tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24407017732381004132024-03-05T11:08:16.180-08:00Words Like Raindrops"And my words, like silent raindrops, fell and echoed in the wells of silence."
Irony.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-7370045567360967792010-07-28T07:55:00.001-07:002010-07-28T07:56:28.383-07:00New Project!All right guys, the project I described in my previous post is up and running! Check it out if you so desire. :-)<div><br /></div><div><a href="http://coffeestainsonthepaper.blogspot.com/">http://coffeestainsonthepaper.blogspot.com/</a></div>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-75413856749927441332010-07-27T12:08:00.000-07:002010-07-27T12:16:14.084-07:00Coffee Stains on the PaperI love to go to coffee shops and sit by myself and write. It's something I don't do enough, and something I definitely want to make more time for. And something I did today.<div><br /></div><div>And it sparked an idea in me for a blog or something similar... a project, kind of, that would also force me to allow time to be alone (which I love and thrive on but often give up to help out friends and family), at least once a week, if not more, and also plays very nicely into my love of traveling to new places.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I may be starting another blog - this one with a theme. :-) But I'll just be writing whatever I'm thinking about, about my life, issues that are relevant at the time, and sharing. I wrote my first one today... but this is a great time in my life to be doing this, because I'm going through a ton of transitions... mainly typical young adult stuff. But that also means relevance. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm kind of excited at the prospect of having a writing project again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I think I'm off to create the new blog. I'll probably still write on here (I like to write), and 'two are better than one' as the scriptures say. (I know I'm taking that terribly out of context - don't condemn me). </div><div><br /></div><div>Later, all,</div>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-41525187745428093562010-07-24T08:26:00.000-07:002010-07-24T08:54:36.210-07:00Selling Out :-DA List of Several Things I Used to Scoff at:<div><br /></div><div>1) <i>Farmville</i>. That facebook game that takes over people's lives, and they become compulsive about organizing their lives around the times that their crops need to be harvested. It's not even real! Why spend so much time playing?</div><div><br /></div><div>2) <i>Disney Channel Shows</i>. Hannah Montana. The Suite Life. Wizards of Waverly Place. Lame Lame Lame. It's bad enough that kids and teenagers are so obsessed with such poor entertainment - why do so many college girls love Hannah Montana?</div><div><br /></div><div>3) <i>Domesticity</i>. Women should find other things to love than 'housework'. Oh those poor poor females who spend most of their time cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, etc. </div><div><br /></div><div>4) <i>Dogs</i>. I like cats. They are smart. Dogs are dumb and slobbery and gross.</div><div><br /></div><div>5) <i>Top 40 Radio</i>. Who listens to popular music? Not I! Nothing good to be found there.</div><div><br /></div><div>6) <i>Highway Driving</i>. Why take the interstate when you can take back roads? Much simpler, much nicer to do the country driving. </div><div><br /></div><div>7) <i>Art Majors</i>. Why would anyone go to school to get a degree in art? It's not like they can actually use it, or earn a living from it. So impractical!</div><div><br /></div><div>8) <b><i>Those <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Kinds of Couples<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">. Who spend hours on the phone each night, talking to each other. Who email back and forth in between the phone calls. Who text each other little things about their day. All of that communication is clearly unhealthy and obsessive. There's no way anyone could possibly just enjoy talking to each other that much.</span></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">9) </span>Talking on the Phone<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">. I don't like talking on the phone. So impersonal. Talking in person is way better, and I do not like spending more than a few minutes on the phone. I will email someone before I will talk on the phone with them.</span></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">10) </span>Ham and Cheese Hot Pockets<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">. Gross. Gross gross gross.</span></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>A List of Things I Have Come to Enjoy in the Past Year:</div><div><br /></div><div>1) <i>Farmville</i> is actually fun, and even though I only joined after my mom and boyfriend joined forces against me, I very soon started to love it. It's so pretty! All the different colored plants and trees and animals... don't judge if you've never played. I learned my lesson.</div><div><br /></div><div>2) I recently spent many hours watching <i>Disney Channel Shows</i> with an 11-year-old girl that my friend Rachel babysits. And... I was not just pretending to laugh for the sake of the child.</div><div><br /></div><div>3) I've spent a lot of time being <i>domestic</i> this summer. I've been keeping the kitchen clean and organized for my mom, helping to clean and organize various rooms in the house in general. Baking a little. Cooking a little. Mending / Altering clothes a little. Budgeting. Making a wardrobe. Doing laundry. Folding clothes. And I <i>like</i> it.</div><div><br /></div><div>4) I love <i>Samson</i>. He is the best dog ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>5) I also spent a lot of time while I was in St Louis with Rachel, listening to <i>Top 40 Radio</i>. There were some catchy tunes on there... I might have even listened to the station on my many-hour-long drive home on Thursday... and as I passed through different parts of different states, flipped through different stations until I found another one playing those songs. I can admit it.</div><div><br /></div><div>6) <i>Highway Driving</i> and <i>Cruise Control</i> are the best! Fast! Clean! Efficient! Easy! No cows on the road!</div><div><br /></div><div>7) I am an <i>art major.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>8) My boyfriend and I started dating three weeks before the end of the school semester. We've talked to each other a lot over the summer. I love talking with him, and we haven't actually run out of things to talk about yet. Ever. I miss him - I can admit that. :-) We have spent many more weeks apart than together since we've been dating. Recently as we were talking on the phone, we noted that perhaps we had become on of <b><i>those<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> kinds of couples.</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></i></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">9) *See number 8*</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">10) Yeah... <i>hot pockets</i>. Tasty.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">So what I'm saying is... it's okay to change your mind about things. And perhaps in the future, I will form much less strong opinions about things that I have never tried or experienced. :-)</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Try something you've always made fun of today. </span></b></div>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-38478290150788270102010-07-04T08:24:00.000-07:002010-07-04T08:59:41.064-07:00BrandonTime stopped for me this past month.<div><br /></div><div>Granted, I needed it to stop for me four months ago: <a href="http://www.indianasnewscenter.com/news/local/85077767.html">http://www.indianasnewscenter.com/news/local/85077767.html</a></div><div><br /></div><div>But that wasn't possible - I tried, and my mind tried even harder than my body, but it could only stop for a couple of weeks before I could no longer get through my classes without thinking about the work, so I wrenched my mind back, shut off my heart for a while the best I could, and put it on hold. </div><div><br /></div><div>I somehow forced through the semester (even without losing my scholarships!), and there were even some nice surprises sprinkled throughout. :-) And maybe more concentrated toward the end. I did see Fantastic Mr. Fox during finals week for the first time; that was a definite high point.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, I've had my Wes Anderson reference; I've fulfilled my 'cool white kid' duty for the week.</div><div><a href="http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/01/20/11-wes-anderson-movies/">http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/01/20/11-wes-anderson-movies/</a></div><div><br /></div><div>But really, I always try to do too much, and God still managed to answer my prayers and meet my needs despite my best attempts to keep going without. My summer hasn't turned out like I've expected, but this past month of June, time didn't just slow down for me. It essentially stopped. I had zero responsibilities aside from taking care of myself. And just now, as I'm finally starting to feel refreshed and closer to back to normal, I'm picking up little things again, like a starter lap before school starts again in August.</div><div><br /></div><div>I really shouldn't make sports references that I don't understand. I don't even know what a 'starter lap' is, or if that even exists. It just sounded vaguely appropriate. :-)</div><div><br /></div><div>And as to being 'back to normal'... I think the definition of 'normal' changes after someone you care about passes away. And that's okay. Every experience we have in life changes us, if we let it. And this is one that I think should. </div><div><br /></div><div>I still feel my eyes tear up, and my throat begin to burn, when I think about him. Maybe that will always happen; I don't know. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's not that he was a saint - neither of them were - they were teenage kids. But they maybe had more good motives than bad, and some great qualities. And I saw how much care he invested into making the plays run smoothly, technically speaking, and how much pride he took in a smooth performance. And how much he cared about my sister, and how insistent he was to make things right after she'd been hurt. And how he really did respect his parents, and love his sister. </div><div><br /></div><div>I guess his accident was really bad. He may not have even known what was hitting him before he was gone. Maybe he didn't feel a thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>And it still feels empty. There was an empty seat at graduation (3 actually, for the three classmates that have died), an empty spot at the tech table during the last play, an empty spot in the pew every Sunday. Especially <i>this</i> Sunday, with the singing of both "I'm So Happy" and "God Save the Queen". :-) So it's not just empty; it's silent.</div><div><br /></div><div>And maybe my tears are for his family too, who feel the emptiness and the silence much stronger than his friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>For a while after the accidents, the events of that day and that week played through my head constantly, images of the viewing and funeral and grieving community interrupting my thoughts and playing constantly when I didn't want them to. And now it's not an uncontrollable thing, but I'm beginning to want to think about them, and remember the lives that were lost. </div><div><br /></div><div>And so I know I'm healing. And God is walking me through it with all the love and care He possesses. </div><div><br /></div><div>And so the things I know about God now?</div><div><br /></div><div>God exists.</div><div>God keeps his promises.</div><div>God is powerful.</div><div>God is love.</div><div>God meets my needs... whether I want Him to or not.</div><div><br /></div><div>:-) Happy 4th. (through the tears brimming in my eyes)</div>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-77995559393693211102010-06-23T14:36:00.000-07:002010-06-23T14:54:01.327-07:00Wisdom from the KitchenSo,<br /><br />One important part of the American way of life is to really like a potential president while he's campaigning, vote for him, watch him get elected and sworn in, and immediately stop liking and supporting him after he's been in office for a year or so and hasn't solved all of our problems. Usually this is followed by statements such as "Yeah I knew we shouldn't believe all the hype." or "When something's too good to be true, it usually isn't."<br /><br />As if we had any idea how to run the nation.<br /><br />Of course, this pattern happens throughout life in many other situations. From new college courses, to new authors, to new soul mates, to new diets.<br /><br />We're a culture of immediate gratification, easy ways out, and a victim of circumstances complex.<br /><br />Nothing good comes instantly. Look at mashed potatoes.<br /><br />Would you rather have the kind your grandmother spends all morning making? Peeling the potatoes, mashing by hand, adding sour cream and butter, and cooking over the stove? Or the 'Just add water!' kind that you find buried in the pantry, pour from a box, stir a few minutes, and serve? We all know which tastes better.<br /><br />And for those of us that have spent the time peeling those potatoes, know the kind of satisfaction that comes from knowing and experiencing each step of the process. It is much more gratifying to me to know I am being complimented for a job well done than for knowing how to take shortcuts and still achieve a semi-positive outcome.<br /><br />Although, considering typical human nature, I am probably just being complimented for the pleasant effect my potatoes have on the consumer's stomach, and the fact that he could achieve instant gratification by having the food placed in front of him instead of having to put in the time to make it himself.<br /><br />It's a hard life.<br /><br />;-)BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-86283681094095402382010-06-21T09:24:00.001-07:002010-06-21T09:26:12.436-07:00Growing Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrd6OqD0THBTaWZlIuvIhStNTxTbQAqRIpoyw3nzNpw95ByHJx36C6k-yFsz_LW_fR1f2M6hb-u6WNgv0qIqEq_0XR5fbHVrdn58hmmg0Ub_HkcZJUBulOMyFoaznTYN44724fLQnzSG4/s1600/dadkidsjun92.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 295px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrd6OqD0THBTaWZlIuvIhStNTxTbQAqRIpoyw3nzNpw95ByHJx36C6k-yFsz_LW_fR1f2M6hb-u6WNgv0qIqEq_0XR5fbHVrdn58hmmg0Ub_HkcZJUBulOMyFoaznTYN44724fLQnzSG4/s400/dadkidsjun92.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485263956741580450" /></a><br />My little sister is going to college this fall.<div><br /></div><div>weird.</div><div><br /></div><div>She and Kevin and I were all in the kitchen yesterday, milling around and making our dinners, and talking to Mom, and I had several flashbacks of the same picture, at different stages.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kevin, Sarah, me, lined up at the kitchen counter, playing with tupperware and things, Sarah still a baby in a high chair, while Mom was on the other side, cooking...</div><div><br /></div><div>Kevin, Sarah, me, lined up on our barstools - Kevin and me turned toward the center, sticking our feet on Sarah's chair because it drove her crazy...</div><div><br /></div><div>Kevin, Sarah, me, teenagers, all too tall to sit at the kitchen counter to eat, all still doing it out of habit...</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it's a weird thing to think about, but I was definitely struck by how different we looked in different stages... but there is a sense of similarity about it too.</div><div><br /></div>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-82900673146158564212010-06-14T12:12:00.000-07:002010-06-14T12:31:07.696-07:00The GamblerLast thing I learned from my summer internship:<div><br /></div><div>Know when to quit.</div><div><br /></div><div>Or, as the poet Kenny Rogers might say, "You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away. Know when to run."</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, don't get me wrong. I love my church. I love the internship. I love the people I was working with, and I'm excited about the relationships I've begun to form.</div><div><br /></div><div>However, I knew from the beginning that I needed rest more than anything this summer, and I hadn't quite thought through and accounted for the depletion of emotional resources I always feel at the end of a school year, the intense emotional exhaustion I had gone through this year in particular, and my extensive solitude needs as an introverted individual. For me, it basically came down to either:</div><div><br /></div><div>a) finish the internship and go into the next school year with no more resources than I ended it with, which is something like -9,000%. </div><div><br /></div><div>OR</div><div><br /></div><div>b) quit the internship, but finish school.</div><div><br /></div><div>Naturally, I chose option B.</div><div><br /></div><div>So now I'm at home. I'm resting. I'm writing. I'm playing with my brother's 6 month old, 65 pound puppy. I'm going through my stuff and attempting to part with more of it (because I don't need most of it nor do I really have room for it in my dorm room...). I'm cleaning and doing stuff around the house. I'm helping my mom in the church nursery. I'm reading a whole lot of Sherlock Holmes stories. I would highly recommend them to the emotionally drained. There is absolutely zero emotion in Mr. Holmes. He analytically solves mysteries - the only person he cares about is Watson, and that sentiment even only presents itself in the most subtle ways in the stories toward the end of his life. Dear Watson. Kudos to him for not needing any indication of his best friend's affection to be assured of the importance of their friendship to him.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm also doing a lot of <i>thinking</i>, and believe you me, it is incredibly freeing to have time just to sit and <i>think</i> and pray and process. I have a lot of mixed emotions about the past school year to sift through, but I intersperse those processing times with Holmes and internet chess, so I am indeed, slowly beginning to recharge.</div>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-30027585649304711192010-06-01T10:21:00.000-07:002010-06-01T10:22:15.532-07:00Paradoxical Beauty (pt 4)<p class="MsoNormal">Recently, I told the God of the Universe that I didn’t have any reason to trust Him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I didn’t do that eloquently. No, no, no. I was curled up in a ball on my bed in my tiny, hot dorm room, on a Sunday afternoon, silently screaming because God kept insisting that He loved me, and kept sticking people in my life who also insisted they loved me. And I just didn’t believe it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I have no reason to trust them… people say all kinds of things they don’t mean, just to get what they want… I don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">want</i> to trust them; better to go it alone… no chance of getting hurt if you stick to yourself and don’t let anyone in… oh God, wait… I feel this way about You too, don’t I?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Brief pause.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“God… I don’t want to let You love me.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Half-second pause.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Oh my word – did I just tell GOD that I didn’t want to let Him love me?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then I recalled the scripture “I have promised never to leave or forsake you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Well yes, you promise that, but how do I know that you’ll keep your promises?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Another half-second pause.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Oh my word – I just told GOD that I didn’t trust Him. I don’t trust Him! Can I say that? That’s awful! How can I say that or think that or… but I do!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And as I calmed down, I began thinking about Old Testament stories, how God led the Israelites out of Egypt and captivity and to the Promised Land… and then I thought about Jesus. I thought about it in a new way though. My next statement was much less angst-filled, and more surprised…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“God… you impregnated a young teenage girl from the bad part of the country just to keep Your promise to Your people to bring them a Savior. Now… people probably had a lot to say about that… probably thought You went about it in a weird or bad way… thought that maybe it didn’t make sense… maybe even criticized you. Do something more socially acceptable… but You risked all of that. ALL of that. To keep Your promises to Your people.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And then I sat up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“God keeps His promises.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I looked around my room, not really seeing anything, but thinking and feeling this truth in a way that I never had before, albeit hearing it hundreds of times growing up in Sunday school and VBS. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I can trust You. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">You keep Your promises</i>.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It wasn’t anything spectacular or mystical or miraculous. But I know I was praying, talking with God, and He was the one that brought these thoughts to my mind. It had nothing to do with my own doing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A few months ago, I was down to just this belief: God exists. The rest, I just wasn’t sure of. But now, as I have been honest with God about my doubts, and have been earnestly seeking to discover who He actually is… I have begun to build truth upon truth, that I have always been taught, but now believe in such a more real and genuine way. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Perhaps in order to have faith, I really do need to doubt?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Paradoxical, but then when has God ever made sense? </p>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-6385607476051740912010-06-01T10:19:00.000-07:002010-06-01T10:21:03.156-07:00Trust vs. Understanding (pt. 3)<p class="MsoNormal">Christian College Myth #2: I’m going to find the good in every situation, because God makes everything happen for a reason, and God forbid it doesn’t make sense to me – I have to understand it all.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So I may have voiced this one in a little bit of an extreme way – I’ve been a very frustrated girl this semester. Now that it’s summer, and I am off campus, and sitting in the house I’m living in for the summer with the other Mercy House interns (shout out), I’m a little less urgently upset, though still frustrated enough with the attitudes I adopted this past year (and have since discarded) to finish what I’ve started.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Having a positive outlook is not a bad thing. I hold nothing against optimists. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Being instructed to discipline yourself in order to create a compulsion to find (or create) some tiny positive outlook in terrible situations is however, to my mind, destructive. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Feel free to make fun of me enthusiastically for my extreme love of this movie, but in Remember the Titans, there is a memorable quote, which I think is really quite profound:</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Sometimes bad things happen. For no reason at all.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or no reason that I will understand in this life. Or no reason more insightful than “There is evil in this world.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Trust me, I know and believe that God is powerful, and that in the end, He wins, and we have hope in Christ. But I think we often forget the flip side, that Satan has power too, and though God wins in the end, evil can cause a whole lot of harm in the meantime. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We have a very ordinary desire for things to make sense. It also feels very good to think that we know what God is up to. But God will humble the proud.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Everytime we try to contain God inside a box of our limited human understanding, He’s just going to break out of it again and do something completely unexpected. The minute we think we understand Him, He will blow our minds away. And it won’t make sense any more. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">If our faith is based on our understanding, where then will it be? Faith, by its very definition, involves believing without understanding, involves doubt.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So… perhaps the issue is more about trust. Do we trust that God knows what He’s doing? Enough to love Him and pursue Him even if He doesn’t let us in on the finer details of His divine plan?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Do we trust God enough to bring even our doubts to Him?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve found that He’s big enough to handle it. </p>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-82608063741595212432010-05-31T07:02:00.000-07:002010-05-31T07:21:21.170-07:00'Relentless Discovery'Week 2 of the internship has begun.<div><br /></div><div>A few things I have learned:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>* How to correctly install a window a/c unit</div><div>* How to stir fry many vegetables to make a tantalizing and tasty asian-looking dish to feed many people</div><div>* How to split a jelly doughnut without spilling the innards all over yourself</div><div>* Rice makes any dish five times as large.</div><div>* Neighbors tend to expect you to talk to them.</div><div>* I am used to roughly 30/70 social time vs alone time.</div><div>* I am not the only one in the house having issues transitioning.</div><div>* As much as I like to think I reacted strongly against certain aspects of my childhood in the church, they still have had an effect on me.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Last Friday, during our second class session, we talked about salvation. And we began by sharing the church environment we grew up in, and what we believe/were taught about salvation. I remember being taught that salvation was a personal choice, come to the altar, be saved from your sins, big moment, type of deal. Which is not in itself a bad thing. For some people, it is. </div><div><br /></div><div>I remember when I was young seeing a play about the fires of hell that was intended to strike fear and guilt into you, in order to convince you of your need for a Savior, and to come to Him. I know the intentions of the church were good, but I reacted very strongly against that idea later on. I don't think that we should begin a relationship with Christ out of fear for the alternative. I think it should be out of love for and curiosity about the God who loves us and saves us.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I thought that concept was completely out of my thinking, until Matt, our pastor, has us role play a conversation between a nonbeliever and a Christian about our faith. I was the second person to be the 'Christian', and I entered into it with the intention of making it a conversation, and asking the 'nonbeliever' as many questions as he asked me, which did work to an extent, but I also found myself going about it with the concept of "well you need Jesus to help you forgive yourself... there must be something you feel guilty about... come on..." </div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah.</div><div><br /></div><div>It just really impresses on me that everything in my life has influenced me to some extent, whether I recognize that or not. </div><div><br /></div><div>This may just be a summer of discovery. 'relentless discovery' if you will. Haha... oh Taylor... I actually couldn't remember where that phrase came from for a moment. See? Everything influences you... including the giant TU billboard on I-69. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm feeling very positive this week about prospects for this internship and this summer. I think it will be way different than what I'm used to for my summer, but I think that will be a good thing. </div>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-27211507404605641142010-05-27T12:55:00.000-07:002010-05-27T12:56:35.195-07:00Brief Hiatus<p class="MsoNormal">It is summer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I am drained. I didn’t even have time or energy to realize how very drained I had become until a few days after I left campus for the semester. And then I couldn’t identify it, because no matter how in tune with myself I like to believe I am, I am very much not. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But I’ve figured it out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Burnout. I am experiencing ‘burnout’. I have a whole lot of energy and resources too. I’m not sure that I ever have experienced burnout. But I am now. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I am currently in Anderson, IN, sprawled out on a lovely dark green couch in the living room of a house occupied by seven other people, and we are the Mercy House interns, phase five. And I am excited to see what is in store for us. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But I am also tired. I’ve always maintained a busy schedule, and this year was more intense than even the others, because of my decision to be a Taylor University PA, and then a series of unexpected life events that sapped all of my emotional resources away away. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Although, through everything (and there are a ton of things God was teaching me / reminding me of…), this is reminding me of one crucial thing. I can’t handle things on my own. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And rest is a gift.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I pulled out Mark Buchanan’s book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">The Rest of God</i> this afternoon, which our English Hall PA staff was supposed to read together last semester, but I actually didn’t open once, because, ironically, I was too busy. The book begins by his defense of maintaining the Sabbath. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I have always been skeptical of this command. It seems like an outdated tradition, and very unpractical in my busy world. A very stressful addition to the other things I have to do. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Buchanan suggests that we think of the Sabbath like liturgy, which he describes as a unifying, connecting thing. A suggestion of practical action for a scriptural concept, one that you can follow as closely or tweak as much as you would like. He described it like choreography. I think of it like jazz.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jazz music has a basic melody line that everyone follows, a sound structure that everything revolves around and builds on, but each line is very open to improvisation and experimentation. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">This is our freedom in Christ.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">All the different instruments have their own variations to the main melody, based on their abilities to create different sounds, and different instruments are prominent at different times, but all follow the same basic melody and fit together seamlessly to create a unified sound that is beautiful, sometimes jarring, sometimes smooth, sometimes unexpected, but always beautiful.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Which I think is actually a nice picture of the Church, and our unity in Christ.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But that’s just what I think. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m still working through my thoughts on what God has begun showing me about my flawed thinking in a Christian college environment, and I’ll be continuing to write and think about that this summer, but I think interspersed throughout will be my thoughts as I read this book, which has definitely reappeared at a perfect time, as I’m realizing how very tired I am, and willing to give God, and His ideas about the Sabbath and rest, a listen. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-56138059292437108932010-04-15T13:03:00.000-07:002010-05-27T13:04:46.339-07:00Fool Me Twice... (pt 2)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; ">Christian College Student Concept #1: "I’m going to shut out negative emotions, because I want to encourage everyone around me, and there’s no way I can do that unless I’m cheerful and pleasant."<br /><br />(If you are tagged in this note, it is because you are a part of the story, and I want to thank you for the influence you've had in this step of my life. The list is by no means all inclusive, just the ones that stand out in my memory of the events recalled in this particular portion I've written about. I'll only tag you once, in the series of notes I'm writing, but know that your influence carries on - it's just going to be a LOT of writing, and I don't want to clog up your facebook wall. So, yes, thank you.)<br /><br />(Also, if you want this to flow more cohesively, go back and read pt 1)<br /><br />The funny thing is… I can go right back to that way of thinking. Why is it that we can learn something so profoundly and genuinely… and forget it so quickly? Human flightiness? Perhaps.<br /><br />I came back to school the day after the funerals. And I knew that I had a reputation – I was smiling Bethany, who always had a lighthearted comment or encouraging remark, totally focused on cheering up the people around her. (Friends – this is by no means your problem. It’s all on me). I couldn’t do it at first. I could barely even think, let alone feel anything. It became a problem academically. One of my professors summed it up like this:<br /><br />“Everything seems pretty trivial now, doesn’t it?”<br /><br />Yes, Professor Bouw, it certainly does.<br /><br />And then I was advised (by a different professor) to engage in school once again by training my mind, again, to look for the good in those situations, to understand God’s purpose, to see what I was gaining out of this situation, so that I could once again have a cheerful outlook and be able to encourage the people around me.<br /><br />And I tried it. Because I am an idiot and never learn a lesson the first time around.<br /><br />I was still sad. But not nearly as often. In fact, I was pretty happy for a couple of weeks straight through. And then I dipped down again, and was very unpleasantly reminded that grief is not something that can be taken care of quickly, or that can be ignored.<br /><br />But I still didn’t see any connection to the way I was trying to deal with it. And really, it was very effective most of the time. When I was only thinking of pleasant things, I did tend to have pretty positive emotions.<br /><br />And then, the night before I was to leave for spring break, I received a text from my hall director, telling me to be in her apartment in 15 minutes, with the other PA’s (RA’s for non-Taylor people). And when I arrived, I was told that our housekeeper, Amy, who I had known and had many conversations with and enjoyed immensely, had been taken hostage and then killed by her estranged husband that day. I was stunned. I was feeling my own very real, raw pain again, and then also thinking of Amy’s daughters, one of whom is a student in our hall…<br /><br />And… the memory is hazy… I honestly don’t know if I was expected to do this by other people or if I put this expectation on myself, but I got the impression that I, as a PA, was supposed to be walking around the hall, comforting and encouraging the students.<br /><br />And I couldn’t do it. I knew I couldn’t. My pain was too real, and that new pain was also digging up the suppressed pain I still had for Brandon and Amanda.<br /><br />And then the next day, a professor who I hold in very high regard, gave a lecture. About cheerfulness. And how it was the mark of a mature Christian.<br /><br />And I argued with him. For the first time. I was offended. I asked what he could possibly see in the situation with Amy and her family, that he could be thankful for. And he said that I should think about what I could gain from the situation. Look for long-term positive effects in how God would use that situation. I was told by various members of the class that I needed to recognize God’s ultimate control over the situation, and that this was all a part of His plan. And that I needed to look longer at everything, so that I could see positives.<br /><br />I felt a little bit like I was in the middle of The Stepford Wives… or in Camazotz, for those literate in Madeleine L’Engle. I still argued – the idea of concentrating on what I could gain from others’ pain seemed completely self-centered. My professor argued that the Bible instructed us to think that way, and I asked for scripture references to look up.<br /><br />And I did. And I read some more scriptures. Within one of the references he gave me, there was a verse that said to “grieve, mourn, and wail. Change your laughter to morning, and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will lift you up.” My professor also gave a list of verses in the Psalms, singing praises to God, as support. But when I looked at the Psalms, there were also a huge number that began “Hear me, O Lord, as I voice my complaint…”<br /><br />So now I’m here. This concept of continual self-constructed cheerfulness doesn’t feel right, doesn’t follow logically, and isn’t supported by a cohesive view of scripture (as far as I can tell).<br /><br />Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…<br /><br />So now I’m done. I still have that joy. I can still feel it. But I in no way am going to go back to this idea of needing to train my mind to be constantly cheerful. Or believe that I cannot be an encouragement to people around me if I am not cheerful.<br /><br />I came across an article I wrote as a senior in high school, which seems like ages ago, but I know is not actually that long… in which I prompted this question.<br /><br />“So which is better then? To present a front that you don’t feel any pain so that you won’t burden others? Or to show that you’re just like them and that you feel?”<br /><br />A teacher asked me about it. If I had an answer. I didn’t. Of course. I had no idea. I was 18 and hadn’t experienced anything significantly painful, to have to choose one of the two ways to act.<br /><br />Now, at the wise, wise age of 21 (she said tongue-in-cheek), I have a little more of an idea. Pain is universal. Human. Every single person experiences pain of some kind going through life. Why put so much effort into pretending it doesn’t affect you? Shared pain creates a bond of understanding – a connectedness at a deep level of humanity. I don’t believe there is any greater satisfaction to be had from being superhuman, untouchable.<br /><br />As my mom says (who is older even than 21 and actually is much wiser), "God created us with a whole spectrum of emotions... and I think He is big enough to handle any of them."<br /><br />Myth busted? (I’m such a nerd.)</span>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-82988637037884997782010-04-08T13:02:00.000-07:002010-05-27T13:03:46.452-07:00That Small Seed (pt 1)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; ">Christian College Student Concept #1: "I’m going to shut out negative emotions, because I want to encourage everyone around me, and there’s no way I can do that unless I’m cheerful and pleasant."<br /><br />(If you are tagged in this note, it is because you are a part of the story, and I want to thank you for the influence you've had in this step of my life. The list is by no means all inclusive, just the ones that stand out in my memory of the events recalled in this particular portion I've written about. I'll only tag you once, in the series of notes I'm writing, but know that your influence carries on - it's just going to be a LOT of writing, and I don't want to clog up your facebook wall. So, yes, thank you.)<br /><br />I smile a lot.<br /><br />Which is fine, yes. It’s much easier to smile than frown, I’m told. Maybe I just have really wimpy facial muscles.<br /><br />But it’s one thing to smile often and have a generally cheerful disposition, and quite another to train yourself to only process information in ways that create positive conclusions, and thus, positive emotions. I was recently taught, by a highly respected professor, that only if I am living in this state of continual intentional cheerfulness, is my faith in Christ mature.<br /><br />I thought about this (for perhaps a fraction of a second), and then tried it out. And it seemed to work out quite perfectly! This state of eternal optimism was a pleasant place to be. It felt amazing – things that would normally be disappointing or upsetting just slid right off me. If someone was having a bad day, I was a bottomless well of cheerful outlook on the situation. And the best part was, every time I had a positive comment, I was moving closer to God. My faith was stronger – this was easy! Endless series of mountaintop experiences simply because of how I was training my mind. “Oh the cleverness of me!”<br /><br />Do you see the problem? Well several problems, actually.<br /><br />The first being that old friend of mine, PRIDE. Look at what I was doing to increase my faith. The scriptures tell us that it is by grace we are saved – we don’t do this by our own merit. And even when we are told to continue to ‘work out our faith’, it is with ‘fear and trembling’, to sum up – humility.<br /><br />The first big problem that I was hit with though, was when my happy little version of reality around me crashed, and crashed hard.<br /><br />Tuesday, February 23, 2010. I had just finished my morning class, and saw that I had a voicemail from my mom. I wondered why she had called when she knew I was in class – perhaps she was coming to visit, or my little sister had received good news about college applications. I wandered into the hallway to look at the printmaking projects while I listened to her message…<br /><br />And that moment is locked in my memory forever, hearing her recorded voice start to shake as she told me that there had been an accident that morning… and one of my sister’s best friends, also a friend to me, a boy we had grown up with in our church and in our school, was gone. Later, I would learn that another student from their group of friends had also passed away that morning, in a separate accident.<br /><br />As I heard her words, “one of the students… Brandon Replogle… didn’t make it…” I froze. The white walls and ceiling and tile floor around me all seemed to pulse as reality hung suspended in time. I deleted her voicemail as soon as it finished; I didn’t want to ever hear it again. But deleting the message in no way changed the reality of the situation.<br /><br />I was in shock – I started screaming and crying in the empty hallway (was it empty? It was empty to me...). I didn’t know what to do or where to go. My phone started vibrating again, and I looked down to see my sister was calling me. And she was crying and screaming too, and in shock. And I made a quick decision. I was going home. As soon as I could.<br /><br />And this was a conscious decision. I could have stayed at school, removed from the situation, in my happy little world on my happy little college campus, that I had created in my mind. But I knew, more than anything, that I needed to be in the middle of everything. I needed to know that it was real. I needed to be fully engaged in the midst of the pain, and the suffering, of my family and community.<br /><br />And somehow (the prayers of friends and professors at school had something to do with it, I’m sure…) I made it back home, and instead of stopping at my house, I continued in to the high school, scared out of my mind of what I would see when I got there, but knowing I needed to be there. My sister was there. Her friends, and my friends, in her class were there. Our drama directors were there.<br /><br />The school was in a state of shock too. I passed my old principal in the hallway – his eyes were wet, and he was staring blankly down the hall. Students were wandering through in the hallways, though it wasn’t a passing period.<br /><br />Overwhelmingly noticeable though, was the silence. 700 students. Teachers. Administrators. Present. But not speaking.<br /><br />I literally ran into my sister, who guided me to the back of the building, where the drama directors had set up a room for the students to come, with huge sheets of papers laid out for them to write notes to Brandon and Amanda. Pictures of both students laid out. Music playing that they had loved.<br /><br />I was met instantly upon entering the room, by these students, who I remembered as little kids, who I had performed alongside on stage, and who I loved and cared about so much, all in this shared pain. At various stages of anger, sadness, or disbelief. So many tears.<br /><br />And we were encouraging each other. Holding on to each other to make it through. There wasn’t an ounce of cheerfulness in that room. I didn’t need to put on a happy face and concentrate on framing my mind in the correct way to be pleasant. None of us were shutting out our painful emotions, yet just this shared presence was in itself an encouragement to each other.<br /><br />And later there would be laughter - when a humorous story was recalled about one or both of them. But that was experienced as it occurred naturally. It wasn't consciously created by the power of our minds.<br /><br />I’m not saying that I had no hope – no joy. I felt the deep seed of joy inside of me, buried way down, but still alive, at the same time as I was feeling such pain. But joy and cheerfulness are not the same thing.<br /><br />My reality had been completely shaken – my ideas and concepts about life. Everything I believed about God… I was down to three things that I believed to be true.<br /><br />God exists. God is good. God is love.<br /><br />And that is joy. That is the seed I had inside of me, ever present. It was buried deep… but it was warm. And it was there.<br /><br />And this was the truest sense of community I had ever felt –<br /><br />Can I honestly believe, after all this, that I must shut out negative emotions, and be always cheerful and pleasant, in order to encourage the people around me in the way that God intends me to?</span>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-30888342399896021442010-04-06T13:02:00.000-07:002010-05-27T13:02:51.900-07:00Thoughts for the Day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; ">(many of them from people much wiser than myself)<br /><br />“Love that will not betray you, dismay or enslave you. It will set you free! Be more like the man you were made to be. There is a design in alignment – the cry of my heart to see – the beauty of love as it was made to be.”<br /><br />God is love.<br /><br />And He will not betray you, dismay, or enslave you. (my yoke is easy and my burden is light)<br /><br />It is so easy on a Christian campus to get caught up in the whole Christian college student thing. You know what I’m talking about. If you are a Christian college student or know someone who is. And I’m as guilty as anyone else - I'm completely describing myself right now.<br /><br />And if you don’t happen to be or know a Christian college student, I’ll lay it out for you.<br /><br />I may be texting my friends all through chapel, but I’ll for sure be there, closing my eyes and lifting my hands during the worship just in case somebody’s watching (but of course I'm only doing it for a better connection with God...). It makes me feel good.<br /><br />I’m going to shut out negative emotions, because I want to encourage everyone around me, and there’s no way I can do that unless I’m cheerful and pleasant.<br /><br />I’m going to find the good in every situation, because God makes everything happen for a reason, and God forbid it doesn’t make sense to me – I have to understand it all, or my faith is so not as mature as that other girl’s.<br /><br />I’m going to drive myself completely insane trying to figure out God’s exact plan for my life – searching for His will in every tiny mundane choice I need to make. Because there is only one right choice. I need to be within His will, after all.<br /><br />I am going to give and give and give and give – it doesn’t matter if I have a project due the next morning, or haven’t slept properly in days. If one of my friends needs a listening ear, then I will be that ear. Unlimited. For hours on end.<br /><br />“Take every thought and make it captive to Christ.”<br /><br />“Be perfect, therefore, as He is perfect.”<br /><br />Those are my mantras.<br /><br />So, are you following me? Do you see where Bethany was a few weeks ago? Do you see yourself in there?<br /><br />I don’t think I need to address the first point – enough people have addressed the topic of worship – do we do it because it makes us feel better about ourselves or to give to God – what does it mean to worship – etc. etc. Mark Buchanan describes living as an act of worship in his novel, The Holy Wild. Check it out.<br /><br />(and I still text my sister during chapel if I’m bored. True confession.)<br /><br />The other points, though, could use some fleshing out. Later though. I have homework. Be prepared – there will be a plethora of notes coming to describe my thoughts/arguments. I’ve been through a lot this year… have played around with different theological concepts. Have adopted some. Have dropped others.<br /><br />To make a play on the scripture “the grass withers and the flowers fall…”<br /><br />Theological concepts come and go, but God Himself is constant. The same yesterday, today, and forever.<br /><br />And it’s way cool that He’s always there.<br /><br />So get ready for a rapid fire succession of lessons I’ve learned/thoughts and musings. And in the meantime, check out the Mumford & Sons release “Sigh No More”. It’s good stuff.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7TrU4_-JTY" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; "><span>http://www.youtube.com/wat</span><wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "></span>ch?v=p7TrU4_-JTY</a></span>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-55686073134314207172009-12-21T13:00:00.000-08:002010-05-27T13:01:48.839-07:00Dances with Wolves<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; ">And I am dancing with the wolves.<br /><br />Disclaimer: I know this is going to sound a little ridiculous, but know that with every ounce of my being, it is true. No words on paper can fully describe the experience of being with the wolves.<br /><br />At first, I was skeptical. My brother called me, so excited because he was going to go down to Wolf Creek Habitat and hang out with wolves for a day. I didn’t really understand the appeal, so I turned down his offer to bring me with him. And then he came back and showed me pictures, and I thought it was kind of cool that he had been so close with these wild animals, but I still didn’t get it.<br /><br />But his excitement was contagious, and I found myself agreeing to go back with him, and our younger sister, the first day of Christmas break.<br /><br />So we made the four hour drive, starting early in the morning, and arriving around noon. The wolf habitat is set back from the main road, down a winding, narrow road in the mounds, running parallel to a little creek, and surrounded by trees. When we arrived, we stepped into a little cabin with a wood-burning stove which served as the gift shop, to pay our fee to go in and meet the wolves.<br /><br />At first, all I could think about was how cold my toes were in my ripped up old tennis shoes, and the first words of the woman who owned them wolves were not exactly encouraging.<br /><br />“I know this sounds weird, but if one of them comes up from behind and grabs you around the neck, just reach back and push them off.”<br /><br />We held our hands out for them to sniff before we went into the enclosure, and then stood with our backs against the fence door, so they would not knock us over with their enthusiastic greeting. And we carefully made our way to the center where we stood with our backs against a platform so that the wolves could come up from behind and greet us by licking our faces. And at this point, I was no longer thinking about the cold, or about my doubts. I was in a different place.<br /><br />It is an incredible thing to be that close to something that God created to be wild, and I was on their territory, unfamiliar to me. It was entirely up to them how I would leave it. In a sense, I was powerless, but I was not afraid.<br /><br />Dyami, the alpha female, was the most enthusiastic of the four. She greeted Sarah and I by nibbling at our noses and chins (which stick out like their snouts – it’s the way they would greet each other), and then she came to Kevin, who I think she must have remembered from his earlier visit. She had taken a special liking to him then, and wolves have very long memories. She at least seemed very pleased to see him again. Then the alpha male, Pejuta, and the beta male, Akki, came to inspect us. These first three teamed up to pull off my hat; they seemed to find it very interesting. I hung onto it though, and got it back. This all happened in a few moments, and just when I thought they were done, in my peripheral vision, I saw one suddenly appear next to my face and sniff at me. This was Tikaani, the omega female, sneaking up from behind after the larger wolves were finished.<br /><br />Tikaani, though the most timid of the pack, seemed to like me (we think because I am the smallest), and would come to me and let me scratch her belly for long moments, and kept eye contact with me. Staring into those orange eyes was completely unreal. It was like we understood each other. It is so affirming to be chosen as a companion for a few moments by one of these incredible creatures. Each time one of them approached me to lick my face or lean against me to ask for a belly rub or grab the wrist of my sleeve to pull me along somewhere, I felt so privileged to be among them, that they would even want to interact with me.<br /><br />Each of them had distinct personalities. Each of them had a clear place and order in their structured hierarchical society. Each of them had a sense of family. Each had an aura of intelligence around them.<br />Toward the end of the visit, each of us were given a piece of peppermint to put in our teeth, and the wolves would grab it out of our mouths with their teeth. They love peppermints! And they were so gentle. Over-enthusiastic Dyami knocked my candy back into my mouth on my tongue, and then Akki reach into my mouth and picked it up, and I barely felt a thing.<br /><br />I cannot describe in words how incredible this whole experience was. I had been completely used up, at the end of my reserves, emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually, after a far too long semester at school, and I had no idea of how badly in need of healing I was.<br /><br />But God did. And the wolves did. And I feel completely restored. </span>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-84203736421235969022009-11-13T12:59:00.000-08:002010-05-27T12:59:54.775-07:00"Is This the Beginning of a New and Brighter Birth?"<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">In the past few weeks, I’ve learned more about giving praise to God than I ever thought possible. And it’s a painful and a beautiful thing, and I’m not going to get too in depth here. But God has stretched me and taught me more than I ever thought I could be capable of… though I guess that’s the point? That I’m not capable of it. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">Regardless, tonight I’m reflecting on how good God is for my pride. As in, he’s been pretty incredible at breaking it apart and tearing it down since I started praying about it in high school. And at first, it was only in small pieces; I’d spent quite a long time building it up and shaping it. I wasn’t willing to let go of more than the littlest chunks. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">But lately… in the past 6 months or so… it’s been coming down in waves. I could write a book about the lessons I’ve learned – painful ones – but I’m just beginning to really reflect on it, so I couldn’t put it all into words here. And of course I didn’t get it while it was happening; I’m much too stubborn and shortsighted for that.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But looking back, I can see a little glimpse of how everything relates. And I can get small glances at the much more beautiful product that God is shaping in me than I was ever capable of creating myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">So that’s all back story; what I really want to talk about is how I’ve watched one scene from the Prince of Egypt roughly 30 times today. The scene with the “Look at your life through Heaven’s Eyes” song. Mainly because they summed up in five minutes what has taken me 20+ years to learn. And I feel ridiculous, because I have watched this movie multiple times, and I never really ‘got it’ until now. And I feel ridiculous for being so moved from a cartoon that I’ve thought about it for hours, even while I was at meetings and such, and am still watching it and gaining more from the lyrics of the song and the images. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oG0a9WFkgzU&feature=related"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oG0a9WFkgzU&feature=related</span></a><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">That is what I mean by God being good for my pride. Even in the littlest things, He’s constantly reminding me that I don’t have a clue, and when He does reveal things to me, it’s in the most basic of concepts and from the most unlikely sources – there is no chance of me turning it into bragging about how incredibly insightful and intellectual I am. And in that way, God is protecting me from my sinful tendencies. It blows my mind how perfect He is.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">Okay, I’ve taken a long time to get to my original point… the whole idea of the song. Until very recently, I have spent my entire life trying to figure out why things happen and what God wanted in my life. The problem is that I was trusting in myself to discern that, and how can ‘a single thread’ see ‘the pattern of the grand design’? I can’t! Why even try? I would even say things intellectually about how we can never see things from God’s perspective, because we’re not capable of understanding it, but I didn’t really grasp the concept or apply it. And the things that I thought had value? Not important. It’s not important to be viewed as capable or intelligent or creative. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">“So how can you see what your life is worth? Or where your value lies? You can never see through the eyes of man – you must look at your life through heaven’s eyes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">And I’ve spent much of my life up to this point looking for answers. Praying for God to explain to me why each thing happens. And when He didn’t answer, I would decide why things were happening and project that onto Him. But God isn’t going to explain to me every detail of my life! That’s not the point.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">“And though you never know all the steps, you must learn to join the dance.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">The whole point of faith is to trust and follow without knowing how it all turns out. Which is the most basic of concepts, but one that I’ve never really understood fully. And it’s all just a reminder. Of how I need to live my life, and what I’m striving for. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">“So how do you judge what a man is worth? By what he builds or buys? You can never see through your eyes on earth. Look through heaven’s eyes.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"">God is so freaking awesome!<o:p></o:p></span></p>BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-19190405822937891342009-10-04T16:46:00.000-07:002009-10-22T16:48:43.536-07:00Confession: I write notes to myself.It’s been a while… I’m not sure that this will be a blog entry – it’s too unpolished. I just haven’t written to myself in quite a while, and I’d like to again.<br /><br />I think I’m in a mood – I’m not sure what that mood is exactly. Something in which I don’t know what I want. Part of me wants to curl up on my bed and not get up for a long while. The other part is really craving human company. It would be so much simpler if I could just figure out whether I want one or the other.<br /><br />And I know… ‘humans are complex’. We don’t make sense.<br /><br />We don’t make sense to ourselves anyway… it’s kind of a comforting thought that I make sense to God… I’m not sure that I do to anyone else, including myself.<br /><br />I don’t have any profound thoughts on life tonight. Just that I really take comfort in the thought that God knows my desires better than I do.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-81907412889519564442009-09-10T16:21:00.000-07:002009-10-22T16:22:11.293-07:00An Unexpected CatharsisLove others for the little love that they are able to give.<br /><br />I exist to share God’s love in the imperfect way that I can, not to be God and to save people for him. If I do the saving, then they don’t need God. And how arrogant of an attitude is that in me?<br /><br />God is teaching me volumes about love… and not in the way I would expect. Rather than giving me people to love, he’s taking people away from me – people that I have been inclined to ‘save’ rather than love, though before I couldn’t see the difference. Because of God, we are free to love without an agenda, to love others without needing to save them, because Jesus has already done that. It’s not our responsibility.<br /><br />Granted, at the time of the tearing away, I couldn’t see the point. In any of it. I was hurting; I was upset; I couldn’t see a purpose. But the small distinction that I failed to note was that I couldn’t see my purpose.<br /><br />I thought I knew what God was doing and why, and (go figure) I was wrong again.<br /><br />And you know… I’m glad I was wrong. Because God is stretching me and helping me to grow in completely unexpected ways.<br /><br />I like not being able to figure him out.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-84018973149773263062009-07-20T16:20:00.000-07:002009-10-22T16:21:23.771-07:00I Have Superhero Syndrome.I want to save the world.<br /><br />Save the cheerleader; save the world. There is a God, and there is a Heaven. Recycling. Throwing the damn starfish back in the ocean. Why does it work? Because we all have a need to believe that our actions, that events in our lives have a deeper meaning. That the little things that we do day-to-day matter.<br /><br />So what do you do when the world sucks, and you know you can’t do anything about it?<br /><br />Should I just close my eyes tight, ignore reality, and pretend that I can make the world perfect single-handedly?<br /><br />Or should I completely drop the idea that I can make a difference, and just accept the world as the disappointing mess that it is?<br /><br />I think either of those options would make life a lot easier.<br /><br />But maybe finding contentedness in life is about reconciling those two ideas.<br /><br />I would take any answer right now.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-42109592143697061522009-07-01T16:18:00.000-07:002009-10-22T16:20:25.841-07:00A Fine Day for a White Wedding?Marriage.<br /><br />The word looks scarier the closer I get to an age where I would be likely to achieve it.<br /><br />My mom was married when she was 20. I’m 20. And it’s hard for me to imagine myself in her place.<br /><br />Being at a Christian college, going into my junior year, I’m constantly hit with the idea of the ideal relationship… (meet freshman year, talk about dating over the summer, start dating sophomore year, break up junior year to spend some time getting closer to God, get back together at the end of junior year, get engaged senior year, get married summer after senior year). And while I tend to be tongue-in-cheek and laugh at that, I know that it has to have some effect on me.<br /><br />My friends are getting married and those that aren’t are still planning their weddings. Sometimes it’s fun to imagine myself married – in my own house, holding a baby, playing with kids, coming home for Christmas with the whole crew… it’s the husband thing that’s harder for me.<br /><br />The very concept of marriage sounds scary and impossible to me – how can you expect to find someone interesting enough to occupy you for the rest of your life?<br /><br />Every part of me resists the idea of tying myself down to one person. It’d be really, really nice if it was attainable; it’s a pretty picture. And this isn’t one of those guy-bashing posts. I’m looking at myself and at my personality, and I can’t see it. I fill my life with a thousand different things, at a breakneck pace, and I like it that way. The idea of finding another person who can keep up with me, or who I would be willing to slow down for? A pretty picture, again. But attainable? I have no idea.<br /><br />I can remember in high school, thinking that I would be married in college or right after, and I could easily see myself in that situation, and I would daydream about it… but now that I’m actually there… there is no way.<br /><br />I want to be single. I want to have fun. I want to have adventures. I want to travel. I want to focus my energy on teaching. I want to have a rockin’ friendship with God. I want to be able to pick up and go whenever I want. I want to have strong relationships with lots of friends.<br /><br />I’m not ready to settle down. Not nearly.<br /><br />But see – I like the thought of romance. Does this mean I want love, but not commitment? Feeling more and more like a terrible person, the longer I think.<br /><br />Does getting married mean the end of adventures? People claim not, but in my mind, I think it does. Mom keeps saying that I need to marry a guy that will keep me grounded. I want to marry a guy that will go on adventures with me. Forget being grounded. Life is too short.<br /><br />And aside from all that, just thinking about it… he’s always there. He lives in the same space as you. He sleeps in your bed. He eats your food. He shares your bathroom. He watches your tv and uses your shampoo. He leaves his socks all over your floor.<br /><br />And then there’s all this talk of belongings. You belong to him. He belongs to you. When do you stop being an individual? I feel like marriage means giving up a part of myself, of my personhood. And that thought makes me angry.<br /><br />I think the idea of marriage shouldn’t evoke fear, anger, and resistance. Maybe several years from now I’ll feel differently. Maybe not. We’ll see.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-90966049729004770572009-06-07T16:17:00.000-07:002009-10-22T16:18:44.791-07:00Officer Dole is not as Nice as Officer MayThis morning, my friend Melanie and I drove down to Anderson to attend the church that we go to during the school year – Mercy House. Which is awesome, by the way. It’s worth the two hour drive. I’m hoping to go a few more times this summer.<br /><br />Anyway, the message was really thought-provoking. It was over Hebrews 3, with a focus on where the author says that Jesus is more important than Moses. Matt stressed that for that to be relevant to us today, we should fill in the blank with something that would be insulting to us if he claimed Jesus was more important than it. Jesus is more important than __________ (patriotism, family, consumerism, my hopes and dreams, etc). And he ended with a really beautiful comment about perspective that felt like it was meant just for me, so needless to say I had a lot to mull over.<br /><br />I decided to be responsible though and wait until my highway driving was finished (taking Mel to Indy so she could catch her bus and then driving back up until I went off I-69).<br /><br />So I turned onto state road 5 and turned off my music, thinking that now I could pray and reflect and tackle the message. After all, I had driven this road a million times, to and from Taylor, I knew the twists and turns and small towns. No big deal.<br /><br />I had been very careful all day to follow the speed limit after my incident last weekend (see previous note), even highway driving. Vehicles were annoyed with me and passed me, but I stuck to 70. So I kept an eye on my speedometer while I was thinking and praying, making sure the needle stayed right around 55.<br /><br />I was right in the middle of a catharsis of sorts when I looked in my rearview mirror and saw flashing lights.<br /><br />Not wanting to even wonder about how long he had been following me, I pulled over. The officer stepped out of the car.<br /><br />“Do you know why I pulled you over?”<br /><br />“Was I speeding?”<br /><br />“Do you know the speed limit through this stretch?”<br /><br />“No…”<br /><br />“40.”<br /><br />Dang it.<br /><br />“You were going 54! Give me your license and registration… you really didn’t see me by the side of the road?”<br /><br />“No.” (I was able to find all the required objects more quickly this time since I had just had them out last Saturday)<br /><br />“I was right there! The only way I could have been more obvious is if my lights were on.”<br /><br />He was cranky.<br /><br />The only reason I know his name is because of the signature on my speeding ticket.<br /><br />Jesus is more important than my criminal record?<br /><br />Perhaps.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-53432086404112985352009-06-02T16:16:00.001-07:002009-10-22T16:17:38.996-07:00The Fast and the FuriousThis past Saturday night, something happened that I never in my life thought would happen. I was pulled over for speeding.<br /><br />I know what every single one of you who have ever ridden with me is thinking right now, especially the three of you who were with me on that record-breaking trip from Indy to Taylor – “Finally! She’s had it coming since she started driving at 18.”<br /><br />And now, those of you that are wondering why I didn’t start driving till I was 18, just know that I tried at 16 – I had a very traumatic-at-the-time-hilarious-now automatic fail on the driving test. Ask my brother or grandpa about it – it’s one of their favorite stories.<br /><br />But anyway, I had just started on my seven minute trip home from work, and turned onto Backwater Road… it has a real name, but I don’t know what it is – a number of some kind. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of driving on Backwater Road, the speed limit is 35 mph almost the whole way, even on the completely straight stretches. This is to avoid drivers flying off the treacherous curves and sinking forever into the backwaters.<br /><br />Another thing about Backwater Road – my dad taught me from a very young age that everyone speeds on that road, so naturally, wanting to follow the crowd, I keep up a pretty steady 55 mph on the straight parts, slowing to 40 on the treacherous curves to avoid flying off the road and sinking forever into the backwaters.<br /><br />So, back to Saturday night, I began acceleration, and just as I passed a car about to pull into the empty Dekko plant parking lot (who I assumed was a teenage couple wanting to make out or sell drugs), blue and red lights started flashing on top of the car, and a siren went off. Man. I need to work on my night vision.<br /><br />So I stopped in my lane (there was no room to pull over), and not having had experience with this sort of thing, I unbuckled my seat belt to reach for my purse, figuring I should try to find my license. The officer walked up to my window, which I quickly rolled down (after turning off my music – I figured he didn’t want to hear the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack while he was writing my ticket – M.I.A. would probably take away from the mood).<br /><br />“Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, with a friendly smile.<br /><br />“I was speeding,” I said matter-of-factly, never being one to successfully play dumb.<br /><br />“Yeah… I clocked you at 46 in a 35. Now are you on your way home from somewhere?”<br /><br />(I was sitting there in my black uniform pants and bright blue polo shirt, hair in a ponytail, waitress apron still on, and probably smelling strongly of pizza).<br /><br />“Yeah from work,” I answered, trying to figure out how I was only at 46 mph.<br /><br />“You’re probably really just wanting to be home,” the officer said understandingly, “And there’s about… oh three posted speed limit signs that you passed, but it’s so hard to go 35 there.”<br /><br />I nodded in agreement. That was a good one.<br /><br />“Well I am going to have to give you a warning – 46 in a 35 is a little much just for a verbal, but no ticket. You were wearing your seatbelt, right?”<br /><br />I nodded.<br /><br />“Well good! Now I need your license and registration…”<br /><br />Stupid girl that I am, I opened the glovebox and the first thing I pulled out was a huge wad of napkins… next I found insurance cards. Then the officer found it.<br /><br />“It’s that one there – in your left hand.”<br /><br />Well spotted, officer. I then spent about ten minutes hunting through my purse for my pile of important cards, amongst which my license was (at least I really hoped it was in my purse…). In the meantime I found out the policeman’s name was Officer May and he lived in North Webster with his wife and two young kids. Nice guy. I finally found my license, and he wrote out my warning (which I thanked him for), and then sent me on my way (I drove 30 all the rest of the way down Backwater).<br /><br />When I got home and told my family the story, Kevin and Jared were highly affronted.<br /><br />“If that were me, he would have given me a ticket without stopping to ask questions!” Kevin grumbled.<br /><br />Never have I been so thankful to be young and female. :-D<br /><br />Regardless, I have decided to become a more cautious driver. Though highly inconveniencing – I now must leave three minutes earlier to make it to work on time, increasing my total driving time to ten minutes.<br /><br />…and we may have to actually leave on time now on Sundays to make it for coffee before church starts.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-30036925285123421822009-03-02T16:15:00.000-08:002009-10-22T16:16:13.577-07:00How to Treat a GuestI’m watching the sun set on my gmail inbox background and listening to Elliot Smith sing about refusing to ride into the sun and not doing a thousand things I should be working on. Instead… I’m thinking.<br /><br />Last week, Brian McLaren came to our campus and gave an evening presentation, sponsored by IFC. A fair amount of Taylor students were there – the floor of the chapel was almost filled. I was excited to hear what he had to say – I had heard he was somewhat controversial, and I really enjoy listening to people who have different viewpoints than me… which sounds like a kind of ridiculous thing to say, but it’s true. So when I saw the full room, silly me, I thought that a huge percentage of our student body also wanted their worlds blown away and minds broadened.<br /><br />To my surprise, Brian McLaren gave a very uncontroversial presentation about social justice – talking about the major issues in the world today and how we, as a church, should be talking about them and working to fight them. Like world hunger. And drinking water shortages. He then talked about our worldview, and the overarching story to how we approach Christianity, and how that fits into our understanding about what the church should be doing.<br /><br />Then we had a Q & A session.<br /><br />And all hell broke loose.<br /><br />The first question that really captured my attention was one (or five) from a girl. She got to the mic, fired off a rapid stream of theological questions about the gospels, Jesus, and whether or not he believed there was a literal heaven or hell, and there was a brief pause. Then, roughly 75% of the student body seated in that room started clapping and cheering for her attack on his personal beliefs.<br /><br />This was followed by a steady stream of people also questioning his beliefs, which he didn’t even address in the presentation. There was one professor who even did this, in a very insulting, belittling way. Though the one that put the icing on the cake was the last boy who “asked a question.” He basically got hold of the mic to give a public condemnation of the speaker, including his most sincere sentiments that the speaker would “have time to figure things out in the future.”<br /><br />The irony of 18 and 19-year-olds telling a 58-year-old researcher that they had things figured out, and he didn’t know what he was talking about, did not escape me.<br /><br />I was stunned and horrified at the picture of Taylor University we had given. At the way we had treated our guest.<br /><br />If you ran into me that night, you probably were treated to a long vent and impassioned cry for change on this campus. Since then, I’m no less passionate about that desire, but after talking to multiple students from all over campus about it, and having a meeting with Randy Gruendyke (our campus pastor), to discuss my concerns, most of the anger has dissipated.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-43085490002502738042008-11-12T16:14:00.000-08:002009-10-22T16:15:18.040-07:00When you Least Expect ItToday as I was walking back from my 8:00 a.m. class in the brisk cold of a typical Indiana autumn transitioning into winter, just after I passed the library and was coming upon the path between Wengatz and Olsen, I was completely overcome with an intense feeling of love for humanity… well, not the condition of humanity… but for humankind in general, for the people… and I think that must be what it feels like to channel Jesus’ emotions, because I know there is no way I could feel this kind of inclusive love on my own. It’s a beautiful glimpse of God… and an incredible blessing to me in the middle of a busy, stressful week.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2440701773238100413.post-18673073452800637322008-10-20T16:13:00.000-07:002009-10-22T16:14:18.362-07:00Bethany is...A dear, sweet girl on my wing just wrote on the whiteboard on my door – it’s a small board, with the words “Bethany is…” at the top. Usually I then list where I am going to be when I’m out of the room. Sometimes I fill it in with other things when I’m feeling creative, like “Bethany is… class-y.” or “Bethany is… freshmen stalking.” or “Bethany is… undermining the system.” Just to keep people guessing.<br /><br />As of five minutes ago, the board was wiped clean, as I was sitting in here working on my book report… but then said sweet girl wrote “Bethany is… a stunning masterpiece.” I kind of chuckled when I saw it – it fits her personality.<br /><br />But then I thought, “What if we all really did view ourselves as just that – a stunning masterpiece?” Not necessarily just physically – but all of our combined experiences and traits and thoughts and talents and hopes and dreams… if I really, really, really believed that I was a masterpiece – and each brush stroke was shaping and embellishing me, how would that change my behavior and outlook on life?<br /><br />I think it’s a kind of self-confidence I’m still waiting for.BDFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14174101878495571379noreply@blogger.com0