The Length of Time

   It's been two weeks since I left.  It has to have been.  No, it's been five days.  I can't say I'll ever understand the length of time.  When I stepped off that coach five days ago, exhausted from traveling and anxious to see my new home, I instantly warped to a time zone where each minute was an hour, each hour a day.  It's been five days since I arrived at Capernwray Hall, but so many more in adventures.
   So I live in a castle.  A full-out, stone-walled, wall-papered, decorative-ceiling castle.  The place is incredible.  It's also very clean, the one advantage to having chores every day.  We have a separate dining hall, and a conference center where lectures are held.  At first, it is difficult to navigate the twisting hallways and random staircases, but by this point, I've got it pretty well underway.  Though I've had ample time for it to sink in I still look at the exterior of my home from time to time and think, "Wow, I live in a flippin' castle!" 
    I already have the greatest friends.  Everyone here is friendly and open, there's never a fear when you plop down next to someone new, or ask someone his/her name for the seventh time.  The vibes are great here :)  We have lectures six times a day... yes, six.  It's a lot of note-taking and after getting five and a half hours of sleep it seems even longer, but the information is great.  The schedule is sinking in here and soon, I believe, most everyone will be comfortable living and working like this is their real home. 
    For now that's enough, after all, fifteen hours have past since I started writing this post!  ;)  Toodles 'til next time. 

Tadah - for Those Not Fluent in British: Good Bye

     The day has come.  I leave for England in just over nine hours.  My suitcases are stuffed, my paperwork complete and my nerves on end.  I think I'm set!!  I'm incredibly excited for this yet really nervous and completely unsure of myself.  I am pretty much a wreck.  On the plus side, I'm gonna look cute in England I can just feel it ;)
     I've said nearly all my good byes.  Of course they are never easy, but so far none of them have been too upsetting.  The knowledge that I'll be back in three months is doing the trick.  My friends and family are all prepared to see me go; I've been especially annoying lately to prove how nice it will be to have me gone :D See, that is how loving of a friend I am.
     Alright, I thought this would be a long post but in truth, I don't have much to say.  I'll keep everyone updated as I go!  Wish me luck!!!!

You call them Coworkers I call them Family

       I walked into Cinder's on Kensington for the second time in my life 18 months ago.  The first had been for lunch with my mother, but this was different.  I asked for an application and returned to hand it in.  I was interviewed by an extremely passionate, somewhat intimidating woman whom I've since come to know as the most committed and hard-working boss I can imagine.
      I began as a hostess, seating customers and taking carry-out orders.  After months of asking to serve, my boss finally gave it a shot:)  I learned each day what it meant to truly wait on customers and attend their every need: to suck it up when customers frustrated me and to please every person who sat in my section.
     My incredible family of coworkers guided me through each moment, joking, instructing, advising, and poking fun. They celebrated with me and laughed as I circled the restaurant dancing and singing.  They understood when I made mistakes, and cared enough to forget them.  Finally, they sent me off with best wishes, and the blessing only family can give.
     Cinder's family, you have supported me, grown me, laughed with (and at) me, sung with me (even when you didn't want to,) believed in me, encouraged me and loved me.  I love you all!  Keep the customers happy when I'm gone and remember to work together :D  I'll see y'all soon.

But how will you chew?

     This viable question was raised from my very concerned eight-year-old sister just hours after my wisdom teeth were removed.  She looked up at my swollen face with concern in her eyes and asked.  I told her I already had plenty of teeth for chewing, and besides, the teeth she held in her hand - of course I had kept them - weren't even visible when they were taken out.  They had never served a purpose for me and my tiny mouth.
     I'd woken that morning in the comfort of my bed, wondering what the surgery would be like.  I was apprehensive and a little excited.  Ok, I'll admit right now that I'm not exactly your average Joe.  Who, after all, is excited to get four embedded molars cut and pushed out of her jaw?  I had a different perspective however, because I was determined that I wouldn't be put out during the surgery.   The nurses seemed a little apprehensive when I informed them of this, but they couldn't exactly argue.
     So I stayed awake for the surgery.  It was quite the interesting experience.  I could feel everything they were doing right up until the tooth came out - as far as pressure goes anyways, the pain was numbed out by the ten shots I'd taken to the mouth.  It was kind of neat to experience the surgery, see the reflection in the Doctor's glasses as he cut open my mouth.  He talked me through everything he was doing and while I was a bit distracted, it was still educational.
     Everything after the surgery seemed to go fine.  I took very little pain medication, but when I couldn't sleep I ended up popping a pill (part Advil, part Vicodin) and dozing off.  The next day was a disaster though.  I couldn't keep anything in me, not water, not food.  I threw up at least ten times and my stomach became my enemy.  The pain in my mouth was nothing compared with the dizziness of my head and stomach.  I suffered through the day and most of the night, finally relinquishing my effort to abstain from water as I took an ibuprofen and fell to a restless sleep.
     After being without Vicodin for a full day, my stomach is better.  My mouth is still swollen and I'm not without pain, but anything is better than the havoc the Vicodin wreaked on my digestive system.  I'm trying to rest - rather unsuccessfully - and hoping I'll get better before I work tomorrow.  All in all, it was quite the first surgery.  Let's hope I don't have to go through any others in my lifetime.  And for the reassurance of my lovely sister, I will live to chew again :D

That College Grind...

    It's here.  The time of college applications.  The endless string of online information, questions, essays, work experience, extra curricular activities and financial information.  The hours of sitting in front of a computer screen mindlessly filling out information.   Worse, the hours spent sitting in front of a computer screen racking your brain for unique topics and interesting hooks... anything that'll set you apart from the crowd.  Just in case I haven't made this clear enough: I am NOT having fun.
    If I had the choice to, I would sit down in front of every school I'm applying to and tell them why I'm different.  I would bring my transcript and test scores and I would talk.  I'm very good at talking :D  Unfortunately, even if I do schedule an interview I have to fill out the application anyways.  So here I am.  I am in the process of applying to some of the countries most prestigious Ivy-league schools for free.  I found this amazing program for low-income families that allows students who've done well academically to apply for full-ride scholarships to extremely nice schools.  I am very excited - about the prospect of going to an Ivy-league of course, not applying to one.  It's been an interesting process but I'm almost there.  I only the have the one thing left to do, the most dreaded part... the essays.
    How can a paper possibly do a person justice?  How can I describe all that I am, all that I have come through, accomplished, and long for in 800 words?  Let me just tell you, I am stumped.  Because not only do I have to do that, I have to show how everything I've done, accomplished, and all that I long for is DIFFERENT from what every other college applicant has done and longs for.  It's a tricky piece of writing this college essay.  So I'm using all of you as practice... sorry about that.  I need some way to get back in the hang of writing, even informally.
   This little venting session has been good for me.   I think I might be able to get an alright first draft going that after ten different versions and edits could be something great.  Thanks for the help!

Sloth

   We have an impeccable ability here in America.  We can waste time like it's air.  Pointless habits and addictions encompass our lives.  Laziness grips us tightly.  I, unfortunately, am no exception.  Well at least not as of late.  Usually I have more drive, more motivation.  I accomplish things quickly and move on to the next task.  That me has left.  I am stuck with an unproductive sloth and I have been for the last month.  It's driving me crazy.
    So this is my first move.  Today was the first truly productive day I've had in weeks.  I ran, showered, wrote college application material, worked and now... now I am doing the hardest of all - I'm blogging.  Don't ask me why I find it so hard to blog.  It truly does require a substantial amount of effort.  I can't say I'm fond of things that require a substantial amount of effort... yet here we are.
    Here is one broke, tired, lazy, college girl who is pledging to keep in contact more consistently.  Maybe tomorrow I'll even share a little about my college application stresses.  Who knows?  I'm full of surprises. 
     *I did manage to get senior pictures finally taken in the last month - much to my mother's delight - so I will share a few with you.  If you don't like them, pretend you do :D*

Ede Ou?

    One morning the girls of the trip were woken at 5:40 am.  I won't get into the specific alarm but let's just say it was positively annoying so early in the morning.  Anna - our leader - threatened playing Taylor Swift if we wouldn't get out of bed and so we all grudgingly awoke.  The goal, though we hadn't known it until that morning - was to wake up and follow the life of a woman who worked at the compound.  The workers begin at six, and so did we.  Dishes were the first step.  Scrubbing, rinsing, drying.  All in all not too bad of a job, even at six in the morning.  Next we did laundry.  This was a bit more of a challenge.  The Haitian women have a very strategic system for cleaning their clothing.. one that involves a specific type of scrubbing and a great deal of soap.  Needless to say by the time they finished showing me how to do it and correcting my mistake, my knuckles were raw from the scrubbing.  We finished all of the laundry though and then cooked breakfast. 
     We also did chores like sweeping, mopping, and general tidying.  We hung the clothes on lines to dry.  We cleaned after lunch and stayed up late that night doing dishes.  I began to wonder when - if ever - the Haitian people sleep.  Following them around for a day was a rude awakening.  They work hard... not so hard that they can't ever rest, but harder than we're used to in America.  I get home from an eight hour shift at work and I'm pooped, even yet I've got a substantial amount of money in my pocket.  In Haiti, the women work that hard just to keep their homes in order.  Even yet they insist on joking and playing while they work.  Their humor always made me smile. 
     So after that day I made it a habit to frequently approach them and ask "Ede ou?" ... Help you?  They often laughed me off, knowing how little I would be capable of helping with, but just as often they would nod and give me something to do.  It felt good to know that I was contributing.  Since returning to America I've tried to keep that attitude.  While people rarely slave all day just to tidy their homes, there are definitely ways that we can help those around us.  Whether it be at work, school, home, or the grocery store, an attitude to help will always find opportunity.  Try it out for a day.  Look for places to help and things to do everywhere you go... with everyone you meet.  If anything it will make you grateful for all the ways you don't need help.  We have a lot in America; the great thing is that the more you have, the more you can give. 

The Children

    Before I begin, I have a warning for you: there is no possible way to accurately convey what I experienced.  I have so many stories, but even if I could sit you down, if you could see my face and hear my voice, if you could feel the depth of emotion in me, even then you wouldn't understand.  Haiti is something that will never be experienced second-hand.  Even still, I'll do my best to recap. 
   Just for background information, we visited the children at the orphanage and feeding center multiple times during our visit.  The orphanage is pretty self explanatory but you may not know what the feeding center is.  Parents bring their children there when they can't feed them.  They leave them behind for six months and do not visit, the catholic nuns at the center give the children protein and special formulas to end their malnutrition.  Most of the children are sick as well; the workers take care of their diseases and treat them the best they can.  After their six months are up the children are returned to their parents, no matter their physical condition.  Usually the parents take them back, but not always.  If not, they are transferred to an orphanage. 
     So we spent three hours with these children four or five times while we were in Haiti, and suffice it to say we fell in love.  They have a love that exceeds all circumstance and joy that trumps all fear.  Most the children laugh and run and play... but not all.  There are those who won't play, who won't hug and sing.  My heart broke every time I looked at them because I knew.  I knew the reason they just sat: because something happened to them, so awful that they are too broken to accept love.  Those were the children I just wanted to pick up, squeeze, and tell how much I loved them, and how much Jesus did too.
    A few times I did just that.  Sometimes I was met with little response, but I broke through with one of my little friends named Kiki.  Not only was Kiki small, reserved, and sad-looking, he also was the center of the other children's teasing.  Now the bullying in Haiti is not nearly as bad as we see in America.  In general, the children respect each other quite well.  Kiki, however, was picked on.  I spent hours one day trying to get him to smile... without success.  That night there was a thunderstorm, and Kiki looked a bit frightened or at very least tired.  So I picked Kiki up and I held him.  I held him for a long while, singing softly, rocking him back and forth.  This was a nine year old boy that I was holding, rocking and comforting, but to me he was just a little baby who was never properly loved.  He went home shortly after the storm ended, and I made one of the older boys promise to walk him home safely.  I thought that might've been the end of Kiki, but the next day he returned with his sister.  This Kiki was not like the other.  He was still reserved and quiet, but he smiled more frequently and hesitated less. 

     Kiki was just one of the many children in Haiti with whom I fell in love, but he taught me a lesson.  The children of Haiti have beautiful souls, but they have incredible wounds.  Pursuing them is worth every risk, and every minute.  Kiki was much like we are in America, towards God.  He was wounded in the past.  It kept him from accepting and giving love freely.  He was too frightened to trust someone he didn't really know.  Yet just as I relentlessly pursued and love him, so God does with us.  He does not hesitate or hold back; He loves us with an undying passion.  All we have to do is let Him hold us to realize His perfect love, and our need for it. 

Try

     If I'm to be completely honest with you I've sat here for twenty minutes, drumming my fingers, trying to think of something to say.  Now I am rarely at a loss for words, but at the moment I just cannot think of anything adequate.  Three days ago I got off a plane in Chicago, all too aware that I was going home, and wishing that I wasn't. 
    Ten days I'd spent in Haiti.  Ten days with eleven other Christians like me.  The trip was nothing like I expected it to be.  Nothing in Haiti is as you expect it, other than the extreme poverty.  Since leaving, I have an ache in my chest that has yet to decrease... I'm beginning to doubt that it will until I'm once again standing in the beautiful landscape of Hinche, Haiti. 
     Though there is no possible way I can accurately describe my experiences in Haiti, I will describe a few of our specific days because there is so much to learn for you.... there is so much I've learned.  As those posts come please read them with the mindset that you'll never understand, not until you visit yourself.  Keep an open mind, nothing I post is fictional though it may seem to be. 
      There's not much left to say.  The people of Haiti stole my heart.  They love in a way few Americans understand, much less practice.  They serve first, play second, complain never.  Their faith is astounding, obedience miraculous, compassion breathtaking.  I would return in a heartbeat given the opportunity.  As it is I am in America for a while, but my mind still lingers in that beautiful land.  So read on with care, if you allow, these next few posts just might impact you. 

Bring on the Haitian Heat

    So I've been going on missions trips all my life, but this ten day trip to Haiti is going to be unlike any previous trip I've taken.  Not only is this my first official time out of the country, it is also my first time experiencing extreme poverty; go figure, we don't have a whole lot of that in America.  We start off the trip with about fifteen hours of traveling... I'm sure that I'll learn very quickly that complaining doesn't help a thing.  Then we have a week or so planned with everything from working in the fields of an orphanage, to cooking with a Haitian woman, to giving fluorides to children. 
    While I can honestly say that I have no idea what to really expect from this trip, I am so incredibly excited for what the Lord is going to do.  Besides that, I'm most looking forward to dancing and worship God with the freedom of Haitians in church!!!   Color me pumped 'cause I'm going to Haiti!!!!!!!

Learned and Lifested

    This past week for me was spent partying at the musical festival Lifest in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.  While I could share many the experiences I had: chatting it up with an up&coming band Loftland (they gave me a free poster), jumping up on a table for a band to sign my Chuck Taylor, dancing the wind from my lungs at Family Force Five, or meeting some randomly awesome dance partners at a dance party, there is one thing I'd like to single out as most important. 
    Each morning I got up early to go and listen to a speaker named Tiffany Thompson give morning devotions.  Her theme for the week was pearls, and how God blesses us when we are willing to sacrifice for Him.  She told this story of a girl named Jenny (five or six years old) who wanted nothing more than to have her own pair of pearls just like her grandma's. 

       She worked hard to buy a cheap pair from the dollar store, earning quarter after quarter until she'd finally reached her goal.  She ripped open the package with enthusiasm upon receiving it and threw the pearls around her neck, admiring her beautiful appearance.  That evening her father put her to bed, telling her he loved her.  After she repeated the words he asked her a question: "Jenny, will you give me your pearls?".
    With a look of utter shock on her face she replied, "No! These are MY pearls Daddy!  I worked for them!  They are MINE.  You can have my teddy bear instead." 
      He simply shook his head saying, "I don't want your teddy bear.  That's alright Jenny, good night."  The next evening, the sequence repeated itself, this time Jenny offered her Barbie doll.  Her father still declined and left the room.  This repeated itself night after night until one evening Jenny's dad entered the room to find her balling.  He quickly ran up to her and asked, "Jenny!  What's wrong?" 
      With a look of utter despair little Jenny held up her trembling hand in a fist.  "I love my pearls Daddy," she cried, "but I love you more!"  With that, she dropped her precious string of pearls into his waiting hand. 
      Jenny's father smiled at this, and reached into his jacket, pulling out a long velvet box... and inside were Grandma's pearls. 

     When I heard the ending of this story I nearly began to cry, tears welling up in my already moist eyes.  For two reasons, this story impacted me.  First of all I realized that this is what I've been trying to do for the last three years of my life.  My goal has been to give God everything: my most precious pearls.  In return for my sacrifices, the Lord has been blessing me with opportunities, gifts, prayer, support, and so much more.  My life is an example of His blessings.
      Secondly, I reacted with sadness because I realized that this is how most Christians live their lives.  Even those who know God personally, who seek Him in prayer, reading their bible, and worship daily.... they still refuse to give God their pearls.  They may give Him other things - time, money, advice to new believers.  But each of have those few things that we cling to with desperation; as if we are afraid that we can't ever have better.  It could be a job, a relationship, a home, an image.  It is different for each of us, but those things, the ones we cling most tightly to.. those are the ones He desires most from us.  And if we are willing to give them freely to Him, He WILL bless us more abundantly than we can imagine. 
      So I have found a new freedom in Christ, and a new trust in the Lord's promises.  I don't care what logical decisions I should be making according to the world's standards.  I have a God who is asking me for my most prized possessions, and I will give them freely.  I am joyful because I know that I will be blessed for my sacrifice, and  because I already have the greatest confidence I need: that Christ died for me and gave me life eternal.  In comparison to that, any sacrifice seems small.

Switch

    You know that feeling when you finally step off a sailboat after a trip over especially choppy waters.  The ground is almost a savior, it's solid and strong, but the change is almost too sudden; your body is left in confusion.  That was this transition for me.  I went from cooking three meals a day for two young girls and taking care of their every need for most the day, to having next to no immediate responsibilities.  The relaxation, of sorts, is comforting.  Even still it feels too solid, almost unreal. 
    I'm heading off to Lifest this next week in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.  It will be a weekend full of constant friendship, rocking bands, greasy food, late nights, and dance parties... virtually no responsibilities.  I'm so excited!!!!  Lifest is a great opportunity for meeting new people, relaxing, and most importantly: worshiping my God!  I'm sure I'll have stories in a few days about my adventures I'm sure.  Until then, enjoy your weekend!

Easy Feelin'

    So today was the end of my month in the sunshine state.  It was a pretty great day :)  The girlies woke me up pretty early and we finished off a movie.  We hung out for the first part of the day; coloring and playing Barbies.  PB&J for lunch with pretzels and a slice of cheese (tomatoes for Madalyn and carrots for Brynn).  We just spent the time enjoying our last day.  A little later Uncle Pat took the girls and I to the Daytona flea market.  I have to say, it was pretty incredible!  More vendors than you can imagine.  The buildings which, at first, seem separate are actually connected, making it a strange maze of products that are so eerily similar you're sure you've already walked that way.  I bought a few more presents and completed more, still leaving with half the money I brought.  I could have spent all day there. 
    The girls had an art camp earlier in the summer and their work was on display at a local gallery, so the whole family went to look at it.  Afterwards my aunt and uncle went on a date, giving the girls and I one last night to be ridiculous together: we did not disappoint.  We purchased an insane amount of junk food at the grocery store as well as two large pizzas and cheesy bread from Little Caesar's.  We headed home and began to eat... and eat, all the while watching The Lorax.  Afterwards we initiated a special goodnight bedtime ritual.  This was where my fun really began.  First we played "follow the leader" as I sprinted around the house doing and shouting silly things, all the while cleaning up.  Afterwards we did a brief workout - soon realizing that our stomachs were simply too full to exercise.  Then we went upstairs and I read a book to them.  After they brushed their teeth I read them book number two.  Then we had a dance party.  I read the final book following our dance off and then proceeded to start a pillow fight :)  Finally, after we were all pooped, I requested they climb into bed, and we prayed.  Their prayers were sweet - "thank you for Caty being here, I really wish she didn't have to go","watch over Caty, help her to not find a boyfriend 'til she's thirty" - okay, MOSTLY sweet.   Then I sung them a few songs - one being my favorite as a kid: "Peaceful Easy Feelin" by the Eagles.  Afterwards I shut the door as they said their final goodnights.  It was pretty touching.
     Maybe it's the lulling, slightly sad music that I have playing on Spotify right now, but I'm feeling bittersweet about this departure.  In general, I want to go home.  I miss my family, my friends, sleeping in, NOT having to cook three meals per day for picky little girls.  I'm excited for the adventures I'll have upon returning...still I'm sad.  As is the human condition, we don't realize quite how much we have until we lose it, or are faced with the reality of losing it.  As I pack my belongings, I'm discovering how MUCH I love these people.  To see parents like my aunt and uncle who are so devoted to their jobs but care a hundred times more about their children, is touching.  They work so hard each day and come home thrilled to see their little dolls.  These children are inspiring as well.  They sing, dance, even eat without shame or hesitancy.  They believe in their dreams, real belief.  I am going to miss their sincere hearts and their gentle spirits, and their couch attacks.  This family has touched me and inspired me.  They've given me hope that families without massive secrets and ugly issues can exist; that hard work and love DO pay off, in their time. 

     If I can say nothing else, let me say this.  I love this incredible family so, so, so much.  I am going to miss them each day.  I have been inspired by them, and I hope that I can do the world some good with what I've learned.  I am so very thankful for the opportunity, the commitment, the service, and the love this family gave me.  I couldn't have asked for a better way to forge ahead in my changing the world.  *And as for Madalyn and Brynn - thanks dearies, I couldn't have asked for a better goodbye celebration ;) *

Stripes and Stars

     Home of the Brave.  Land of the Free.  United. 

     There's something special about America.  It may be the vibrancy of our colors - how even the grass seems to glimmer with ease.  It could be the hard-working nature of our people, many have difficulty stopping to enjoy themselves from time to time.  Possibly it's the ease of travel, there is a normalcy to out of state travel that is comforting.  Maybe it's the sheer size of the country... 3,794,000 square miles.  But no, none of these things truly touch the heart of America's unique beauty. 

      My best guess is that the thing that makes America so special has been taken for granted, mistaught, abused, and frequently discarded.  It now resembles the first American flag: beaten and torn, but beautifully inspiring if taken in fully.  This is our country's history.  The United States began in the hearts of impossibly stubborn people who desired the freedom to worship their God without abandon.  Unknown to most, many of these people died seeking this freedom, and others were plagued by authorities from numerous countries - many serving time in prisons and jails.  Once these people broke out from under oppression, they strove to build a country based not only on the freedom of individual choice, but the freedom of the Lord whom they served. 

      While nearly every American student studies the country's past wars in their history classes, too infrequently is the topic of oppression discussed.  Africans were not the only people group who's oppression played a role in our country's history.  From Japanese Internment camps to the church's role in rescuing many Hmong from refugee camps, America has been defined by the act of overcoming.  Our history is remarkable because of the fierce determination of the people making it happen.
       I realize it's a cliché but it's true to say that today's present is tomorrow's history, and we are constantly writing it.  Reality is that the suffering that defined the people of America's history is just as present today.  Children deal with negligent parents, spouses fear leaving abusive partners, parents struggle to support their families, teenage girls get pregnant, people suffer from depression, suicide attempts and successes sweep through high schools, shootings take innocent victims, young adults struggle with eating disorders, marriages fail more often than succeed.  Every citizen is suffering with pain in their heart, each in different way.
       My hope for this beautiful country is that we will view the hardships and victories of the people before us as an inspiration.  We will realize that only together were they able to conquer, and the same is true for us.  That we will find support in our fellow hurting citizens and be willing to share our pain - to work through our problems.  United, we will continue on in the fight more important than any war, the fight that requires the utmost bravery, the fight that heals and restores...the fight for freedom.

Cruisin' these Waters

                                                                                        

Just hearing

my mind could not picture,

nor fathom the massive machine.

Three football fields long

Ten times sixteen tons on,

t'was a thing to be personally seen.

That first day

we walked on together

mouths open with eyes sharp and keen

And as we left shore,

my heart jumped in my throat

as my legs found their strength in a lean.

The floors

made with finest of carpets,

the walls decorated in style.

The bathroom I saw,

with not one speck or flaw,

lovely colors and beautiful tile.

Employees

passed holding out liquor,

each offering theirs with a smile.

We exchanged a glance,

even doing a dance,

and decided to stay for a while.  

 

We landed

on the Bahamas' shore

the beach a twist of tan and green

Tourists meander,

while natives shout deals

 each one covered with sweat to a sheen.  

Reaching

the center of trade and crafts

workers spotting our wallets were keen,

they asked what we'd offer

for products so lovely;

we made guesses upon what we'd seen.

I walked

back onto the ship's deck

with a present in hand for each love.

All authentic stuff

nothing else was enough

for my family, come down  from above.

I looked at

my treasures with pleasure

each fitting their mate like a glove,

and I felt the ship move

we were already leaving

without using so much as a shove.

I reflect

with a fondness

'bout my ship and its journey, 

utilizing the power of the sea,

but admit,

with no shame,

that I'm much better fit,

to be working at home comfortably.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do or Die?

    There are very few things in this life that are do or die.  Demands at gunpoint, medical procedures, methods of protection.   Even these things are uncertain; one could, presumably NOT do and NOT die... the probability is just highly against him.  Now that's one philosophy, I happen to have a different idea of life.  Let me build my position brick by brick - starting, of course, with the foundation.  Living is the opposite of dying... is that fair to say?  For my purposes, we'll say it is.  So if this is true, then dying can be defined as NOT living.  While this is obvious, the basis of my theory lies not in my definition of dying, but of living.
     This is hard to pin down, for words are rarely sufficient in describing feelings, truths that echo deep within our souls.  I do believe that if any given person stopped all activity to reflect, the answer would become evident to him.  Most do not live, some grow closer than others yet never reach the threshold of life.  To live is to be absent of fear, regret, numbness.  To live is to feel, to truly feel without restraint.  To live is freedom.  To live is to know your purpose.  All things were created with one purpose: to glorify their creator.  While that may seem a meager calling, it is not only the noblest, but the most satisfying purpose one can obtain.  All this said, few people live. 
      Whether it be doubt, fear, pride, regret, or any other of countless possibilities, something holds them back.  I was held back by these same restraints and still am often - anyone who tells you that he lives completely free is either delusional or very proud, and often those two things are one in the same.  I was held back by these insecurities, they covered me with heavy shackles, but those restraints were broken.  Now I may seem ridiculous, crazy, careless, but in truth, I am free.  I don't allow judgments to guide my decisions.  Sometimes that rubs off on the people around me and I find someone who will be truly nutty with me. 
       Friday night was like that.  My Aunt, Uncle, and cousins went to a restaurant to see a friend's band play.  Their music was good for dancing so we all got up and began to jig, boogie, square dance, and let loose in many other ways.  We certainly looked ridiculous but we didn't care.  As a result of our freedom many others followed our example and soon we had around ten people dancing to the music.  While it was small victory, I will cherish the memory for two reasons: I danced my heart out and had the best time doing it, and I (along with the help of my wonderful family) gave a few others the chance to do so as well. 
       The point of this is that if  you're not doing (living), you're dying.  Death is not living and living is being free.  Therefore if you hesitate because of insecurities of any kind, you are not living... do or die.  Even if you're unsure of your purpose or your beliefs, take the risk and live a little... live a lot!  It will feel uncomfortable to begin, but before long, you won't be able to imagine living any other way.  Life is a gift not a competition; don't squander your time on the crowd. 

Free as the Waves

     Though I may be a light-hearted person, there is one thing that I take very seriously.  That is my purpose, my whole life; my God.  I am only successful, able, and strong because of His mercy and I am alive only to share with others how deeply He cares for them; how He can transform lives, how he redeemed mine.  While it's easy - in this world of busyness - to forget these things, I am constantly reminded...
       I read my bible on the beach this morning with the tide line just touching my feet and the sun heating my back.  It was the most beautiful time to reflect on God's glory; to hear His voice.  After I'd read I went out to stand in the waves as they crashed towards the shore.  The ocean is magnificent, each wave creates a separate beauty.  The waves are wild, untamable, risky and free.  They do not fear or hold back their strength.  They provide a distinct image of the glory of God... and they do all this by their obedience of God's design.  The true beauty of the waves lies not in their recklessness, but in their order.  Waves follow the ruling of the tide; every wave works as one, creating beauty. 
      This is how we are meant to be.  When we follow God's guidance, when we live in obedience, we bring glory to His name.  Our willingness glows with brilliance; as we work together that beauty increases tenfold.  We were created to be beautiful through our obedience, just like the waves.  Our disobedience only created storms, struggles in our lives.  We don't realize it, but when we live our lives for ourselves it becomes meaningless.  The beautiful motion we were designed for is nonexistent, we are stagnant. 
       So many know of God's love, of His sacrifice, and yet they "continue to follow their former practices instead of truly worshiping the Lord and obeying His instructions" (2 Kings 17:34).  To realize the incredible sacrifice that Christ made, and NOT to accept it is the saddest of all.  The Lord tells these that He "will make [them] return by the same road on which [they] came" (2 Kings 19:28).  Their disobedience results in punishment, as well as missing the gifts that were in store.
      But there are those who strive to obey God's law; who love Him with all their hearts.  People wonder, "What are you trusting in that makes you so confident?" and "Why should you be any different?" (2 Kings 18:19,19:11).  Let me tell you.  Their confidence, my confidence, comes from the almighty God who has forgiven my sins and called me from the ashes.  He is restoring my broken heart and bringing light to the darkness in my soul.  As the world fails I remain confident in His love, His forgiveness, His justice, and His holiness.  I am made different by my trust in Him; by my lack of fear.  Though I sometimes fail, through my obedience I am bringing Him glory like the waves of the ocean; forever working as one to sing the praises of our Lord. 

Florida Fitness

     I often find myself setting personal goals according to large events in my life.  For example, make amends with this friend by Christmas break or clean my room by the day of that gathering.  These goals are easy to mark and efficient... in theory.  The problem is that I have an atrocious rate of follow-through and most often those tasks get pushed to the back burner and eventually forgotten.  This is what I expected of my "Florida Body" goal.  I was going to get in shape before heading down to Florida for a month.  I was correct in my judgment that I would be just as out-of-shape and unhealthy before Florida as when I set the goal.  However, I had created a stipulation in case of such an occurrence: if I was not fit FOR Florida, I would become fit IN Florida.  Still, I thought that I would forget about the goal and soon become lazy. 
    So far that has not been the case.  I've been running every day with the dog, Buddy.  The picture attached is of me after a run and a quick shower.  The first day I ran was about 85 degrees and we jogged one and a half miles.  When I came back I made a spinach and fruit salad with almonds and raspberry vinaigrette dressing.  Today was so warm that I couldn't bear running so I waited until the girls were sleeping at about 8:30 and took Buddy out then.  I put a little flashlight collar on him and I wore an orange shirt so that people wouldn't run us over.  Then we headed out.  It was my goal to make it to the highway off their side street and after a while of jogging I did.  We were both pooped when we came back, imagine my surprise to find out that the run was over three miles!!  I was pretty impressed with my out-of-shape self.  I decided that if I can push myself to do that, then I can push myself to get fit this month.  So that's my goal... eat better, exercise more, be healthier.

On a Summer Day

Today was a typical, lovely, southern summer day.  Keep in mind that I'm saying this with virtually no previous knowledge as to what a typical southern summer day is - the wonder of inferences.  Anyhow I dropped the girls off at art camp, managed to find a cute boy to smile at, rocked out to music in the Jeep, made mac 'n cheese (experimenting with mixing two different flavors), played Barbies, took funny pictures on my laptop (one of which is so conveniently displayed), ran with a golden retriever, got a glitter tattoo, and had a mini performance at the request of my lovely cousins.  The weather was gorgeous - even the random downpour was nothing but fun for the three of us driving in the Jeep, trying to figure out the wipers.  I also, in my few hours of free time, managed to watch Avatar (only three years late).  Oh I almost forgot giving the girls a double shower... THAT was an adventure to be sure:) So one day down out of thirty and I've gotta say... in this southern heat, anything could happen. 

Lice and Mice

      Seven o'clock AM (Eastern Standard Time) I was woken up by two excited girls claiming that they'd been waiting all morning until it was late enough to wake me up... and yes, I believed them.  From personal experience they wake up at Six AM like clockwork, we'll see if that's changed.  From there on the day became less predictable.  We started out by having a little experiment.  I made them oatmeal - a dangerous food to experiment with if you've ever tried - and we saw if we could figure out the proper ratio of water to oats.  Madalyn, the oldest, thankfully knew all the ingredients if not their specific ratios.  We were met with success and both the girls ate and enjoyed their breakfast. 

     As the plan is for me to drive the girls around in my Aunt and Uncle's old Jeep, they thought it would be good for me to drive it around one day with my Aunt present in order to acclimate me with the surroundings.  The plan was sadly spoiled however by our discovery that the battery was completely dead... not an ounce of life in the poor red Jeep.  So instead I had the privilege of driving the mom van for the day.  First, we headed to art camp - my Aunt and I - to drop the girls off.  Without too much of a problem we get them situated in the new environment and went to the grocery store.  We arrived home earlier than expected and ran into the cleaning lady, a second grandmother to the girls, Normandy.  Pleasant yet straight-forward, I enjoyed even the few minutes in her company (as well as her husband's) before we headed out again for lunch.  The philly cheese steak I ordered was superb though I did admit to my Aunt that I might have been a bit confused about my location.  We stowed our purses and shoes afterwards and went for a pleasant walk along the beach; the weather in Florida was gorgeous today. 

         After retrieving the girls from art camp we returned home for a brief period then headed out yet again, this time to Brynn's piano lesson.  Besides being questioned as a wife, mother, and aunt of Madalyn during our time waiting, everything went smoothly.  Once again it was back to the bat cave afterwards.  The girls and I played a very animated game of Barbie; correction: I played, they stared with amusement and wonder.  We ate a healthy dinner and headed out, for the last time of the day, to swim team practice.  The girls seemed to have fun while swimming but it was soon over and I got them showered and home.  It was then that we addressed the issue of Madalyn's itchy head; we had all been dreading this because of her nasty case of lice no more than a month ago.  After Uncle Pat went through her hair meticulously he discovered the bedding bugs within her scalp and so began the process of ridding the house of them.  Between washing sheets and pillows, vacuuming carpets, and applying a lotion to kill the lice on the girls, we had our work cut out for us.  Though it was tiring we finished eventually. 

       The night ended with the three of us: Aunt Tina, Uncle Pat, and I, discussing the plan's for the next day.  When the dead battery of the Jeep was brought up they reassured me that it would be fine.  I told them I wasn't too worried but Pat just said that he hoped it wasn't a mouse that had chewed through the battery cable.  I learned that they had had issues with mice earlier and had gotten rid of them.  I just sighed with a smile... all part of the crazy day.  I must say however, I've had enough exposure to lice and mice to last me a lifetime. 

Brainless for Planes

         There are many things in this life  that I have yet to do (skydive, go to college, use a potter's wheel) and there are many things I've done and wish I wouldn't have.  Misreading the departure time for my flight to Florida and therefore missing the flight - that's made it to the top of my list.   Showing up at 11:00 for a flight at 11:25.... that doesn't exactly work. 
      I'm reminded once again how incredibly blessed I am by the willingness of my Aunt and Uncle to find a different flight and my family to drive me down to Milwaukee at the drop of a penny.  I could not have a better family.  While I am frustrated with the turn of events this crazy morning I can do nothing but take ownership for my silly mistake.  I'm thankful for how simple it was to reschedule.
       Though I am not, at this point, pleased with the service at airports, I am determined to be positive.  Maybe my next experience will be an improvement... I certainly hope so.

Cloth Box of Death

      What is it about suitcases that makes people want to scream?  Is that illogical? Alright, that makes me want to scream, to quit, to jump off of a very high ledge - wearing a parachute of course,  don't go jumping to conclusions now.  All I can say is that I'm sitting here staring at my suitcase with utter loathing, and I wonder why.  I almost feel bad for it, after all it's not as if it's done anything wrong.  Still I imagine it taunting me, ridiculing me for my packing choices; that extra pair of shorts or
funky T-shirt.  
       If I had to guess I would say that it's less about the suitcase and more about what it represents.  Clearly we all have issues with the unknown, I would certainly rather be in control of the situation by knowing every detail.  Instead,  I must resign to knowing only bits and pieces.  So I stare at my suitcase with dread,  not knowing if I've planned correctly or if I'll encounter an unexpected event and be caught off-gaurd.  That, I suppose, is what brings the excitement.  The very thing that scares me is what makes this whole experience fun.  So maybe I'll give my suitcase another chance.  After all, we're going to be spending a lot of time together.

Under Alumna?

             So one last question lingers on my mind as I ponder the event that was my graduation.  Though the process of graduating an entire year early - being filled with questions of countless varieties - has sufficiently prepared me, still, I remain perplexed.  Simply put I wonder: what am I now?  Let us not confuse this with WHO am I, for I have a fairly good idea of who I am and rarely stray from that idea.  I speculate however, as to what I am.  The best I can figure, I've decided that I am an under alumna of Kimberly High School; graduated early, over-accomplished in many areas and likely lacking in others.  I do not meld into the mold created by society's standards, but rather, I break the mold and use the shards to create beauty - or at least that's the goal.  You'll have to decide if I accomplish this as I journey on. 
            Now that I've covered the thoroughly confusing question of what I am (or at least in part), I suppose I should describe this experience.  Incredible, difficult, surprising, surreal.  I've felt too many emotions to count and doubtless ignored many others for fear of being overwhelmed.  I do know that I am sad.  I love my class of 2014 with a passion and it feels like I'm losing my family in the trip overseas.  I don't want them to experience their senior year without me; to graduate, to move on, without me.  I am going to miss their beautiful smiles, their undying passions, their fearless choices, their wacky personalities, and their dedicated hearts.  Leaving behind my class is the hardest part of this crazy ordeal... Class of 2014, I will miss you.  
              While sadness has been a great emotion in this venture, my mind has been filled with excitement.  I am incredibly blessed to have so many wonderful travels planned for my future.  My mind is an open book that imagination is using to paint its story; the flurry of tasks and the mess of life are no match for it!  I cannot wait for the adventures ahead!
             To everyone who's been part of my journey thus far: I most sincerely thank you.  Your heart, support, humor, planning, sacrifices, and smiles have enabled me to accomplish more than I would've believed.  Kimberly High: you were the best high school I could ask for. I'm certain that I could not have been better prepared for what lies ahead than I am because of what you have taught me.  I will forever be grateful for  your challenges.  This chapter of my life is ending, but it will remain in my memory as a time of great learning, great opportunities, and great spirit.  Good bye high school, it's been real.

Farewell Pizza Fiestas

Today was my very last pizza party.  Aside from the catchy alliteration that's made this term so widely accepted, it is also commonly known that pizza parties are the highest form of motivation. Leaving these behind has put me in a melancholy mood.  I suppose the pizza might not be what I'm dreading parting with.... my experiences in the music wing of Kimberly High have been creative, frustrating, and nothing less than wonderful.  So farewell pizza parties and farewell music family.  I couldn't ask for a better parting.

Mission...

In this world, most could use a little more SWEETNESS and all more LIGHT.  Many search unknowingly their entire lives, seeking what they desperately need.  I've been blessed to realize how I truly need these things and infused with the desire to find them in any and everything.  So begins my journey to discover the SWEETNESS and LIGHT in all of this beautiful and frightening world.  Just as Captain Lemuel Gulliver traveled the unknown world in search of things sweet and light, so I will.  Just as his journey encountered many unexpected adventures, I am sure that mine will as well.  My foreseeable travels will take me to the breezy Florida, the impoverished Haiti, the civilized London, and the beautiful Austria.  Follow along, if you care to, on my adventure, and just maybe, discover something new about what lies inside of you.