of God’s presence.

He does not (only) exist to provide me with anointed on-the-spot words to those around me.

He does not (only) exist to comfort me in times of tremendous discomfort.

He does not (only) exist to confront the sin in my life.

“But when He, the Spirit of truth, comes, He will guide you into all the truth; for He will not speak on His own initiative, but whatever He hears, He will speak; and He will disclose to you what is to come.”

I have heard this for a long time, but it only became real to me recently. The Spirit is literally dwelling inside me. Dwelling, finding His residence, staying, living within me. He is there all the time. Those wise decisions I make, those are His. Those times of compassion, those are His. Those times of discipline, those are His. Any wisdom that exudes from my actions or from my mouth is from Him, is Him.

The Bible tells us to ask for wisdom, to pray for the Spirit of wisdom to come upon us. I have in the past, and a lot in the present as well. Solomon got His, and I think I’ve got Mine.

This week there was an overwhelming sense that although I was making the decisions, all of them were being guided by Not Me. My eyes were then opened to the possibility that the Spirit had finally become a constant in my life, an everyday companion and friend and mentor. I know that He is there and I acknowledge Him often.

I’m not living in this “spiritual high” like I once did, and for which I once did (and still) search. No, I certainly have my lows; they are deep and recurring. But I don’t feel alone unless the low is extremely low and I haven’t had one of those since Christmas weekend.

This is life. Real life. It feels nice.

Child, This Is You.

2011-01-28T00:21:00.000-05:00

This is a problem I’ve been having lately. I don’t really know who I am. I know what I am, adjectives. But I think there may be a difference in knowing what I am like and knowing what that ‘I’ is. The book I’ve been reading lately, Sophie’s World, has either helped or made things worse and I haven’t decided which yet. I guess it showed me my options. I’m not done with the book yet, about 150 pages left to go so I can’t draw any conclusions yet.

(see Souvenir for an incomplete list of adjectives, by the way)

One of the things I love is language. I don’t know really why I love it so, but it is consuming at times. But language fails. As it is me right now. Anytime I begin to think about who I am, all the words and phrases and fragments that come to mind are in the what category. Even with the “ideal” Christian-ese answers.

[Who are you? I am a most beloved child of the Most High, Sovereign, and Beautiful King of All. No. I said who are you, not what.]

So is there really any difference between them? I think perhaps our language has been twisted. Because I can answer the what question in two different ways, unlike the who question.

[What are you? I am mostly carbon and water. I am minerals and proteins and compounds and molecules and water. OR I can answer in the same way as most of us answer the who question.]

I think I just changed my mind about some things. Knowing what I am like (subjectively and objectively, meaning, what I think and what God thinks) is knowing who I am, or better, who I am capable of being. Knowing what I am is knowing, well, what I am. Or of what I am literally made.

So.

I know pieces of who I am.

Or, maybe it’s just that I notice the rotten pieces a lot more than I notice the sweet pieces.

Or maybe it’s that I give the rotten pieces a lot more weight in my mind and heart than the sweet pieces.

Maybe it’s both.

Or maybe it’s Maybelline.

(hint: it’s not Maybelline.)

Clarity Evades Me.

2011-01-28T00:18:00.002-05:00

How much is too much for a thing to be a coincidence?

I’m not sure where I stand on this yet, the whole Armenian/Calvinist debate still rages within me at times. Are there coincidences or is everything decisively planned and plotted?

To what extent are happenings purely up to interpretation? It seems as though the answer to this lies within the answer to the aforementioned debate, which is itself merely an interpretative debate.

And where’s the line between being persistent with prayer, approaching God with the desires of your heart, and wasting your time because it’s not what He has for you? Does such a line exist? I fear that it does and that I have crossed it too many times to be coincidental.

Perhaps that line is simply in motive and openness. If I am persistent and honest in my prayer, my expression of desire to God, yet remain open to what He knows is best for me even if it is different than my desire, perhaps this is it. But even then I feel as though I am wasting effort. I should be honest and say: I feel as though I am putting my innards in too much danger. I’m pouring out all of me, my heart, wanting so deeply for this coincidence to coincide already, with the knowledge that it may never be so.

That’s risky.

That takes faith. And knowledge.

Maybe that’s what He means when He says: “And all things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive.” (Matthew 21:22 NASB)

Maybe it’s not believing you will receive what you ask.

Maybe it’s believing that whether or not you receive what you ask, the best thing you could have asked for will happen.

Maybe it’s believing that regardless of what you receive, God is Good. Faithful. True. Powerful. Wise.

Maybe it’s believing that He will take care of your heart, whether it is dashed against stones or sent soaring on sweet breezes.

Maybe it’s time that I trust God actively with my heart.

"To love means to open ourselves to the negative as well as the positive-to grief, sorrow, and disappointment as well as to joy, fulfillment, and an intensity of consciousness we did not know was possible before"

-Rollo May

The Place I Knew Before.

2011-01-28T00:16:00.002-05:00

Today I arrived in a place I knew before I knew very much at all: home.

Elliston, Virginia.

But even this place is not my true home. Even this place filled with memories, events of long (not that long) ago, filled with love and struggle and shouts and tears and hugs and warm greetings, even this place is not where I was made for.

I was made for the reality behind this shadowy land. I was made for the place where all the good of this land is multiplied, intensified, beautified, realized and all the bad of this land is evacuated, emaciated, depleted.

My true home is the place I knew before I knew very much at all: Eden. The New Jerusalem. The very real and tangible Presence of God.

In the meantime, until Jesus comes crashing through the heavens, this is where I’ll call home-home. Home is Central, SC. Home-home is Elliston, VA.

Elliston is where my mom and brother currently reside. It is where I went to middle school. It is where I graduated from high school. I found love and life while I resided here. Elliston is a very tiny town, not 7 minutes long, but it is large in my heart. It is where I met my friend Jeremy, the one friend from high school with whom I intentionally try to keep up. It is the springboard from which I jumped to meet my friends Sonia and Lori; long live the Three Amigas. It is the diving board from which I dove (fell?) into Liberty University and Look Up Lodge, two of the places that have shaped me most intellectually and spiritually.

But this place is just a plot of land. My home-home is my family, my dearest loved ones with whom and through whom I have grown.

My Home is the same. My Family, my Dearest Loved Ones with Whom and through Whom I have grown.

That. Is more. Than land.

The Goal.

2011-01-28T00:14:00.002-05:00

Why do I want to write a book?

So I can be like Don Miller: Using very normal, average, everyday stories from my life, spiced up with some 20/60 hindsight vision, procure a large and loyal following and a decent sum of currency.

That’s only partly true. I’ll let you decide which is the true segment.

Oh, and so that other very normal, average, everyday people will know that with some 20/60 hindsight vision very abnormal, excellent, extraordinary things can happen.

Why do I want to write a book?

So I can perhaps finish a large project that I initiated.

So I can see whether or not I have things in my mind worthy of the written word.

So I can document my thoughts, regardless of their worthiness.

So I can one-up my mom’s book.

So I can cultivate my language, communication, and imagination skills.

So I can maintain what writing skills I already have attained from school.

So I can. For the express purpose of. In order that. Because.

In my 8^th grade English class (or was it still called Language Arts back then?), in which we studied a great deal of philosophy, it was concluded that the only viable answer to the question “Why?” is the single word “Because.”

Because, meaning “for this reason” or “for the cause of.” The word’s sole job is to preface an explanation.

Good thing so many things need explaining around here. Otherwise Because would be very lonely.

Today was a good day. Why? Because: I was allowed the great blessing to see two of my best friends, Laura and Ryan, and to go with them to see two other friends sing at an acapella choir concert.

I often forget how much I have a love/hate relationship with Laura’s eyes. Why? Because: They are filled with truth-seeking, and sometimes I am not full of truth.

Souvenir

2011-01-28T00:11:00.000-05:00

Souvenir. In French this word means "to remember."

That's what I want to do, to remember. Everything.

So, I have undertaken a project.

This project is rather undefined and consists mainly of my thoughts as I struggle out of this cocoon in which I'm encapsulated.

And because a lot of it deals with my struggles, some of it I will not publish. Most of it, yes; some of it, no.

It will be sporadically created, since I am not a static or mechanized being.

It will be explained more in the next several paragraphs, which make up what I would call The Prologue.

This is not the first time I’ve started something not knowing how it will end.

It may be the first time I’ve started something knowing that I can end it however I wish.

That’s not true.

I want the same One who writes everything else to help me write this too.

Because things don’t end well when I’m alone in them.

It’s also not true because I can end anything however I wish. My job, my activities, my life. Unless Something intervenes, I have control. And because I know how everything will end: Glorious and Beautiful.

So welcome to this book. I may not actually finish it, but it will be finished with. You may not actually finish it, but it will be finished with. It will be filled, to whatever extent, with the thoughts of this author.

Here are some identifying characteristics of this author (because perspective is essential):

Currently twenty-one years of age; female; native Virginian; current South Carolina resident; graduated Summa Cum Laude with a B.S. in Counseling and Clinical Research Psychology; follower of the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified; lover of language and nature; hopeful, but currently seeking therapy for depression; quick to assume; house parent for eight middle school girls; artistic; impulsive; done with this list for now.

Some of the things I write and you read will be trivial. Some of them will be important. Sometimes we’ll disagree about which is which.

And that’s okay.

Deleanor (Delano+Eleanor)

2011-01-20T02:35:00.001-05:00

I like both of those people.

FDR. And his wife, Eleanor.

Two very good-with-words people.

And I like words. A lot.

He said, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

She said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.”

I fear that my future will be like my present: coming home to a loveless, peace-less, comfortless, and husbandless house.

I fear mere existence.

I fear loneliness.

I fear constraints and commitments.

I fear being misunderstood.

I fear getting heart-hurt.

I fear being wrong about my Jesus.

Sometimes the “one thing” I do every day is simply getting out of bed.

I have more to say about fear, and how it’s only a strangely comforting distraction, but I’m sleepy right now.

Now it’s a new day. Very new actually. An hour and a half old.

I only have fear to fear because fear is a cage. It holds me in, it restrains me. It keeps outside things out, denies them the opportunity to affect me.

I have lived in this cage so long that I’ve put cushions against the wire perimeter. I’m now comfortable in my little fear-box.

But this same box that keeps me ‘safe’ and in which I feel ‘comfortable’ is the same box which Jesus has crushed and out of which he calls me to crawl, feebly as it may be.

This same box which I’ve lived most of my life in is the same box that prohibits me from experiencing, from living, from being free.

So. While I’m safe, I’m merely existing.

While I’m safe, I’m lonely.

While I’m safe, I’m constrained and committed.

While I’m safe, I’m misunderstood.

While I’m safe, I’m getting heart-hurt.

And while I’m safe, I cannot know the Real Jesus.

Therefore, my fear is my worst fear. Fear causes me to see my fears realized in my life.

So what must I do? Take courage like a daily vitamin.

Courage: from the roots cuer and –age, meaning heart and whose range of senses it reflects closely, respectively.

Take heart. Live via Love because there is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love (1 John 4:18).

A Life of Love sounds a whole lot like a Life of Giant Leaps.

A Life of Asking Forgiveness instead of Permission.

A Life of Confident Strides.

A Life of No Regrets.

A Life of Freedom.

Oh, sweet Freedom.

To love means to open ourselves to the negative as well as the positive-to grief, sorrow, and disappointment as well as to joy, fulfillment, and an intensity of consciousness we did not know was possible before.

-Rollo May

The Departure.

2010-11-19T02:41:00.002-05:00

We all know the story of Adam and Eve and the serpent and the fruit.

We all know the curse that came of their decision.

(Or do we?)

“I will greatly multiply your pain in childbirth, In pain you shall bring forth children; Yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.”

To women, this is painful.

To God, this is painful.

He did not want to implement this, but it was a natural consequence of the Woman’s decision. Just as they suffer in the physical separation of their bodies from the bodies of their children, God suffered in the physical and spiritual separation of His being from their being. With each new life comes a reminder of the first death (and a general dislike of the first woman). At the first they stepped out from under the protection of God and the first man, so they are forever cursed with the overwhelming need for protection, to feel protected and guarded (hence the fascination with fairy tale princes and knights in shining armor).

“Cursed is the ground because of you; In toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life. Both thorns and thistles it shall grow for you; And you shall eat the plants of the field; By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, because from it you were taken; For you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

To men, this is painful.

To God, this is painful.

He did not want to implement this, but it was a natural consequence of the Man’s decision. Men are cursed with weakness. The first man stood idly by while his wife killed herself and all others. From then on, he must counter his weakness and grow strong in order to survive, much less truly live. Men work the ground not only for food, but for the strengthening of self, to have a sense of adequately protecting and growing. Men are cursed with insignificance. They must earn, produce, protect, achieve in order to see their true selves, to see their First selves (hence the fascination with dominance and physicality).

Both partners receive a curse that flows logically out of their previous actions.

Both sections of the curse have a central cause, a consequence more closely related to their actions than the curse itself.

They are no longer good. God is still good.

God cannot take a chance at marring His goodness. God must leave their presence and they His.

No more Us. Just He and We.

No more Together. Just Separation.

No more Arrivals. Just The Departure.

The second death.

If this sounds familiar

2010-11-18T01:32:00.000-05:00

If this sounds familiar, you come here often or at least once did.

I will be reporting (for certain this time) to a counseling session this upcoming Friday afternoon.
I'm paying for it. I'm going. I'm taking the initiative to make sure I'm really okay. Because I know that sometimes I'm REALLY not okay.

Whatever is in there and needs to go, it's coming out. (lies)
Whatever is not in there and needs to come, it's going in. (truth)

My Counselor will continue to counsel me.
But hopefully He will choose to become more evident through the face and words of Dr. Cheryl Warner.

Fire Blog, Flog. The First.

2010-09-04T00:43:00.000-04:00

We’re all different, right? Hand-made by the Creator. Special, unique, distinct.

So how we relate to that Creator will be different, hand-made, special, unique, distinct.
Not in every way dissimilar, but a relationship all our own.
No one else’s.

Why don’t we teach that? (Why don’t I learn that?)

The other day, the idea was put into my mind that I’m not an evergreen (if I were a tree, that is). I lose my leaves in the winter, almost too literally. I revive when the earth does.
More on that in at a later date.

Trees. Wood. Fire.
That was the train I caught.

Fire is fire, but it reacts differently, smells differently, smokes differently, warms differently, exists differently depending on what kind of wood is being burned and in what arrangement the wood is placed.

Our lives are fire. God provides the spark; we provide the fuel, the wood. He IS the spark. We ARE the fuel, the wood.

The more me I give Him, the bigger, warmer, brighter, etc. the fire becomes. We usually get this far in understanding fairly easily. (1)

But we think other peoples’ fires are odd, or better, than our own. They’re just different.

Because of my personal history and personality, my fire, my relationship with God, looks like a lot of Scripture reading and teaching and service with fewer long sessions of prayer. If I talk to God for a long time, I start to get self-centered and frustrated with myself that I get self-centered. I talk to Him in spurts, like a continual but slow conversation throughout a day, or week, or whatever.

He shows me things in the Bible, in teaching, in service, and in my blurt-style of conversation. Sometimes He calls me to a long period of prayer, but He knows me too well to ask that of me consistently. Maybe one day.

He also shows me pictures. Pretty often actually, especially if I ask Him to. By pictures I really mean visual analogies of things, like the fire I’m describing. I just say pictures.

All these things are the smoke of the fire of Our relationship. If I change the fuel, I change the fire. Your smoke is different than mine, and that’s okay. There are glories in the differences.

If I change the arrangement, I change the fire. This is my big struggle: transplanting the wood pieces to a different place, while keeping the arrangement the same. And yes, I want to keep the arrangement because it was good and pleasant for me and others. Possible solutions: steady, calloused hands and singed eyebrows; remaining where I am; patience enough to rebuild the fire after transplantation. The first and last seem most likely.

(1) Remember footnotes? This is one. See the corresponding "(1)" before reading this.
I usually get amused and warmed and consumed by the fire that is currently in my being. I forget to keep fueling it and get confuddled when it wanes or goes out. That, or I get bored with my little fire and start thinking that it isn't worth it.

If you've ever gotten good at something, particularly sports, or if you've ever loved roller coasters, you know that at some point the old stuff just doesn't cut it anymore. You've got to get better, to learn more tricks, more skillz yo, to ride something bigger faster higher and twistier to get the same awed joy sense you had at first.

The same with my fire. If I get bored with it, it's a sure sign that I need a bigger fire. Bigger fire, more fuel. More fuel, more of me I gotsta burn. And there's so much left of me.

So much that I haven't explored of myself, that I haven't had opportunity to see yet.
That day is coming.
I fear that it is here.

Elijah

2010-08-25T00:20:00.000-04:00

As per the tradition, which I love, on the Last Night of Summer each staffer (and video guy) gives one single word (or more. or wombo.) to each other staffer (and video guy).

As per the tradition, it was great and filling.

As per the unusual, I switched a couple of my words for the others at the very moment which I wrote them. One of these words was assigned to Jake, my brother in Christ. His word was changed to "Elijah." It was fitting, is fitting (and Spirit-led, as I later found out.) But as I keep seeing my list, and thinking about the words I gave the others, Elijah kept coming up. I realized that I knew very few details of his life, although I could tell you his character(istics) easily. That needed fixing. (As does my knowledge of many Bible things. Isaac is next, I think. I gave that one to Lanier.)

(I like parentheses a lot evidently.)

So. Here's a summary of what I learned:

he commanded no dew or rain until he said so
God told him to live beside a brook, from which he drank. And ravens brought him bread and meat every morning and evening
when the brook dried up, God convinced a poor widow woman with a son to provide for him

He did this by multiplying her sparse supply of flour and oil until the rains came

he revived her dead son
he was a very bold man, in his words to Ahab and Jezebel and to the people at large

one that convicted me: 1 Kings 18:21

called down fire on Mt. Carmel (duh)
he ran faster than Ahab and Jezebel rode in chariots to Jezreel
he ran for his life (or literally his 'soul'), away from Jezebel's threat

he wished for death

an angel of the Lord came to him twice and gave him food and drink "because the journey is too great" for him.

the second dose of this food gave him strength enough for 40 days and nights while he traveled to Horeb, the mountain of God

on this mountain, he experienced the Lord passing by

I love this passage- 1 Kings 19:11-12

Elisha was his servant/disciple/pseudo-descendant
Elijah was a true prophet of many things, like the death of Ahab, and remained bold in his speech
There are long periods where the Lord did not speak through/to Elijah, but may have used others such as Micaiah
he evidently made a habit of sitting on mountaintops in the presence of an angel of the Lord

In my head I see this as a reverse Transfiguration kind of thing, see Mark 9

he called down fire two more times, on two captains and their groups of fifty men each
he parted the waters of the Jordan with his mantle so that he and Elisha could walk across on dry ground
a chariot of fire and horses of fire went between he and Elisha, then he was caught up by a whirlwind to heaven

he WAS NOT taken up by the horses and chariot, just separated from Elisha. the whirlwind took him up

Elisha received a double portion of the Spirit that Elijah had. Elisha's life is interesting too.

The end.
Here are some pictures that I took that I like. Because photos are always a nice addition:

Numbered.

2010-08-23T00:59:00.000-04:00

My days are numbered small in this place.
Also, today was Day 10.
Of what?
You tell me:

Day 10 of non-camp life? Yes.
Day 10 of unwashed hair? Yes.
Day 10 of missing my dearest Look Up friends? Yes.
Day 10 of these New Shoes? Yes.

New Shoes

2010-08-19T00:47:00.000-04:00

I don't have new shoes.
I just lied to you.
But I am getting my Chacos fixed! No more peering between the footbed and sole!

I am walking in New Shoes though. Soon. Or now. I haven't really decided if I have Them on yet.

These Shoes are scarier, older, on-my-own-er, exciting-er, knowing-er, building-er, and pretty brand spanking new on these feet of mine. Over the past few weeks They have caused blisters, eruptions, and callouses; They have also felt more supportive and have that in-the-long-term healthy feel.

They are my Next Step Shoes. Or my New Life Shoes. I haven't decided that yet either.

They started slipping on about three weeks ago, when I had a conversation with my beloved brother Jamal about what being Christ-like looks like in a particular situation. A situation about which I had already broken down sobbing (yes. sobbing.) and through which the both of us went. I felt Unheard. Uncared For. Untrusted. Unrespected. Unknown. Unloved. Un-a-whole-lot-of-things that I felt entitled to. But Un-a-whole-lot-of-things that Jesus was entitled to much more than I and yet suffered through for longer, more intensely, and more unjustly than I.
Hebrews 12:3 "Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

As an unfortunate example of this situation, please view the beginning of this interview of the Pink Team. Oh, bad timing. I wish I could have seen my face when Kevin said, "So this is your 2nd year, right?" Ooooh, buddy. I wish you could have seen Ryan's face. He knew I was about to either go off or start bawling, or both. And I could have, so easily I could have. Goodness, I miss my adopted-in brother.

They slipped on significantly more as the end of the summer loomed. And then: Lies. A bunch of lies swarmed (and still do) my mind and heart. Lies such as:

"You WILL be alone. Emotionally and Spiritually alone, if not physically alone."
"You are not strong enough for this."
"God isn't going to take care of you."
"No one wants you."
"You will never make any progress or make a difference to anyone outside your little bubble."

I believe(d) those lies too often and too much. Any often and any much is too often and too much.
So I sobbed. A lot. And usually Jamal was there. But it had been too long and I have been too hard.
And I was (am) just scared. Terrified.
Dang that Fear.
Maybe it needs to be pushed through, not once-for-all conquered.
No, it should be conquered.
For me, right now, it will be pushed through.

Oh, And. I got the job!

What now?

2010-08-16T21:24:00.000-04:00

Today was the first day that I was truly on my own on camp. No summer staffers left.

I have never had such an odd feeling.

Of being alone but not really, of being a stranger but not really.

This will be my third night alone in Redwood. And yes, I lock myself in. Quickly.

Today I have not had a full verbal conversation with another human being since around 9:30 this morning when I came to the Lodge to see if I could stay one more night in Redwood. Other interactions have been:

"Yes, I'll be there at 8:30am for the interview."

"Can I have...?"

"Thank you."

And that's about it.

What a drastic shift from camp! My mind alternates from a mile a minute to absolute blank. I feel like I haven't had a conversation in weeks. It doesn't feel good, but I have yet to decide if it is good.

So, the interview. Listen to how God provided for me and glorified His Name:

Friday afternoon, I take Walter Howard's advice and just show up at Wilderness Way in Fair Play, SC. The director there sits down with me, briefly looks over my application while asking me some questions about myself. After about 15 minutes or so, he says that if they had a job opening he would without a doubt offer it to me. IF. But the job, every job was filled. My contact person there had not told me. The director said that he truly wished he had a job for me, because he wanted me to work there. He seemed sincere.

He was sincere. How do I know? He called around to four or five other places on my behalf, trying to find a job for me! He found one at the Tamassee Daughters of the American Revolution School. He must have given them a fantastic review of me, because they wanted me to come over immediately to fill out an application. So I did.

Listen to how God glorifies His Name:

After scanning over my application, the lady at DAR tells me that I would be great at this job, but she just wanted me to feel like I would be great at it. By this she means that I am coming in for a full interview so that I can learn more about their program-n-such. After this conversation, the CEO walks in and says to the lady that he's got a really good feeling about me already. That interview is at 8:30am tomorrow, which means leaving Look Up no later than 7:30am to get there. It's a beautiful drive.

It's a beautiful life.

It's a beautiful story.

He's a beautiful God.

I have so much to tell everyone about this summer. Oh. His. Goodness.

Taylor Swift

2010-05-09T00:37:00.000-04:00

I'm almost ashamed to admit that I don't mind Taylor Swift's music. It's catchy, not gross, cute.

But that's not what I'm about to talk about.

I'm about to tell you a Love Story (hence the Taylor Swift reference).

And surprisingly, this Love Story involves me. But it's not centered on me.

It's about God, His Spirit, and His powerful heart.

But it's not the gospel, per se.

Well, hmmm...where to begin...
The beginning! Yes, that's where.
I had a dream (not like Martin Luther King Jr.).

In this dream, me and a guy I've known for nigh on 3 years were sitting in the Vines Center waiting for the rest of our friends with house church to get there. Now, I have no romantic feelings toward this guy at all. AT ALL. In fact, I often feel like I'm with a puppy that hasn't been house trained when I'm around him.
Well, in this dream we were sitting right by each other, and I leaned my head over onto his shoulder and reached down and grabbed his hand. We looked at each other, with very confused but happy faces, and then I woke up.
My first reaction: What the heck!?!?! Where did THAT come from? Then I just dismissed it and went back to sleep. The dream was unusually clear, and it was both logical and I remembered it. Usually those dreams that I remember aren't logical. I should have guessed that something was up.

But I didn't and went about my business. Until a couple of days later when I was praying. God kept bringing the dream and the boy up during prayer. I was VERY confused and asked God repeatedly what He meant by it. I didn't get a conclusive answer, but I had my house church and a few friends pray about it.
In my mind, I figured God meant to say one of two things. Either: #1-This WILL happen so...get used to it or, #2-I've been teaching you about surrender. If I asked you to do that, even though you desperately don't want to, would you? I know that your romantic life is something you hold dearly close to you...
I've come to this conclusion: God was saying, "I'm asking you to do this, to actively surrender this HUGE thing to me, but I want you to know that I am not forcing you to do it. I want you to willingly give up this part of your life to me. Let me write this story. Trust me. Trust that it will end up for good."
To which I said, "But God, I don't see him like that. I don't trust him with me or my heart. How can I do that?!? If you want me to do this, I will. But I need You to change my heart toward him, and help him to mature. I don't want to feel like I have to take care of him or be embarrassed by him."
I prayed this repeatedly. REPEATEDLY.

Recently he came to visit for a weekend and came to house church. I was praying exactly what Jesus was in the Garden, pleading with God that if there was any other way in which He could be glorified just as much that He'd have me do that instead. Fervently I prayed this. To my memory more fervently than I've ever prayed anything. And nothing happened that night. But I could sense God saying, "Hey, there are other ways to accomplish what I want to accomplish. But this is a really great lesson for you. Stick it out with me for a bit more."

Dang it.
So I kept praying. and praying. and wanting to run away and telling God to leave me alone. and apologizing and asking Him to come back. and feeling silly because I knew He had never left.

I prayed for clarity. God told me to wait. and wait. and wait.
And He gave me this verse: Isaiah 54:4 "Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood."

Dang it. Again.
I prayed for clarity and for courage. God told me to wait. and wait. and wait.
And He has given me eyes to see. A heart of courage.
And a heart of understanding how glory could come of this.
And that SCARES me. Oh man, this is the point where I go back and forth between trust and...not trust, between surrendering and holding on.

As of right now, it is my conviction that what I have just described was a large growth session with Jesus. He wanted me to know that He's got me, to trust Him no matter what He asks me to do. And for me to see that I would (eventually) live out my belief in this and do what He asked. And for me to see that He can change my heart about people and situations. That the Spirit really can empower me to do anything.

Whoa. That's one heck of a story, and it hasn't even settled in my mind yet that it happened to me.

I love stories.

Lakia.

2010-05-04T01:13:00.000-04:00

Remember my last post?
Yeah well, it's not far from here so get familiar.

This happened today at my internship:
(me sitting in the classroom with 13 year old Lakia, helping her with homework)
::the beginning of the normal phase of random questions::
-Lakia-"You got a boyfrien' Staysee?"
-Stacy-"Nah, Lakia, I don't."
-L-"You gon' git marrie' one day?"
-S-"Maybe. Don't know yet."
-L-"You shou'. You too pretty ta not have a boyfrien' uh husban' one day."
-S-"Awww. Thanks Lakia. That really means a lot to me."
(and it did).
-L-"Miz Staysee, can I come to yo' weddin'?"
-S-"Lakia, if I get married, and if I can find you, you have a definite invite to my wedding."
-L-"You know my las' name?"
-S-"Yup. Mull."
-L-"Alright now. Don' forget."
-S-"I won't Lakia. I'll remember."
(and I will).

Thank you Lakia.
And you, Jesus.

Mirrors

2010-05-01T23:01:00.002-04:00

When I live in a house that's not my mom's or a dorm or the Cliffs I don't think I'm going to have mirrors in it.

Or maybe just one. With limited, morning-time viewing time. Then it'll be covered up.

This might just be something girls do. But that I am, so this I do:
I'll spend my day (some days) feeling pretty good about myself and how I look. I feel confident, healthy.
Good. (a word that is now cheapened. we'll talk about that later)
But then.
I'll walk into a bathroom, or past a window, or need to go through a glass door (even though I'm not green.)
And I'll see my reflection. I'll see me. Instead of my idea of me.
And most days, that confidence, healthiness, goodness evaporates.
I think "Man, I don't remember me lookin' like that." And sigh.

So, I will not have excessive mirrors in my house in an effort to avoid those times.

Because it is much easier to deal with that than to deal with learning how beautiful I am to God.
Than learning how my heart's beauty matters much more than my body's beauty.

(this one is hard because my heart doesn't feel too beautiful sometimes)

Distinct[extinct]

2010-04-25T23:48:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I had the grand opportunity to go down to Look Up for Summer 2010 Orientation Weekend.

This summer: is going to suck; is going to be full of God doing INsane things; is going to be worth it.
We all feel it. God's got something planned and I'm scared and excited and more scared.

Last weekend I also had the grand opportunity to spend some time with a dearly loved friend, Torrye Hart. On our way back to Look Up from Radius and dinner, we had a really kickin' conversation that I would like to continue because our dilemma wasn't resolved.

We both work (and want to work) in fields that require people with good hearts, immense patience, compassion, and a genuine care for others. But. They're not dust-collectors. They don't follow the Christ.

But they are better at following His lifestyle than most believers. They love, give, care, trust, and live.

How do we make ourselves distinctive? How do we let our love show that we are disciples of Christ when our love looks like their love, and it's not a bad thing?

In my generation, Love is god. I have fallen victim to this myself, especially concerning the idea of community. Community is necessary, but not sufficient. Humanitarian Love is necessary, but not sufficient. We have our priorities backwards: God is Love.

What do we do with verses like this?:
If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him. (1 John 4:15-17)

I don't know what to do about this, or if I should do something about it. But I will say that if we do not figure a way to make our love distinct, it will become extinct. (Sorry about the rhyme. It just happened. Sorry LU students for sounding like Dwayne Carson.) It will become obsolete.

How do we spread the need for redemption among a people who are redeeming themselves? How do we point out the sin-ishness of life and the need for Jesus without sounding like arrogant, hell-fire and brimstone preachers?

Now you see our dilemma.

Out of Town

2010-04-01T23:59:00.001-04:00

This is an update about my counseling: It hasn't happened yet.
It was supposed to start last Monday.
I went into the Student Care Office.
They told me that the lady I had an appointment with was currently out of town.
Okay. Thanks for telling me. And thanks for scheduling me to meet with her today (the day after Easter, when I am at home).

Frustration. Yet Relief.
Honestly, God has done such a work in me lately that I'm not absolutely sure if I need to go anymore, especially since I have new friends at Rend to commune with, but there's this vague sense in my heart that says that where I am now is on top of an emotional mountain.

But I don't know if it's a real mountain or not. I'm not sure if I'm really free, or perhaps the sun and warmth has relieved some sadness which will just return with the winter, or perhaps I'm just reveling in the slice of freedom God's given me and has so much more to uncover and redeem.

My gut goes with the last two. Shoot.

Well, Pam Tanner, along with the Spirit inside me, I need you to pull junk out of me that I don't know is there. I want to be really free, and KNOW it.

REALLY KNOW IT.

And see God every day. In the every day.
And to not feel this lurking, smirking depression in my stomach anymore. (that's where I see it).
And to be me again. The me to whom Christ has given victory, joy, and beauty.
Oh, Beauty.

To be intentional about looking for His hand.
(To be intentional about knowing Him)
(To be intentional about loving Him)

Intentionality has been a theme lately. I think that's my word right now. Intentional.

But the grace of God and hope in Him is greatly into the process of releasing me from the chains of fear and the thought patterns of my avoidant relationship style. Woohoo!

That's my little slice of freedom, and daggum, is it sweet!

Intern(ment)

2010-03-28T18:13:00.002-04:00

I love my internship. Except for the hypervigilant and somewhat paranoid supervisor of me.

But I love it. I love the kids, and the idea of an after-school program.
So, here they are. Here are (some) of the kids that have changed me significantly.

I help kids with their homework for an hour, then play with them/monitor them for the next two hours. Except for Fridays. Fridays are Fun Fridays. Fun=No Homework.

And so it begins

2010-03-25T01:29:00.000-04:00

Intake Assessment.
8am.
(way too early)
(and I'm up way too late for that)
The first step.
This counselor's about to get counseled.
(yikes.)

Spirit of Fear, you will not control me...much

2010-03-24T01:15:00.000-04:00

Maybe you don't know this. I do my best to hide it.
I guess if you've read very much about me you probably do though.

I get scared a lot. A LOT.

But fear is not my Lord. Not anymore. Well, not as much.

I have been afraid to cry (because I am vain and I think I look really gross when I cry).
I have been afraid to be angry (because I know my potential to cause pain in others).
I have been afraid to be honest (because I don't want to be left alone).
I have been afraid to be alone, and of being left alone (because I don't think anyone would really love or even like me if they really knew me).
I have been afraid to be really known (because all I know of myself is the flesh-failure side).

And I have been afraid to seek counseling (because I am pompous and felt like I knew what the counselor would tell me anyway). Well, afraid or not, I'm doing it. Right?...yes. Yes I am.

Because some things I need help with. Sorry Independence, looks like you're independent now. It's a bittersweet parting. Bitter because getting help means being known, which means maybe being left alone, which means anger and honesty and crying. Sweet because relief, life, and restoration will (hopefully) come.

Jesus is my mostly Lord now. I want him to be my always Lord. Instead of Fear.

I miss freedom and life. Fear restrains and drains. I'm just skin and bones now but I'm fixing to let God put the meat back on.

So. Student Care office, here I come. Please don't meet my cynical expectations.
(shoot, there's that fear again.)

Here's what my hair looks like from the back. Be warned. It's crazy.

98 Degrees

2010-03-18T00:15:00.000-04:00

Yes, the band. I loved them (maybe I still do), and they had a song called "The Hardest Thing".

Yesterday I did one of the hardest things I've ever done. And for part of it I felt like I was lying (because I wanted to be lying).

I wrote a letter to my mom explaining all of the things that God showed me about our relationship last Thursday night. I cried pretty much the whole time I was writing it. First on my computer, then by hand. I was up until 4 am writing, and I was exhausted, but relieved to have it out.

I'm really nervous about how she took it. I left it near her work stuff for her to read today sometime, but she didn't say anything about it this afternoon. Neither did I. It was a little awkward (and I don't like using that word). I didn't talk with her about it because I knew I'd start crying and not be able to get everything out that I needed to get out.

I just hope she didn't take it as an insult or me being selfish.

Last Thursday I went to Rend, a small student-led prayer thing at Liberty, based on Isaiah 64:1

"Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you!"

Instant community. Instant sense of the Spirit. I knew that I was supposed to be there. I know that I will be going back. I met a few people, two of whom stayed with me until God rent my heart and drew out everything. Well, most everything. One of those people has kept me accountable over break to do the things I said I would do. Awesome. She is lovely.

Update on the dreads? Might as well...They're still there! Frizzy, messy...most of them are lockin' up nicely, but some are loose as regular hair. Those will soon be covered with hemp. Add some color anyway. I've just about given up on having neat dreads, at least for a long time. I just didn't put in the initial work needed to accomplish that. So, eventually they will shape up, after my hair gets longer and the lengths even out.

Update on other things: I'm going to Look Up this weekend (woohoo!) with some girls from my home church (Good Shepherd Baptist) who were dying to go down there for a visit. I surprised them with the fact that, yeah, I could probably set that up for them. They are so excited, so very very very excited.

I am too.

Ella

2010-03-04T23:28:00.000-05:00

Somehow or other I forgot to tell you about this wonderful lady I met a couple weeks ago.

Her name is Ella. And she shines.

I met her while I was volunteering at Amazement Square. This place is so fun. Indoor zip line. Glass walls where painting is encouraged. Slides. Fun educational exhibits, and more. Wonderful.

Ella was a vendor during a women's event being held there. She was offering discounts on tickets to musical and operas. She was dressed in a classy long black dress, wide red belt, red 1950s era hat, and red lipstick.

She stopped me to talk to me about my hair. She asked how old I was, and after having found out, she told me a story. A short summary, but a story. She said that when she was my age, she took a bus to Juneau, Alaska, hitchhiked another 500 miles into Alaska, lived in a tent, and worked at a fish cannery. I had no doubt that it was true.

All that, just to tell me: "And I braided all my hair and put beads in it. Enjoy it while it lasts."
There was a light about her, and come to find out, she's a believer. Oh for joy!

She is now 35. She made such an impression on me, just in that 10 minute conversation about freedom and adventure and beaded hair. She said that things for her had changed, but the same spirit and the same Spirit was still there.

Lord, let that be true in my life. Keep your Spirit vibrant and free-flowing into my life.

I hope I see her again. I want to hear the whole story.

One word.

2010-03-02T23:29:00.000-05:00

And that one word for me last week was my name. Stacy. Not "you" or "hey" or "dreads" or "white girl."

That one word came from the mouth of one of the girls at my internship. She is habitually critical, mean, and sarcastic and bluntly so. (I am two of those, but less blunt about it. Usually.)

That one word means that I have established a relationship with her. That she comes up to me and starts conversations. Asks me to hold things for her. Help her with her homework. Listens to me most of the time if I ask her to do something.

That one word spoken became a moment of joy and exhilaration for me that has carried over for the rest of the week. And this week. I see a marked change in her toward me.

Now I'm concentrating on her and another girl who is much like her, only with documented behavioral problems. She's starting to come around. Both of these girls are very influential with their peers.

Hopefully pictures of the kids at (and more info about) my internship, which I adore, will be coming soon. I don't know why I haven't written about it already.

Also, I started a Flickr account. I don't really know why. It's another one of those "well, why not?" moments in my life. Here 'tis: stacy-face. A lot of these pictures are on my Facebook, but some aren't.

1 Thessalonians 5:14 {And we urge you, brothers, warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone.}

'Splain Yo'self

2010-02-28T22:51:00.001-05:00

I realized the other day that I never did tell y'all where the title of my blog came from.

(Don't pick at me about my grammar-n-such. I don't have to be formal here, and I'ma be informal whenever I can)

The title comes from a combination of two different songs. You guys know how I love music that makes my heart soar or smile. These songs do just that.

The first, The Ascent by The Classic Crime, has no lyrics. It's just an instrumental piece, and it is beautiful. Not calm-beautiful. Heart-flying beautiful. And I like the name of it, it's very fitting.

The second, Sun in an Empty Room by The Weakerthans, is more chill, has lyrics, and just sounds happy. It's not really a happy song, but it has so many great lines, creative lines that it endears itself to me.

Lines like: "now that the furniture's returning to its Goodwill home"; "take this moment to decide if we meant it, if we tried, or felt around for far too much, for things that accidentally touch"; "parallelograms of light on walls that we repainted white"; "take 8 minutes and divide, by 90 million lonely miles".

The second one gets me. I do that all the time, reading too much into things.

The actual web address comes from a song by The Fold, called New City. For me, it's about how I don't want to stay where I am. Sometimes I mean geographical, most of the time I mean mentally/spiritually. It's not okay for me to stagnate and get cold.

I also love the line in that song that says: "midnight is where the day begins, get up and get over it. The darker the berry, the sweeter is the wine." That's just good. Good. I like metaphors and similes and analogies. Probably because they create a better story, and I love stories.

SIMWs #8

2010-02-04T23:34:00.002-05:00

While walking to the Rot during yet another powdery snowfest, I realized that the footprints in the newly settled snow looked way too much like what a detective would love to find. I started humming the Pink Panther theme song.

While looking at some pictures a friend was tagged in on Facebook, I decided that at some point in the (hopefully) near future I want to make a mug in the shape of a giant tobacco pipe.

While looking out my dorm window, I saw that the snow dinosaur has been melted somewhat, and now looks more like the Loch Ness Monster, lawn-dragon form.

While eating various things, I remembered how I usually like to eat food small pieces at a time. In theory, this helps me eat slower, allowing my stomach to realize it's full, thus I eat only the appropriate amount. I ate some crispy noodle things one at a time. I ate some cheerios by first stringing them on a paperclip. Inevitably though, I get tired of doing this and just grab a handful of whatever-it-is and chomp away.

Hair Raising

2010-02-01T22:28:00.000-05:00

Well. I now have dreadlocks. They are immature (a.k.a. young) so they're messy and funky-looking. I think that's pretty fitting considering whose head they're on. I did them by myself last night. Total work time: 10 hours.

There's something more to be said about that. "I did them by myself..."

I found out recently through a book I have to read for my Psychology of Relationship class that I have an avoidant relationship style. [Side note: The class is super cheesy and talks about marriage and parenting a lot, to the exclusion of friendships. The books seem to be pretty legit so far though. 'Course I've only finished one.] This means that I believe that I am worthy of love and I want relational connection, but others are not trustworthy enough to provide that. So, I rely on myself and have the attitude of "Fine, I don't need you. I'll do it myself."

I can definitely see this in me. As soon as I read the description (before I took the little quiz thing) I knew, and was pretty upset. My mom even tells stories of me saying "I do it myself" when I was little. I even saw this happening last summer when my AP and I weren't getting along. I knew it was my fault we weren't, but now I KNOW.

The description also says that those with avoidant styles can be conceited (I have long struggled with pride) and they always want to be in control. Of their surroundings. Of their lives. Of their emotions. It has been only since...recently...that I have really just let go of my emotions and just felt what I feel. Which is probably why I cry so easily now. God has always taken the control out of my hands, shown especially by His pushing me to Liberty. He knew I wouldn't give it up without a fight.

To fill the relational void, avoidants often pursue other things: success, money, sex, drugs, etc. This explains my "intrinsic motivation" that helped me do so well in school. Fortunately God saw fit the place in me the love of learning and the family/friends I have so that I didn't fall into the other paths, though they would have served the same purpose.

I am prone to idealizing my parents, depression, anxiety, worry, angry resentment toward God, and my relationship style is the perfect set up for addictive behavior. Crazy. I have been or done all of these, some recently. (Don't tell me psychology isn't a real science.)

I'm learning to revamp my style, yo. I read the chapter about how to start changing it, and I'm trying to implement the stuff I read. Please pray. I don't know what to ask you to pray for, but it's much appreciated. I've already had the chance to practice. Yesterday when my friend backed out of helping me with my dreads, I really struggled with the thought "See, other people aren't reliable. Do it yourself, always." I have to remind myself that I'm not reliable either. I guess I hurt for Jesus to come back in part because I know (sometimes only hope) that He is reliable, since in reality no one else is.

SIMWs #7

2010-01-30T17:53:00.000-05:00

While walking down my hall to my room after walking in, say about...7-8 inches of soft wonderful powdery snow to my dorm, I passed a notice that told me that Liberty University's year-round ski slope is closed....due to the snow. Awesome.

SIMWs #6

2010-01-24T00:12:00.001-05:00

While stickin' it to the man by skirting around the new "you can't hang things from your ceiling because it's a fire hazard" rule, I ran some wire back and forth right underneath the ceiling and hooked it on Command hooks.

While sleeping on the third or fourth night after doing the above, one of the wires dislodged itself from the hooks and almost scared the Jesus out of me. One poster, one photograph of LUL girl staffers, 6 strips of bandanna, 4 strings of glow-in-the-dark yarn, and one origami elephant crashed down on me. And stayed there for the rest of the night.

While reading a card from a dear, dear friend, I discovered that this dear friend had written me a check for $400. To pay for school. I thanked God for you before, beloved one, but now my whole family does. I still can't believe it.

Oh, precious is the flow
That washed me white as snow
No other fount I know
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

bEinG CHildLiKe Isn'T eaSy.

2010-01-23T23:38:00.000-05:00

Kids don't always have fun.
Sometimes they get scared easier than other kids.
Sometimes adults don't understand them and they don't understand adults.
Sometimes they just want to be held.
Sometimes they just want to run over an open field or along a trail until they get so tired they just collapse.
Sometimes they get sad because, well, things are hard and they can't do it yet.

Kids have it better than adults.

Sometimes they can dream better, and bigger, and remember their dreams even after someone tries to wake them up.
Sometimes they can hope beyond possibility because they don't know the "limits of reality" like adults do.
Sometimes they can just be silly because it's fun.
Sometimes they like to talk a lot, to listen to stories and tell stories. Even if the stories don't exist in the eyes of adults.

I just cried again. I'm a big baby. I know it. I'm only kind of okay with it. (and making fun of me might honestly make me cry again)

I watched Where The Wild Things Are a few minutes ago. The movie itself I didn't fully understand, but I put myself into Max and Carroll and the goat character, and KW. Like them (as you all fully know) I just want things to be happy like they are supposed to be. So much of the movie was about being misunderstood and searching for acceptance and love. One of the last scenes is Max leaving the Wild Things on their island, leaving them to remember their experience and try to get along on their own again. Kind of a Jesus-Ascension story, minus the Holy Spirit coming later. The Wild Things are howling sorrowfully and Max is headed home. One of the Wild Things, one who didn't say anything the whole film, asks Max to say good things of them when he gets home.

That doesn't really explain why I would cry. I put on some music right after the movie ended. First Song: The Scientist by Coldplay. Normally I love anything Coldplay. This was unfortunate though, since the lyrics say:
Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh take me back to the start
They just kind of fit right into my thoughts. That still doesn't explain why I would cry.

I cried because I'm childlike, a kid in my heart and hopes and dreams. Tonight I'm that kid who doesn't always have fun, because I am also that kid who has it better than adults.

I'm ready for our Jesus to come back. I'm ready to be a full-fledged kid again.

'Scuse me. I need my Jesus.

Wisdom's Words of Wonder (and other words that start with W)

2009-12-27T01:58:00.001-05:00

Proverbs 8:30-31
"Then I {wisdom} was the craftsman at his side. I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind."

I want this back.

Wisdom speaks of being a creator, of being delighted, of rejoicing.

God showed this verse to me just now. I love that God describes what we usually see as a very stern, dry, ugh-do-I-have-to? thing like wisdom is such free, spontaneous, youthful words.

Filled with delight day after day.
Rejoicing always in his presence.
I would like to be and do that. The first is the hardest for me.

I love that God uses the word "whole." Rejoicing in his WHOLE world. That word has such an impact on me because it does not simply mean 'all-encompassing' but also 'complete' or 'full.' God gives me words for different parts of my life, especially in the past few years. First freedom, then glorious, then humility, then hope, then family, and now complete or whole.

I said that I want proverbs 8:30-31 back because this world is no longer whole but is broken. I have a friend that doesn't believe that humans are made in the image of God any more, but in their own image. I disagree. Yeah, genesis says that Adam's children were made in his image, but Adam was made in God's image. So, Adam's children are made in his image, but Adam's image is simply a broken image of God. A reflection is a reflection, whether clear or muddled.

In other news, I get to see my Look Up family next week. Some of them anyway. To Highlands, North Carolina (home of Lanier Ward, Jake and Nathan Heffington, and Eric Knapp: the hometown of the arguably most hilarious people in the world, except for Walter Howard, the Keigley family, and Sydney Brown) I go!

In moreother news, my cousins remembered me at our Christmas get-together. God provided someone for me to talk to concerning my struggles detailed in my last post. I have not much time until I move back to Liberty for my camping ministry class, which is scaring me a little ever since I looked at the syllabus. BUT! It'll be grand. Swell, even. Because my God has my back.

Psalm 32: 7
"You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance. Selah."

Breakdown! Breakdown, oohh [part II]

2009-12-20T01:05:00.008-05:00

I'm a bit late in posting this, I know. I'm sorry.

But look what happened in the meantime!!!
That's 15 inches of snow in less than 24 hours!!! I played in it today. I could fall anywhere and not hurt myself. It was awesome, in the true sense of the word. I was in awe of the beauty (and surprising almost-warmth) of today.
I threw myself on the ground about 5-6 times, shoveled about half the snow you see there onto the stairs you see, then went around the other side and climbed up the "mountain," getting stuck many times. When I got stuck I started laughing, sat down right where I was with my legs fully enveloped in snow. The family came out to see what the heck I was doing/if I was alright. Good times.

Anyway, the snow is NOT what this post is supposed to be about. It's supposed to be about something much more personal.

Isaiah 54:1 "Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband," says the LORD.

This verse was originally about the nation Israel. I'm pretty sure (I have corroborating evidence) that my Father wants it to apply to me as well. Which is super hard for me, who, to be completely open, would love to someday have a husband. And the point at which God choose to give this verse to me just kills me with its ambiguity.

So He gave me that verse over the summer, and again a couple days ago. So what's the big deal, right? I saw a verse a couple times. I've also seen the "cut off your right hand" verse several times, but I'm not doing that! Well....then there's Matthew 19. Jesus is talking with some Pharisees and his disciples about marriage and divorce. Here's the kicker in context, verses 9-12:

"I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital unfaithfulness, and marries another woman commits adultery."

The disciples said to him, "If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry."

Jesus replied, "Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given. For some are eunuchs because they were born that way; others were made that way by men; and others have renounced marriagebecause of the kingdom of heaven. The one who can accept this should accept it."

Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given....The one who can accept this should accept it.

I think I can accept it. I think He has given it to me (via Isaiah 54:1). Crap.

Sometimes I wish I didn't listen to Him when He says things to me. Or that I didn't really mean it when I said I would give anything to see His Kingdom come to the this kingdom in this life. Or that He hadn't started to show me that He is my only Desire, my Delight, and by getting married I would be sacrificing some of that for a human, a delightful worthy-of-desire human of course, but still a human, and it would be settling (see Rachael's SWEET post on settling). Or that I didn't know the extent of my stubbornness and what some call flightiness.

But I do, I did, and He did. So now what? I'm gonna be single for the rest of my foreseeable days.

That scares me. I don't want to be alone. I want family, community, welcome, and admittedly, a sense of safety and security. Intentional community à la Shane Claiborne here I come!

So I will be returning to the center of GET MARRIED NOW! and YOU MUST FIND A MATE! aka Liberty University in January. Yay. At least I have my (less than) two months to mourn before then, like the daughter of Jephthah in Judges 11, who roams the hills for two months to mourn that she will never marry before her father sacrifices her. A really unusually story in the Bible, but it works here. I am sacrificing a part of my would-be life.

Only my friends are in relationships/getting married/planning their weddings that are YEARS away.

I know He will work in mighty ways, ways that I can't even imagine (and I can imagine A LOT) through this, but it still scares the living daylights out of me, saddens me greatly, and strangely, gives me freedom and hope.

I just hope I'm not alone in this, that I'll find a mentor or a woman my age that has decided the same thing, for the same reasons, and is committed to not fostering a sense of loss because of it.

Because I have not lost anything. (Though to be honest, I'm not really sure yet what I've gained).

Breakdown! Breakdown, oohh [part I]

2009-12-18T15:37:00.002-05:00

If you love Relient K as much as I do, you'd know that the title of this entry comes from a song of similar name off the album Anatomy Of The Tongue In Cheek, which was a good'un. Back in the day. Well, back in 2001.

My yesterday was the day of breakdowns. Just one actually. Sorry, I like exaggeration.

Yesterday was my first full day at home for Christmas break. I caught up on sleep, chilled with my brother at the house, went out with my family for dinner, then hung out with Lori and Sonia (yes, the 3 Amigas, or Stooges, are together again for a time).

The breakdown happened between being at the house and having dinner out with the family.

I had found an old pocket-sized Bible in a drawer in our kitchen. I knew no one used it, so I wanted to see what version it was and I wanted to keep it in my Look Up-given fanny pack/bag/thing I use as my carryall because I really hate purses. I flipped it open thinking, "yeah, I go to Liberty, I can tell what version it is within a few words!" {that was only partly true, my friends sometimes expect me to be smarter than they are with Bible stuff just because I go to LU. Odd thing is...sometimes I am. LU influence is yet to be determined.}

So I open it. And where else does it land but on Isaiah 54:1. God sent this verse to me at a very critical point of my summer (some at LU and at home know the full, maybe-prophecy, story), and I told no one there. Isaiah 54:1 says, "Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband," says the LORD. Crap. I'll explain more about this verse and things relating to it in the next post, because this one'd be REALLY long if I included it here.

I then went to deposit my "hey, I sold all my books back" money, plus some savings bonds we had found in my name, into the bank to pay for next semester. Here's where it starts. The savings bonds I won in middle school/family members from my dad's side had given to me when I was little, on the bond itself, said $500 and two $50 respectively. So, I'm thinking-and was told in middle school-that they would be worth $600 total and I'm going to deposit about $800 into my account, including my book money. That still leaves me with about $300 that neither me nor my family can provide to pay for next semester, but it's a lot better than the $500 we started with.

I get to the bank, and I live in a very small town, so I got some funny looks because they didn't recognize me (I haven't been inside this bank in over 2 years). They deal with the bonds first. I get my receipt. Only $384 and some change was put in. I stood there shocked while they deposited the book money, then asked them why there was a difference.

Evidently the bonds aren't worth what they say they're worth until they accrue the full interest on the purchase amount, which is only HALF of what the paper says. That's so stupid!!! I was so angry, infuriated actually, because I'm right back where I started. I still had $500 to spring out of nowhere, since no one will hire me for a month, and my middle school straight up LIED to me, a 6th grader, when they said I had won $500 for my essay.

I hate being lied to. HATE IT. Probably because I struggle with lying myself (aka exaggerations...). And I had expected to be so much closer to paying for my last semester. And I knew my mom would want to absorb the extra cost, because she's my mom and that's what she does. But she can't now.

So here I go, driving up Christiansburg mountain to meet my mom and brother, all enraged, then I start crying. Shoot. I knew I would too. My mom got out of her car, and I out of mine, and she just let me cry. She knew that the lost money was not the only reason I was crying. I told her that I just really hate having to put pressure on her to keep providing for her 20-year-old daughter. That I hate being a burden to her.

Then she started crying, which makes me cry more. She told me, I will never forget this, that a little after my dad died (when I was 2 and my brother a newborn) people told her how hard she would have it being a single mom with two young kids. She said she chose to have us, and that not one day of her life had she regretted having us. She said that we were what kept her going most days. So I cried more, of course. Almost crying again now.

And then we went to dinner.
And then I hung out with my co-conspirators.
And then I came home and realized again how hard it is going to be to leave my mom.
And then....I realized that I had some begging to do of the AmeriCorps people because my mom, as dear to me as she is, did not see the deadline posted on some information sent to my house. I missed it by a few days because I was at school still. I have called and sent emails, so hopefully I hear back from them soon about my options now.

I'll post part II here soon, maybe later tonight.

SIMWs #5

2009-12-11T02:45:00.000-05:00

While writing a paper and yes, listening to Christian gangsta rap, I realized that I am still in Demoss. Demoss is not my dorm. It's currently 2:44 am. I have never been outside of my dorm at this time of night before now. Wooo...finals week and extended C-Lab hours..

Wait..you're family?

2009-11-26T23:05:00.002-05:00

I'm at home. Well, with family. Well, with blood-kin.

But my 4 year old cousins, one doesn't know my name and the other didn't know who I was, though she was quite friendly anyhow.

That's a little hard to take, especially since names, like stories, are really important to me. (By the way, if you want to call me by a nickname, "Stace" is my favorite. Like Stacy, without the "E" sound. Second best, "Stacy-face.") I don't want to but I think I have to get used to that, at least some. Since I'll be at school for one more semester, in South Carolina during the summer, and in California for 10 months after that with AmeriCorps.

Jesus said in Luke 14:26 "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple."

That sucks. Because I love my mom, my brother, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents, and my cousins to pieces. And I'm being drawn to places where they are not. And it's hard to love someone you haven't SEEN more than those you can hug, run with, skip with, color with, get food and drink for, and make up stories about a bird and two spiders in a birdbath with.

I guess that's why Jesus also says in Matthew 25:40 "The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of thesebrothers of mine, you did for me.'" To me this means that everytime I hug, run with, skip with, color with, get food and drink for, and make up stories about a bird and two spiders in a birdbath with those cousins of mine (two 4 year olds, a 10 year old, and an almost 14 year old), I'm really doing all those things with Jesus.

Awesome.

And I can tell.

It's really those times when I'm with people who feel the same pain I do (go here for a definition of that people) and when I'm around kids and pre-teens and teens that I really sense Jesus, that I really know God. That's why I'm so relaxed when I should be frickin' out this semester, usually. My Father has blessed me in the past couple of weeks to be able to play with kids a few times; He knew that's what I needed most.

But it's still going to be EXTREMELY hard for me to up and leave my family for long periods of time, especially my mom. (I'm even getting a little choked up about it now.) BUT GOD. He's worth it, and I will spend eternity with Him, and with my mom, who will then be able to do the things she loves all the time and her beauty will shine more than it does even now. Dang it tears, go away...

<< Jesus come soon >>

SIMWs #4

2009-11-16T00:55:00.000-05:00

While eating some Cinnamon Teddy Grahams, I got to the bottom of the box and saw the tens of tiny little bear feet and some ears. I think next time I get Teddy Grahams I will patch up the broken bones/cartilage before I crunch them.

While buying said Teddy Grahams, I reduced my meal point account down to 39 cents. Sad? Yes. Until you realize that 39 cents is just enough to buy a cookie.

While doing an immense amount of griping to my friend, I turned to Facebook. I watched the video of Andrew Black stuffing a syrup-and-butter-laden pancake into the pocket of his overalls. No more griping.

Oh, and that gum is still on my wall...

More Phil that Fills...

2009-11-16T00:47:00.002-05:00

Yes yes, beloved, more Phil Wickham is on the way! I have recently fallen for his music, Jimmy Needham, and renewed my love for The Glorious Unseen.

This song is called "Heaven Song." mmmmm....

You wrote a letter and You signed Your name
I read every word of it page by page
You said that You'd be coming, coming for me soon
Oh my God I'll be ready for You

'Cause I wanna run on greener pastures
I wanna dance on higher hills
I wanna drink from sweeter waters
In the misty morning chill
And my soul is getting restless
For the place where I belong
I can't wait to join the angels and sing
My heaven song

I hear Your voice and I catch my breath
"Well done my child, enter in and rest"
As tears of joy roll down my cheek
Oh, it's beautiful beyond my wildest dreams

Oh, 'cause I wanna run on greener pastures
I wanna dance on higher hills
I wanna drink from sweeter waters
In the misty morning chill
And my soul is getting restless
For the place where I belong
And I can't wait to join the angels and sing
No I can't wait to join the angels and sing
My heaven song

My gosh how good is that. You should, almost need, to go listen to it.

He forgot kayaking though. We will kayak and hike in the new creation. (I know.)

I can't wait to see Jesus. To meet my Father. To finally feel, actually FEEL His arms around me, holding me like I've been begging Him to do for so long. Just holding me until it's all gone, all the hurt, doubt, pain, fear, loneliness, and whatever else is just...gone...forever.

My God I want that so badly. Jesus come soon! My heart yearns to be with You. This earth hurts souls that were meant to exist in joy and glory and bliss and love and beauty. You.

God sustains me. He's the only way I'm still alive, physically, emotionally, mentally. And what parts of me are dead or dying, He is reviving. That's a little scary, because I'm crazy inside.

That's why I'm so eternally grateful for those souls I meet that hurt as I do, for the same reasons, and acknowledge those reasons. That's why I'm so eternally grateful for those souls that know hope lies only in God, in Christ, and in the restoration He brings. That's why I'm so eternally grateful for those souls who are willing to incur even more hurt by striving to bring the Kingdom here through peace, love, joy, hope, and Christ.

They know, as I know, that LIFE is not on this version of earth anymore, except that which God brings. And God brings it, boy does He bring it. But He brings it through us, His portion.

And so to Jes, Jon, Ruth, Emily, Amanda, Jaime, Kevin, Stephen, Lauren Brewer, Laura, Nate, Matt, Jamal, Stuart, Kevin, Lacey, Rachael, Riley, Ruth Ann, Anna Beth, Lauren Pilcher, Tjader, and anyone else I may have forgotten but whose soul resonates with this...Thanks for hurting with me.

It will be worth it. Because they're worth it. BECAUSE HE'S WORTH IT.

O, for a thousand tongues to sing!

2009-11-13T17:46:00.003-05:00

I love Phil Wickham's music. His song "Beautiful" just came on. Here are the lyrics:

I see Your face in every sunrise
The colors of the morning are inside Your eyes
The world awakens in the light of the day
I look up to the sky and say
You're beautiful

I see Your power in the moonlit night
Where planets are in motion and galaxies are bright
We are amazed in the light of the stars
It's all proclaiming who you are
You're beautiful

I see you there hanging on a tree
You bled and then you died and then you rose again for me
Now you are sitting on Your heavenly throne
Soon we will be coming home
You're beautiful

When we arrive at eternity's shore
Where death is just a memory and tears are no more
We'll enter in as the wedding bells ring
Your bride will come together and we'll sing
You're beautiful

I see Your face, I see Your face, I see Your face
You're beautiful, You're beautiful, You're beautiful

That's all I need when I lose track of where I am and where I'm going. Right there.
That's when I know that my God is good, that He is powerful, and that He is beautiful. That's why I struggle so much when I'm not outside in places where His creation is so overwhelming. That's why I struggle when His beauty is not displayed in the faces of the people around me, even though they claim Him.

And I'm no better than they. I am so judgmental. Just because I have the gift (sometimes it's a burden) of being able to imagine a much better world of love, peace, and beauty, and knowledge doesn't mean I have the right to be angry with (or pity) those who don't. I just wish they could see as I do. It's a beautiful sight, even when it makes my heart cry that it's not what I see when I open my eyes.

I don't want to start a fight, or an argument, or an emotional discussion. I want people to understand that every human has a soul. And every soul is a creation of the Father. And that Father hurts for those who don't know that He is their father. And these fatherless don't deserve our anger, our weapons, our hurtful glances and words, our apathy, our selfishness, our blame, or our criticism.

Not from us, who were once them. Who were once deserving (and still are) of the total wrath of God, just as they are. How quickly we forget from whence we came.

Such wrath they will endure if we do not reach out and pull them from danger. In order to pull someone from danger into safety, you have to go into, or at least near, the danger yourself. But what are we afraid of? No one can harm us. They can take our comfortable, opulent lifestyles; they can take our rights; they can take our Bibles; they can take our houses; they can even take our lives (but not our SOULS). But isn't it worth it!?!?! Aren't they worth it?

I think so. Call me liberal. Call me stupid, ignorant, idealistic. I don't care.

Because if you do, you would probably call Jesus that too.

I'm free, but not dangerous

2009-11-03T21:24:00.000-05:00

I'm a pretty scary person sometimes.
That's a lie.
I'm never scary.
I'm an average height-ed, blond-ish, middle-weight-ed, 20 year old Caucasian girl from a very small town in southwest Virginia. Nothing about me is threatening. I don't even like guns (I couldn't make myself shoot one when I had the opportunity a couple weeks ago).

But sometimes people are afraid of my dreams. My hopes scare them. (Sorry Mom, I know I scare you too often. I love you.)

Today, under the guidance of Phil Joel's deliberatePeople study, I read this: "Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit."

I took it out of context, obviously, but it hit me like crazy anyway. You know I've been dealing with not wanting this:

and instead wanting this:

Well, dear ones, please trust that wherever my heart and passions may be there also is my Father, who is the Protector of the fatherless, and a Provider to the widow. You should know which of those I am. You don't really know me until you know my story (and I don't know you until I know yours so please tell me. I LOVE STORIES!)

Am I afraid? Yes, I tell God that almost everyday, and I usually cry when I do because I know I shouldn't be but it still hurts to not KNOW. I don't understand why He trusts me with stuff, any stuff at all. I'm still afraid of being alone, really alone. Of not being understood by family (whether Jesus-blood or human-blood). Of being forgotten and left behind.

BUT GOD....has shown Himself faithful to me and mine in the past...has given me the fire and willingness to suffer for Love as He did...has died and raised Himself back to life to give me LIFE and so I don't HAVE to be afraid. I wish I could listen to my own self sometimes, because I scare myself sometimes. And Eleanor Roosevelt told me to do something everyday that scares me.

I rode a horse for the first time today. Thanks, Rocky, for not throwing me off.

Just throw a wrench at my heart, why doncha?

2009-10-28T17:47:00.003-04:00

I love that kind of music that has an effect on your soul before you even hear a word. I just found a new band that does that to me...He is We. Oh so good.
This week I realized why this semester has been so hard socially for me. My friends and I are growing in different directions. The majority of them want the American dream, they support military action to keep or engender peace, and they want a job and house of their own in a quiet safe neighborhood. I want adventure, not stress. Interdependence, not independence. I want risk and not safety so that God can show himself. I want simple, but not boring. I want love and not war.

I know it sounds like I'm glamorizing my point of view, and some part of me is, but at the same time I know that I was not made for normal. I am quirky, unusual, and stubborn. I'm really struggling because I talk to my friends about my dreams and get some considerate replies that come wrapped in disbelieving or disapproving facial expressions. I love my friends and they love me, but they don't understand me. I hate that. Really hate it. Thank God I do have a few friends here that understand, but those friends are the very ones that I see and hang out with via planning every two weeks or so.

I long for community and faith and love and concern and openness and whole conversations about the wonder that is our God. I want to look at nature and say "Oh God, look what You've made! You are so beautiful" and that not be unusual to hear.

Lord Jesus come soon.

That's when all this will happen for sure and for ever. But I'd like to start living like it is already here! Is that so bad?

SIMWs #3

2009-10-18T21:23:00.000-04:00

While talking to one of my roommates, she told me that she had a conversation earlier with a mutual friend of ours about my extroversion, general craziness, and specifically how I enjoy mismatching my clothes. She told him how one day I had to quick change shirts before I left the dorm because I matched too much. It's a true story.

SIMWs #2

2009-10-15T01:20:00.000-04:00

SIMWs....Sim-dubs....Smiles in my Whiles...

I like that.

While avoiding homework, I took it upon myself to look around my room. My piece of gum is still on the wall.

While doing homework, I listen to Christian gangsta rap. And dance in my seat. Because both my roommates are asleep. And neither of them dance...or seem to ever cut loose and just be free...

(that one was a smile and a 'hmph'. sorry)

While preparing to stay up very late tonight to do work (son!), I went to the Keyhole to get coffee and stay-awake snacks. The cashier girl is starting to recognize me as "the girl I always give free coffee to."

Smiles in my Whiles #1

2009-10-13T00:33:00.000-04:00

A lot of things have happened that made me smile.

While I was packing to come back to Liberty I forgot my hairbrush. Finger-comb it is then.

While trying to drink my coffee before tiredness set in, I burnt my tongue fiercely last night. I succeeded in my venture nevertheless and was up until about 3am doing homework that wasn't done over break.

While currently sitting on my bed, I look to my right. I see the piece of gum that I stuck to the wall after it got stale. That thumb-punch to the wall happened last week.

Hopefully more to come.

Ninth.

2009-10-03T22:35:00.001-04:00

I saw the most beautiful thing today.

I wish I had my camera with me at the time so I could show you. But I'll tell you as best I can.

I worked at One Body In Christ Horse Ministries today, like I do every Saturday. Today, though, was different. Today was the annual Fall Festival. Yard sale, petting zoo, grillin' and chillin' in the riding ring with turkeys, miniature horses, goats, rabbits, a lamb, and a VERY pregnant donkey. Corral rides on the big horses for the short people, and trail rides on the big horses for the tall people. Kids were chasing, catching, and petting the turkeys and wishing the mini horses weren't feeling grumpy and lazy today. It was sunny, breezy, and only a few wispy cirrus clouds in the sky. Families were coming and going here and there. I was able to hang out with and talk to people I didn't know, people I do know, and people I now know. Perfection. LIFE.

As glorious and reflective of Christ as this was, it is not what I wanted to tell you. My beautiful sight was of an elderly woman. She walked using a walker. She breathed with a nebulizer at her side. She was wrinkled. She was white-haired. She was weathered. She was beautiful.

She had her daughter carry a folding chair into the riding ring for her. She sat in it for a while, but soon got on her knees on the dusty ground with her face in the seat of the chair. I wasn't sure what she was doing until I walked by her. This lady was praying fervently and nearly silently for the success of OBIC's ministry and for the souls of people. She had her eyes closed and her brow was more wrinkled than usual with intensity and earnestness.

This was that beautiful scene I wish I could have taken a picture of.
But then...her daughter came over and told her that it was not good for her knees or her lungs to be on the ground. She told her that people were looking at her. She made her mother get back up into the chair, but soon enough, she was right back down. This happened a few times before I was transferred to the corral rides.

Maybe sometimes what is "good" for us is not what we need, not what is "best" for us.
Maybe sometimes propriety should take a backseat to authenticity.
Maybe sometimes I wish I understood how to more thoroughly apply this to my own life.

I hope to be as fervent in my faith as this beautiful daughter of the Beautiful Father was.

Eighth.

2009-09-22T00:54:00.000-04:00

I drank my first full cup of actual, not mocha or latte, coffee about 2 hours ago. It was semi-enjoyable. I pansied it up first with creamer and sugar.

Now I'm wide awake, but I can feel the fakeness of it. And the crash is looming ahead of me.

Sometimes I think that my bunk bed is kinda like those Blob things they have at some camps. You know the things that you put one person on the far end, just sitting there. Then someone else (preferably a large someone else) jumps on the opposite end catapulting the other. My bed is like that. That 'someone else' is my alarm. I'm sleeping comfortably...then all of a sudden I'm thrown into a panic by a loud BEEHHHHH sound that scares me half to death every time. And daggum that water's cold.

Listen to how God blessed me this weekend/for the rest of the year: I'm not volunteering at the girls' home like I did last year because there was only one of the seven-ish girls there that I bonded with. I didn't feel like God was calling me back there, so I now work at this outdoor, horse farm, ministry place. It's really cool. I get to be outside, be with animals and kids all at once. And guess who also volunteers there every other Saturday with her mom? Yeah, sure as anything, it's that one girl, Payton is her name. I was blown away.

I love how powerful and just great my God is.

Seventh.

2009-09-17T16:46:00.000-04:00

I like when the things I learn in class apply to real life.
Psychological Principle: Visual recognition depends on stored knowledge.

Yesterday as I was leaving Demoss (an academic building/home of the library at LU) I passed a guy who was really frightened of something. I asked him if he was okay...his response was to point at the ground and say, "Is that a grasshopper?"
It was NOT a grasshopper. It was indeed...a praying mantis. It was about 5 inches long and walking.
I almost laughed at him. He asked if they jump, fly, or bite. I answered his questions. He asked what a grasshopper was, if that wasn't one. I explained as best I could. (how do you explain a grasshopper?)

I could not imagine someone not knowing what a grasshopper was. Really? You mistake a praying mantis for a grasshopper? I guess he hadn't seen either one of those before. That's sad.

But what was encouraging is the fact that he was presented with the choice of destroying the unknown scary creature or gaining knowledge about it, and he chose to let it live and explore it.

Good for you, brother. I'm proud of you.

Sixth.

2009-09-09T22:23:00.000-04:00

Well, hello.

This situation reminds me of those phone calls you get and give to friends you used to talk to all the time, got separated, then decided you should probably check and catch up with. It's awkward. It's not that you don't have anything to say. It's quite the opposite. You have so much to say, and so much has happened that you just don't know where to start. My problem is deciding what's important to tell. I know what mattered to me, but what does this person have time to hear and interest in hearing? It's unfortunate, this thing called time.

So, now that we've established the awkward factor, we can move on. I'll tell you as much as my computer's battery allows me to. (There's something flying in my dorm room. I have no idea what it is. It might be my hope. No, it's a gnat. I should probably get that fruit out of here...)

I worked at Look Up again this summer (ALOHA!!!!) and it was fantastic and freakishly hard this year. I was surrounded by superb people and a constant nagging that I am the most arrogant, selfish, conceited, and cruel person on the face of the earth. God, man, He to' me up this summer. Or rather, burned me down like the gates of Jerusalem. He flipped some switches, put light into some corners, and reminded me of some stuff I put under that rug (I still don't know if it's Persian, so don't ask). He conveyed His immense love to me through those around me, and through one song in particular...John Mark McMillan's "How He Loves". Look it up. It'll be worth your while. Gosh I love that song.

My Father also reoriented my hope center. It's now in the restoration, the completion of our salvation and the redemption of all Creation. He has given me a book to read, Shane Claiborne's "The Irresistible Revolution" which has given me hope for living like the Kingdom's already here and doing what the Church is supposed to do. Man, I am so ready for that. (Lauren Brewer, we will do this.)

I am struggling, though, with waiting for my Father to move in certain areas that He's shown me He will move in, and wishing that every follower of the Way would actually follow the Way. We had a discussion in a class today about how many pairs of shoes we have (don't ask me why. I already need to have a talk about wise use of time with that professor). Most of the girls had more than 10 pairs of shoes. Do you need that many? No. No you don't. There are people in the Lynchburg community who can't afford one pair. You have 30. They have none. It was funny (and frustrating) to hear the shame in their voices and the excuses they used to validate their indulgence.

They know they are being wasteful. They know it's entirely silly to have that many shoes. But, we're in America. And that's what we do. We acknowledge how insanely overkill our expenditures are and do nothing to correct them. That's why poverty still exists. The Church isn't doing Its job. And I see it everyday in the superfluous entities that are Liberty University and Thomas Road Baptist Church.

Also, I broke up with the world. It's Facebook official.

My battery's dying (in more than one context)...

Fifth

2009-05-02T15:51:00.007-04:00

The lack of text colour options makes me sad, and indecisive.
I have no idea why I started to write this post to be honest with you. I know that I have 5, maybe 6, exams within the next 4 days. I know that I have a Psychological Evaluation to write up before Monday. I know that I might have caused myself to have to repeat a class. I know that one of my roommates just walked in the room. The first thing she says: "I had a caterpillar. His name was Julio." Evidently she found him on her way back from her fiance's dorm, and now he's on a tree next to our dorm (quite the migration for a caterpillar, mind you.)

I know that I overdrew my checking account by about $200 dollars. Choo no wat? Gas be 'spensive, yo! I didn't realize to what extent until I counted up how much I had traveled in the last month or so, and paying for all the gas on my own: 2 trips to Look Up, 1 trip to the Busch in Williamsburg, 1 trip home, and 1 trip to Washington, DC. Shoot man, I lived in my car every weekend.

I know that I have 2 weeks until I move into the Cliffs at Look Up for the summer!!! I can't believe God has blessed me with the opportunity to work with amazing staffers and kids/teens again this summer. I really, really don't deserve one bit of the chance to do this or the praise for whatever comes from it. That's all to God, and for God. He's just granted me the ability to do it. Oh man, I can't wait! ANDuhh...My summer roommate is Sydney Brown, who is super great. I love her, and I've met her once.

And now, back to studying, because I do have 2 or 3 exams on Monday and 3 more on Wednesday...and I'm watching Hitch tonight no matter what.

Fourth.

2009-04-04T01:50:00.003-04:00

You've fasted now for about 2 days. My congratulations, although a select few of you cheated I know. I do after all, have friends. With whom I conversate. About life, sometimes.

It's way early in the morning/late at night. Me and my roommate Katie are passing a book back and forth, reading the same sections, one right after the other. Why are we doing this? Because we're cats who are slowly edging towards the last of our, well..my, 6th life. And all because of a book by Kevin Roose called "The Unlikely Disciple." So far, so good. Really good. It's about this guy, if you don't already know, who came to Liberty from Brown University as a sort of spy. He pretended to be an evangelical Christian to fit in as best he could, and wrote a book about his experiences at Liberty, a school that he thought was Jerry Falwell's version of a terrorist training camp. I recommend it. Up to this point at least, but I've heard good things about the rest as well.

I love Liberty. As much as I complain about it, it does have a way of endearing itself to me, with its quirks (to which I relate), with its oddities (the same), with its sense of unity and community (which I cherish), and with its reputation (the good parts I'll keep, the bad I'll try to disprove).

I'm starting to think that maybe God put me here for other people. Being at Liberty has taught me some things, none that I can really put my finger on right now (granted it is 2am) but I have been told by several people that I have had some sort of effect on their lives. That is both extremely encouraging and frightening to me. How great is my Creator that He can still use this mussed up whatever I am to affect my brothers and sisters, and future siblings, in a powerful way? I can't comprehend it. [Jon Styer, if you read this you should know that I held off some sarcasm right here. You're welcome. And no worries, it wasn't aimed at you.]

And once again, I must leave you to yourselves. It's my turn to read.

Third.

2009-04-02T00:34:00.003-04:00

This week has been crazy. Creation Studies exam today. Philosophy (from now on to be known as Philawful, not because it's hard but because in most cases it's impractical) exam today. Presentation on Sexual Disorders and Dysfunctions in Abnormal Psychology today (which was really loads of fun, not kidding. A guy in my group...let's just say he accurately portrayed a person with a transvestic fetishism). Psychological Assessment and Measurement exam tomorrow. And the retardo class tomorrow morning. Love the material, the prof should go back to being a 3rd grade teacher fo' sho'.
-I like the autosave feature. It's neat.-
Stephen Baldwin was less than 500 feet from me. Mike Huckabee too. At the same time. Ron friggin' Luce spoke in convo this morning. (Please feel free to interpret that "friggin'" however you like.) Tonight at campus church a metal band played that I've never heard of (Dogs Of Pray?).
Liberty University is so unique.
Coffeehouse was Friday, and AMAZING. So funny, so talented. Look up some videos on Youtube. And go to www.justinkintzelproductions.com and hilarity will ensue if you watch the LUPD (Liberty University Police Department) videos and the Good, Bad, and The Ugly bloopers. I definitely have a new LU celeb crush: oh yes, Justin Kintzel. And no, Katie, he is not short. He's an inch or two taller than me, which is fine because I pretty much never wear shoes, much less high heels.
The celeb/stranger crush is my favorite. You know, sometimes you just have these people in mind and you think, "Hey, they seem cool." And you've heard them speak and seen them around and heard things about them. It's not a serious crush or interest, just an admiration I guess. But this could just be me. Be honest though. It's not just me, especially not at Liberty.
I've told you almost nothing of substance, which just means I'll be back soon because I can't let you starve. Just fast for a while. I should do something with my life, sorry. Take this opportunity to realize just how good a steak would be right now...

Second.

2009-02-20T19:49:00.004-05:00

I didn't completely forget about this thing. I did forget the password (no worries, I set it this time so my computer remembers it for me). It's been not quite a month since my last post. I think this is going pretty well so far.

What can I tell you that will hold your attention? Maybe that I've decided to not care how professional (or not) my eventual career looks on paper? Or that I'm not doing the wisest thing (through practical eyes) about my graduate school decision? Fine. I'll start with those.

Side note: I hate that when you push tab, even in a text box, it moves the cursor to the next text box. Why shouldn't it just tab like a normal document? Oh, the extravagantly simple things that bug us nowadays.

I'ma try to get into Clemson University for graduate school (cheers all 'round, except from my mom). BUT, not into a residential program. I would if they offer this major residentially, but they don't, so I'm not. It's an online Master's in Youth Development Leadership. I looked up the courses for it (all 36 credit hours worth) and fell in love with the idea. I'm fairly certain I popped my hip out of joint I fell so hard. The classes are about the very things I'm passionate about: how to help teenagers make better decisions, how to help them grow up healthy, even how to write grant proposals to be able to fund programs. Perfect. Only it's not 'practical' because even though it's through Clemson, some employers still don't like the online part. And all I really want to do as a career is hang out with teens and pre-teens. If I can get paid for that, it's even better. A camp or group home atmosphere would be ideal, and this degree would be beneficial in either of those fields, neither of which appears 'professional.' I've been warned against this course of action by one of my favorite professors, but he's not me, though I admire his intelligence and heart very much.

[Special thanks to Jes Billet for waking me up to what I had given up on during a one-hour happen-stance conversation in the Tilley Center last week. She and I have the same heart for teens-n-such. She's wonderful. Know her if you can.]

Any other news? I finally got those Chaco's. Never fear Teva dears, you will still be worn on occasion. Probably in the mud though. I'm currently stretched to a 12 gauge earring and will go up to a 10 next month. My phone is dying and alerting me of this every 5 minutes. I have 2 weeks until Spring Break (whose only benefits are the opportunity to read a book/write a report and work on the blanket I've been crocheting for months now. And the possibility of seeing Anna Beth, whom I will live with should I get into Clemson).

All these pictures you see in my posts and my background, God has blessed me with the equipment and ability to take. I hope you like them. I do. PSYC 430 with Dr. Scott is possibly the most chill class to have ever existed. Just so you know. You're welcome. Have a good day, loves. Because for once, I've had a good week.

First

2009-02-01T20:21:00.004-05:00

I don’t really know why I started this blog. I’ve done this before: found someone else’s, said “Hey, that sounds like a good idea! Why don’t I start one?”, started one, then fade out quickly into oblivion, leaving my faithful and eager readers dying to know what the next chapter in my life holds. Okay, so maybe the last part isn’t quite true. I fail. Not epic fail, but just fail. Too many things have become ‘epic’ or ‘awesome,’ but that’s another blog (that I’m going to skimp out on probably).
Right now I’m enjoying some swing music, wishing there were a swing outside my dorm I could sit in, or perhaps a hammock. It is warm today; even this chill-getter could wear her Teva’s comfortably. (I’m desperately trying to find some cheap Chaco’s but don’t tell them that.) But again, that’s not the point I’m trying to make.
I hate it when the obvious strikes me, especially when it strikes me through music that is cleverly using a cliche to eat at my soul. The Wedding (my new favorite band) has a CD out called ‘Polarity’ on which there’s a song called ‘This One’s for You’ in which there’s a line that says, “You gotta get, get over yourself a little to see the grass is green.” I hate that. But I love it. They make it work somehow, and it stuck in my head for days, until God accomplished through it what He had intended to. He cut with that rusty old cliche to my heart (it may well be infected now) and told me to (wo)man up.
I’ve been just sitting here complaining, not outrightly, but in my head(heart) about Liberty University and how I don’t really want to be here, or really be anywhere but with those few people I love dearly and understand from where my passions come because they have them too. I’ve also got it set in my head that I deserve to be somewhere academically better than LU. This is the first semester that I will be challenged to any great extent (assuming this semester does challenge me) and that frustrates me, since I’m a junior. The biggest fight I’ve fought while here at LU hasn’t been in the classroom, it’s been in my heart, against bitterness and pride. That’s why the song ate/is eating at me. Because even though it’s winter in Virginia, the grass is green, and has been for quite some time.
Life doesn’t suck for me. That’s a blessing. I will get out of undergrad school with less than $20,000 of debt. That’s a blessing, considering the alternatives and my family’s finances as well as mine personally. I have a 4.0 GPA. That’s a blessing. I was able to live a dream last summer (as cheesy and childlike as that sounds). That’s a blessing. I ate lunch and dinner today. That’s a double blessing. I was able to take a shower today. That’s a double blessing too (for me, and those around me). I know how to read and write. I have a car. I lack nothing that I absolutely need, and have more than I need. People are out there that love me even through my stupid pride and blindness, which led me to tell you about that GPA up there. I have potential still to be found and filled. I know what love is, in all its forms (maybe not fully in motherhood or romance, but I’ve at least tasted those). I can see color, smell smells, taste tastes, hear sounds, feel feelings, and touch things. I am at perhaps one of the most unique accredited universities in the world (which might be why God put me here). I learn from world-famous professors. I am graduating from LU May 2010, finishing in 3 years. I have the ability to dream/hope/plan/listen/follow/run/think/smile/dance/jump/roll down hills/climb on roofs/make messes...And all these things are blessings from my Adonai.
Here’s the thing. My pride gets in the way of all this. Notice how I kept saying “I...”? Yeah, that should say, “God has given me..” But it doesn’t. That’s really the one characteristic that I cannot keep a handle on. Pride. I wish I could shoot it in the R. (I think that would correlate to its jugular).
Everything is good here. Could it be better? Shoot cheah it could. But it could be crazy times worse, so I will thank God for what He has given me and move on, hopefully leaving Stacy Grump McGrumpy behind. (yeah I’m lame, wat y’ gon’ do ‘bout it, son?) Yeah, I just went there. And I’m staying. [Dag, she means business yo]

This is starting to get ridiculous so I’ma head out. Also, if this went any longer, no one would read it, assuming you’re not caught up in the hype about A.D.D. and haven’t stopped reading already. [This one thing I will not give up yet: my critical attitude toward ADD and ADHD, not just yet. Not without more conclusive research on upbringing styles and media influences.]