Loud Laude

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.

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.

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):

1. chipped fingernail polish
2. composition notebooks
3. bare feet
4. showers
5. handicap toilet stalls (because the door swings out, not in)
6. the southern twang
7. saying movie or any other “mo” word (because evidently I say it oddly)
8. laughing
9. stories
10. rides in any sort of vehicle
11. birds (including chickens and ducks)
12. farm animals
13. history
14. the number 2
15. trees
16. footprints
17. warm snow days
18. waking up rested
19. tan lines
20. scars
21. anything that glows in the dark
22. cereals hot or cold
23. the idea of theming a camp after a hallucinogen (which I did when I designed my own program)
24. the french language
25. big cats
26. wolves
27. the bible
28. music
29. writing
30. making posters
31. my art tub
32. being and getting messy
33. eating
34. reading
35. sports
36. card games
37. building blocks
38. little kids
39. big kids
40. bigger kids (adults)
41. slides
42. grey hair
43. spelling things with the british spelling
44. pictures
45. dreadlocks
46. not matching clothes
47. meeting people who know people you know
48. meeting people who know where you live/work
49. jesus
50. clocks
51. keys
52. bugs
53. blankets
54. psychology
55. anatomy
56. microscopes
57. learning
58. walking
59. playing
60. being sore
61. smelling things
62. swing sets
63. trying food you didn’t like before in order to see if you like it now
64. string jewelry
65. bread
66. picture IDs
67. water guns
68. geography
69. road trips
70. asking why not
71. filling in gaps
72. blogs
73. conversations
74. tye-dye
75. free stuff (especially food)
76. t-shirts
77. ice cream
78. milkshakes
79. gym shorts
80. jigsaw puzzles
81. being loud
82. water
83. dancing
84. watching other people be talented
85. coming up with new ways to say old phrases
86. surprises

And Dogwood trees and their flowers.

 

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

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

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.

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

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.