So when Gideon wasn't really completely convinced that God wanted him to go up against this whole army... he did this little experiment. He put a lambs skin out on the front lawn overnight and told God, if its dry, and there's dew on the ground then that's what I'm supposed to do. But then he got kinda wishy-washy with that... and decided the next night he would tell God if there's dew on the fleece and not on the ground then I'll for sure know! Well after two nights of extreme weather which left exactly the same signs that he had asked for, Gideon had no choice but to take God at His word, the way he should have all along!
Now I know its a "depraved generation that demands a sign" but that much being said... wouldn't it be a lot easier if God always gave it to us in neon sky writing? You know, so everyone around you could see it too? Well, unfortunately He doesn't always. But one thing I have found. When I am particularly stumped about which road He wants me to take, sometimes I'll start down both paths at once. And then I give Him the fleece challenge.
The Fleece Challenge for me doesn't mean that I am challenging God. (i'm not usually THAT stupid) It simply means that I am human, and being such, sometimes I don't trust my heart to interpret what God is saying to me, especially heard over the cries of my own heart. Now I know that God has fashioned and molded my heart for Africa. Problem is, I don't know when or what for exactly. Then things like loosing my job come along and I look at my bank account and wonder if I could swing it... So I do the fleece challenge. Is God really setting me up to where I have less holding me back? Or is this just a stepping stone along the way? In the end it comes down to... Do I go or stay?
So I fill out applications and send resumes for both. And then I wait. And wait. And wait some more on God and His timing, which we all know is much better than ours ever has been! And dang, I hate waiting, but there's no getting around it! So I pray a lot, and God and I hash over all the pros and cons of everything and I tell Him all the fears that I have about each situation, and just deliver then to His feet, and then I wait some more.
This time the answer came in the form of a job offer. Its this side of the ocean. My heart sank a little. I wanted the job, yes. But I was also excited for what God would have for me if He gave me the other one. The adventures just seemed bigger. (They probably aren't.) And the possible joys seemed greater. (they probably aren't either.) I know a couple people who will be relieved. I feel undecidedly at peace right now about it. We'll see how long that lasts! ;)
Friday, December 23, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Dreadful Decisions
I'm not really sure how to start this blog post except to say that I lost my job, and no, I don't really want to talk about it. But that is besides the point. As they are telling me that I am being let go, the only thing that I could think of was going through my head was, "Oh! Now I can go to Africa." Needless to say, you don't really want to be smiling in such a situation, so I held back this crazy feeling of joy and freedom that welled up as I realized I was free of a job that had been holding me in the States more than I knew.
This joy probably lasted only for the brief ride home, and then I promptly, in good 'ol Jo form, started freaking out! This lasted until I had a good long talk and mild cry with my dear soul friend while hiding out at her house for the next week. Thankfully I was already planning on spending some time with her, or I might have spent that weekend curled up in a ball on my bed in PJs. Okay, probably not that dramatic... but still...
Anyway, back here in old Manhappiness now, things start to get stressful and try as I might to not freak out again... I find the stress of my situation and the decisions that need to be made spilling into everything that I do. Totally cried when my dad was trying to give me advice about how to proceed. I think there was some concern that I was running away to Africa to get married! (Trust me Dad, I am not in a position to be doing anything so foolish at this point in time!)
But honestly, I have a position that I have applied for in Uganda, and they sounded kind of interested, which I am trying to take with a grain of salt, but its soooo hard, because I feel like hope is soaring!
I should preface this by saying that throughout this whole last semester I have been having conversations with my best friend about what is keeping me in the United States when my heart isn't in it, but wanting so badly to be in Uganda. I've known for the last 3.5 years that is where God wanted me to be, yet I've constantly been pushing it back. The myriad of excuses that I've come up with have surprised even me... I will tell anyone that asks and is willing to listen about how much I love Uganda and their culture and can tell you all sorts of strange things about it. But when it comes right down to it, I've been afraid of getting over there and being stuck without a job, or a place to stay, or adequate access to healthcare, or what have you. I've been terrified of what my parents and my grandma, and everyone that is practical in my life will say when I give up a good job, good pay, and nice little life for certain uncertainty in what is considered a third world country, or at best an emerging country.
But all this aside I have done something more dreadful than to be afraid. I have run from the very God who I was so close to in Uganda. Who guided my very footsteps there when I didn't want to go to an African country, Who held my hand the entire time I was there, and Who planted the seeds of love in my heart that I can't seem to pluck no matter how I try. Because every time I drew near to Him I could feel it. That longing of desire and the aching emptiness of knowing that I needed more than this snug little life here in Kansas. Knowing that He had made me for bigger things. And while I never would have said it out loud, I hid my heart from Him. Because I knew He would see the fear that was there, and I knew He would ask me to be obedient and quit procrastinating on the hard things. And I knew that He would demand more of me than I was willing to give up. Because its easy to give it up at first, but then when it comes down to individual items and objects, it becomes harder, until I find myself clinging desperately to the very things that will weigh me down to the grave that I so desperately fear. That grave of consumerism, living a mediocre comfortable life within the sound of a chapel bell.
And I tried sometimes to break loose from this and dance again in the sunlit meadows of Grace clinging to that desire that I knew would draw me again to Him and to what He has really made me for... but then once it started to draw me towards the path again, I found myself cowering in fear from the unknown that lay down that road and asking Him couldn't we please just stay here in the meadows where I could rejoice in Him, dare to dream, and just be happy? And allegorically, I can see His eager face above that outstretched hand fade slowly to sadness with this look that said, "Can you not trust Me, My child?" Sadly, every time that I chose to stay it pulled me away from Him that much more, til darkness and winter came to my meadow and once again the bog pulled me down until I needed rescuing again by His tender hand.
So given the chance to make that choice again, what do I do? Can I refuse the Hand that promises to lead me on a dangerous trail, but one that will bring me closer to Him? How can I? I must follow; I must obey.
I stand again in the sunlit meadow and the beginning of the path, and wait for You Lord to extend Your hand and show me the way.
This joy probably lasted only for the brief ride home, and then I promptly, in good 'ol Jo form, started freaking out! This lasted until I had a good long talk and mild cry with my dear soul friend while hiding out at her house for the next week. Thankfully I was already planning on spending some time with her, or I might have spent that weekend curled up in a ball on my bed in PJs. Okay, probably not that dramatic... but still...
Anyway, back here in old Manhappiness now, things start to get stressful and try as I might to not freak out again... I find the stress of my situation and the decisions that need to be made spilling into everything that I do. Totally cried when my dad was trying to give me advice about how to proceed. I think there was some concern that I was running away to Africa to get married! (Trust me Dad, I am not in a position to be doing anything so foolish at this point in time!)
But honestly, I have a position that I have applied for in Uganda, and they sounded kind of interested, which I am trying to take with a grain of salt, but its soooo hard, because I feel like hope is soaring!
I should preface this by saying that throughout this whole last semester I have been having conversations with my best friend about what is keeping me in the United States when my heart isn't in it, but wanting so badly to be in Uganda. I've known for the last 3.5 years that is where God wanted me to be, yet I've constantly been pushing it back. The myriad of excuses that I've come up with have surprised even me... I will tell anyone that asks and is willing to listen about how much I love Uganda and their culture and can tell you all sorts of strange things about it. But when it comes right down to it, I've been afraid of getting over there and being stuck without a job, or a place to stay, or adequate access to healthcare, or what have you. I've been terrified of what my parents and my grandma, and everyone that is practical in my life will say when I give up a good job, good pay, and nice little life for certain uncertainty in what is considered a third world country, or at best an emerging country.
But all this aside I have done something more dreadful than to be afraid. I have run from the very God who I was so close to in Uganda. Who guided my very footsteps there when I didn't want to go to an African country, Who held my hand the entire time I was there, and Who planted the seeds of love in my heart that I can't seem to pluck no matter how I try. Because every time I drew near to Him I could feel it. That longing of desire and the aching emptiness of knowing that I needed more than this snug little life here in Kansas. Knowing that He had made me for bigger things. And while I never would have said it out loud, I hid my heart from Him. Because I knew He would see the fear that was there, and I knew He would ask me to be obedient and quit procrastinating on the hard things. And I knew that He would demand more of me than I was willing to give up. Because its easy to give it up at first, but then when it comes down to individual items and objects, it becomes harder, until I find myself clinging desperately to the very things that will weigh me down to the grave that I so desperately fear. That grave of consumerism, living a mediocre comfortable life within the sound of a chapel bell.
And I tried sometimes to break loose from this and dance again in the sunlit meadows of Grace clinging to that desire that I knew would draw me again to Him and to what He has really made me for... but then once it started to draw me towards the path again, I found myself cowering in fear from the unknown that lay down that road and asking Him couldn't we please just stay here in the meadows where I could rejoice in Him, dare to dream, and just be happy? And allegorically, I can see His eager face above that outstretched hand fade slowly to sadness with this look that said, "Can you not trust Me, My child?" Sadly, every time that I chose to stay it pulled me away from Him that much more, til darkness and winter came to my meadow and once again the bog pulled me down until I needed rescuing again by His tender hand.
So given the chance to make that choice again, what do I do? Can I refuse the Hand that promises to lead me on a dangerous trail, but one that will bring me closer to Him? How can I? I must follow; I must obey.
I stand again in the sunlit meadow and the beginning of the path, and wait for You Lord to extend Your hand and show me the way.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Under an African Sun
Under an African sun, I want to live
In a small hut at the convergence of streams
Deep in a rustling banana tree glade
A simple structure of bricks and beams
It needs a big porch where we can sit in the shade
Me and my visitors lounging in style
In basic wicker chairs carved from vines
Found deep in those forests near the Nile
Under an African sun I want to kiss you
Find I can't live without you
Have you kneel and ask me
Tell me I never have to.
I want that sun to set on hands still clasped
Our hearts still 'twined when death finds us
Two souls as wild as the savanna
As free and tender as the wilderness.
Under an African son I want to raise mine
See him playing football with his Dad
Content and happy with the whole world
Never missing what he never knew he never had
And his sister, how I'll fuss over her hair
How we'll dance in the kitchen, laugh together
Have fun, play hard and love harder
Live life and learn much from each other.
Under an African sun I want laid to rest
A girl, foreign born, with a native heart
I want my legacy to be within these borders
A work of God in which I played but a tiny part.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
That Precipice Called "Goodbye"
at the edge of the precipice called "goodbye"
how do you find the courage to take that last step?
to plunge head-long into the tension laden air
plummeting through time and space
a decision that cannot be un-done.
is it truly courage?
or is it mingled with stupidity?
the loss of what could still be, what has been
clouds the mind and emotions
coupled with the dizziness of the heights
and the thrill of the danger of the fall.
for what adrenaline could be more
than flirting with the edge, dancing its rim
playing the fool for one more chance.
who can blame you for trying?
what if it had been possible,
and you had never looked back?
never threatened to take that step into mid-air.
just dare to tread there
with nothing supporting your foot
and the sinking feeling of body and soul
as you make that first startling conclusion:
your fall will not be stopped easily.
you will not escape unscathed.
should you have ever jumped?
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Quote
From "The Shepherd of the Hills":
"Here and there among men, there are those who pause in the hurried rush to listen to the call of a life that is more real. How often have we seen them, jostled and ridiculed by their fellows, pushed aside and forgotten, as incompetent or unworthy. He who sees and hears too much is cursed for a dreamer, a fanatic, or a fool, by the mad mob, who having eyes, see not, ears and hear not, and refuse to understand.
We build temples and churches, but will not worship in them; we hire spiritual advisers, but refuse to heed them; we buy bibles, but will not read them; believing in God, we do not fear Him; acknowledging Christ, we neither follow nor obey Him. Only when we can no longer strive in the battle for earthly honors or material wealth, do we turn to the unseen but more enduring things of life; and, with ears deafened by the din of selfish war and cruel violence, and eyes blinded by the glare of passing pomp and folly, we strive to hear and see the things we have so long refused to consider.
Pete knew a world unseen by us, and we, therefore, fancied ourselves wiser than he. The wind in the pines, the rustle of the leaves, the murmur of the brook, the growl of the thunder, and the voices of the night were all understood and answered by him. The flowers, the trees, the rocks, the hills, the clouds were to him, not lifeless things, but living friends, who laughed and wept with him as he was gay or sorrowful.
'Poor Pete,' we said. Was he in truth poorer or richer than we?"
"Here and there among men, there are those who pause in the hurried rush to listen to the call of a life that is more real. How often have we seen them, jostled and ridiculed by their fellows, pushed aside and forgotten, as incompetent or unworthy. He who sees and hears too much is cursed for a dreamer, a fanatic, or a fool, by the mad mob, who having eyes, see not, ears and hear not, and refuse to understand.
We build temples and churches, but will not worship in them; we hire spiritual advisers, but refuse to heed them; we buy bibles, but will not read them; believing in God, we do not fear Him; acknowledging Christ, we neither follow nor obey Him. Only when we can no longer strive in the battle for earthly honors or material wealth, do we turn to the unseen but more enduring things of life; and, with ears deafened by the din of selfish war and cruel violence, and eyes blinded by the glare of passing pomp and folly, we strive to hear and see the things we have so long refused to consider.
Pete knew a world unseen by us, and we, therefore, fancied ourselves wiser than he. The wind in the pines, the rustle of the leaves, the murmur of the brook, the growl of the thunder, and the voices of the night were all understood and answered by him. The flowers, the trees, the rocks, the hills, the clouds were to him, not lifeless things, but living friends, who laughed and wept with him as he was gay or sorrowful.
'Poor Pete,' we said. Was he in truth poorer or richer than we?"
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Purified by Reverse Osmosis
I was reading on my bottled water today... (and yes, I do drink bottled water... and yes, I do realize I am killing the oceans or something like that... but I have recently started recycling the bottles... so I think I get a couple of green points)... anyway... all that to say: it said "purified by reverse osmosis". Of course, being the very curious person that I am, I had to set out to find out what reverse osmosis meant. Well, as all of you no doubt remember from your definitions in your science classes: osmosis is the filtration of water through a semi-permeable membrane from highest concentration to lowest (and I'm just kidding, I know you all didn't remember that! hehe). In reverse osmosis however, there is an external application of pressure which actually makes the water go from a higher concentration to a lower concentration through the semi-permeable membrane. I thought this was interesting, because sometimes I think that God uses the hard things as pressure in our lives pressing us towards purity.
Funny how God would apply the exact right amount of pressure in our lives to drive us against the natural bent towards becoming more impure. When we are born we are already in sin, but the longer we go through life the worse it gets. We learn new ways to sin and violate God's laws. In some ways we are going through that semi-permeable membrane called life and getting our lives filled with a higher and higher concentration of bad habits, ugly character traits, bitterness from experiences, and generally getting yuckier with the passing days. Then when Christ enters our lives, He turns everything around. The flow goes backwards. And not by anything that we can do on our own. It only the divine power that He brings that is able to apply the needed pressure to reverse the whole flow. Death and sin start working backwards (as Aslan says). Instead of getting more filled with filth, we start being purified by the washing of the water of the Word, and God begins His sanctification (or just general cleaning out) of our lives. The purity that we so desperately need starts to slowly take action in our lives. A beautiful, beautiful work. I think its also very interesting that sometimes the purity of peoples lives seem to be directly in proportion to the amount of suffering (pressure anyone?) that they go through. God has a very special process it seems by which when we go through really hard times He really delights in making us more beautiful.
Funny how God would apply the exact right amount of pressure in our lives to drive us against the natural bent towards becoming more impure. When we are born we are already in sin, but the longer we go through life the worse it gets. We learn new ways to sin and violate God's laws. In some ways we are going through that semi-permeable membrane called life and getting our lives filled with a higher and higher concentration of bad habits, ugly character traits, bitterness from experiences, and generally getting yuckier with the passing days. Then when Christ enters our lives, He turns everything around. The flow goes backwards. And not by anything that we can do on our own. It only the divine power that He brings that is able to apply the needed pressure to reverse the whole flow. Death and sin start working backwards (as Aslan says). Instead of getting more filled with filth, we start being purified by the washing of the water of the Word, and God begins His sanctification (or just general cleaning out) of our lives. The purity that we so desperately need starts to slowly take action in our lives. A beautiful, beautiful work. I think its also very interesting that sometimes the purity of peoples lives seem to be directly in proportion to the amount of suffering (pressure anyone?) that they go through. God has a very special process it seems by which when we go through really hard times He really delights in making us more beautiful.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
The Weekend
This was a good weekend! Like a really good weekend!
To start off with my work on Friday went smoothly and I was able to get off work on time and get some extra paperwork done, which was really awesome! Then after work I drove to KC to spend time with my ex-roomie who had recently moved back to Kansas (and I am super-stoked about this!) (I think we might be in a 'relationship' now though, cause she gave me a key to her apartment! Hehe!) I should interject here that any time I get to drive somewhere I am usually happy. I love the freedom of being alone in the car zooming down the open road, windows down, and stereo blaring my crazy mix of music that I can belt to the top of my lungs along with! When I'm driving by myself I've also found is a great time to pray. Something about my ADD doesn't do well if I'm not doing at least 2 different things at once and its hard to find things that go well with prayer, but I've found driving does. Any weekend plans that include a healthy amount of travel are likely to be generally approved by myself. We had a great time looking for Mexican restaurants in Kc (why don't they have a Carlos?), talking, and laughing that night. Then the next morning we went to "Courageous" which is an excellent movie btw! On the way out of the theater I managed to step off a curb wrong and sprain my ankle. I've never sprained my ankle this badly, not even the one time I got trip-wired by a tow rope and dragged for a couple yards. I just lay there on the ground for a while in the middle of the parking lot cause it hurt so badly! I really think my parents need to give me a new middle name cause this whole "Grace" thing doesn't seem very fitting! I am forever doing things of this general nature! One time I was playing with the kids in the dark at my parent's house (I think we were playing "Crow in the Cornfield") and ran off the end of a rock retaining wall I didn't know they had put in! Ended up getting cellulitis in my arm from the injury I sustained in that fall! It was just like a cartoon of Wiley Coyotee... One minute I was running on ground then suddenly I was running on mid-air for a minute before plummeting to the ground! Same thing this time... I was walking along on one of those curb things they have in a parking lot and then when I went to step off my foot hit the sewer drain below it, rolled my ankle sideways and with a flailing of arms down I went! Jenna couldn't help laughing about it!
But the simply best thing about this weekend is that I became an Auntie for the first time! I can't tell you how excited I am about that! I feel really sorry for my sister-in-law as the labor process encountered several complications and she is sooo worn out! She is a trooper though and I am so proud of her! Its so cute to see her with my nephew! She just looks the perfect picture of a little Momma! My brother is no less perfect in his sweetly trying to guard and help her while being so gentle and comfortable with the baby. He was doing these crazy lunge things the other night to help quite the baby down and help him get rid of some gas! It was mildly humorous and quite endearing at the same time! They really are going to be/are great parents!
My nephew is a perfect combination of the two of them. When I fist saw him I could immediately see both of their faces reflected in his miniature countenance. Of course once you look at him long enough, you don't see it anymore, but at first it was really evident. He's not the cutest baby that I've ever seen (and before you crucify me for being a bad auntie) let me just say... That I think he's almost more handsome! He looks like a little man! It'll be interesting to see if he keeps the same appearance as he gets older. I, for one, don't think I look much like my little girl or baby pictures as all, but you know how some people look the same all the way growing up? Yeah, I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
Anyway, I'm excited! Although I think in some regards its almost like I've been an Aunt before because my youngest sibling is 15 years younger than me... But then again its not really the same. Its a lot of responsibility to have a little tyke looking up to you.(Though it'll be a while before that happens for real). But still, one can never be too good of an example for the younger generation in one's life! Did I mention that I love the little guy? Yeah, I do! I even almost told my boyfriend he had competition for my heart. I can sit and just look at his picture for the longest time! I can't wait until I can really get to know him and learn to love him more!
Well, I gotta go check on my laundry now... Yet Auntie Jo had to be responsible and do stupid stuff like laundry... Lol!
To start off with my work on Friday went smoothly and I was able to get off work on time and get some extra paperwork done, which was really awesome! Then after work I drove to KC to spend time with my ex-roomie who had recently moved back to Kansas (and I am super-stoked about this!) (I think we might be in a 'relationship' now though, cause she gave me a key to her apartment! Hehe!) I should interject here that any time I get to drive somewhere I am usually happy. I love the freedom of being alone in the car zooming down the open road, windows down, and stereo blaring my crazy mix of music that I can belt to the top of my lungs along with! When I'm driving by myself I've also found is a great time to pray. Something about my ADD doesn't do well if I'm not doing at least 2 different things at once and its hard to find things that go well with prayer, but I've found driving does. Any weekend plans that include a healthy amount of travel are likely to be generally approved by myself. We had a great time looking for Mexican restaurants in Kc (why don't they have a Carlos?), talking, and laughing that night. Then the next morning we went to "Courageous" which is an excellent movie btw! On the way out of the theater I managed to step off a curb wrong and sprain my ankle. I've never sprained my ankle this badly, not even the one time I got trip-wired by a tow rope and dragged for a couple yards. I just lay there on the ground for a while in the middle of the parking lot cause it hurt so badly! I really think my parents need to give me a new middle name cause this whole "Grace" thing doesn't seem very fitting! I am forever doing things of this general nature! One time I was playing with the kids in the dark at my parent's house (I think we were playing "Crow in the Cornfield") and ran off the end of a rock retaining wall I didn't know they had put in! Ended up getting cellulitis in my arm from the injury I sustained in that fall! It was just like a cartoon of Wiley Coyotee... One minute I was running on ground then suddenly I was running on mid-air for a minute before plummeting to the ground! Same thing this time... I was walking along on one of those curb things they have in a parking lot and then when I went to step off my foot hit the sewer drain below it, rolled my ankle sideways and with a flailing of arms down I went! Jenna couldn't help laughing about it!
But the simply best thing about this weekend is that I became an Auntie for the first time! I can't tell you how excited I am about that! I feel really sorry for my sister-in-law as the labor process encountered several complications and she is sooo worn out! She is a trooper though and I am so proud of her! Its so cute to see her with my nephew! She just looks the perfect picture of a little Momma! My brother is no less perfect in his sweetly trying to guard and help her while being so gentle and comfortable with the baby. He was doing these crazy lunge things the other night to help quite the baby down and help him get rid of some gas! It was mildly humorous and quite endearing at the same time! They really are going to be/are great parents!
My nephew is a perfect combination of the two of them. When I fist saw him I could immediately see both of their faces reflected in his miniature countenance. Of course once you look at him long enough, you don't see it anymore, but at first it was really evident. He's not the cutest baby that I've ever seen (and before you crucify me for being a bad auntie) let me just say... That I think he's almost more handsome! He looks like a little man! It'll be interesting to see if he keeps the same appearance as he gets older. I, for one, don't think I look much like my little girl or baby pictures as all, but you know how some people look the same all the way growing up? Yeah, I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
Anyway, I'm excited! Although I think in some regards its almost like I've been an Aunt before because my youngest sibling is 15 years younger than me... But then again its not really the same. Its a lot of responsibility to have a little tyke looking up to you.(Though it'll be a while before that happens for real). But still, one can never be too good of an example for the younger generation in one's life! Did I mention that I love the little guy? Yeah, I do! I even almost told my boyfriend he had competition for my heart. I can sit and just look at his picture for the longest time! I can't wait until I can really get to know him and learn to love him more!
Well, I gotta go check on my laundry now... Yet Auntie Jo had to be responsible and do stupid stuff like laundry... Lol!
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Untitled
The intensity of Your love scares me
And the veracity with which you ask me to love You in return
The amount of trust You demand of me
As if it were the most natural, casual thing in the world
And Lord, its not that easy
For this poor scared soul
To just give up all her worry
And years of planning she's prided in
"No more" You say
With a calm firmness that I know is resolute
And I know that though I may falter in the 'morrow
I will have no choice in the end but trust
For You are the only One worthy
Though her weak soul faints away
At the very thought of being so dependent
Yet knows deep in her heart its the only way
And how can I not love to feel so loved?
That my Lord would regard His lowly handmaiden
As possibly worthy of a quest so noble
And a future so daring
A handmaiden would have to be
A risky bet at the very least
Yet maybe He chooses the weak things
To shame the strong of this world.
And the veracity with which you ask me to love You in return
The amount of trust You demand of me
As if it were the most natural, casual thing in the world
And Lord, its not that easy
For this poor scared soul
To just give up all her worry
And years of planning she's prided in
"No more" You say
With a calm firmness that I know is resolute
And I know that though I may falter in the 'morrow
I will have no choice in the end but trust
For You are the only One worthy
Though her weak soul faints away
At the very thought of being so dependent
Yet knows deep in her heart its the only way
And how can I not love to feel so loved?
That my Lord would regard His lowly handmaiden
As possibly worthy of a quest so noble
And a future so daring
A handmaiden would have to be
A risky bet at the very least
Yet maybe He chooses the weak things
To shame the strong of this world.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Random YouTube
sometimes when you aren't really looking for it, you stumble across things on YouTube that are kinda cool. this is one of those times. i was actually looking for "Your Love Never Fails" by Jesus Culture (which is also a pretty cool song) and this was the next to play...
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Wondering...
Well I was seriously considering ranting about all the people in my life recently that have made it drama-filled... but honestly, I can't even go there without some animosity creeping up on me, so I'll just say that this life is a crazy roller coaster ride and not without its "soap-opera-ish" moments.
Part of me can't help but wonder though if it is directly in relation to this part of my life that I've been trying to surrender completely to my God. Namely: my patience. (or lack thereof more appropriately).
Patience is something that I have struggled with for as long as I can remember (forbearance and long-suffering going hand in hand with that). I remember those long (what seemed like hours) waiting for my dad to finish talking at church or where ever we were so we could finally leave and go home. I remember how many times I had to suffer through babies crying til it wore on my last nerve and I just wanted to yell at them to shut up or bop them upside the head! (granted this was when I was like less than 10. Don't get it twisted, I don't abuse babies!) I've always been waiting on something or someone my entire life. Waiting for my parents or siblings, waiting to finally get done with school, waiting for my prince charming, waiting for... the list continues ad infinitum...
Lately, its been in relation to His timing for my return to the "home country", and especially in a couple of relationships in my life. Oh how I need this patience in my life. Vital like oxygen.
Dictionary.com defines patience as:
1. the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.
2. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay: to have patience with a slow learner.
3. quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.
2. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay: to have patience with a slow learner.
3. quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.
Yeah, I could really use all 3 of those things. So I think God's been purposely setting me up with situations in my life where those will be hard to come by. A test of sorts for the steel of my resolve to become more patient. And of course I can't become more patient on my own accord. I realize this. I think I learn better when given a demonstration, so unfortunately God knows this about me and is taking me through the ropes of my "learning experience".
Needless to say I have so much farther to go. I think Step #1 though is to just stop. Stop fussing about things, stop being irritated, stop finding it an inconvenience or a nuisance that things don't happen at my preferred speed. I know that sounds like a "duh" step, but how often do we do it? We can't completely combat this impatience without stomping on some behavior or attitude that is originally causing it... hence the "chill out" step. Step #2 (and yes, I am making these steps up as I type... what of it?) is to be grateful. When you are thankful for the things that God has done for you, or the times He has brought you through or the plans He has revealed to you its very hard to be impatient about the rest! I know I especially was noticing this the other day when I was talking to a friend about my dreams for the future. Now these dreams have been a huge place of impatience in my life because if you asked me when I wanted to move to Africa, I will flat out tell you "3 years ago" or "yesterday" or something along those lines (and in fact I did in that conversation), but I was struck by something my friend said. That she wished God had even given her that much of a dream, cause she honestly didn't know where God was going to lead her after school. I was kinda taken aback and had to realize that God has given me enough. I should be grateful for the dreams He has planted and consistently watered in my heart. I don't know all the rest of the steps yet, but somehow I think these are a good enough starting place. In fact, I could probably reasonably spend the rest of my life working on just these 2 steps!! Oh sigh! haha... well, I got my work cut out for me; I'd better get busy!
Monday, September 12, 2011
interior decor
so interior design is like totally one of my hobbies... and i'm not the best person in the world at it, but i do get a fair amount of pleasure from seeing it well done, and from doing it myself! :)
that much being said...
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Crazy Quilts and Memories
sittin' in bed, got my new converse on and some comfy jeans. got ugandan earrings, a bright yellow scarf and some definite swag going on! (hehe) close at hand is my veggie pizza and a mountain dew (my first in a month!).
today is a simply beautiful day. my windows are open as i am typing this and i can hear the rumble from the cars outside, every once in a while the whir of a bike going past, and the lazy rotations of my fan overhead. there's a dog barking somewhere down the block and the neighbors are talking as they come out to get in their car. my room is glowing with a sort of yellowish light from the windows, but its bright daylight and i don't even have a light on in the room with all the sun streaming in through my full windows on the east. i like having an east bedroom. it comes in handy all those times that you know its time to get up for work... but you still don't wanna do it. at least you can tell the sun is up too, and it prompts you out of bed a little easier. or at least it does to me. my room is a little messy today. there's supplies all over my desk from some craft projects (i'm not really sure why they ended up in here instead of in the craft room... but oh, well!)
today is a simply beautiful day. my windows are open as i am typing this and i can hear the rumble from the cars outside, every once in a while the whir of a bike going past, and the lazy rotations of my fan overhead. there's a dog barking somewhere down the block and the neighbors are talking as they come out to get in their car. my room is glowing with a sort of yellowish light from the windows, but its bright daylight and i don't even have a light on in the room with all the sun streaming in through my full windows on the east. i like having an east bedroom. it comes in handy all those times that you know its time to get up for work... but you still don't wanna do it. at least you can tell the sun is up too, and it prompts you out of bed a little easier. or at least it does to me. my room is a little messy today. there's supplies all over my desk from some craft projects (i'm not really sure why they ended up in here instead of in the craft room... but oh, well!)
across the foot of my bed is a sorry looking piece of fabric rags. or at least that is what it looks like from here. its actually the undercarriage of a very old, very beautiful crazy quilt. my great grandmother pieced it together many years ago from legit old fabric scraps she had around the farm. i can't really explain how beautiful it is. she made it as separate blocks and then sewed the blocks together. its a crazy (no pun intended) mix of wools and cottons and weights a ton even though i don't even have the back on yet! i'm not even going to put batting in it; i think its heavy enough without it. the colors are what captures my heart i think about this quilt. the blocks are mostly dark with one center color thats a light cotton floral print, then the crazy stitches are every color under the rainbow running their intricate fingers in every direction! something in me has always loved crazy quilts. i think its something about the complete randomness that i simply can't get enough of. i like things like that. they kind of un-nerve me, but i like them. example: going anywhere and doing anything without a clear agenda, totally scares me to death! i want an ETA, and a ETD, i want a schedule of activities, and i want to know i won't have to scramble the 5 min birds to make it happen! don't get me wrong... i love flexibility (i think everyone ought to!) and a i am big fan of spontaneity. i just don't do those things naturally. when i do, it seems like i get into trouble more often than not, so i just avoid it like the plague now. i take great delight in things that are not organized though, but that are still tasteful. crazy quilts fall into that category.
this particular crazy quilt i find quite captivates my heart. it was made by my grandma's mom. my grandma passed away a little over a year ago. i had moved out in her general vicinity thinking that i would spend more time with her. i remember quite vividly the last conversation that we had together sitting on her porch talking one evening. the last time i saw her, i went over to check on her one morning. she had a rather large hematoma that i had dressed the night before with a massive pressure dressing, but it wasn't stopping the flow of blood very well, so i went back the next morning to check on it. she was lying there in bed. on the very edge of it actually, because that is all she would fit on. my grandma had many amazing attributes, but she was also a hoarder, and a small sliver of the bed in the room that had been my grandpa's before he died, was all she had to sleep on. she looked so peaceful with her silvery-white hair swirled the way she always wore it. i always loved the fact that my GrandmaW didn't have the typical short cropped "granny" hair that everyone else's grandmas always wore. i've seen pictures of her as a teen and 20-something, and this lady was knock out gorgeous! i always wished i was as pretty when i grew up as she had been. (tough luck on that unfortunately! :P) something struck me i guess about the way the morning light came in the window making her white hair almost angelic against her peaceful dreaming face. she had a couple strands of pearls hanging from the lamp next to her bed and they added to the dreamy effect as if i was gazing at some beautiful scene out of a book. i stood there for a moment, not wanting to wake her.
looking around my room right now i can pick out at least 15 things that i have from her. there are at least 5 necklaces that i wear on a regular basis. there's the mirror that she gave me when i turned 18, one that she said her mom had given her. its hanging on the wall where i brush my hair every morning. there's a beautiful brooch that she gave me with deep emeralds in it. emeralds are my birthstone and green is my favorite color. she was always forgetting things, but she remembered that. there's a string doll with snaps for eyes and long braided pig-tails. the years and rough play by a little girl haven't been very kind to her, but i've managed to stick most of her threads back into place. there's also a beautiful pansy doily cloth that she embroidered. she made it when she was 16, and she gave it to me on my 16th birthday with that story. she loved flowers dearly, so we always talked about them, and she remembered that i loved pansies.
my grandma used to live next to us when i was small and she would baby-sit us. somehow she would acquire these random toys, and we got to play with them when she came.
my grandma was well known for working on quilts. she had a million different quilt groups she belonged to, she would make rag rugs, and she loved a good craft project. she taught us how to make paper boxes (the prettiest ones you can make out of holiday greeting cards) and my mom had her come help us for sewing class make our very first nine-patch potholders. i guess that's maybe why this quilt is so special to me. knowing it was made by her mom, i know how much she would love seeing that i had finished it and was able to use it. i'm not sure she would totally approve of the patches that i am going to have to put on it in order for it to make it usable, but i think she might see their usefulness. i got that silky binding for it (you know, the kind you use for baby quilts) and i am going to run it all the way around the borders after i get all my little green patches sewed down firmly with stitches of my own craziness.
i can't wait to see the finished product displayed prominently on my bed! i think Grandma would have liked that, and my also mom said as much today, getting misty eyed as she told me. i can't help but think it too.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The Winds of Change
I can feel it in the wind and I turn into it
Letting it hit my upturned face with its full force
As I inhale deeply of a new kind of weather.
The chill has taken to the air and it gives me hope.
Hope that this desert of a summer will not really last forever as I had feared.
Hope that change is on its way, along with the turning tides of seasons.
And hope that God is showing me light at the end of the tunnel.
These lasts months have been torturous for a myriad of reasons
Which suddenly seem to not matter in the least.
Hope does that to a person.
Makes them forget how bad the struggle they are coming through has been.
Somehow that Beulah land on the other side makes it fade
Like some bad dye job when saturated with too much sunlight
When its no longer recognizable which color it was to begin with.
Oh how that refreshingly cool breeze flies straight to my soul
And works its redeeming powers of hope and faith and long-lost trust.
An eternal reminder that God lovingly brings us through seasons
Even summers of dryness like the Sahara,
And is faithful to cool us with the joys of fall gusts.
With the hint of cool moisture hanging on their every breath against my face
Giving me strength to not only press on, but to feel like moving.
Alone in the middle of the wind and the dead of the night
Me, a whirlwind of desires and hopes newly revived,
Dancing like a fool in the midst of a gathering autumn storm.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Random, I know...
you may find this strange... but i actually really like this... so much so that i am considering wearing something of this sort for my wedding out of sheer randomness so i can laugh at how ridiculous i look later on in life when wicked sweet things of this nature go completely out of style!
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Forgiveness
i'm struggling right now. i really need to forgive someone, but every time i think i am able to do it... this little cutting thing or two they said pops back up and it shanks me in the heart every time. i don't want to be a bitter, sour person for the rest of my life. i want to laugh again. to really enjoy things. but somehow in the back of my mind this is always there. creeping in and dragging me down to its dank hollows with it.
how can i explain the depth of pain these few words brought, or how ill timed they appear to my earthly sensibilities. how every shred of them wounds the very wounds Satan himself planted in my heart times long ago. salt to an already festering wound of neglect, self-loathing, and depression. A deep venous stasis ulcerative wound that God's been packing wet to dry to heal in my heart (nursing terms! hehe). It feels like pouring acid on it.
But the command is clear, just as clear as any other time in my life. And forgiveness will come when I ask Him for it. Its never been something I can muster on my own strength.
how can i explain the depth of pain these few words brought, or how ill timed they appear to my earthly sensibilities. how every shred of them wounds the very wounds Satan himself planted in my heart times long ago. salt to an already festering wound of neglect, self-loathing, and depression. A deep venous stasis ulcerative wound that God's been packing wet to dry to heal in my heart (nursing terms! hehe). It feels like pouring acid on it.
But the command is clear, just as clear as any other time in my life. And forgiveness will come when I ask Him for it. Its never been something I can muster on my own strength.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
pain
its a crushing weight
like a thousand anvils falling on my chest
pushing all the life and breath out
til even my gasps
can't give me the oxygen that i need
cause as much as you hurt me
you are that oxygen
and as much as i hate to push you away
i know no other way to prove to you
that i meant what i said
when i said i need you to be there
for me
same as i am for you
cause sometimes i just wanna be able to be weak
and i haven't been able to be
so this is me
the real broken me
saying if you can't love me enough
i wish you wouldn't love me at all
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Random Thoughts
1.) did you ever notice how completely and inexpressibly beautiful it is to be able to open your house up with just the fans on after a simply horrid summer of triple digit weather?? i am falling in love with God's weather right now! could it stay this way forever?
2.) coffee!!! its absolutely a beautiful thing when you've gotten up a 4am... however... it gives you very bad breath (*note to self).
3.) video chatting is a beautiful thing (when it works). especially when its across the globe but other states are pretty schweet too. God bless whoever invented
the internet!
4.) they said it couldn't be done, but i've done it! i've trained my betta fish (Fitzwilliam's the name) to ask for his food and to eat out of my hand. next trick? swimming through a hoop... then i'm going to teach him to jump outa the water through the hoop... then we're gonna go on the road!
5.) so 2 months after moving in... i still have not gotten my room completely straightened up and i have not gotten my deposit back from my previous landlord! ehem!
6.) i am in need of a small chaise lounge type bench thing... kinda low slung... for my room... preferably green and slightly period looking. yeah... i know... good luck huh? pretty much like this... only green!
Saturday, August 6, 2011
God's Grace
2 Corinthians 12:9 “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”I decided that I would talk a little bit about God's grace on the blog today... kinda a strange way to start my post I realize, but its something that has been on my heart. I think sometimes that we can't really feel the complete atoning, all-encompassing nature of God's grace on account of our own selves. And by this I mean that we think that somehow we have earned a little piece of that grace. Yes, we realize it covers us... but to what extent?
Dictionary.com defines grace as: "1. favor or goodwill; 2. a manifestation of favor, especially by a superior; 3. mercy, clemency, pardon."
I think how I comprehend God's grace embodies all three somehow.
Funny how the deeper we fall into sin, the more it abounds. But do we always see that? I was reminded of this when talking to a friend today. Sin is such an ugly business that when we come to our senses in the middle of the pit of quick sand, we immediately despair. God could never use us anymore. We are ruined. We have not witness. There is not good left in us for Him to work through. Funny... Had we forgot? We never had any goodness to begin with! We were always ruined. God never had a piece of us that was worthy of being used by Him!
We have completely forgot that we are saved by grace. No worthiness exists. No shred of good makes us pass the bar on His usage. There is this passage in one of the gospels, (I think its in Luke (which is the best gospel btw... though I am biased)) that talks about God using one of the religious leaders that was plotting Jesus' death to prophesy about how God would use the death of one Man to sanctify an entire people for himself. It strikes me every time that I read it how God could use someone who obviously was rejecting Christ to actually give this sign of how He would ultimately come to save us all. If God could use the people plotting to kill His only Son, could He not use you and I? Or are we so different? Are our sins not just as bad? Do they not create the same chasm between us and God, no matter what they are?
This is why grace is such a powerful thing. Because it doesn't matter. Every last little least little thing gets caught up in His grace and swallowed whole!
Why does God allow the sin you ask? Well... my personal thought is this: because He couldn't use us when we thought we were worthy to be used by Him. He allows the sin because He knows we will learn... and somehow, someday come to love Him better. He needs us broken down to our basest before He can build us into what we ought to be. Sometimes that means exposing us for all our shame.
The most important thing to remember is the covering though. That our sins are all covered by His blood. That His grace remains sufficient despite whatever fallings, failings, or shortcomings we may have. There is never some sin too great that Christ can't handle it. In fact He doesn't need to handle it... He has already. The debt has already been paid. There is no condemnation. There is only mercy, clemency, and complete pardon in God's free gift of grace.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
goodbye
can i begin to describe
how your passing
something i seem too familiar with
has affected me:
there is always the pang
still grasping for some shred of understanding
as if the end of your earthly life
has some larger significance
pretending that some excerpt from God's divine plan
could alter the doleful chord of my heart.
would i could comprehend it
i should still doubtfully agree
so should i not let God be God
and though i mourn for all those days
when no longer shall your brightly shy smile illumine us
and your altruistic personality grace us
i know that you are far happier now
in the arms of the One who loves you best
and you can't glance in retrospect
on the lugubrious landscape of this world
with anything but disdain
you are home dear T
and we all await our trip there to see you once again
with fondness in our hearts
and memories of your generous love.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
"Religious People"
Someone at work yesterday was describing a person that they knew and their house. Interestingly enough, they said that her house was odd because their were so many pictures of Jesus and crosses everywhere. I guess I had a weird face as he was describing this, because he immediately back-pedaled and said, "what? that's what your house looks like too?" I laughed a little. First of all, because he's actually been to my house and knows that while I do have a cross and a lot of verses strung about (mostly because I need to be constantly reminded of my roots in Christ), my house is far from an archaic monastery to the Christian faith. We both laughed, and he went on to explain to me that "I can deal with religious people. But that is just kinda creepy." This kind of took me by surprise. I guess I never really bothered to think too closely about this fact but I have always been mildly disturbed by any depiction of Jesus. Crucifix are creepy to me, yes. Understandably. Its a depiction of a largely naked man with long hair strung on an ancient torture device. Yes, I understand that is a depiction of my Lord and His tremendous sacrifice for me and for every little thing that I have ever done wrong (and believe me, there are a lot of things!!) But there remains some lack of what I feel that I would really see in the face of my Lord. Something of the love and sadness shining from His eyes that I think I would see as He bore all my stupidity in His perfect body on a shameful cross. Something of that look that would melt your very soul and you would know that He looked clear through you. A haunting look as you knew He felt the pain and death of every sin that you had ever committed.
I hate the term "religious people". To me that means people who rely on works to get them in good with God. Or people that hypocritically go to church on Sunday and live the rest of the week without any mindfulness of Christ's love or sacrifice for their sake. Some of the most annoying people to work with at my job are those that come in to do bible studies or church services for our resident's. They are pushy and rude without much consideration for the inconvenience of staff or residents alike, even those that they are supposed to be serving. I get the feeling that this is another thing to cross off their list. They are the people that have a fish on their car and blatantly cut you off in traffic while simultaneously honking their horn because they think you should be going faster than the set speed limit. I think of them as the people that give Christians a bad name. They show up for "religion" as a habit or as a moral obligation. Maybe they used to feel passionate for the God's love, but they sure aren't showing it anymore. I hate the thought that I could ever fall into that category. In fact it makes me shudder.
That's probably why, when anyone asks me if I am religious, I say no. Then I proceed to explain that the relationship that I have with God isn't something that can be defined as just "religion". Its not saying a rote prayer and attending some service. What I have is the Divine as a best friend. How can you adequately explain that as "religion"? Religion can mean anything from Muslim, Buddists, Hindus, to witch-doctor type practices.
I don't want to ever be seen as one of those "religious" people, but invariably it will happen. I shall have to explain it all again, which I guess is good. Be prepared to give an answer for the hope that you have in you right? But somehow I wish I had a light bright enough for people to ask what was different about the kind of "religion" that I have. Maybe someday I'll get there. I know God has a lot of work to do in my life before my light can shine that bright I think.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
More thoughts from Journey of Desire
"You must learn to be happy here," the tortoise told him one day, "For it is doubtful you shall ever find this sea of yours."
I have a hard time with this. How many times have I been told the same thing and accepted it as another reminder that I need to be content in Christ. Is it possible that I am attempting to suppress a desire that never should be suppressed? And that God had intended instead to use for my growth? He places desires in all of us. When did I decide to reject the desires He has given me in place of 'being content'? Does that not sound a lot like complacency as well? Cause heavens to Betsy! That is for def sure not the direction I want to be headed in! In pursuit of those dreams that God has instilled in me, have a simply given up choosing instead to sit in a well of mediocrity and stagnation instead of active participation in the fulfillment of said dreams and aspirations? I find myself dangerously skating the line! I guess I would rather that I was a depressed dreamer than a complacent realist! At least I would still be hanging to some shred of hope that those dreams were obtainable! Currently I find myself just attempting to distract myseld from feeling to strongly the urge to dream or to dwell on those dreams. And it doesn't just apply to my spiritual life, it applies to my relationships, to my plans for the future, for my job furtherment (yeah, not sure that's a word). It drags on and on in to every area of life. And I feel lifeless because of it. Lack of hope for the future often ends up looking quite gaunt and languid. Such is the state I am currently finding myself in. I know the secret to the cure though. Conscious choosing to open my heart again to all the dreams and desires that God would place on my heart! Excitement! This could get crazy again!
I have a hard time with this. How many times have I been told the same thing and accepted it as another reminder that I need to be content in Christ. Is it possible that I am attempting to suppress a desire that never should be suppressed? And that God had intended instead to use for my growth? He places desires in all of us. When did I decide to reject the desires He has given me in place of 'being content'? Does that not sound a lot like complacency as well? Cause heavens to Betsy! That is for def sure not the direction I want to be headed in! In pursuit of those dreams that God has instilled in me, have a simply given up choosing instead to sit in a well of mediocrity and stagnation instead of active participation in the fulfillment of said dreams and aspirations? I find myself dangerously skating the line! I guess I would rather that I was a depressed dreamer than a complacent realist! At least I would still be hanging to some shred of hope that those dreams were obtainable! Currently I find myself just attempting to distract myseld from feeling to strongly the urge to dream or to dwell on those dreams. And it doesn't just apply to my spiritual life, it applies to my relationships, to my plans for the future, for my job furtherment (yeah, not sure that's a word). It drags on and on in to every area of life. And I feel lifeless because of it. Lack of hope for the future often ends up looking quite gaunt and languid. Such is the state I am currently finding myself in. I know the secret to the cure though. Conscious choosing to open my heart again to all the dreams and desires that God would place on my heart! Excitement! This could get crazy again!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Amen Sista!
Well, I realize that I live in the conservative midwest... and yes, I grew up in churches that were not entirely sure they thought it wasn't against some sacred code somewhere to actually have a contemporary service... but I have still always thought of myself as fairly open when it comes to musical styles for worship.
Now... before I go on, let me just clarify, that I DO NOT in any way, shape, or form believe that "singing" can be equivocated to "worship". Worship is very definitely a state of the heart. I worship God sometimes by shouting prayers into the prairie winds or I worship in complete silence, on my knees or dancing sometimes (or as near to dancing as a fat white girl can come). But when it comes to worship... there really is nothing that gets to my heart like a good song. Praise, adoration, biblical truth, complete rest... all can be conveyed through song and I love that about the way that I am able to worship my God!
So that much being said, I have been challenged recently. My boyfriend really likes gospel music. Well, I've heard a gospel song or two in my day, and I thought, "Oh, that's cool." Yeeeeaaaahh... God really likes to challenge me on those kinds of responses. Now I know full well, that given the option I would listen to David Crowder, Third Day, or Hillsong over Tye Tribbet, Fred Hammond, or Kirk Franklin. But I didn't think they were so awful. I mean, really... its pretty much the same as the other guys except your repeat things over and over again and somebody yells promises of God over the top of the choir singing that same worn line. Sometimes its cool, honestly. Yes, people sometimes get carried away with it... (I mean seriously... if your body is gyrating more than it does for your daily exercise, you might be going a bit overboard!) Sometimes its a darn good thing everyone has their eyes closed! Cause ain't nobody wanna see Sister Thompson gettin' her praise on up there in the chior! She's using muscles she ain't used all week long, and every phrase outa the worship leaders mouth is gonna get followed with a "Praise Jesus" from hers! "Lord, we've sinned" "Praise Jesus!" "Lord, we pray for Sister Smith's family grieving" "Praise Jesus" "Lord, we need a better choir director" "Praise Jesus!" Just sayin... And just when you think the song is finally over because they've been winding it down for the last several minutes with gradually less "Hallelujah" interjecitons, they start back in again on the chorus! After a while, I honestly can't listen to it anymore. I mean its cool for a while... but then its just time to change to something else.
That much aside, his liking that style of music has really made me start reconsidering it. Not that I have to like everything that he does (I'm too self-differentiated for that). But it would also be good if we didn't have to have a fight every time we need to decide what to listen to in the car or something... So I've been listening to bits an pieces.
Somethings I have discovered. 1.) If its biblical... I love it! Of course I was thrilled to realize this one! If you can take that exact phrase from a song (especially if you are going to repeat it over and over again) and find it straight outa the Good Book, then I'll for sure sign off on it being a great song! 2.) A little spirit never hurt anyone. Granted, I'm not gonna be the next Sister Thompson... but a little healthy swing in your step and some good old-fashioned clapping with joy in the Lord... well, honestly... we have a lot to be joyful about, so why not!? Funny how I laugh now when people in my conservative midwestern churches try and start clapping. It usually works through the first chorus and then people start dropping off. Maybe we just aren't that coordinated and can't sing and clap at the same time, but I automatically think of my church in UG and how they never stop clapping from the fast to the slow songs. Its only the cadence that changes. 3.) Does it usher you into the heart of God? If the answer is yes, then I can't object. For my boyfriend its a resounding yes. Now, he knows better than to send me a link to a gospel song if his object was to encourage my heart... but when I look at the things that lift him up I can't discount his crazy gospel music because I see the huge impact that it can play in encouraging and uplifting him. At times that means going out of my way to find a youtube clip to send to him with a particularly lovely song that I know he's be blessed by. I'm not terribly good at that yet, because its hard to find anything I am impressed with at the moment, but I am getting better.
Somehow though... whenever I think about it, I think that we'll sing gospel music in heaven. Something about the spirit that is put into those songs... just doesn't compare to the Maranatha praise band stuff that I was raised on.
I could be wrong, and I'm no expert... but it just makes me think...
Now... before I go on, let me just clarify, that I DO NOT in any way, shape, or form believe that "singing" can be equivocated to "worship". Worship is very definitely a state of the heart. I worship God sometimes by shouting prayers into the prairie winds or I worship in complete silence, on my knees or dancing sometimes (or as near to dancing as a fat white girl can come). But when it comes to worship... there really is nothing that gets to my heart like a good song. Praise, adoration, biblical truth, complete rest... all can be conveyed through song and I love that about the way that I am able to worship my God!
So that much being said, I have been challenged recently. My boyfriend really likes gospel music. Well, I've heard a gospel song or two in my day, and I thought, "Oh, that's cool." Yeeeeaaaahh... God really likes to challenge me on those kinds of responses. Now I know full well, that given the option I would listen to David Crowder, Third Day, or Hillsong over Tye Tribbet, Fred Hammond, or Kirk Franklin. But I didn't think they were so awful. I mean, really... its pretty much the same as the other guys except your repeat things over and over again and somebody yells promises of God over the top of the choir singing that same worn line. Sometimes its cool, honestly. Yes, people sometimes get carried away with it... (I mean seriously... if your body is gyrating more than it does for your daily exercise, you might be going a bit overboard!) Sometimes its a darn good thing everyone has their eyes closed! Cause ain't nobody wanna see Sister Thompson gettin' her praise on up there in the chior! She's using muscles she ain't used all week long, and every phrase outa the worship leaders mouth is gonna get followed with a "Praise Jesus" from hers! "Lord, we've sinned" "Praise Jesus!" "Lord, we pray for Sister Smith's family grieving" "Praise Jesus" "Lord, we need a better choir director" "Praise Jesus!" Just sayin... And just when you think the song is finally over because they've been winding it down for the last several minutes with gradually less "Hallelujah" interjecitons, they start back in again on the chorus! After a while, I honestly can't listen to it anymore. I mean its cool for a while... but then its just time to change to something else.
That much aside, his liking that style of music has really made me start reconsidering it. Not that I have to like everything that he does (I'm too self-differentiated for that). But it would also be good if we didn't have to have a fight every time we need to decide what to listen to in the car or something... So I've been listening to bits an pieces.
Somethings I have discovered. 1.) If its biblical... I love it! Of course I was thrilled to realize this one! If you can take that exact phrase from a song (especially if you are going to repeat it over and over again) and find it straight outa the Good Book, then I'll for sure sign off on it being a great song! 2.) A little spirit never hurt anyone. Granted, I'm not gonna be the next Sister Thompson... but a little healthy swing in your step and some good old-fashioned clapping with joy in the Lord... well, honestly... we have a lot to be joyful about, so why not!? Funny how I laugh now when people in my conservative midwestern churches try and start clapping. It usually works through the first chorus and then people start dropping off. Maybe we just aren't that coordinated and can't sing and clap at the same time, but I automatically think of my church in UG and how they never stop clapping from the fast to the slow songs. Its only the cadence that changes. 3.) Does it usher you into the heart of God? If the answer is yes, then I can't object. For my boyfriend its a resounding yes. Now, he knows better than to send me a link to a gospel song if his object was to encourage my heart... but when I look at the things that lift him up I can't discount his crazy gospel music because I see the huge impact that it can play in encouraging and uplifting him. At times that means going out of my way to find a youtube clip to send to him with a particularly lovely song that I know he's be blessed by. I'm not terribly good at that yet, because its hard to find anything I am impressed with at the moment, but I am getting better.
Somehow though... whenever I think about it, I think that we'll sing gospel music in heaven. Something about the spirit that is put into those songs... just doesn't compare to the Maranatha praise band stuff that I was raised on.
I could be wrong, and I'm no expert... but it just makes me think...
Sunday, June 19, 2011
In the Aftermath
I went to a Hillsong United concert with my sister in Tulsa, Oklahoma on Friday. I was completely blown away by this song. The singers gave a really beautiful devo about how we don't have to live in the aftermath of all the terrible stuff in our lives, or even in the aftermath of our own sinful choices and actions, but that we are found in the aftermath of Christ's action on the cross. Namely that we are completely covered for all the debt of purity that this life stains us with. And we are completely covered for all the debt of purity that our own stupid shortcomings bring us to. Instead our debt has been wiped away and we simply stand. Empty, but having everything... in the aftermath of the cross. That is the best kind of devastation ever. The kind that lands you at the feet of the Savior again.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
My Dear Beautiful Friend
Yesterday I had to say goodbye to what has been my very best friend for the last 4 years. We've been with each other through lots of laughter and not a few tears.
We first met actually in speech class. Apparently I was the least scary looking person in my class... so my soon to be best friend decided to sit beside me. (in her defense though, there were a lot of scary people in our class). We got to talking after class and met a mutual friend of ours, then were pleasantly surprised to find out that the other was a Christian and were doing classes for nursing school. I invited her for lunch one day. We went to what turned out later to be a gay bar by night... I swear I didn't know! I introduced her to the lovely "Roy Rogers" which is just grenadine and Pepsi (lovely!). A few VERY scary rides in her dilapidated Geo, lots of lunch dates, and a few nights of bowling later... by the end of the semester we were fast friends! (Apparently when I give speeches I use my hands weirdly curled into a "claw" to express myself, while she turns completely blotchy all over her neck! lol) I met her bros and argued with her boyfriend over the phone. Went sledding behind a truck on a car hood, caught a couple movies, and discovered that we both love shopping!
We decided to take a class together in the spring (micobiology, yay!). She got a Nissan 240 (which is essentially the sportier version of my Nissan 200SX) to replace that awful Geo I remember lots of racing our cars between Ogden and our night class in JC. Many more days making study guides for tests and meeting for supper before or after class.
Then something awful happened. One morning I woke to a message on my phone from her brother. There had been an accident. I thought it had happened the night before on the way home from class and I kicked myself repeatedly for losing her on the interstate and not making sure she turned off okay. When I got the hospital, I found out it had happened that morning as she was on her way to work. She had been adjusting her radio, talking on the phone and veered off the road, when she swung back to compensate, her car hit gravel and spun out of control, flipping off the other side of the road, rolling, knocking her out the sunroof and then rolling over the top of her before coming to a stop in the median.
She was in a neck and full back brace, not very lucid, and to add insult to injury got a ticket for not wearing her seat belt served by the PD to her lying flat on her back in the ER. I didn't even know all of her family then and I sat on the other side of the waiting room listening for news of her from the group of people from her church. I was shocked and a little honored that she asked for me.
She broke her back in a couple places, but nothing was damaged to her spinal cord amazingly. Really it was a miracle. I saw the car later and not wearing a seat belt probably saved her life. I stayed with her those first few frightening nights in the hospital and I remember being so scared and feeling so helpless. Being a nurse, but unable to do anything to ease her pain. Even the best pain killers couldn't ease it enough for her to be able to sleep comfortably. I lay awake on the skinny sliver of a couch for the longest time praying that she would be able to sleep; that God would ease her pain enough for at least that. We fell asleep holding hands. Or rather I fell asleep and she slipped into her medicated haze.
I'll never forget that late night conversation after everyone else had gone home, crying cause she didn't know if she would ever be able to walk right or bear children. I told her I would carry her children if she found out she couldn't. It was a bizarre thing to offer at a time like that and possibly slightly creepy, but I truly meant it. I would.
Finally she was well enough to go home. She could sit up for only a little while at first, and even that was painful. I think I was out at her house almost every day helping out, bringing her food, or trying to entertain her. I considered skipping my plans to go to Africa that summer.
Her brothers, and then boyfriend all took turns staying with her. We got in all kinds of trouble: wrestling and chasing each other around the house, smuggling her to the lake reclined in my car, all of us carrying her all over, eating too many fudge bars... I would leave to go in to work or school, and then rush back or text her to see what she wanted me to bring her the next day.
Her and I talked so much at the start of that summer, we became practically inseparable. She was I think the only person that let me be really excited about Africa, and put up with my moods when I would come back all messed up and with my culture shock.
I went with her boyfriend and his best friend to pick out the ring when he proposed. And I was so honored and proud to stand by the two of them as they exchanged vows atop a hill over the lake where we had spent so many beautiful afternoons swimming, nevermind the fact that I boiled my shoulders in my strapless dress and could not move for the next 2 days without intense blistering pain. :)
She was there for me every time I got my heart broke, and she was there when I finally found a love that was true. My only regret is that I couldn't always be there exactly when she needed me. She stayed with me after Kala died. I can't count how many times we prayed for each other. Best memories will always include her teaching me "how to hug a boyfriend"... Pizzanos and our pasta comfort food... that one incident that we don't talk about... crying together... yelling at each other for not having enough self esteem to believe that we are each beautiful... fighting over which one of us was the "man" in our relationship... "we're biters!"... sledding, swimming, and horseback riding... drinks and movies... her getting me hooked on tanning... that moment that I realized how much she had been through, and what a lovely woman she was to have lived through that and to still love with such veracity... sharing shopping, big words, and mountain dew...
When she went to visit her husband's family over Christmas, I just knew. She didn't have to tell me. They were moving there when her husband was done with school. It was hard to take. We both knew that our relationship wouldn't keep on going the way it was. I was supposed to be running off to Africa. Now she was leaving before me.
I can't tell you how a little part of my heart feels like its missing. We both knew the goodbye was coming and we avoided talking about it that last evening together. Neither of us cried, but the pain still showed in both of our eyes. She kept looking at me with that look that said she was wanting some assurance that I would be okay, and I couldn't let her down, so I bravely smiled and waved. Alone in my car, the tears didn't stop all the 30 min drive home. I even wrote a country western ballad singing loud with the wind from the interstate whipping away my tears.
She will never be replaced in my heart. I have trouble believing anyone could ever understand me the way that she does.
Somehow along the last 4 years we became sisters instead of friends.
We first met actually in speech class. Apparently I was the least scary looking person in my class... so my soon to be best friend decided to sit beside me. (in her defense though, there were a lot of scary people in our class). We got to talking after class and met a mutual friend of ours, then were pleasantly surprised to find out that the other was a Christian and were doing classes for nursing school. I invited her for lunch one day. We went to what turned out later to be a gay bar by night... I swear I didn't know! I introduced her to the lovely "Roy Rogers" which is just grenadine and Pepsi (lovely!). A few VERY scary rides in her dilapidated Geo, lots of lunch dates, and a few nights of bowling later... by the end of the semester we were fast friends! (Apparently when I give speeches I use my hands weirdly curled into a "claw" to express myself, while she turns completely blotchy all over her neck! lol) I met her bros and argued with her boyfriend over the phone. Went sledding behind a truck on a car hood, caught a couple movies, and discovered that we both love shopping!
We decided to take a class together in the spring (micobiology, yay!). She got a Nissan 240 (which is essentially the sportier version of my Nissan 200SX) to replace that awful Geo I remember lots of racing our cars between Ogden and our night class in JC. Many more days making study guides for tests and meeting for supper before or after class.
Then something awful happened. One morning I woke to a message on my phone from her brother. There had been an accident. I thought it had happened the night before on the way home from class and I kicked myself repeatedly for losing her on the interstate and not making sure she turned off okay. When I got the hospital, I found out it had happened that morning as she was on her way to work. She had been adjusting her radio, talking on the phone and veered off the road, when she swung back to compensate, her car hit gravel and spun out of control, flipping off the other side of the road, rolling, knocking her out the sunroof and then rolling over the top of her before coming to a stop in the median.
She was in a neck and full back brace, not very lucid, and to add insult to injury got a ticket for not wearing her seat belt served by the PD to her lying flat on her back in the ER. I didn't even know all of her family then and I sat on the other side of the waiting room listening for news of her from the group of people from her church. I was shocked and a little honored that she asked for me.
She broke her back in a couple places, but nothing was damaged to her spinal cord amazingly. Really it was a miracle. I saw the car later and not wearing a seat belt probably saved her life. I stayed with her those first few frightening nights in the hospital and I remember being so scared and feeling so helpless. Being a nurse, but unable to do anything to ease her pain. Even the best pain killers couldn't ease it enough for her to be able to sleep comfortably. I lay awake on the skinny sliver of a couch for the longest time praying that she would be able to sleep; that God would ease her pain enough for at least that. We fell asleep holding hands. Or rather I fell asleep and she slipped into her medicated haze.
I'll never forget that late night conversation after everyone else had gone home, crying cause she didn't know if she would ever be able to walk right or bear children. I told her I would carry her children if she found out she couldn't. It was a bizarre thing to offer at a time like that and possibly slightly creepy, but I truly meant it. I would.
Finally she was well enough to go home. She could sit up for only a little while at first, and even that was painful. I think I was out at her house almost every day helping out, bringing her food, or trying to entertain her. I considered skipping my plans to go to Africa that summer.
Her brothers, and then boyfriend all took turns staying with her. We got in all kinds of trouble: wrestling and chasing each other around the house, smuggling her to the lake reclined in my car, all of us carrying her all over, eating too many fudge bars... I would leave to go in to work or school, and then rush back or text her to see what she wanted me to bring her the next day.
Her and I talked so much at the start of that summer, we became practically inseparable. She was I think the only person that let me be really excited about Africa, and put up with my moods when I would come back all messed up and with my culture shock.
I went with her boyfriend and his best friend to pick out the ring when he proposed. And I was so honored and proud to stand by the two of them as they exchanged vows atop a hill over the lake where we had spent so many beautiful afternoons swimming, nevermind the fact that I boiled my shoulders in my strapless dress and could not move for the next 2 days without intense blistering pain. :)
She was there for me every time I got my heart broke, and she was there when I finally found a love that was true. My only regret is that I couldn't always be there exactly when she needed me. She stayed with me after Kala died. I can't count how many times we prayed for each other. Best memories will always include her teaching me "how to hug a boyfriend"... Pizzanos and our pasta comfort food... that one incident that we don't talk about... crying together... yelling at each other for not having enough self esteem to believe that we are each beautiful... fighting over which one of us was the "man" in our relationship... "we're biters!"... sledding, swimming, and horseback riding... drinks and movies... her getting me hooked on tanning... that moment that I realized how much she had been through, and what a lovely woman she was to have lived through that and to still love with such veracity... sharing shopping, big words, and mountain dew...
When she went to visit her husband's family over Christmas, I just knew. She didn't have to tell me. They were moving there when her husband was done with school. It was hard to take. We both knew that our relationship wouldn't keep on going the way it was. I was supposed to be running off to Africa. Now she was leaving before me.
I can't tell you how a little part of my heart feels like its missing. We both knew the goodbye was coming and we avoided talking about it that last evening together. Neither of us cried, but the pain still showed in both of our eyes. She kept looking at me with that look that said she was wanting some assurance that I would be okay, and I couldn't let her down, so I bravely smiled and waved. Alone in my car, the tears didn't stop all the 30 min drive home. I even wrote a country western ballad singing loud with the wind from the interstate whipping away my tears.
She will never be replaced in my heart. I have trouble believing anyone could ever understand me the way that she does.
Somehow along the last 4 years we became sisters instead of friends.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
My Anti-government Rant for Uganda
The Ugandan government has been run for a ridiculous amount of years now by what I am coming to see as a very corrupt man. One of his first actions after taking office I am told was to abolish the law that restricted how long he could be president. He then proceeded to rig all formal elections from that point forward. Opposition members suddenly disappear SS style when they start to gain popularity with the people. Voters registered under different parties are told that they do not appear on the list when they turn up at the polls and are turned away from exercising their right to vote. Even ones who do get through, their votes are mysteriously "lost" and never make it to the official ballot count. The last election was very obviously rigged, and that's all I'll say on that count.
Maybe I've been an American too long, but this severely grates at my sense of right and wrong and my ingrained penchant for freedom and the values that entails.
The most frustrating thing to me recently is the idiotic way that the people were treated regarding a peaceful protest against rising fuel prices in which there was a "walk to work" campaign started. Granted the man behind the major support for this was a leader for the opposition party, which severely compromised the effectiveness of this peaceful protest. Or I should say would have been peaceful had not the government decided to treat it as a riot and began arresting anybody walking and shooting tear-gas into crowds!
Now to fully understand this plight you must realize that in downtown Kampala you can't go anywhere where there aren't people walking. They walk everywhere to and from work or pleasure. And even if you aren't planning on walking for the majority of your trip somewhere, you still have to walk to the bus stop to get on public transportation. The majority of inhabitants of Uganda live at or below the poverty line, and even the ones that are well off, cannot afford a car! Or if they can, it is simply not cost effective to spend that much on petrol to get them from point A to point B when its much cheaper to split it between the 15-24 people crammed in a public transportation van. That much being said it is literally impossible to differentiate which people are actually walking to work, and which ones have always walked to work, and which ones are walking from work to the taxi station... or what have you!
Its the most ridiculous reasoning of insanity ever! And now, with so many innocent lives also being affected by a silly political rivalry, almost the entire country of Uganda... (meaning all the little people, who's voices apparently don't count) are now against the president. This leaves me with a lot of worries about how this eventually will come to a head. The president will continue rigging elections and running sketchy missions to off his competition and will stay in office until he dies at this rate. The only thing that will probably change that is a revolt, and I really fear for bloodshed in my beloved country should that happen. There is no such thing as a peaceful take-over in a country so firmly established with a violent past both with tribes against one another and with the country against its leaders. How many innocent lives will be lost over this one man's greed for power in this country, and obvious lack of concern for the lives of the people he is entrusted with guarding as a leader?
Please pray for Uganda.
Maybe I've been an American too long, but this severely grates at my sense of right and wrong and my ingrained penchant for freedom and the values that entails.
The most frustrating thing to me recently is the idiotic way that the people were treated regarding a peaceful protest against rising fuel prices in which there was a "walk to work" campaign started. Granted the man behind the major support for this was a leader for the opposition party, which severely compromised the effectiveness of this peaceful protest. Or I should say would have been peaceful had not the government decided to treat it as a riot and began arresting anybody walking and shooting tear-gas into crowds!
Now to fully understand this plight you must realize that in downtown Kampala you can't go anywhere where there aren't people walking. They walk everywhere to and from work or pleasure. And even if you aren't planning on walking for the majority of your trip somewhere, you still have to walk to the bus stop to get on public transportation. The majority of inhabitants of Uganda live at or below the poverty line, and even the ones that are well off, cannot afford a car! Or if they can, it is simply not cost effective to spend that much on petrol to get them from point A to point B when its much cheaper to split it between the 15-24 people crammed in a public transportation van. That much being said it is literally impossible to differentiate which people are actually walking to work, and which ones have always walked to work, and which ones are walking from work to the taxi station... or what have you!
Its the most ridiculous reasoning of insanity ever! And now, with so many innocent lives also being affected by a silly political rivalry, almost the entire country of Uganda... (meaning all the little people, who's voices apparently don't count) are now against the president. This leaves me with a lot of worries about how this eventually will come to a head. The president will continue rigging elections and running sketchy missions to off his competition and will stay in office until he dies at this rate. The only thing that will probably change that is a revolt, and I really fear for bloodshed in my beloved country should that happen. There is no such thing as a peaceful take-over in a country so firmly established with a violent past both with tribes against one another and with the country against its leaders. How many innocent lives will be lost over this one man's greed for power in this country, and obvious lack of concern for the lives of the people he is entrusted with guarding as a leader?
Please pray for Uganda.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Nurse's Day
Today is nurse's day. Actually today kicks off nurse's week. Which I know all of you are jealous that you don't have a day or week specifically designated to your profession, but get over it! Nurse's are just plain awesome! (or most of them anyway)
There's this amazing group of people that really care about caring for people, that strive for daily excellence in their work, and that, simply put, give a piece of their hearts every day when they show up for their jobs. Nurse's get the worst brunt work. They have obnoxious shift hours, and don't get paid nearly enough for how often they work short. They have to deal with other people's snot, pee, poop, phlegm, blood, and b.o. on a daily basis. They have to be professional when everyone around them is freaking out or collapsing or falling to tears. They hold the hands of people while they take their last breath, and are there to catch them when they take their first. They can be the difference between pain and comfort, between calm and distress, between life and death even at times. They can be the bearer of bad news, the angel of comfort, the stern taskmaster, or the timely counselor. Its only natural that people feel like they are part of their families at times, because these amazing women and men invest their heart in their work.
I can't think of anything really in this world that I would rather be. I am totally humbled to be counted as part of their ranks! Now granted, I really appreciate using big words, love knowing exactly what to do in specific circumstances, and adore helping people. I think its highly ironic that my birthday falls in the middle of nurse's week as if I were destined for it!
There's this amazing group of people that really care about caring for people, that strive for daily excellence in their work, and that, simply put, give a piece of their hearts every day when they show up for their jobs. Nurse's get the worst brunt work. They have obnoxious shift hours, and don't get paid nearly enough for how often they work short. They have to deal with other people's snot, pee, poop, phlegm, blood, and b.o. on a daily basis. They have to be professional when everyone around them is freaking out or collapsing or falling to tears. They hold the hands of people while they take their last breath, and are there to catch them when they take their first. They can be the difference between pain and comfort, between calm and distress, between life and death even at times. They can be the bearer of bad news, the angel of comfort, the stern taskmaster, or the timely counselor. Its only natural that people feel like they are part of their families at times, because these amazing women and men invest their heart in their work.
I can't think of anything really in this world that I would rather be. I am totally humbled to be counted as part of their ranks! Now granted, I really appreciate using big words, love knowing exactly what to do in specific circumstances, and adore helping people. I think its highly ironic that my birthday falls in the middle of nurse's week as if I were destined for it!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
For Kala
I know from time to time I used to write about how obnoxious my dog was. Well, I sadly have to inform my readers that Kala Ssirika passed away at the end of March.
I originally picked her up at the shelter. I know this is where I am supposed to tell about how my blue eyes met her sad brown ones and we knew it was love at first site. In all honesty, that is just not the way it happened. The first time I saw Kala she was a pound puppy peeing in a cage while her brothers jumped up on top of her, playing around. I didn't even look at her at first.
I wanted a male dog. I'm not really sure why, I guess I just thought that females were smarter and therefore more conniving as pets. (and yes I am thus severe on my own sex) She was short-haired and black. Nothing much to look at. Her brothers were pretty and long-haired, with beautiful grey coloring. I honestly didn't know what a Weimaraner was, or how to go about spelling it for that matter.
All I really wanted was a nice, calm, bigger dog to come lay at my feet and keep me company when I was studying, to make me go on long walks, and to play with as stress relief during long days of RN school.
I had NO IDEA what I was getting myself into...
According to Wikipedia (which we all know is the source of all knowledge!):
"From adolescence, a Weimaraner requires extensive exercise in keeping with an energetic hunting dog breed prized for their physical endurance and stamina. No walk is too far, and they will appreciate games and play in addition. An active owner is more likely to provide the vigorous exercising, games, or running that this breed absolutely requires. Weimaraners are high-strung and often wear out their owners, requiring appropriate training to learn how to calm them and to help them learn to control their behavior. Owners need patience and consistent, firm yet kind training, as this breed is particularly rambunctious during the first year and a half of its life. This breed is known for having a penchant for stealing food from table and counter tops whenever given the chance. Like many breeds, untrained and unconfined young dogs often create their own fun when left alone, such as chewing house quarters and furniture. Thus, many that are abandoned have behavioural issues as a result of isolation and inferior exercise.
This breed of dog tends to be very stubborn. However, with good training, these instincts can be curtailed to some degree. A properly trained Weimaraner is a companion that will never leave its master's side. The Weimaraner has been given the nickname "Velcro Dog", as when once acclimated to its owner, sticks to its owner at all times. Many Weimaraners tend to lean on their owner when sitting or standing, and most will insist on sleeping on their owner's bed unless trained otherwise."
So apparently I forgot to research the breed of dog I was getting before I brought her home. All I knew is that she was very friendly. And she was shorthaired, which would mean less cleaning and brushing for me. I have long since decided that adopting a puppy when in nursing school was perhaps one of my stupidest decisions of all time.
And thus comes the really embarrassing part of my story:
We thought, when we left the pound that she was a boy. Now granted, I do know a thing or two about human anatomy, but when it comes to animals, I would say I am not nearly as confident. In my defense however, cryptorchidism is common in Weimaraners, so my initial conjecture was not completely erroneous... And in the matter of how male and female dogs urinate, I can only say that I took care of a male dog that squatted, so I did not look at that as a clear indication either. I named "him" Demetrius, after this really awesome guy in the New Testament. I was petting "his" belly one day and noticed that something didn't quite match up. Then one day I was rather rudely rocked off my pretty little fantasy world by one of my lovely friends who rather quickly ascertained that "Demetrius" was not in fact a boy. Despite my rather red face at that point in time, it was obvious that I would need to rename the unfortunate young puppy.
So after an extensive afternoon of name shopping (my best friend wanted me to name her Guinevere!) she was dubbed Kala (meaning black in Hindi, because she was most definitely black) Ssirika (which means silky in Luganda).
After almost 2 years of having that huge responsibility of coming home and taking care of her every day, taking her on walks, being limited in my activities because I needed to get home to her its so weird. I come home and there is no whimpering for me, or that scurry of feet on her kennel floor wanting to greet me. I think that's what I miss the most. Its too quiet in my house. I miss that warm little bundle laying on top of my feet (she always had to be touching me if she was sleeping near me) making me feel like an oven. The first few nights I woke up in the middle of the night, and wondered where she had gone because she wasn't sleeping on my feet or on the little rug next to my bed where she stayed when I kicked her out of bed for being too warm.
I miss the fact that she was always there, and having her just come and lay her head on my leg when she knew I was feeling down. And I strangely miss her whining that she needed to go out or wanted me to fill her bowls again; I guess I miss being needed.
I dreamed about her the other night. She was a puppy again and she was adorable and playful and followed me around like a shadow. Strange how a little puppy from the pound can get so tangled up in your heart strings. I always swore that I wouldn't cry when she died, or when I gave her away, or had to put her down. I wasn't going to be that person. But I severely over-estimated the hardness of my heart. She frustrated me to no end sometimes, but she always came back and snuggled with me if I would let her, and wanted to say that she was sorry, and please forgive me mommy! I could always bury my head in her shoulder when I needed a hug and she would stay perfectly still (which was a really big deal for her!). I remember the one time that I hurt my ankle playing in the snow (being pulled on an old car hood behind a truck in a field, yeah, totally safe, i know). She came and stood over the top of me when she realized that I wasn't getting up, like she was going to protect me.
I love that I taught her the stupidest commands like "chill" and "walk nicely" and "go to your room". She actually responded to them, which is funny. I think sometimes that she fit me very nicely, since she was obviously as crazy as me. Well, scratch that, she was actually crazier, but she could keep up with my quirkiness.
I was right about one thing though. I should have gotten a boy dog, because she was too smart for her own good. She new perfectly well how to untangle herself once she wrapped her lead wire around the tree in our front yard, but she would refuse to do it until I came out in response to her barking and told her to. If she wanted to do something she knew she wasn't supposed to, she would wait until I had my back to her or was in the other room. And when she got caught she would hang her head in shame.
She loved peanut butter. And she liked those rawhide bones. She would chew through them in nothing flat. Her and Sage used to fight over them, and steal them from each other all the time. I finally got her a couple of nylon bones, thinking they would be harder for her to chew through. I came home and it was nowhere to be seen. I think she swallowed it whole, because you aren't supposed to be able to chew them in 8 hours. She was just crazy like that! She completely shredded a wedding invitation, a couple cell phone bills, 3 homework assignments (no, REALLY teacher, my dog really ate it!), the zippers to a pair of boots, my favorite pair of Ugandan earrings (wooden rhinos, and they were awesome!), and was endlessly stealing my ponytail holders to chew on! She loved table scraps and would eat pretty much anything I would give her. Except she refused to drink the water in her bowl if it was less than clear. Which was silly, she would drink out of lakes or puddles or the toilet if I would let her, but if she was sloppy and dropped a piece of food in her water dish she would refuse to drink until I dumped that out and got her fresh water. She loved those Pup-eroni slim-jim type sticks. She would do just about anything for one of those!
She would lay spread eagle on the floor in the kitchen in the summer after coming in from outside to absorb the coolness of the linoleum floor to counteract her black coat. She could stand in one spot and jump a good 5 feet straight up in the air; she looked like a kangaroo and it made me laugh every time. She loved kids, and was always eager to play with other animals. She couldn't smell worth a lick though. I let her outside once and there was a huge buck in our front yard about 15 feet from us in the dusk. She never even noticed it.
Her last day I didn't even spend that much time with her. I had been gone in Topeka all day and got home; my best friend was letting her out when she collapsed in front of my front stoop and just started seizing. By the time the seizure was over, she had no function or painful stimulus response in her hind legs and little in her shoulders. Her pupil responses were sluggish and barely there. She had obvious brain damage. We got her cleaned up, and she seemed to be responding a little better for a while, but just ridiculously tired from the seizure. Then she started seizing every 2 minutes and I had to make the decision.
Her eyes nearly broke my heart. They looked so scared and confused as if she was pleading with me to do something and make it stop. But there was nothing I could do. She died that night. It was the most merciful thing really.
I think she really taught me a lot though. She definitely worked on my patience. I think sometimes I would see strange little things in her, and it reminds me of how God must feel when He looks at me sometimes. I know that sometimes I try and get away with things when He isn't looking. And I sit there throwing a fit about the mess I've gotten myself into and God just looks at me and is like, "My dear stupid child! You know very well how you got yourself into that situation, and you know how to get yourself out. Why are you fussing?" And I know that he must delight in seeing me jump like a kangaroo when I discover another truth or blessing He has lavished me with. In times when I think about that, I can't help but smile back and realize that God brings many different characters into our lives that we learn from and lean on for a time, and sometimes those characters have 4 paws and brown eyes. I am thankful for that in God's crazy plan for my life, he took one of my stupidest mistakes and turned it into another beautiful patch in the crazy quilt of my life.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Change
I am a thunderstorm
I am the chilly expectation on the winds
I am the deep grey, brilliant geen, and glowing orange which betrays its feirceness
I am the passionate drilling forces of giant raindrops
And the sweet caress of falling showers
I am warm and carefree like a summer storm
Then icy as winter sleet
Dangerous at times its true
Sought after a long drought and refreshing to dry soil
I am fury or comfort
I am hazardous or appealing
I am the ever changing face of the sky.
I am the chilly expectation on the winds
I am the deep grey, brilliant geen, and glowing orange which betrays its feirceness
I am the passionate drilling forces of giant raindrops
And the sweet caress of falling showers
I am warm and carefree like a summer storm
Then icy as winter sleet
Dangerous at times its true
Sought after a long drought and refreshing to dry soil
I am fury or comfort
I am hazardous or appealing
I am the ever changing face of the sky.
Monday, March 28, 2011
The Sea Lion Who Lost the Sea
He lived in a country known as the barren lands. High on a plateau, far from any coast, it was a place so dry and dusty that it could only be called a desert. A kind of coarse grass grew in patches here and there, and a few trees were scattered across the horizon. But mostly it was dust. And sometimes wind, which together make one very thirsty. Of course, it must seem strange to you that such a beautiful creature should wind up in a desert at all. He was, mind you, a sea lion. But things like this do happen.
How the sea lion came to the barren lands no one could remember. It all seemed so very long ago. So long, in fact, it appeared that he had always been there. Not that he belonged in such a place. How could that be? He was, after all, a sea lion. But as you know, once you have lived so long in a certain spot, no matter how odd, you come to think of it as home.
There was a time, many years back, when the sea lion knew he was lost. In those days, he would stop every traveler he met to see if they might help him find his way back to the sea.
But no one seemed to know the way.
On he searched, but never finding. After years without success, the sea lion took refuge beneath a solitary tree beside a very small watering hole. The tree provided refuge from the burning rays of sun, which was fierce in that place. And the watering hole, though small and muddy, was wet, in its own way. Here he settled down and got on as best he could.
Had you journeyed in those days through the barren lands, you might have seen the sea lion yourself. Quite often in the evening, he would go and sit upon his favorite rock, a very large boulder, which lifted him off the burning sand and allowed him a view of the entire country.
There he would remain for hours in the night, silhouetted against the sky. And on the best nights, when the wind shifted to the east, a faint smell of salt air would come to him on the breeze. Then he would close his eyes and imagine himself once more at the sea. When he lay himself down to sleep, he would dream of a vast, deep ocean. Twisting and turning, diving and twirling, he would swim and swim and swim. When he woke, he thought he heard the sound of breakers.
The sea was calling to him.
The sea lion loved his rock, and he even loved waiting night after night for the sea breezes that might come. Especially he loved the dreams those memories would stir. But as you well know, even the best of dreams cannot go on, and in the morning when the sea lion woke, he was still in the barren lands. Sometimes he would close his eyes and try to fall back asleep. It never seemed to work, for the sun was always very bright.
Eventually it became too much for him to bear. He began to visit his rock only on occasion. "I have too much to do," he told himself. "I cannot waste my time just idling about." He really did not have much to do. The truth of it was, waking so far from home was such a disappointment, he did not want to have those wonderful dreams anymore. So the day finally came when he stopped going to his rock altogether, and he no longer lifter his nose to the wind when the seas breezes blew."
~ from John Eldridge's book Journey of Desire
I wept bitterly when I read this story and my heart cried in anguish at the pure truth of it.
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