Now don't think that this will be all knowledgeable on any accounts, or that this is the only post on this subject that I will ever write (namely guys and romance in general). But I've been shown a lot of cool things the last few days and things only get better when written down (or so it seems to be the case for me).
I read this quote on FB today:
"A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ that a man should have to seek HIM first to find her."
I just thought about how amazing that would be. To have done that so that the one who finds me would have to dig, to work, to pursue... in order to find me.
I don't intend on being an easy catch. No way, Hosea. I want some dirt on his hands for sure.
But I have to work hard to make it that hard. How do I become the woman the man I dream about will want to marry? I don't know. But I will find out!
Friday, September 30
Servanthood
SO much to write about from these past two days. Such good things learned and yet, the same fear that I will forget and slip back into thinking and acting like I did before. Only slightly reminiscent to my post-Camp blogs, huh?
I've always heard about servant leading. The whole "washing the feet" ideal and concept. But this weekend, it was explained to me in a totally different way.
I've always prided myself on my academic accomplishments and how much I can achieve because of my brain. That's ultimately where my identity comes from when I allow myself to speak truthfully. Secondly, there would be the visage of a "good Christian" and "someone who always does the right thing." Thirdly, my musical abilities.
So now that all my dirty laundry is aired, the message that the speaker spoke comes in. What he said really changed my whole perspective on how this concept works. What he talked about what my identity being a servant. Not in doing service, but as a servant. A servant playing many different roles in varying environments, but a servant none the less.
We all want to be great. To be noticed. To be accomplished. To be significant, really. But the world's definition of significance is wrapped up in wealth, popularity and looks. In Christ, significance is equal to suffering and servanthood. We should want to be significant, but in a different way. Instead, in a way that makes an impact for Christ. In a way that changes and leaves an impression. One that will really last... for all of eternity.
Instead of figuring out what I'm good at, I need to be willing to tell myself that I am gifted at whatever creates a positive impact in others, even if it means failing by the world's or my personal standards.
Coming back to academics, I think that I have been gifted in that area, but at this moment I'm using it to glorify self and no one else. Instead, I need to be able to do my best at it simply because I am a servant. Nothing else. Just a servant. That is my only identity.
And that identity changes the question "should I serve?" (with an answer of always) to the question "how can I serve?". It answers the question "who should I serve?" with anyone and everyone. And finally, it answers the question "why should I serve?" with because I am stewarding what God has given me for the glory of others.
This leads me to ask you three questions, if you have slogged through all of the above up until this point.
1. What environment has God placed me in to live out my identity as a servant?
2. What person is He asking me to serve better?
3. What gifts as He given me that I need to steward better?
What are your answers?
I've always heard about servant leading. The whole "washing the feet" ideal and concept. But this weekend, it was explained to me in a totally different way.
I've always prided myself on my academic accomplishments and how much I can achieve because of my brain. That's ultimately where my identity comes from when I allow myself to speak truthfully. Secondly, there would be the visage of a "good Christian" and "someone who always does the right thing." Thirdly, my musical abilities.
So now that all my dirty laundry is aired, the message that the speaker spoke comes in. What he said really changed my whole perspective on how this concept works. What he talked about what my identity being a servant. Not in doing service, but as a servant. A servant playing many different roles in varying environments, but a servant none the less.
We all want to be great. To be noticed. To be accomplished. To be significant, really. But the world's definition of significance is wrapped up in wealth, popularity and looks. In Christ, significance is equal to suffering and servanthood. We should want to be significant, but in a different way. Instead, in a way that makes an impact for Christ. In a way that changes and leaves an impression. One that will really last... for all of eternity.
Instead of figuring out what I'm good at, I need to be willing to tell myself that I am gifted at whatever creates a positive impact in others, even if it means failing by the world's or my personal standards.
Coming back to academics, I think that I have been gifted in that area, but at this moment I'm using it to glorify self and no one else. Instead, I need to be able to do my best at it simply because I am a servant. Nothing else. Just a servant. That is my only identity.
And that identity changes the question "should I serve?" (with an answer of always) to the question "how can I serve?". It answers the question "who should I serve?" with anyone and everyone. And finally, it answers the question "why should I serve?" with because I am stewarding what God has given me for the glory of others.
This leads me to ask you three questions, if you have slogged through all of the above up until this point.
1. What environment has God placed me in to live out my identity as a servant?
2. What person is He asking me to serve better?
3. What gifts as He given me that I need to steward better?
What are your answers?
Finding Myself
It's one thing to know who you are, and quite another to have you tell you what you are while looking eye to eye. The crazy thing is when they match perfectly.
Having seen myself from someone else's perspective, having heard about how I've hidden behind being Ms. Perfect and holding to my parent's standards as my security (Mom and Dad... no worries!), and how only now am I breaking free and smiling more freely, I begin to think. I begin to realize how I don't really hide my heart as well as I thought. How it really is out there on my sleeve for all to see, by whether I'm smiling and being interactive. But that's good. Good to be transparent, good to allow for help.
I have worn a mask, but not unintentionally and not intentionally either. It's one of those things that situations force on you. When J was so sick, I began to morph. I began to become the one that hid, the one that comforted, the one that silently led. This isn't totally out of my actual personality, but I also became Ms. Perfect so that there was no more reasons to cause my parents to worry. They already had enough to worry about, and I wanted to help out in any way that I could, which, in this instance, included secluding myself. Because she was so time consuming, I stayed at home so that they never had to worry about where I was. Because they were concerned about her schooling, I got As. Because they were busy with getting her ready/surviving, I helped out my younger siblings.
I don't blame them, the situation, J, or anybody. It's just what happened. And it became who I was. I pushed myself into that form and didn't allow myself to come out. I was secure as long as I had my parent's approval and high marks.
Now, J's been off medications for over 6 months and I can breathe. Not that I ever felt any pressure before. This is so hard to explain. I'm alright with everything that happened. I'm not angry! But I'm just saying that I realize that I have hidden behind some masks, just as everyone does during their lives.
Now, and only now, do I feel secure in other things. In my friends, in spontaneity, in lower marks (okay... still working on that one!), in loving and allowing God to work in my life. I'm coming through that brick wall, and I'm so excited to see what will happen! I want to know what I will be like now, how I will react to situations, what I will still fear, what I will enjoy more, what I will be!
I do also wonder, though, what I would've been like, barring that situation from happening. Yes, I am who I am genetically, but I am who I am through situations. How much am I formed because of my environment instead of who I was created to be? And yet, didn't He create me not only to be myself, but to respond in these ways to these situations? How much is good and how much bad? What do I change and what do I allow?
Confusing, and yet just joyful musings. I don't feel that I hide behind a mask that is solid, but sometimes I do hide behind one slightly muted in colour during times when I want to impress, when I want to make a point, when I am put in front of people, etc. I still hide. I do. But how can I use that to further find myself, the one that He has created for His joy and glory? That is the question.
Having seen myself from someone else's perspective, having heard about how I've hidden behind being Ms. Perfect and holding to my parent's standards as my security (Mom and Dad... no worries!), and how only now am I breaking free and smiling more freely, I begin to think. I begin to realize how I don't really hide my heart as well as I thought. How it really is out there on my sleeve for all to see, by whether I'm smiling and being interactive. But that's good. Good to be transparent, good to allow for help.
I have worn a mask, but not unintentionally and not intentionally either. It's one of those things that situations force on you. When J was so sick, I began to morph. I began to become the one that hid, the one that comforted, the one that silently led. This isn't totally out of my actual personality, but I also became Ms. Perfect so that there was no more reasons to cause my parents to worry. They already had enough to worry about, and I wanted to help out in any way that I could, which, in this instance, included secluding myself. Because she was so time consuming, I stayed at home so that they never had to worry about where I was. Because they were concerned about her schooling, I got As. Because they were busy with getting her ready/surviving, I helped out my younger siblings.
I don't blame them, the situation, J, or anybody. It's just what happened. And it became who I was. I pushed myself into that form and didn't allow myself to come out. I was secure as long as I had my parent's approval and high marks.
Now, J's been off medications for over 6 months and I can breathe. Not that I ever felt any pressure before. This is so hard to explain. I'm alright with everything that happened. I'm not angry! But I'm just saying that I realize that I have hidden behind some masks, just as everyone does during their lives.
Now, and only now, do I feel secure in other things. In my friends, in spontaneity, in lower marks (okay... still working on that one!), in loving and allowing God to work in my life. I'm coming through that brick wall, and I'm so excited to see what will happen! I want to know what I will be like now, how I will react to situations, what I will still fear, what I will enjoy more, what I will be!
I do also wonder, though, what I would've been like, barring that situation from happening. Yes, I am who I am genetically, but I am who I am through situations. How much am I formed because of my environment instead of who I was created to be? And yet, didn't He create me not only to be myself, but to respond in these ways to these situations? How much is good and how much bad? What do I change and what do I allow?
Confusing, and yet just joyful musings. I don't feel that I hide behind a mask that is solid, but sometimes I do hide behind one slightly muted in colour during times when I want to impress, when I want to make a point, when I am put in front of people, etc. I still hide. I do. But how can I use that to further find myself, the one that He has created for His joy and glory? That is the question.
Sunrise Painter
In my journal this morning:
"I am not often in awe of you. I brand You as mine and do not realize how presumptuous that sounds in the face of the knowledge that at this moment, the only reason that I am breathing is because of You. You're God! You can do anything anywhere that you could want to. But You care about our little planet - You care about the fragile beings that You created. You're extraordinary and good! You're for me and not against me. I have no fear because I know that I will have the victory in the end. Through You, and not of myself. This sunrise is amazing, and You didn't have to make it, but You did. For our mutual pleasures..."
I expect much from Him, and give barely anything. I get and I do not give. But as I was surrounded by this conference lifestyle and when I saw another friend doing devotions, I decided to take the time, not expecting much because of the recent desert phase. But as I sat there and was just thinking, talking, praying... I heard these girls talking. "Did you see that sunrise?" "It's absolutely incredible!" "Come take a look!"
I didn't get up and take a look, but I could see through the furry tips of the evergreen trees, the mutating colours that changed from orange to red to pink to light. And as I saw this progression, I just thought. Our speaker had been talking about how insignificant we really are, and that's something I struggled with (although, doesn't every human being?). I want to be in charge, I want to use God as my play thing because it's way easier than thinking that right now, I am only alive because He wishes me to.
And at that moment, I just sat there and realized it. Understood it, took it in, and just breathed. I realized that as He had lovingly chosen the colours and applied them to the dark canvas of the night, He had known not only the amazing sensation that it would cause to the viewer, but also the message that it would teach me. He is everything. Awesome, amazing, powerful, everywhere, everything, Creator, Sustainer, Provider, and every other word to describe good. It was as if I was just sitting there dumbfounded, not wanting to move from this realization because it degraded me as a sinner and human being, but lifted me up because I knew that He loved me and was on my side.
Then I opened my Bible to Psalms, and took a look at the one where the bookmark was placed. If you have the time, please read this while picturing every description in your mind and just with a praiseful heart. It was Psalm 29:
1 Honor the Lord, you heavenly beings[a];
honor the Lord for his glory and strength.
2 Honor the Lord for the glory of his name.
Worship the Lord in the splendor of his holiness.
3 The voice of the Lord echoes above the sea.
The God of glory thunders.
The Lord thunders over the mighty sea.
4 The voice of the Lord is powerful;
the voice of the Lord is majestic.
5 The voice of the Lord splits the mighty cedars;
the Lord shatters the cedars of Lebanon.
6 He makes Lebanon’s mountains skip like a calf;
he makes Mount Hermon[b] leap like a young wild ox.
7 The voice of the Lord strikes
with bolts of lightning.
8 The voice of the Lord makes the barren wilderness quake;
the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.
9 The voice of the Lord twists mighty oaks[c]
and strips the forests bare.
In his Temple everyone shouts, “Glory!”
10 The Lord rules over the floodwaters.
The Lord reigns as king forever.
11 The Lord gives his people strength.
The Lord blesses them with peace.
Doesn't that just amaze you? He is truly the Sunrise Painter!
"I am not often in awe of you. I brand You as mine and do not realize how presumptuous that sounds in the face of the knowledge that at this moment, the only reason that I am breathing is because of You. You're God! You can do anything anywhere that you could want to. But You care about our little planet - You care about the fragile beings that You created. You're extraordinary and good! You're for me and not against me. I have no fear because I know that I will have the victory in the end. Through You, and not of myself. This sunrise is amazing, and You didn't have to make it, but You did. For our mutual pleasures..."
I expect much from Him, and give barely anything. I get and I do not give. But as I was surrounded by this conference lifestyle and when I saw another friend doing devotions, I decided to take the time, not expecting much because of the recent desert phase. But as I sat there and was just thinking, talking, praying... I heard these girls talking. "Did you see that sunrise?" "It's absolutely incredible!" "Come take a look!"
I didn't get up and take a look, but I could see through the furry tips of the evergreen trees, the mutating colours that changed from orange to red to pink to light. And as I saw this progression, I just thought. Our speaker had been talking about how insignificant we really are, and that's something I struggled with (although, doesn't every human being?). I want to be in charge, I want to use God as my play thing because it's way easier than thinking that right now, I am only alive because He wishes me to.
And at that moment, I just sat there and realized it. Understood it, took it in, and just breathed. I realized that as He had lovingly chosen the colours and applied them to the dark canvas of the night, He had known not only the amazing sensation that it would cause to the viewer, but also the message that it would teach me. He is everything. Awesome, amazing, powerful, everywhere, everything, Creator, Sustainer, Provider, and every other word to describe good. It was as if I was just sitting there dumbfounded, not wanting to move from this realization because it degraded me as a sinner and human being, but lifted me up because I knew that He loved me and was on my side.
Then I opened my Bible to Psalms, and took a look at the one where the bookmark was placed. If you have the time, please read this while picturing every description in your mind and just with a praiseful heart. It was Psalm 29:
1 Honor the Lord, you heavenly beings[a];
honor the Lord for his glory and strength.
2 Honor the Lord for the glory of his name.
Worship the Lord in the splendor of his holiness.
3 The voice of the Lord echoes above the sea.
The God of glory thunders.
The Lord thunders over the mighty sea.
4 The voice of the Lord is powerful;
the voice of the Lord is majestic.
5 The voice of the Lord splits the mighty cedars;
the Lord shatters the cedars of Lebanon.
6 He makes Lebanon’s mountains skip like a calf;
he makes Mount Hermon[b] leap like a young wild ox.
7 The voice of the Lord strikes
with bolts of lightning.
8 The voice of the Lord makes the barren wilderness quake;
the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.
9 The voice of the Lord twists mighty oaks[c]
and strips the forests bare.
In his Temple everyone shouts, “Glory!”
10 The Lord rules over the floodwaters.
The Lord reigns as king forever.
11 The Lord gives his people strength.
The Lord blesses them with peace.
Wednesday, September 28
Leadership
Starting early tomorrow morning, I am departing to a totally new experience for me. I've always been told that I have the gift of leadership. Hearing this, I turn around and say, "Umm... what???" In the past, I've always thought of myself as a quiet, behind the scenes kind of person. But, recently, I've been learning about a different strain of leadership. A kind of leadership that pulls the strings behind the scenes, uplifts others to do things that they never thought themselves possible of, and in doing so, delegating the tasks so that they're not in front.
Now, I'm not quite capable of either kind of leadership. But I think that I definitely feel more comfortable with the second kind. With this different view on the issue, I'm really looking forward to what these next two days hold. It's only now as I'm getting ready to leave this bubble that I realize how much I have not invested in it. How many opportunities I let slip by when they were so easily at hand, although in my mind they were far above.
I want to learn, but I also want to teach. It's the meeting point of those two ideals that has me very, very excited.
Now, I'm not quite capable of either kind of leadership. But I think that I definitely feel more comfortable with the second kind. With this different view on the issue, I'm really looking forward to what these next two days hold. It's only now as I'm getting ready to leave this bubble that I realize how much I have not invested in it. How many opportunities I let slip by when they were so easily at hand, although in my mind they were far above.
I want to learn, but I also want to teach. It's the meeting point of those two ideals that has me very, very excited.
Monday, September 19
Promise
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, calming myself as her eyes strayed to the house. The house... the one that has instigated so very many battles between me and her. All because of her longing for "kisses", little pen marks on her hands given by those she loves. Now, the very first time she approached this house, I had no clue was what going on. She wandered purposefully up the porch and knocked in her own way on the front door. After awhile, she started pulling at the screen door and started entering. Now, even I, who knew nothing about her connection to this house, knew that that was not appropriate. I gently nudged her back outside as her eyes wandered, searching for something.
And that something came. In the shape of an elderly man, one who actually goes to my church. He spoke easily with her and had already brought a pen, showing just how well he knew her. She got her mark, gave a few hugs, and several minutes later, we were back walking down the sidewalk. The one aspect of this job that has really challenged me has been the open in-your-face attitude that I have to either explain/condone or attempt to get her to cease... neither of which necessarily always works.
So as her eyes wandered and she started making her sign for wanting more "kisses" or "stamps", I was already gearing up for battle. We had gone through it a few days before. I had followed her, always staying on the side of her that was closest to the house so as to create a physical barrier. Yes, it was partly selfish, and yet it was not. I didn't want the trouble of having to facilitate another meeting and dragging her away at the end, but I also didn't want to presume upon that sweet old man. But really, the defining thought in my mind was that she had to obey me as her authority and now was just as good a time to stress that as any other. So we fought... fought for what must've been almost half an hour or more.
She moved closer, I followed her, blocking her way, all the while talking and trying to dissuade her. Of course, all she could think about was getting that stamp and meeting someone she knew very well. So she constantly made the sign and then iced the performance off with a series of pleases, also signed. I was thankful that she was being polite and I acknowledged that, letting her know that I understood, but my answer was still no and it wasn't about to change. She sat down, pouting... then got back up and tried again. She walked down the sidewalk and then tried to deviate to get back again.
But at the end... I won. She was sullen, but eventually I lured her away with words of other people to be met on Main Street, or activities to be pursued in her own home. Is that fair? Yes, I know that she has a lower intelligence, is easily swayed, has to constantly reminded and thinks through things in a young and childish way. But, just like a child has to learn how to obey and also to understand why they don't get what they want, she had to understand, in whatever limited capacity, that not getting her way is sometimes for the greater good.
All of that leads to today. Wow.. I am long winded! Anyway... we had just exited the place of her employment, and her house was in sight down the sidewalk. But in between was the house and I dreaded another fight. Because I can be strong... but I don't want to be. I didn't want to injure the relationship for the rest of the day and do things that I would regret later on. So I spoke to her slowly and softly: "I know that you want to go get a stamp, but how about not today? Let's let him rest and come back some other time. What if he's having a nap? Right now we're headed to your house to get you some nice snack. Then we can decide what to do then..." This lured her, but not quite enough... and then it led me into saying something... a promise. "Not today... but the next day that I come over, then we can go over to his house, okay? Next time.. not today, I promise that we will go over and get a stamp."
This seemed to satiate her and we headed to her house. Later on during the few hours I was with her, she tried to get us out of the house just so that she could go get that one stamp. Every time, I asked her,"Did you forget the promise I made? Do you remember?" It would take her awhile, but then her eyes would light up with understanding and she would sign an emphatic "yes" back to me, and continue on with whatever activity she was doing. I'm so glad that she is growing to trust me. And I hope that as I fulfill this promise, her trust will grow even greater.
As I sat there, reminding her constantly, another picture arose.... one of myself. Me.... and the Father. The one that I am to obey, even when I long for something that may be good, but just isn't on His agenda for me.I turn my eyes to this thing that seems overwhelmingly enticing, and as I walk toward it, He places a physical barrier that tells me "no." But I only try harder... I try and explain my way around it... I ask for it in the nicest way possible... I say, "Oh, but then I will do this and this and this for You..." But He doesn't buy it. He knows so much better and I am only a child.
Finally, I rest. I continue on in His plan, but then when I am in valleys, in rough spots, or filled with temptation... that thing comes back to me and I immediately start planning how to pursue it. It's then that He turns in His voice to me and says, "Are you forgetting My promise? Don't you remember?" It takes me awhile, but then I do remember. And when I do, I understand and go back to obeying.
It's been this way with multiple things in my life, but the biggest would probably be returning to Cameroon. My dad is there right now, and I honestly wish that I could've gone with him. Yes, I have a life here... but that place has the other half of my heart beating it there... calling me. And it's not a bad thing. Yet... at this time, it's not good... not yet, anyways. So I must wait, even when I am so thirsty for the sight of that place... wait until His promise comes. Because it will. For He is trustworthy... and in waiting for His promise, my trust grows even greater.
And that something came. In the shape of an elderly man, one who actually goes to my church. He spoke easily with her and had already brought a pen, showing just how well he knew her. She got her mark, gave a few hugs, and several minutes later, we were back walking down the sidewalk. The one aspect of this job that has really challenged me has been the open in-your-face attitude that I have to either explain/condone or attempt to get her to cease... neither of which necessarily always works.
So as her eyes wandered and she started making her sign for wanting more "kisses" or "stamps", I was already gearing up for battle. We had gone through it a few days before. I had followed her, always staying on the side of her that was closest to the house so as to create a physical barrier. Yes, it was partly selfish, and yet it was not. I didn't want the trouble of having to facilitate another meeting and dragging her away at the end, but I also didn't want to presume upon that sweet old man. But really, the defining thought in my mind was that she had to obey me as her authority and now was just as good a time to stress that as any other. So we fought... fought for what must've been almost half an hour or more.
She moved closer, I followed her, blocking her way, all the while talking and trying to dissuade her. Of course, all she could think about was getting that stamp and meeting someone she knew very well. So she constantly made the sign and then iced the performance off with a series of pleases, also signed. I was thankful that she was being polite and I acknowledged that, letting her know that I understood, but my answer was still no and it wasn't about to change. She sat down, pouting... then got back up and tried again. She walked down the sidewalk and then tried to deviate to get back again.
But at the end... I won. She was sullen, but eventually I lured her away with words of other people to be met on Main Street, or activities to be pursued in her own home. Is that fair? Yes, I know that she has a lower intelligence, is easily swayed, has to constantly reminded and thinks through things in a young and childish way. But, just like a child has to learn how to obey and also to understand why they don't get what they want, she had to understand, in whatever limited capacity, that not getting her way is sometimes for the greater good.
All of that leads to today. Wow.. I am long winded! Anyway... we had just exited the place of her employment, and her house was in sight down the sidewalk. But in between was the house and I dreaded another fight. Because I can be strong... but I don't want to be. I didn't want to injure the relationship for the rest of the day and do things that I would regret later on. So I spoke to her slowly and softly: "I know that you want to go get a stamp, but how about not today? Let's let him rest and come back some other time. What if he's having a nap? Right now we're headed to your house to get you some nice snack. Then we can decide what to do then..." This lured her, but not quite enough... and then it led me into saying something... a promise. "Not today... but the next day that I come over, then we can go over to his house, okay? Next time.. not today, I promise that we will go over and get a stamp."
This seemed to satiate her and we headed to her house. Later on during the few hours I was with her, she tried to get us out of the house just so that she could go get that one stamp. Every time, I asked her,"Did you forget the promise I made? Do you remember?" It would take her awhile, but then her eyes would light up with understanding and she would sign an emphatic "yes" back to me, and continue on with whatever activity she was doing. I'm so glad that she is growing to trust me. And I hope that as I fulfill this promise, her trust will grow even greater.
As I sat there, reminding her constantly, another picture arose.... one of myself. Me.... and the Father. The one that I am to obey, even when I long for something that may be good, but just isn't on His agenda for me.I turn my eyes to this thing that seems overwhelmingly enticing, and as I walk toward it, He places a physical barrier that tells me "no." But I only try harder... I try and explain my way around it... I ask for it in the nicest way possible... I say, "Oh, but then I will do this and this and this for You..." But He doesn't buy it. He knows so much better and I am only a child.
Finally, I rest. I continue on in His plan, but then when I am in valleys, in rough spots, or filled with temptation... that thing comes back to me and I immediately start planning how to pursue it. It's then that He turns in His voice to me and says, "Are you forgetting My promise? Don't you remember?" It takes me awhile, but then I do remember. And when I do, I understand and go back to obeying.
It's been this way with multiple things in my life, but the biggest would probably be returning to Cameroon. My dad is there right now, and I honestly wish that I could've gone with him. Yes, I have a life here... but that place has the other half of my heart beating it there... calling me. And it's not a bad thing. Yet... at this time, it's not good... not yet, anyways. So I must wait, even when I am so thirsty for the sight of that place... wait until His promise comes. Because it will. For He is trustworthy... and in waiting for His promise, my trust grows even greater.
Sunday, September 18
Eeyore
I sat there as she handed out the papers, filled with words that did not yet mean anything to me. Trying to fill them out spontaneously, all the while trying to do it from the real me (as separated from the me that I aspire to be, the person that I want others to see, and the me I expect others actually see). It's hard! How much of a person's personality is made up from their inner character, versus made up of what's reflected back to them from others?
The results came in, and there was a sweeping win... for Eeyore.
Now I watched Winnie the Pooh a little bit when I was little, but Eeyore was definitely not up there on my list of favorite characters. I remembered him as gloomy, sad, depressed, anti-social and a damper on any party inclinations.
As we went around and told what the results were, it came around to me and as the last person to answer, I spoke a word that had not yet been said: "Eeyore." I wonder if Eeyores are scarce... or what?
I felt a little bit better when the explanation sheets came around. Other titles, such as "Beaver", "Compliance/Cautious", and "Analytical", made me feel a little bit better. Reading through the description was cool, as it is with any personality test, because it kind of laid out how I ticked. Not all the way, but a large part of it.
I like organization, high standards, and analyzing. I get easily depressed, and remember negatives for a long, long, long, long, long...did I say long?... time. I need affirmation from those around me about my feelings and actions. I get down when I am not organized and life is not on a time-oriented schedule. I am afraid of making mistakes and having no one understand me or the motives for my actions.
I get along well with those who are serious, intellectual and can actually carry on a decent conversation. On the other hand, flibbertigibbets are one of my worst pet peeves. I react to stress by withdrawing and getting unusually silent (that is... unusually silent for me), or else getting lost in a project or book (that I can do alone!).
There are lots of other characteristics, but some are more of a flattery form, so I'm not going to write about them... it's kind of cool to be unique, though. I admit that it will be hard with so many Tiggers around to get my own space and fill up my "quiet quotient" every once in awhile.
And yet... it's just another box... and I can't allow myself to be shoved into that. I am definitely an Eeyore, but occasionally can very outgoing and energetic, especially around kids. Which (I'm hoping) will especially come out this trip.
Who knows? At least Eeyore is good at getting rid of other people's prickles!
The results came in, and there was a sweeping win... for Eeyore.
Now I watched Winnie the Pooh a little bit when I was little, but Eeyore was definitely not up there on my list of favorite characters. I remembered him as gloomy, sad, depressed, anti-social and a damper on any party inclinations.
As we went around and told what the results were, it came around to me and as the last person to answer, I spoke a word that had not yet been said: "Eeyore." I wonder if Eeyores are scarce... or what?
I felt a little bit better when the explanation sheets came around. Other titles, such as "Beaver", "Compliance/Cautious", and "Analytical", made me feel a little bit better. Reading through the description was cool, as it is with any personality test, because it kind of laid out how I ticked. Not all the way, but a large part of it.
I like organization, high standards, and analyzing. I get easily depressed, and remember negatives for a long, long, long, long, long...did I say long?... time. I need affirmation from those around me about my feelings and actions. I get down when I am not organized and life is not on a time-oriented schedule. I am afraid of making mistakes and having no one understand me or the motives for my actions.
I get along well with those who are serious, intellectual and can actually carry on a decent conversation. On the other hand, flibbertigibbets are one of my worst pet peeves. I react to stress by withdrawing and getting unusually silent (that is... unusually silent for me), or else getting lost in a project or book (that I can do alone!).
There are lots of other characteristics, but some are more of a flattery form, so I'm not going to write about them... it's kind of cool to be unique, though. I admit that it will be hard with so many Tiggers around to get my own space and fill up my "quiet quotient" every once in awhile.
And yet... it's just another box... and I can't allow myself to be shoved into that. I am definitely an Eeyore, but occasionally can very outgoing and energetic, especially around kids. Which (I'm hoping) will especially come out this trip.
Who knows? At least Eeyore is good at getting rid of other people's prickles!
Down
I've been feeling down a lot recently... not really depressed, but not really smiling or laughing a lot. Maybe because it hurts to move my mouth... just maybe.
I haven't really participated in a lot of activities, I find myself automatically disengaging and finding corners to sit in and people watch. Generally, it kind of looks like when I'm sad. I'm not...I'm just not happy.
But then I had to slap myself in the face. I was the only one who was making myself miserable. Me! No one else was... here I was having my own private pity-party, feeling selfish and wishing myself back to bracelessness.
I was lounging around all of today, not really doing anything in particular, feeling slow and painful. At the end of the day, I looked back and realized that I had accomplished nothing. Absolutely nothing! I could choose to be happy and purposeful and actually get things done... or else look back on today and wonder what I could've accomplished if I had broken out of my pain stupor.
I'm not up to my normal par. I'm just thankful that I finished my English assignments before the pain set in. Ok... it's really not that bad. But I feel as if a new dimension has been added to me and I don't know what to do with it.
The following days will be filled with ups and downs... but I can determine how I face them.
I haven't really participated in a lot of activities, I find myself automatically disengaging and finding corners to sit in and people watch. Generally, it kind of looks like when I'm sad. I'm not...I'm just not happy.
But then I had to slap myself in the face. I was the only one who was making myself miserable. Me! No one else was... here I was having my own private pity-party, feeling selfish and wishing myself back to bracelessness.
I was lounging around all of today, not really doing anything in particular, feeling slow and painful. At the end of the day, I looked back and realized that I had accomplished nothing. Absolutely nothing! I could choose to be happy and purposeful and actually get things done... or else look back on today and wonder what I could've accomplished if I had broken out of my pain stupor.
I'm not up to my normal par. I'm just thankful that I finished my English assignments before the pain set in. Ok... it's really not that bad. But I feel as if a new dimension has been added to me and I don't know what to do with it.
The following days will be filled with ups and downs... but I can determine how I face them.
Friday, September 16
Lost and Found
It was a hard day today... full of ups and downs... valleys and mountains, with no plains in sight. It's kind of nice to be noticed... not that I'm normally not, but braces do give one some special distinction... or so it would seem. They hurt... they need to be cleaned... it took me three times as long to eat my lunch than it normally does. But the biggest dips of the day came in the last two periods. Band class. We started off with a drumline. A DRUMLINE!! Having grown up in Africa, there was no way that I would not be gyrating and moving to that beat, drumming to my heart's content. In some way, those rhythmic pulses unify people and their purposes in a way that the less knowledgeable have found out sooner than the rest of the world. The music rolled and I was enjoying it.... creating new skills, laughing at my mistakes, sitting on a high stool and not being able to tap the beat because my feet couldn't reach the floor. It felt like a long lost string in my soul was vibrating and I was just able to enjoy... enjoy as I have not for a long while. I wanted to be swept away...
Now for Part 2: Actually Playing
One of my friends had suggested earlier that it would be interesting to see how I could play the flute with braces on. I hadn't really thought about it, but it wasn't as if my mouth shape had changed, so I wasn't worried. I opened up the case, picking up the pieces and fitting them together... proud of their gleam. All put together, I lifted it to my lips and tried to play a scale. Only air... ONLY AIR? My heart plummeted and I frantically tried to do anything I could to make a sound. I rolled the flute in, made my mouth different shapes....all the while the sharp ends of the braces were hurting my teeth.
I felt stripped. So lost. So un-made.
My main forms of communication are through my writing and through music. Now one of those is gone for me... at least for awhile. I am not absorbed by the flute... it's not my life... but it's the one thing that allows me to express myself fluidly, without trying (although poetry works in a similar way). To have that ability which I took so for granted taken away from me shocked me. We played through a song, and I could only hit occasional notes, and that took a lot of effort. The conductor looked over at me and asked me if I knew which part I was playing and I nodded. Tears were starting to form in my eyes... I had been proud of my ability... never really working for what I had gotten. In the majority of the areas of my life this is true. Now all I could say was, "Braces." I wanted to rip them out, stomp them, and get back to my normal life. I felt as if I was blind, having lost something that I had never really noticed before. It's always been so natural... I've never been able to whistle, so I can't miss the memories that haven't been made. But that flute represents a part of me that was found three years ago when Mr. J came to our school. When he gave me the power to express myself, I grew new feathers, sprouted new wings. I could fly, because I was free...
Now I feel alone... and resentful. But that's wrong. No matter how much I don't like the situation... it's for some good. So I say with conviction.... I like the weather today.
Now for Part 2: Actually Playing
One of my friends had suggested earlier that it would be interesting to see how I could play the flute with braces on. I hadn't really thought about it, but it wasn't as if my mouth shape had changed, so I wasn't worried. I opened up the case, picking up the pieces and fitting them together... proud of their gleam. All put together, I lifted it to my lips and tried to play a scale. Only air... ONLY AIR? My heart plummeted and I frantically tried to do anything I could to make a sound. I rolled the flute in, made my mouth different shapes....all the while the sharp ends of the braces were hurting my teeth.
I felt stripped. So lost. So un-made.
My main forms of communication are through my writing and through music. Now one of those is gone for me... at least for awhile. I am not absorbed by the flute... it's not my life... but it's the one thing that allows me to express myself fluidly, without trying (although poetry works in a similar way). To have that ability which I took so for granted taken away from me shocked me. We played through a song, and I could only hit occasional notes, and that took a lot of effort. The conductor looked over at me and asked me if I knew which part I was playing and I nodded. Tears were starting to form in my eyes... I had been proud of my ability... never really working for what I had gotten. In the majority of the areas of my life this is true. Now all I could say was, "Braces." I wanted to rip them out, stomp them, and get back to my normal life. I felt as if I was blind, having lost something that I had never really noticed before. It's always been so natural... I've never been able to whistle, so I can't miss the memories that haven't been made. But that flute represents a part of me that was found three years ago when Mr. J came to our school. When he gave me the power to express myself, I grew new feathers, sprouted new wings. I could fly, because I was free...
Now I feel alone... and resentful. But that's wrong. No matter how much I don't like the situation... it's for some good. So I say with conviction.... I like the weather today.
Wednesday, September 14
Something in the Air
I biked home from school today, pushed ever onward by the twirl of wind around me. Leaves raced along the tires, tumbling and swirling. I breathed deep and took a quick second breath. There was something different in the air. Something....
It's fallen into autumn now. I wore my sweater all day at school, and for the first time since the beginning of school I wore tennis shoes. The air was chilly, and I rode to school wishing for gloves. But it was overcast... not a sign of this bright glory to come. But on my way back it reminded me of something...
I feel so busy these days. So full of things to do, meetings to make and to maintain, things to prepare for, not to mention my "normal" life. But the "something" in the air today reminded me of days past. Days in which I could take my leisurely time and would feel like spinning among the leaves and joining their autumn dance. Days when I was young, when homework was only something rumored about by highschoolers. Days when there was a crisp, lively, vitality to life.
Memories of school days past. First day impressions, making friends you hope will last. Bringing out the winter clothes, putting summer things away. Why don't I feel that "something" every day?
Okay, enough with the rhyming, but seriously... I've kind of lost sight of the spark that is living and imagining in this downpour of homework... and I want to recapture that "something." To stop and smell the roses once in awhile... to be vibrantly alive.
It's fallen into autumn now. I wore my sweater all day at school, and for the first time since the beginning of school I wore tennis shoes. The air was chilly, and I rode to school wishing for gloves. But it was overcast... not a sign of this bright glory to come. But on my way back it reminded me of something...
I feel so busy these days. So full of things to do, meetings to make and to maintain, things to prepare for, not to mention my "normal" life. But the "something" in the air today reminded me of days past. Days in which I could take my leisurely time and would feel like spinning among the leaves and joining their autumn dance. Days when I was young, when homework was only something rumored about by highschoolers. Days when there was a crisp, lively, vitality to life.
Memories of school days past. First day impressions, making friends you hope will last. Bringing out the winter clothes, putting summer things away. Why don't I feel that "something" every day?
Okay, enough with the rhyming, but seriously... I've kind of lost sight of the spark that is living and imagining in this downpour of homework... and I want to recapture that "something." To stop and smell the roses once in awhile... to be vibrantly alive.
Monday, September 12
Attitude
It was the weirdest sensation to work after school today. It was the first day of my life in which I so totally switched sides. Instead of being taught, I taught... and I even had to leave ten minutes early to do it! *gasp!* The problem is that after a long hard day of absorbing information (I know... tedious), I tend to crave a little "me-time." In which there is nothing inherently wrong except when I'm supposed to be serving.
It's then that my self-serving attitude turns from a though to action to sin. Because when it's all about someone else, making them feel happy and enabling them to do what they wouldn't otherwise be able to do (not to talk about God), simply put... it's not about me. I was tired, I was cranky, I twisted the day plan to fit my needs, my laziness, my unwillingness to drag her from store to store to get "kisses" on her hands. She's definitely an extrovert... and me... well, just let's just say that it depends on the *day*. And this was most assuredly not my best one.
How do I change that? How do I push beyond myself, my very core of tired, overworked, not wanting to serve... ness? I physically can't. I tried today... well, once again, here comes the lazy part applying to my initiative... but it still didn't work.
There's lots of things coming up this week. Things filling my days, requiring hours ahead of time to prepare, homework, meetings, work, and everything else that constitutes my life at this present moment. But I need to dance in the craziness... and I find that hard when I'm caught in the sludge of selfishness. There's only One who can break me free... I'm still trying to figure out and apply exactly how that works though.
It's then that my self-serving attitude turns from a though to action to sin. Because when it's all about someone else, making them feel happy and enabling them to do what they wouldn't otherwise be able to do (not to talk about God), simply put... it's not about me. I was tired, I was cranky, I twisted the day plan to fit my needs, my laziness, my unwillingness to drag her from store to store to get "kisses" on her hands. She's definitely an extrovert... and me... well, just let's just say that it depends on the *day*. And this was most assuredly not my best one.
How do I change that? How do I push beyond myself, my very core of tired, overworked, not wanting to serve... ness? I physically can't. I tried today... well, once again, here comes the lazy part applying to my initiative... but it still didn't work.
There's lots of things coming up this week. Things filling my days, requiring hours ahead of time to prepare, homework, meetings, work, and everything else that constitutes my life at this present moment. But I need to dance in the craziness... and I find that hard when I'm caught in the sludge of selfishness. There's only One who can break me free... I'm still trying to figure out and apply exactly how that works though.
Sunday, September 11
Shown
I've been wondering the last few days about all that I am. About how I am made, but more specifically what gifts and talents I have been given.
Written in my journal last night:
"I want to be accepted so much by those I esteem. I want to be given the nod of approval, to have kinship, to understand. But above all, I know that I have not given my 100% . I care, I try hard, but I'm too afraid of failing and discouragement - I just want to naturally understand. I want to be gifted and special."
It goes on to reconcile all the above complaining and wondering with pleasing Him utmost, but I wanted to highlight some things. One, my schooling. I want to do my best, but I easily float by and let my standards lower to those that others achieve to. But should my level of trying be decided by others and what they do? No! But it is. If I was put in a private, esteemed academy with a higher level of competition, I would try immensely harder. So why don't I? It all comes back to me being lazy. Okay, so that's established... on to number two!
I want to know what my gifts are. I want to be established and rooted and to feel fulfilled with what I do.
From this morning's journal entry:
"I want to be all that I can be, but it strikes me that yesterday's and today's writings start with the words 'I want.' And that's no way to approach any problem... You have made me with a slightly different personality than those that I love to hang out with and I'm finding the balance betwen developing that fully and not letting that be my boundaries, very hard to achieve. How do I stretch myself but still use my gifts to the fullest? How do I give 100% and give it all for you and not for me?"
I've been reading through the Purpose Driven Life recently and the chapters that I'm going through right now are about my SHAPE (an acronym for the way that I am created: Spiritual gifts, Heart, Abilities, Personality, Experience).
Put all of this together and thus starts this morning. It was Sunday, and I had gotten an e-mail earlier about some sort of youth meeting to help out with Sunday School, so I attended that. Turns out, I got to teach. Not only teach, but tell a story. And you know what? I did it well. I loved it and it came easily. It was enjoyable and stretching. See the applicability?
Other things happened too:
Helping out a little boy that didn't want to go to Sunday School. Persuading him to give it a try and then creeping out with another little boy who didn't want to go to his Sunday School. Standing next to him and introducing him to his group leader. Acting out the father in the prodigal son skit. Improvising and being an extrovert. An extrovert!
Amazing how all my fear and anxiety, my wonderings and confusions can result in this! He has clearly shown me some of the way He has before me...
Written in my journal last night:
"I want to be accepted so much by those I esteem. I want to be given the nod of approval, to have kinship, to understand. But above all, I know that I have not given my 100% . I care, I try hard, but I'm too afraid of failing and discouragement - I just want to naturally understand. I want to be gifted and special."
It goes on to reconcile all the above complaining and wondering with pleasing Him utmost, but I wanted to highlight some things. One, my schooling. I want to do my best, but I easily float by and let my standards lower to those that others achieve to. But should my level of trying be decided by others and what they do? No! But it is. If I was put in a private, esteemed academy with a higher level of competition, I would try immensely harder. So why don't I? It all comes back to me being lazy. Okay, so that's established... on to number two!
I want to know what my gifts are. I want to be established and rooted and to feel fulfilled with what I do.
From this morning's journal entry:
"I want to be all that I can be, but it strikes me that yesterday's and today's writings start with the words 'I want.' And that's no way to approach any problem... You have made me with a slightly different personality than those that I love to hang out with and I'm finding the balance betwen developing that fully and not letting that be my boundaries, very hard to achieve. How do I stretch myself but still use my gifts to the fullest? How do I give 100% and give it all for you and not for me?"
I've been reading through the Purpose Driven Life recently and the chapters that I'm going through right now are about my SHAPE (an acronym for the way that I am created: Spiritual gifts, Heart, Abilities, Personality, Experience).
Put all of this together and thus starts this morning. It was Sunday, and I had gotten an e-mail earlier about some sort of youth meeting to help out with Sunday School, so I attended that. Turns out, I got to teach. Not only teach, but tell a story. And you know what? I did it well. I loved it and it came easily. It was enjoyable and stretching. See the applicability?
Other things happened too:
Helping out a little boy that didn't want to go to Sunday School. Persuading him to give it a try and then creeping out with another little boy who didn't want to go to his Sunday School. Standing next to him and introducing him to his group leader. Acting out the father in the prodigal son skit. Improvising and being an extrovert. An extrovert!
Amazing how all my fear and anxiety, my wonderings and confusions can result in this! He has clearly shown me some of the way He has before me...
Saturday, September 10
Stars
"A girl without freckles is like a night without stars."
I spent the last two nights with a friend who lifts me up in every way, and she told me about this quote. One of those ways in which she lifts me up is about my appearance. I don't mind it, honestly. I have never struggled with my freckles, or with my face or figure. But I have not always felt satisfied with how I look. I feel average, and once in awhile I just want to turn heads. But why? Why do I want the approval of others when they're looking at the outside and not the inside?
Everyone of us, girls especially, I think, want to be known and told that we are beautiful. Now I don't think that I'm ugly. But I do think that I'm normal, adequate, just-enough. Not beautiful, gorgeous, cherished or lovely. Those words seem to belong to those who have their whole lives figured out. Thing about God is that He likes to change what I think... even when I like wallowing in my nice, muddy, comfortable hole of self pity.
He tells me that I am beautiful and I find that hard to comprehend. That He would find me so ravishing that He wants me forever. In fact, He created me to be desirable. And I don't understand that kind of love... crazy, tumultuous, overwhelming, peace-giving, pursuing love. Love for something that He made, even though I am imperfect. Love that makes up who He is.
I have always struggled with 1 Timothy 2:9-10
"And I want women to be modest in their appearance.They should wear decent and appropriate clothing and not draw attention to themselves by the way they fix their hair or by wearing gold or pearls or expensive clothes. For women who claim to be devoted to God should make themselves attractive by the good things they do." (NLT)
I want to be attractive and lovely. I want compliments and to be lovingly pursued by a young man someday. But what He calls me to be is nothing of the sort. Oh, all that stuff comes along with it, but it's not the focus. The focus is on Him... not me. When I make my life about Him, then I am beautiful and lovely in every way. He has made my form lovely, but what really makes me attractive is when I live for Him.
May I shine like the moon at night, reflecting the Sonlight...
I spent the last two nights with a friend who lifts me up in every way, and she told me about this quote. One of those ways in which she lifts me up is about my appearance. I don't mind it, honestly. I have never struggled with my freckles, or with my face or figure. But I have not always felt satisfied with how I look. I feel average, and once in awhile I just want to turn heads. But why? Why do I want the approval of others when they're looking at the outside and not the inside?
Everyone of us, girls especially, I think, want to be known and told that we are beautiful. Now I don't think that I'm ugly. But I do think that I'm normal, adequate, just-enough. Not beautiful, gorgeous, cherished or lovely. Those words seem to belong to those who have their whole lives figured out. Thing about God is that He likes to change what I think... even when I like wallowing in my nice, muddy, comfortable hole of self pity.
He tells me that I am beautiful and I find that hard to comprehend. That He would find me so ravishing that He wants me forever. In fact, He created me to be desirable. And I don't understand that kind of love... crazy, tumultuous, overwhelming, peace-giving, pursuing love. Love for something that He made, even though I am imperfect. Love that makes up who He is.
I have always struggled with 1 Timothy 2:9-10
"And I want women to be modest in their appearance.They should wear decent and appropriate clothing and not draw attention to themselves by the way they fix their hair or by wearing gold or pearls or expensive clothes. For women who claim to be devoted to God should make themselves attractive by the good things they do." (NLT)
I want to be attractive and lovely. I want compliments and to be lovingly pursued by a young man someday. But what He calls me to be is nothing of the sort. Oh, all that stuff comes along with it, but it's not the focus. The focus is on Him... not me. When I make my life about Him, then I am beautiful and lovely in every way. He has made my form lovely, but what really makes me attractive is when I live for Him.
May I shine like the moon at night, reflecting the Sonlight...
Friday, September 9
Bliss
These past few days have been filled with friends. Other things, too, but friends above all things. It's in this year that I've purposed to spend time with friends and developing relationships more than homework, even though this year is the only one when homework has taken a serious hold of my life.
We met together, us, the three musketeers, dressed up all pretty and eating pizza and doing Chem homework. We sat around that kitchen table, scratching our heads, all the while celebrating the beautiful passing on of another year for one of us. We drove into C-city and went through Bio notes on the way. I think that one of the marks of true friendship is being able to laugh while doing the most boring things in the world, just enjoying being with each other. Stopping and walking above a street in a tunnel of rainbow, heels that hurt, tickets gotten, escalators (escalators!!) {what do you do with escalators? walk? ride?} done with, and sitting in seats, excitement tinging our voices. Pointing out this violin, and that flute. The massive choir that walked in. And then, the joyful sounds of Beethoven's Ode to Joy.
We laughed, we smiled, we absorbed, we mocked, we stifled giggles at the opportune (or should I say inopportune?) sneeze that made the whole performance memorable. Stopping at Timmy's on the way back and being the only customers in the entire store. Being dropped off and falling into bed, content to sleep and sleep. Waking up to a clock that reads an hour later than what I wish it did, scrambling to get to school, still doing well on a Bio quiz. Talking to people, making amigo 1 jump every time I mentioned the choir list being posted, trying not to fall asleep.
And then the moments of uncertainty... of a dear friend that stepped up and helped out in one of the moments when I feel the weakest. I don't like not knowing... at all. I start freaking out and feeling awkward and uncertain. Yay for people with cell phones! Driving in a pick up truck, wind going through my hair, the smell of harvest, blasting country songs accompanied by laughter. Picking camomile by the hour, spending time in a heart to heart with another dear friend. Sharing garbage bags, completing swaths, joking around with the hockey guys, laughing, finding ladybugs. Grass stained hands and shoes, water that tasted wonderful, and driving home.
The suggestion for Subway, the friends we met when we went there. The joy and the laughter, my disheveled appearance and the chocolate milk that followed. The sweet knowing that nothing can stop this moment. That is why I'm alive. That He placed me here for this moment. These moments.
It's been my very own Ode to Joy, really. It's been crazy. I'm half asleep, my clothes are all dusty with walking through fields, my homework is in my backpack, there are things to be done, sleep to be pursued, tomorrow to look forward to. But it's bliss.... pure, clear, ethereal bliss! And it's in these moments that life comes alive. Life is not made in the quiet mundane days that occupy the span of my years, but the bright, the crazy, the happiness that friends bring.
Through this all I can't help imagining how great heaven will be. Honestly, there were times today that I thought, This is as good as it gets! But then I had to stop myself, because it gets way better. He has so much in store for me, and I'm so excited!
We met together, us, the three musketeers, dressed up all pretty and eating pizza and doing Chem homework. We sat around that kitchen table, scratching our heads, all the while celebrating the beautiful passing on of another year for one of us. We drove into C-city and went through Bio notes on the way. I think that one of the marks of true friendship is being able to laugh while doing the most boring things in the world, just enjoying being with each other. Stopping and walking above a street in a tunnel of rainbow, heels that hurt, tickets gotten, escalators (escalators!!) {what do you do with escalators? walk? ride?} done with, and sitting in seats, excitement tinging our voices. Pointing out this violin, and that flute. The massive choir that walked in. And then, the joyful sounds of Beethoven's Ode to Joy.
We laughed, we smiled, we absorbed, we mocked, we stifled giggles at the opportune (or should I say inopportune?) sneeze that made the whole performance memorable. Stopping at Timmy's on the way back and being the only customers in the entire store. Being dropped off and falling into bed, content to sleep and sleep. Waking up to a clock that reads an hour later than what I wish it did, scrambling to get to school, still doing well on a Bio quiz. Talking to people, making amigo 1 jump every time I mentioned the choir list being posted, trying not to fall asleep.
And then the moments of uncertainty... of a dear friend that stepped up and helped out in one of the moments when I feel the weakest. I don't like not knowing... at all. I start freaking out and feeling awkward and uncertain. Yay for people with cell phones! Driving in a pick up truck, wind going through my hair, the smell of harvest, blasting country songs accompanied by laughter. Picking camomile by the hour, spending time in a heart to heart with another dear friend. Sharing garbage bags, completing swaths, joking around with the hockey guys, laughing, finding ladybugs. Grass stained hands and shoes, water that tasted wonderful, and driving home.
The suggestion for Subway, the friends we met when we went there. The joy and the laughter, my disheveled appearance and the chocolate milk that followed. The sweet knowing that nothing can stop this moment. That is why I'm alive. That He placed me here for this moment. These moments.
It's been my very own Ode to Joy, really. It's been crazy. I'm half asleep, my clothes are all dusty with walking through fields, my homework is in my backpack, there are things to be done, sleep to be pursued, tomorrow to look forward to. But it's bliss.... pure, clear, ethereal bliss! And it's in these moments that life comes alive. Life is not made in the quiet mundane days that occupy the span of my years, but the bright, the crazy, the happiness that friends bring.
Through this all I can't help imagining how great heaven will be. Honestly, there were times today that I thought, This is as good as it gets! But then I had to stop myself, because it gets way better. He has so much in store for me, and I'm so excited!
Wednesday, September 7
Weeding
I dug with my fingers, gouging the hard dirt with my nails. Gathering up all the leaves of the plant, I pulled, willing the roots to follow. They didn't. Digging deeper, searching around sight unseen, finding a clump and pulling. Holding the roots of that which would kill my garden. Feeling satisfaction.
Recently, I've been dieting. Now don't panic! Not that kind of dieting. A diet of books.... cutting out a lot of the fluff that I normally read and trying to engage in either classics or Christian Living books. Learning to spend my time wisely and not to waste it. Even as I take this small step in trying to manage my time as well as purifying what enters my mind, my other habits come to mind more clearly.
What in the rest of my day is useless? What am I doing that has no relevance to what my purpose in life is? What needs to be weeded out? Once the question is asked, it's easy to supply answers. But once the answers are spoken, they hang there, like carbon dioxide does on a cold day. I watch them float and don't want to go any further.
Because weeding hurts. That dirt under my fingernails took a long time to get out. I only went out and weeded because I hadn't for weeks... because I felt compassion on the poor plants in my garden. It wasn't a chore that I was jumping up and down to do.
It's necessary though, in order to yield plants that aren't choked, plants that are fresh and alive. And that's what I want to be. Fresh and alive, ready to be used. But I can't if I'm being suffocated by weeds. I don't want to weed.. whether in real life or in my spiritual one, but it has to be done. Like a chore put off until the shadow of consequence looms above me.
Why would I? For love. Because He loved me so much, He did much more than just weed. He was scourged... He died. And it's because He knows how much potential I have that I hope. That I know that I can be that plant that lives, and that He will help me weed, with His hand guiding mine. Showing me the deepest and darkest pits of ugly, slimy weeds that I want to keep hidden from the world. Giving the strength to confront them, to plan to destroy them, and to keep on doing so in the days that follow. To do it completely so that later the roots don't produce new weeds, even stronger this time.
With this hope, why wouldn't I weed?
Recently, I've been dieting. Now don't panic! Not that kind of dieting. A diet of books.... cutting out a lot of the fluff that I normally read and trying to engage in either classics or Christian Living books. Learning to spend my time wisely and not to waste it. Even as I take this small step in trying to manage my time as well as purifying what enters my mind, my other habits come to mind more clearly.
What in the rest of my day is useless? What am I doing that has no relevance to what my purpose in life is? What needs to be weeded out? Once the question is asked, it's easy to supply answers. But once the answers are spoken, they hang there, like carbon dioxide does on a cold day. I watch them float and don't want to go any further.
Because weeding hurts. That dirt under my fingernails took a long time to get out. I only went out and weeded because I hadn't for weeks... because I felt compassion on the poor plants in my garden. It wasn't a chore that I was jumping up and down to do.
It's necessary though, in order to yield plants that aren't choked, plants that are fresh and alive. And that's what I want to be. Fresh and alive, ready to be used. But I can't if I'm being suffocated by weeds. I don't want to weed.. whether in real life or in my spiritual one, but it has to be done. Like a chore put off until the shadow of consequence looms above me.
Why would I? For love. Because He loved me so much, He did much more than just weed. He was scourged... He died. And it's because He knows how much potential I have that I hope. That I know that I can be that plant that lives, and that He will help me weed, with His hand guiding mine. Showing me the deepest and darkest pits of ugly, slimy weeds that I want to keep hidden from the world. Giving the strength to confront them, to plan to destroy them, and to keep on doing so in the days that follow. To do it completely so that later the roots don't produce new weeds, even stronger this time.
With this hope, why wouldn't I weed?
Monday, September 5
Race
I can't believe that it's done. All my training for the team triathlon was put to use in one day, and not necessarily along with the satisfactory results I had hoped for. For those of you who know me, I tend to beat myself up a lot. For failing to meet the expectations that I set up for myself... even if they are unattainable.
There were a lot more hills than I had anticipated, and halfway seemed to take its own sweet time getting there. I almost took a detour to Jasper during part of it. But because the biking course was so far removed from the general gym where the triathlon was taking place, it was easy for me to zone out and to think that this was just another training bike ride. Which it wasn't... by any stretch of the imagination. As biker by biker announced their passing and then did so, it was easy to become discouraged. This wasn't the glorious thing that I had imagined it to be... my team mates were far away and I felt like I was doing this without any preparation before hand. It didn't help that I had never set eyes on the course before.
As I turned around and headed back, it was easier to coast, to let my muscles rest. Even though I knew that the Velcro band around my ankle was timing me, it was easy to be disillusioned by what seemed to be, instead of what really was. I was jealous... envious of those whose calves where easily twice the size of mine... and yet, I couldn't (or wouldn't) push myself harder. It's hard to know what could've been because it's in the past, but I feel as if I could've done so much better. Yet, we ended happily. We smiled and laughed and took many pictures in order to get the "right" ones. We had fun... that's what it was all about... right?
I have to remind myself to take things lightly. Especially things like this. New things that I didn't know what to expect of myself. So I lowered my expectations... as well as raising them. Lowering them for others... raising them for myself. Why? Because I'm still learning... learning that it's not all about me at all.
All this training up to the race taught me some valuable lessons. I learned some things about *hills*, most of all. But as the race got nearer and nearer, my training began to lag. I just didn't feel like going out and biking 20 km just because the day was steadily drawing nearer. I was tired, I was fatigued, and school had started. But as I was biking the real race that day, I sure wished that I had practiced a little more. That I had smoothed out my mount and dismount. That I had been eager and excited to be the best that I could be.
Does this sound familiar? Sometimes I can't help wondering how near a different, more real race day is. That day when all will end, and the final "race" will have, in a way, begun. When all my actions will have to accounted for, all my words, all my time, everything that He ever gave me. Am I training for that race even as hard as I trained for this past one?
"Physical training is good, but training for godliness is much better, promising benefits in this life and in the life to come." 1 Timothy 4:8 (NLT)
I tried to incorporate the two. For example, Psalm 1 and 1 Corinthians 13 may sound like chapters to you, but to me, they are hills. Rather, they are the things that I could concentrate on reciting to get me over the hills... even if I absorbed nothing from them at times. But in my everyday life, am I practicing, am I realizing how real that day really is?
"Don't you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win!" 1 Corinthians 9:24 (NLT)
I am sad that this race is over... however I am not going to miss sore muscles, cramped time schedules, and wind that changes directions exactly as I reach half way and turn around.
But in no way am I done training.
There were a lot more hills than I had anticipated, and halfway seemed to take its own sweet time getting there. I almost took a detour to Jasper during part of it. But because the biking course was so far removed from the general gym where the triathlon was taking place, it was easy for me to zone out and to think that this was just another training bike ride. Which it wasn't... by any stretch of the imagination. As biker by biker announced their passing and then did so, it was easy to become discouraged. This wasn't the glorious thing that I had imagined it to be... my team mates were far away and I felt like I was doing this without any preparation before hand. It didn't help that I had never set eyes on the course before.
As I turned around and headed back, it was easier to coast, to let my muscles rest. Even though I knew that the Velcro band around my ankle was timing me, it was easy to be disillusioned by what seemed to be, instead of what really was. I was jealous... envious of those whose calves where easily twice the size of mine... and yet, I couldn't (or wouldn't) push myself harder. It's hard to know what could've been because it's in the past, but I feel as if I could've done so much better. Yet, we ended happily. We smiled and laughed and took many pictures in order to get the "right" ones. We had fun... that's what it was all about... right?
I have to remind myself to take things lightly. Especially things like this. New things that I didn't know what to expect of myself. So I lowered my expectations... as well as raising them. Lowering them for others... raising them for myself. Why? Because I'm still learning... learning that it's not all about me at all.
All this training up to the race taught me some valuable lessons. I learned some things about *hills*, most of all. But as the race got nearer and nearer, my training began to lag. I just didn't feel like going out and biking 20 km just because the day was steadily drawing nearer. I was tired, I was fatigued, and school had started. But as I was biking the real race that day, I sure wished that I had practiced a little more. That I had smoothed out my mount and dismount. That I had been eager and excited to be the best that I could be.
Does this sound familiar? Sometimes I can't help wondering how near a different, more real race day is. That day when all will end, and the final "race" will have, in a way, begun. When all my actions will have to accounted for, all my words, all my time, everything that He ever gave me. Am I training for that race even as hard as I trained for this past one?
"Physical training is good, but training for godliness is much better, promising benefits in this life and in the life to come." 1 Timothy 4:8 (NLT)
I tried to incorporate the two. For example, Psalm 1 and 1 Corinthians 13 may sound like chapters to you, but to me, they are hills. Rather, they are the things that I could concentrate on reciting to get me over the hills... even if I absorbed nothing from them at times. But in my everyday life, am I practicing, am I realizing how real that day really is?
"Don't you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win!" 1 Corinthians 9:24 (NLT)
I am sad that this race is over... however I am not going to miss sore muscles, cramped time schedules, and wind that changes directions exactly as I reach half way and turn around.
But in no way am I done training.
Friday, September 2
Legacy
I heard about it first from my father. We were driving back home from camp when he mentioned that there had been an accident. Then, out of nowhere, came the words "Kacy Nelson."
I didn't really know her, I'll have to admit. I smiled at her in the hallways, talked maybe once or twice, but only knew of her.
As Chapel started and the slideshow played, Kacy's mom talked and then the receiving line started, I found myself thinking hard. At first I was only full of empathy, I mean, I didn't really even have anything to remember about her. But then, as pictures of her smiling, and at Jr. and Sr. Banquet came up, tears started to come. She was so bright, so full of life. She was never down, but instead always smiling.
Soon I was sobbing, remembering what little I knew of her. I didn't know why I was crying, but the fact that this person... any person... will never be seen by the ones that they love and that have loved them is so incredibly sad. I'm just so glad that He has given us the promise that we will see them again.
People were talking, giving their condolences to the parents, crying in groups, and I wondered. How will I be remembered? When I think of funerals, mostly it's for seniors because that's the age group that the deceased was in. Even if I live to be a Grandma (which I hope to, but who knows!), what will people remember about me?
Not to take anything away from Kacy's remembrance, but being there really cemented in my mind to make the most of my time. I want to be remembered for friendships, not school work; for love, instead of legalism; for compassion, instead of cruelty; for being willing to do anything for anyone at anytime. For shining His light brightly among those that I knew and reaching out to those that I didn't.
I want so much to be accomplished in my life. And then I turn around and look at that statement and think Woah! "I want so much?" What about Him? How much more is He waiting to take and transform this little light of mine into a beacon and lighthouse of brightness. Not made so all-encompassing by my little light, but rather by His mirrors that reflect it far and wide.
I think the greatest people I have known were/are the humblest. If it's not about me (which it isn't) then I can take risks, jump off cliffs (not literally), and do things without worrying about my reputation. For what is my reputation except for Christ?
So while I mourn for the loss of another light in our school, of a continual bright smile... I try to live in such a way that I leave a legacy... of Him.
I didn't really know her, I'll have to admit. I smiled at her in the hallways, talked maybe once or twice, but only knew of her.
As Chapel started and the slideshow played, Kacy's mom talked and then the receiving line started, I found myself thinking hard. At first I was only full of empathy, I mean, I didn't really even have anything to remember about her. But then, as pictures of her smiling, and at Jr. and Sr. Banquet came up, tears started to come. She was so bright, so full of life. She was never down, but instead always smiling.
Soon I was sobbing, remembering what little I knew of her. I didn't know why I was crying, but the fact that this person... any person... will never be seen by the ones that they love and that have loved them is so incredibly sad. I'm just so glad that He has given us the promise that we will see them again.
People were talking, giving their condolences to the parents, crying in groups, and I wondered. How will I be remembered? When I think of funerals, mostly it's for seniors because that's the age group that the deceased was in. Even if I live to be a Grandma (which I hope to, but who knows!), what will people remember about me?
Not to take anything away from Kacy's remembrance, but being there really cemented in my mind to make the most of my time. I want to be remembered for friendships, not school work; for love, instead of legalism; for compassion, instead of cruelty; for being willing to do anything for anyone at anytime. For shining His light brightly among those that I knew and reaching out to those that I didn't.
I want so much to be accomplished in my life. And then I turn around and look at that statement and think Woah! "I want so much?" What about Him? How much more is He waiting to take and transform this little light of mine into a beacon and lighthouse of brightness. Not made so all-encompassing by my little light, but rather by His mirrors that reflect it far and wide.
I think the greatest people I have known were/are the humblest. If it's not about me (which it isn't) then I can take risks, jump off cliffs (not literally), and do things without worrying about my reputation. For what is my reputation except for Christ?
So while I mourn for the loss of another light in our school, of a continual bright smile... I try to live in such a way that I leave a legacy... of Him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)