tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18555778489689668162024-02-08T12:27:29.730-08:00These Are My Souvenirsyourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-85993558491453305242013-11-15T21:43:00.002-08:002013-11-15T21:48:34.997-08:00A Process.<style>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Why does the writing mood strike when I’m so tired?
Every.Time.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Well, it’s been three weeks today since my mom passed. It
feels like years already. I barely remember her memorial, but there are bits
and pieces that cling to my heart. I remember the feeling afterwards…such peace…and even joy. God was glorified and my mom was honored. Her life is such
a testament to God’s goodness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked
away feeling like I learned so much more about her…and where I got some of my
quirks from. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I crashed the following evening. I remember the moment
distinctly, I was driving with my cousin and I felt the grief coming, I felt it
begin to nag and drag me down. And every day has been up and down ever since. I
was in an angry stage last week. Frustrated with everything. Overwhelmed with
reality and hurt because other people get to keep going. And I’m not ready to.
It’s amazing what goes through one’s mind. It’s easy to get caught up in the
thought that grief can justify whatever. I’ve thought about drinking until I
pass out. Or maybe going for a drive and not coming back. Or just hermitting away
and living in my sweat pants. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">In the moment, each scenario has its merits. Then I remember
God. And I remember how much I want to be faithful to him. And I don’t want to
get caught up in just soothing the pain, but not dealing with it and not
seeking Him for healing. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Yesterday, I was reading a sermon about how Jesus has
experienced everything that man has. Every pain, every struggle, everything
that causes anguish except for him, it was tenfold. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Separated from His Father. Crucified by the people he loves
and came to save. I was reminded how quickly I am to isolate and get sucked
into my own little world. How everything becomes about me. But it’s not. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I am not saying grief is not ok. It is. You need to feel it,
to go through it, to process it. It’s ok to be hurting. It’s ok to say so. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">But my ultimate comfort comes from Christ, not man. My hope
is in Him. And He’s already gone through it. As I said in my previous post,
this is when it counts.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Grief hurts. I feel like a part of me is missing now that my
mom is gone. I find it hard to breathe at times, when I think of her. But this
is a time that will build character…it will push me to grow and strengthen. I
want to come out of it, better and closer to God. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s going to be a long road…and I can’t wait
until I’ve come through on the other side. I don’t want to waste it.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
</span></span>yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-85959888788292407462013-10-16T21:41:00.001-07:002013-10-16T21:41:31.628-07:00I'm tired and will possibly regret posting this in the morning.
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">Well, it seems to be that time of year again. Time to update
the blog. I won’t even make excuses anymore. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">I feel I need to preface this post with a little disclaimer.
Because I over-think everything, I’ve been hesitating on posting this. But I’ve
wanted to write about it and share it but I‘ve held back because it is so
personal. And sharing on Facebook seems almost tainted now; It’s marred<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by complaining and over sharing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My intention is to do neither. I guess this
is a way of processing. Grief is a funny thing.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">A little over a month ago, I received a phone call that my
mother wasn’t doing well. And I thought she was going to die, that seemed to be
the general consensus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">I’ve been expecting this time to happen for over eight years
now. I’ve thought about it almost every day. I’ve wondered where I will be, and
what I’m doing. Who will I be with? Will I be able to excuse myself before I
break down or will the news crash over and consume me? Two months ago I would
have told you that I was ready to let her go. That she would be better off in
Heaven than here. She would be free. And I still believe this, but facing the
prospect of life without my mother is hitting me full force. Even though she’s
spent 1/3 of my life in a hospital or care home of some sort, she was still
there. I could go to her and talk and cry and just be with her. And now, here <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>we are, close to the end. And every morning I
wake up and wonder if today is the day. And every day is a fight to trust the
Lord. And that, my friends, is the other side of things. Trusting the Lord.
Because in all the perceived chaos, He has been right here, orchestrating every
minute. I find myself challenged in a way that I haven’t been before. There has
been a lot of hurt in my life. But looking back I could always see the good
that came out of it. But right here in this moment, I see my tiny mom, and she
can’t talk with me like before. And she doesn’t look at me like before. And she
can’t hug me like before. And she won’t. Not on this side of heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">I don’t understand God’s plan. It confuses me, to be honest.
And there are moments in the midst of that confusion where I get angry and
frustrated and it kinda ruins my day. But then I get to see how easily swayed I
am. And how quick I am to turn on my God, my one consistent. Is it not during
these times, which it counts? When I need to put my money where my mouth is? </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">Growing up, my mom would always quote Romans 8:28: “<span class="text"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And we know that in all things God works for the good of
those who love him, who<sup> </sup>have been called according to his purpose.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;"><span class="text"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In my angsty teenage years this would
drive me crazy. Because I looked around at our life and thought “how is this
good?” All I saw was pain, abandonment and disappointment. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;"><span class="text"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My mom didn’t have the easiest go of
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just seemed like it was one thing
after another with her. And yet, she never wavered in her faith. She never
stopped praising the Lord for His mercy and grace. I found a letter she wrote
to my father, forgiving him. She said that every time an angry thought entered
her mind, she would pray about it and give it to God. And day-by-day it got
easier until finally she could let him go and forgive.</span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;"><span class="text"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, I find myself here, trying to make
sense of it. And I can’t. And I probably won’t. Not for a while at least. </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;"><span class="text"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, where am I going with this? </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;"><span class="text"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I think it’s incredibly easy to get mad
and get sucked into a sneaky hate spiral. Consistently turning to God for peace
and strength is hard, because it’s not something that you have to do just once.
Not for me. It’s a daily thing and sometimes I can’t even do it. And that’s why
I’m thankful for a God who knows my heart. But better yet, he knows His plan.
And these aren’t just cliché Christian sayings I’m throwing at you. It’s truth.
I’ve realized that every day is a choice. Do I listen to myself or God? </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;"><span class="text"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don’t have a neat way of tying this
up…so I will just ask for prayer. This is one of the most difficult things I
have and will face. This is my mom. Pray for her, that she will have peace and feel
the presence of the Lord every minute of every day until she goes home. And
please, pray that I will choose God and His peace, and go on His strength, not
mine.</span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="color: orange;">
</span></span>yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-12812465438553892202012-08-31T19:18:00.001-07:002012-08-31T19:20:25.549-07:00You Know That Moment When You Realize Your Life is About to Change?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Ok so clearly this whole blogging thing hasn’t
exactly been working out…it’s been nearly a year since my last update. So you
must be thinking “why now?” or “oh jeeze here we go again” Or “why do you keep
tormenting me so?!” I apologize if this is a torment…this is going to be a long
post so if you’re the easily tormentable type then you should probably stop
now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, man, this is when I wish that I’d been
writing all along. I feel like there’s so much to explain, there’s so many
details that go into this whole thing. So first, let me begin by saying that
God is so so good! Seriously, it just blows my mind to think about all He has
done and how intricate His plans are and to see them unfold over the last month
has just been amazing and so humbling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It hasn’t been much of a secret that I have struggled with depression in my life. It’s been about a year since being,
I don’t know, “actively depressed”…that’s a weird way of phrasing it but there
ya go. But even while not being totally in it, I can get pretty down…fairly often.
I get discouraged and a lot of that can stem from unbelief that God has a
purpose for me. I get caught up in the routine, I see amazing
things happening in other people’s lives and I get so excited for them but then
I start comparing myself and wondering when God will start using me. And that
is not good. Because He’s been doing amazing things in my life for so long and
for me to not be continually acknowledging that the way I should isn’t right. Anyway, a
lot of the time I just have this feeling of not totally belonging….like
something is just…off and I just haven't been able to put my finger on it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A couple of weeks ago a man came to church and
was talking about these missionaries that he works with. And just the whole
process they went through to getting where God was telling them to go. During
the whole time he was talking I just had this overwhelming feeling of God
saying “this is for you, pay attention”. I began thinking about the possibility
of doing missions and what that would look like. Doubts would enter my mind but
every time one did, I’m telling you, within 30 seconds it was addressed by what
the speaker was saying. God was shooting down all of my excuses. I just sat
there afterwards…and then I started crying. I didn't even know why I was crying
but there was no stopping. Then I realized that my tears were of relief. I felt
like this prayer I didn’t even necessarily know I was praying had been
answered. I went home and prayed and just opened up to God and just let go. My
life is his and where He wants me is up to Him. So at that point, I knew that I
would be going somewhere. I didn’t know where. I didn’t know when. Or what it
would look like…I just left it up to God. So a couple weeks went by and it was
still very much on my mind. Specifically though, the Philippines kept coming
up. Last week my sister in law sent me a link to an organization called Love
146 ( You should look this up, it is incredible what they are doing!) (Seriously). This organization
works with young girls who have been rescued from the sex trade industry. They
have both prevention and recovery programs. One of which…is in the Philippines.
As I combed through the site, watched videos of the lives that had been
touched through this organization, I just felt something inside of me break…I
think of these poor girls and how their lives have been destroyed by another
human. The depravity of man infuriates me. But realizing that…as horrifying as
their lives are, and as much as we can do to help their physical bodies
recover…unless they have Jesus Christ…it means nothing. In the context of
eternity, it means nothing. I fell to my knees and cried out to God. I have
such a strong desire to go. To help. To do something. And I know that that
comes from Him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A couple of days later I was chatting with a
fellow and I was just filling him in on what God’s been doing and showing me
and through our conversation I really realized that I’m ready to go now. I’m
good to let go of what’s been keeping me here, giving that to God and obeying
His call. Right now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I went to visit my mom a couple of days ago and talk
to her about everything…and by God’s amazing grace, she was so present during
our whole conversation. I haven’t been able to talk with her like this for
years. She told me “if the Lord is calling you out there then you have to go”. I am just so thankful beyond words that God
would give us a couple of hours and that I could have her blessing to leave. So
amazing!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, I’ve been chatting with the amazing
family I live with and they have some connections in the Philippines to work
with girls getting out of the sex trade. And I really truly believe that this
is the area that I’m being called to. I don’t have the fine details worked out
yet, I still don’t know when I’m going or what exactly everything is going to
look like. I am hoping to be going within the next year…and I’ll be there for
however long the Lord sees fit. So it could be six months…a year…ten years. I
don’t know. But what I do know is this: I can expect the Lord to provide for me. I
can expect him to guide me. I can expect him to work out every tiny
detail, and that may look nothing like what I think it should be but it will
fit His perfect plan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I am so so excited...but I am also nervous. I don’t
expect this to be an easy thing. It’s going to be mentally, emotionally and
physically draining. But, my God is in control and at the end of the day he
will work it out. Not I, but Christ in me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So to conclude, what I ask of you is this: please
pray for me. Pray for my mind to be clear so that I may continue to listen to
God. Pray that I would not be bogged down by doubt because it comes so easily. Pray
that I would always seek the Lords will for my life and never take my eyes off
of Him. Pray for these next few months as the details are worked out. I
will do my best to actually update and keep people posted and to be able to
continue asking for prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Thank you, my friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-1281152843959484142011-10-30T23:22:00.000-07:002012-08-31T19:19:46.964-07:00My Mother's Faith.<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;">I’ve been reading a book by Max Lucado called “A Love Worth Giving”. A few days ago I was reading it and he was telling of Einstein and how he had a sister who went into a coma. He would visit her everyday and read to her for 2 hours each day. She never woke up but he was convinced she could hear him, despite what everyone else was saying. Lucado was saying that if you love someone then be with them. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;">I instantly thought of my mom. I haven’t been a great daughter. I put myself before her most of the time. It hurts to see her so weak. It hurts to not have her recognize me or hear her talk of my dad as if he’s still alive. I don’t visit as much as I should. I was very convicted. Yes it hurts, but at least I get to see her. At least she’s still alive. God sees fit for her to still be here, so who am I to turn my back on that?</span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;">I went to see her yesterday. She didn’t open her eyes fully at all while I was there. Every now and then there would be a flutter of eyelashes. I read to her and prayed for her. I opened my Bible to 1 Peter . I began reading:</span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;">Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, <b>4</b> and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, <b>5</b> <i>who through faith are shielded by God’s power</i> until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. <b>6</b> <i>In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. </i><b><i>7</i></b><i> These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.</i> <b>8</b> Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, <b>9</b> for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 100%;">I feel like this sums up her faith so beautifully, she has suffered much, almost everything stripped away....and yet, she still praises the Lord. She is not bitter, she doesn’t ask “why?”. She is faithfully waiting to go home, where she will be rewarded for her faith, which is worth more than gold.</span></span></div>
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yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-9359571788966482682011-09-15T17:48:00.000-07:002012-08-28T22:26:45.309-07:00The Point.<div style="font-family: Arial; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To be completely honest…I’ve been struggling a bit in my line of work.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">Sometimes it gets to be so overwhelming seeing so much brokenness and</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">being witness to so many lives that have been left in shambles because of mental illness, drug abuse and violence. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">A year ago I was working at a coffee shop. Customers frequently came in with a sense of entitlement about them.They would easily drop five bucks on a coffee and think nothing of it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;"> I became so frustrated working there. I couldn’t believe the arrogance of some people.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">They wouldn’t look you in the eye when ordering, or would bespeaking on their phone</span> and would apologize to whomever they were talking to, as if having to speak to me to order was somehow an inconvenience.I’m not writing this to complain about how I was treated, because don’t<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> get me wrong, there were some amazing people that I met there. Police </span>officers, teachers, stay at home moms-all people that devoted their lives to other human beings.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">I wanted out. I wanted to be doing something else. I was so discontent, I</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">spent many months frustrated because I couldn’t put words to why I was</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">feeling that way. But slowly it dawned on me that I felt such</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">dissatisfaction because I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">I want to help people. I want to meet the person that has been addicted to</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">meth since they were 12, and I want to tell them that there is freedom. I</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">want to know the woman who has been beaten to a bloody pulp by every man</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">she has known, and I want her to know that she is loved. That she is worth</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">something. This world is so broken, and sometimes, honestly, all I can do</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">is sit down and cry. My very core aches over the pain that sin has caused.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">When I go to work, and I see people who have experienced things that</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">should leave them dead, I want to plead with them, I want them to know</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">Jesus. To know that life can suck. It can hurt and it certainly isn’t</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">fair. But…if you have Jesus then in the end…it will be okay. There will</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">never be complete peace in this lifetime…there will never be a point where</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">all the pain goes away. Memories can fade but that scar is still there.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">But in Eternity with Christ… every cut and every bruise will</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">disappear.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">I was looking at some photos yesterday…pictures of past and present</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">clients. Every single person in those photos had a certain look in their</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">eyes…one of weariness. These people have all had massive barriers to</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">overcome. Most of them probably don’t have many friends or family. They</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">have had to fight for their lives, to rise above the disdain that society</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">places on them. But…every person was also smiling. Just a moment of</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">happiness, when they are with us…they are cared for. They are loved and</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">accepted. And they know it. They don’t have to fight to be heard.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">Looking at these pictures I was reminded why I am here. I am here to show</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">the love of Jesus.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">So what I ask of you is this: please pray. Pray for me that I can continue</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">to have the strength to go to work and to share Jesus. To not be</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">overwhelmed by the current state of things. And I ask you to pray for</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">those that I meet, that they would hear what I have to say about Christ,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">and that they would know that with Him, one day there will be peace.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: 'courier new'; letter-spacing: 0px;">Thank you.</span></div>
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yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-36258500871688291382011-09-13T11:21:00.001-07:002011-09-13T11:26:37.891-07:00Just.Sit. Still.<p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>I feel like my attention span has gotten a lot shorter. I’ve started writing another post probably about 11 times but halfway though I will give up on it. My reasoning will either be that I figure what i’ve written is way too personal....or I just lose steam. Something else grabs my attention for a millisecond and that’s it. No more writing. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">But it’s not just with writing that I find I can’t sit still it’s with reading as well. My excuse for that is that I just haven’t found a book that grabs me. But that’s poor reasoning. I’ve started several books that are very interesting, I just can’t seem to get past the first 20 pages..okay it’s more like 10. Sad, I know. So why is this? When I ask myself this question my immediate response is, “I blame Facebook”. Yep. That’s exactly what trails through my mind. The devil made me do it. Except the devil in this theory is the oh, so addicting book of faces.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You don’t know it but I just took a three minute break from writing this to talk to my roommate....then I picked up my coffee cup and almost started drawing on it...and then I realized what I was doing and thought it might be better if I actually finish writing the blog about not being able to finish things. Phew. How was that for a run-on sentence? Ok...where was I? Oh, Facebook. Yes, it’s not just Fbook that has to do with this whole attention span of a gnat thing, it’s technology in general. Well...maybe society in general. Ok I know i’m about to sound like a grandparent who can’t figure out their email thereby condemning all technology to hell, but bear with me. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">We live in a world where everything is done in an instant. Access to the world is just the tap of a keyboard away...or a finger swoosh if you have an iphone.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;">Just this morning it took a near 15 seconds for my google page to load. 15 WHOLE SECONDS! And I got impatient. I kept hitting refresh because it was taking so freaking long. Guess what I was looking up...the weather. Yup. I could have gotten up, walked the 20 steps to a window and looked outside. But nope, I googled it.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;">At that moment I looked deep inside myself (ok, not that deep...just enough....it’s not like this is some life altering epiphany) but I just realized the absurdity of the situation. I rely on my computer for everything. Have a question? Google. What movie do I recognize that actor from? IMDB. What the heck is a Bot Fly? Youtube.(Which by the way, kind of makes me not want to travel.) </span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyway, I just feel like those movies that were made 25 years ago about the future and how robots will take over...I kind of feel like that’s coming true. We rely on getting information so quickly that we are losing the ability to sit down, focus and do things the “hard” way. Like doing research by cracking open a book. It’s like we can only focus in 15 minute increments. </span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;">Oh, and don’t even get me started on the spelling of today....sorry, I just had a small rage blackout.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;"> Anyway...let me end with a quote from the novel “1984” </span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Verdana; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;"><span style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>“</i></span><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we're not far from that point. But the process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller.” </i></span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Verdana; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Verdana; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';font-size:100%;color:#ff9900;">Like.</span></span></p> <p style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Verdana; min-height: 16px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p>yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-81221404845025696692011-03-29T10:13:00.001-07:002011-09-03T19:53:54.183-07:00<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; color:#232323;"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0pxcolor:#ff9900;" ><b>2 Corinthians 12:9,10</b></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; color:#232323;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;color:#ff9900;" >But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; min-height: 13.0pxcolor:#232323;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff9900;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; color:#232323;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;color:#ff9900;" >This verse was waiting for me when I opened up Facebook. Right now I am overwhelmed by God’s faithfulness. And by how true He is to his Word. The last couple days have not been easy. Yesterday I went to see my mom and it was one of my hardest visits yet. Together, we sat in her room but she didn’t say anything. I would ask a question but silence was her reply. When I knelt down in front of her, her eyes were glazed over and there was no sparkle of recognition in them. The only way I knew that she knew I was there was that she grasped my hand in hers and didn’t let go. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; min-height: 13.0pxcolor:#232323;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff9900;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; color:#232323;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;color:#ff9900;" >As we sat there I broke down in tears. I haven’t cried like that in a long time. It was a kind of soul wrenching sob. It was a combination of sorrow over not having my mother to wrap me in her arms and the realization that she would truly be better off with Jesus. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; color:#232323;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;color:#ff9900;" >I have never known anyone as strong and graceful as my mother. I have never heard her speak ill of anyone. She was always so quick to forgive and so full of the love of Christ. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; min-height: 13.0pxcolor:#232323;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff9900;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; color:#232323;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;color:#ff9900;" >I leaned in close to her and began to pray, I thanked God for His blessing on our family. I thanked him for every hardship that has come our way. And I thanked Him for giving me a mother who realized that her life’s purpose was to follow Christ. I also thanked Him for the chance to say goodbye. I know that not everyone gets that change. Sometimes the people we love are gone in an instant and there are words left unsaid. But that won’t be the case here. I told my mom that I love her. I asked for forgiveness for the things i’ve done to her. And I told her that my heart belongs to Christ. There is nothing else to say.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; min-height: 13.0pxcolor:#232323;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff9900;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; color:#232323;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;color:#ff9900;" >I read the Bible to her for the last little while. If she is to hear anything it should be God’s truth. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; min-height: 13.0pxcolor:#232323;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff9900;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Courier; color:#232323;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;color:#ff9900;" >I don’t know how much longer she has. It could be a day. It could be another 10 years. But, really, all of our lives are like that. But the Lord has given me a chance to have closure. A kind that I didn’t have with my father. What I will carry around will not be grief, but peace. I will praise God for his unending faithfulness and for blessing me with the time that we had together. At the end of this I will be able to say “It is well with my soul.”</span></p>yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-57961230553504405792010-06-09T00:16:00.000-07:002011-01-05T23:35:37.322-08:00Here's What Happened<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Tonight I went back to a place that I called home for two and a half years. And tonight it felt just like it used to. I’ve gone back there several times over this last year that I’ve been gone. And every time it didn’t feel right. Not bad, just not like it used to. I definitely went to see the people. And every time I went, I expected to feel something. Some sort of longing, a longing to be back home. But it was never there. And really, that’s a good thing because it means that I am happy where I am at. And I know that i’m where God wants me to be. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">But tonight was different. Tonight was the same. It was familiar. A friend, whom I haven't seen in a year, came for a visit and I made my way down there and except for a couple of people, we were all together again. And we picked up right where we left off. No awkward small talk. Just a smooth transition into comfortable familiarity. Old inside jokes were returned to and new ones created. With a walk around the block at sunset and the smell of ocean air keeping us company, it was home. And I think that with the knowledge that this place that has touched so many of us won’t be around forever, I think that made us go back. It wasn’t a desperate clinging to what was but more of a somber respect for what we had. And what we had was this: a place that brought so many different people together. From every walk of life imaginable. Some for a little while, some for a long time. Many have come and gone, but what transpired there is unforgettable. We have talked about politics, and religion. And Jesus. And where the line is drawn between these. Topics of love and peace. Of sins of the past and the redemption of tomorrow. All of us (mostly) respecting the difference in opinion and agreeing to disagree. Three Trees has given a home to those who were without one, and served as a dwelling for those in need of community they didn’t have. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"> And as I sit here in my new home, which I do love, there is a longing in my heart for what was. Because the years spent there, and the people that I have met, helped shape who I am today. And it’s hard for me to look to the future because of how unknown it is. But as i’ve said before, I will take what I learned and I will carry it with me forever. It is a part of me and always will be. It is my heart, it is in my soul. And that is how it should be. </span></span></span></p>yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-87674604812575981612010-01-01T02:16:00.000-08:002011-01-05T23:36:22.777-08:00Another End. Another Beginning.<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">This is technically my 20th new year. Probably the 10th one that I remember. I will no longer be a teenager in two weeks. And in 12 hours I will be out on my own. With my own place, beginning another segment in my new life.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">And when the crowd goes home, the lights are turned down and the only sound is the dishwasher running the first of many loads, the feeling sets in. It is the feeling that I had expected when I left the states but didn’t come. Too much expectation perhaps? It was an anti-climax. Maybe it was because I wasn’t necessarily choosing to leave, it was just something that I had to unquestionably do. But this, this is different. I am leaving something good, something that will end with fond memories and closer relationships. I am choosing to go out on my own and carry what I’ve learned with me. This is me being an adult, making an adult decision. I used to be a child making adult decisions, but for once who I am and what i’m doing, is being done the way it should. So what i’m feeling is this, I am sad that I just said “good-night” and “see you in the morning” for the last time to Joel and Jenn, but I am excited because tomorrow, technically today, is the first day of a new year and a new escapade in my life. I will be utterly reliant on God for his provision. And that’s the way I want it. And so it should be. So I bid adieu to 2009 and will go lay down for the last time in my queen size bed that I will miss and wake up with the expectation of something more. Good night and good luck. Happy New Year.</span></span></p>yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-54069447395415759702009-11-10T21:02:00.000-08:002011-01-05T23:37:17.680-08:00Thinking and Feeling<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Cochin"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">I write a lot of things in moments of clarity or passion; when what I’m thinking about can no longer stay in my head. If I don’t write, I get a lot of pent up frustration. So here I am, in Hawaii, feeling a little sick, but still captivated by God’s beauty. I’ve spent the last few hours alone and sometimes I need that time to just... be. And in this time God has been on my mind. I can feel him inside of me, moving and speaking. It really breaks my heart thinking that people can deny him, even with the Earth’s grand evidence that he exists. I watched a Planet Earth episode not too long ago on the ocean and how everything grows and works together. So that’s what I kept thinking about when we went snorkeling today. There’s so much life and beauty brimming underwater and it all has a purpose. It was all created by God and He knows where everything is and how it moves and he knew exactly what fish I would see and when I would see them, in that exact moment. He knew what it would make me think and feel. If you think about it every moment is prophesy come true. When the earth was Created God knew this moment would come. This moment of his glorification. He really is incomprehensible. This was short but I needed to get it out.</span></span></p>yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-63803655744587423962009-07-31T12:23:00.000-07:002009-07-31T13:08:44.871-07:00Jesus loves me this I know...right?I grew up singing "Jesus Loves Me". You can walk into just about any Christian bookstore and find some sort of knick knack that says "God loves you". It's such a basic concept in Christianity. I hear a lot of Christians use that word but in the same breath they will paint a picture of an angry wrathful God who will smite you down because you don't measure up. <div>I grew up afraid of God. Afraid of who he was. I didn't think he liked me very much. I would hear "God loves you" but never did I believe it. And I didn't realize that I didn't believe it. Not until last October.<div> In a conversation with a friend that started off on a different God topic, it somehow came down to love. I had seen something in this friend that I knew I didn't have but I couldn't put my finger on it. And then I got it, she loves God. Her love for Him and His love for her makes up who she is. It kind of surprised me when I realized that I didn't believe that God loves me. And I can't tell you how hard I fought this. It was inconceivable to me. How could God love me? When I think the things I do? When I act the way I do? When I turn my back on Him constantly? How is it possible that I can be loved by the Creator of the universe? I also fought it because I look around and see the chaos that is this world. I'm sorry but life can be a bitch. It can hurt. This has become a world where violence and pain are rampant. Values have gone out the window, the idea of marriage is a flippin' joke. Children are raped and killed. People are starving. It's hard to see the love is this mess. </div><div>But then I stopped and I realized, this wasn't the plan. God is not in some far off place watching all this crap go down and not caring. He cares. It hurts Him. This was supposed to be a world where we were a creation that takes delight in Him. Where we would love Him and receive His Love. But that's not what happened. Because he loves us he gave us free will. And we took it.We did this. We try and place the blame all on Him. We ask why and how he could let this happen when he is an almighty God, why can't he just step in and fix it? Well he did. He gave us Jesus. That's the solution. Isn't it funny how we have the answer to the problem and we can't see it? </div><div>God's love is incredible. It is so fundamental to who we are. It is the reason why we have hope. If we didn't have it then our entire existence would be pointless. He loves us. We don't deserve it but we have it. I finally understood that a few months ago. I can't tell you the exact moment when it clicked. But I just kinda woke up one day and I believed that God loved me. I got it. It is that love that gives me a purpose. He has been with me in every hurt. He was holding me and giving me strength to go on. It is His love that has protected me. That love has kept the wounds from being fatal. So yes I know that Jesus love me and it is only because of that love that I am able to live.</div></div>yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-55342641690391689962009-03-23T18:22:00.000-07:002009-03-23T18:27:40.519-07:00A procrastinator through and throughOk, so this past quarter has been undeniably difficult, probably my hardest one yet. My “easy” class turned out to be, well, not so easy. I took what is quite possibly *crosses fingers* my final math class, English (the not so easy one) and sociology which turned out to be the single most pointless waste of time and money ever. Seriously, I didn’t learn one thing. Nothing. At all. Anyway, this quarter was hard. It also didn’t help that I was/am going though a personal transformation making these past 12 weeks very bipolar, but that’s beside the point. So all this to say that I have written all my finals, all my essays and quizzes andI could have been done with everything today. I could have. See I have this one last little math project to do. I had a plan last week, it was that I would write my final final on Friday, go home and pass out and not think about anything for the rest of the day and then on Saturday I would do this project at work because let’s face it, I have a lot of time to kill on Saturdays at The Trees. Instead, I chose to ignore my work and waste time playing chess with Dann ( I won two out of three by the way) and work on activating Rob’s new phone. I then proceeded to go home and watch a movie with my mom. I thought to myself, well I have all day Sunday to do it so I have plenty of time. Not so. Two minutes after walking out of church I get a text from my sister- in law asking if I want to go for a walk and do some errands with her. What do you think I chose to do? Be the responsible student or go have fun with a friend? I think the answer is pretty clear. And you know what? I don’t even feel a teeny tiny ounce of remorse because we had a perfectly wonderful walk and talk. Anyway then I went to Canada last night and saw my mom. That’s a pretty legit excuse I think. Today however, not so much. I’ve been out of class for six and a half hours and haven’t so much as glanced at my math book. It’s due on Wednesday so I figure I have lots of time. :)yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-46352278407500743362009-03-01T21:47:00.000-08:002009-03-02T22:48:49.761-08:00I bid “Adieu”Ok so I haven’t written anything in nearly a year….but that’s okay. I’m supposed to be doing English homework right now but I’ve still got two hours and fifty minutes before it’s due… so I have plenty of time. I’m in weird mood right now I will admit. It has finally hit me that I may indeed have to return to Canada. In four months. I’ve known for a while that this was a possibility but it was always something in the far off future, something that I would deal with later. Well, it’s later and now I have to do something. I have been praying that the Lord would make a way for me to stay but at the end of my prayer I always say “but your will not mine be done”. It’s one thing to say that but to mean it is what is challenging. I’m saying that I will go wherever God wants me to go. But can I say that every ounce of me is ok with that? Can I say that I’m willing to leave my family, my friends, this life that has been established, can I say that I can walk away from it and be alright with that? I don’t know. I have to admit that I have come to love my life here. I have parents and friends. I have a job that I love so much more than a job should be loved. There is a part of me that doesn’t want to go. That pleads with God to just let me stay. For some miracle to happen that the US government will come calling and say they missed something and that there is in fact a way for me to stay that doesn’t require marriage. There is a part of me that could be content here, a part that is terrified to leave. And I am crying at the thought of not being here. But then there is the other part of me. The part that will get me through this, the part that knows that God loves me and has a plan for me. A plan that has purpose, there must be a reason why my time has come to an end here. Maybe if I was to stay, I would become too content, too comfortable. And I wouldn’t accomplish God’s plan for my life. That thought is what is getting me through this. He is all I can hold on to. And he won’t let me down. I don’t want this to be the cliché “everything is going to be alright and everything is going to be rainbows and butterflies” but somehow, it’s going to be okay. It’s probably going to hurt, but when it does I will go running into His arms.<br />I’m thinking I could write a story about my three years here. Maybe I will. We’ll see.yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-88000830370652837512008-06-12T11:46:00.001-07:002008-06-12T11:46:38.414-07:00That's a wrap folks.<span></span>Well. I just got out of writing my last final for the quarter. But this wasn’t just the end of a quarter, this was an end of an era. High school is over. Last night it started hitting me that this is it. And of course me being me, I started reminiscing. I remember walking into my parents room and begging them not to take me to preschool. That was fourteen years ago. That blows my mind. That’s almost a decade and a half. I can also remember being in grade one and thinking of school like a game and I was in level one. And next year I would be in level two. Now it’s game over. Ok, I’ll move away from the analogies. But for me this is actually a really big deal. For a while, finishing high school became a sort of pipe dream. Not a lot of people actually thought I would make it. But here I am. Done. Now what?yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-43693657041430363482008-05-30T10:37:00.000-07:002008-05-30T10:49:18.069-07:00HmmI'm in my head a lot. I know this and I kind of like it about myself. I used to hate it because when I realized that I was doing it, it made feel cut off from everybody. I began to feel like I had nothing to offer. The more I thought this way, the more it became true. I have a tendency to think very little of myself so to compensate, I would figure out what the person I was around wanted from me, or what I thought they wanted from me, and I would become that person. This would become difficult when I was around two different people. I would start to short-circuit. This was pointed out to me last summer and since then I have been trying (sometimes failing) to stop being what I think people want me to be and actually be who I am. I got really depressed for a while because I didn’t know who I was. I had no idea what I liked. I wonder if I don’t want to be me because I’m afraid that people won’t like me. But then I think “if they don’t like me then why am I with them?” It’s still hard for me but now that I’ve spent almost a year being aware of what I have a tendency to do, I stop doing it. I’m actually getting a glimpse of “me”. And every now and then I really like who I am. So yeah, that’s my little pondering for the day.yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-57921090097173350352008-05-26T20:03:00.000-07:002011-01-05T23:38:32.401-08:00A Room of Dirt.....So on Saturday the Guadalajara missions team had its first work day to raise money for the trip. On the little paper thingy describing what we would be doing it said, "come prepared for a car wash, yard work and building picnic tables". So great, I get up Saturday morning put on a pair of work jeans and an old t-shirt ( it was supposed to rain last weekend, I don’t think the weather people are on top of things) anyway, I threw an extra pair of shorts in my car just in case so I go to the church to meet up with the group to find out what car I’ll be washing or picnic table I’ll be building. I sign in and take a look at the list, Vicky Manderson: Potato room. what’s a potato room? you may ask, well let me tell you, about 70 years ago they didn’t have fine maytag appliances at their disposal so instead they would fill a small 9 x9 room in the basement with dirt so they would be able to keep vegetables and stuff nice and cold. Fast forward to 2008, we have freezers and fridges. Dirt rooms are so passé. So we arrive at our destination, it’s a fabulous house and the people are very nice and have provided snacks, lunch and beverages. The guy takes us down into the cellar and shows us our task. A little bit of me died inside when I saw what was waiting for us. It wasn’t just a little dirt, it was heaps of dirt, mounds of dirt, a freakin' room of dirt!! As a child this would have been the ultimate play place. But no, not now. Now, it was a nightmare. So we proceeded to spend the next four hours (we were there for five but we took a few breaks, if we didn’t I wouldn’t be here writing this right now). So we finally finished at 2:00 and I went to the Skeffs house to shower up and get ready for work. I swear I almost passed out in the shower. I have a three massive bruises one on my left forearm, and two on my hips. And then several little bruises dotting my legs. I decided not to go into work and just stay put at the Skeffs to recuperate. I did the math while laying on their couch and I moved 1200 gallons of dirt. I am now ripped:)yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-34767566356450047602008-05-12T12:11:00.000-07:002008-05-29T10:22:50.162-07:00I'm trying to write my novel but all you do is play.I have no idea who said that or where it's originally from but I read it in my yearbook that I got from LSS and it's been stuck in my brain for the past two years. But now that I think about it, it's kind of fitting because I am in fact trying to write a novel....but all I do is nothing. I will get these random bursts of writing energy, where I can actually feel it, I need to write, if I don't I’ll put a hole in the wall. I need to put something on paper and look at it and be like" this is mine. I wrote this." So at the Trees, I'm surrounded by some pretty cool writers and they've rubbed off on me and it's ignited a spark. I gotta write. I have to. Or..................um......else. So last night I come home get ready for bed, wash my face with no less than four different cleansers then go and snuggle in between the sheets, close my eyes and then after 6.3 seconds open them again. I'm tired but I know I won't be sleeping. I have to do something.....but what?? (I’m a little slow when I’m sleepy) maybe I could watch a movie....so I turn one on..... A few moments go by and I realize that I haven't been watching. I've been off in vicky land.....I snap back to reality (okay snap is a little harsh, I glide back to reality) look over at my bookshelf and sitting on it is my birthday gift from andy and kat, they gave me a character sketch book (which I've never used because I don't want to wreck the pretty paper) but picked it up and opened it. I slid out the pen and uncapped it. At the top of the page I wrote "Characters". I stared at it for a few seconds then underlined it. Then I started to write. I got my antagonist and my protagonist. I wrote some background info and where I wanted to take this story. Then I got happy and sleepy. I felt like I had accomplished a little something so I slid back under the covers and slipped into the wonderful unconscious state that I am so fond of. So maybe just maybe in five years I'll have the first chapter done:)yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-30091391033553801242008-04-28T15:32:00.000-07:002008-04-29T12:03:16.391-07:00First I said "bye", then I said "bye". bye bye.Victizzle fun fact #87: I love traveling. I loooooove it!! Ever since I was a little kid I've loved going places. We traveled via Greyhound a lot and while spending twenty four hours on a packed bus next to strange strangers may sound daunting to some, to me it sounded like fun fun fun. So while I have only been as far east as Dauphin Manitoba and as far south as Seattle and with the exception of Hawaii, I haven't gone very far. My ultimate dream is Europe. One day people one day. However I have just agreed to do something that will take me to a whole other country that isn't Canada................I'm going to Guadalajara!!!!!!!!!! Yep, I'm adding another stamp to my passport ( okay okay it'll be my first one) anyway moving on... I have agreed to go on a missions trip with Sonlight Church. We leave on June 20th and return June 30th. And I gotta say, I AM STOKED!!! not just because I get to go somewhere but because doing a missions trip has been on my heart for a really long time and I want to help make a difference and it finally feels right and things have come together very nicely in order for me to go. So to all two of you reading this, please keep me in your prayers not just when I'm there but as I prepare to go. I know that this will be an amazing time for me to learn and grow, I also know that it will be very challenging but when it's over I hope to emerge a different person. So yeah, if you could keep me in your prayers that would be great!yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-72524471359456268442008-04-18T11:29:00.000-07:002008-04-18T11:45:31.461-07:00memeSo I was just tagged by my sis's sister for a links meme heeeeeerrrreeeee we go.........<br /><br />THE LINKS MEME:<br /><br />Just copy paste THIS and everything below up until my Five links:I thought it would be cool to have a meme where we post links. We can post up to five. Then we tell five more people to share their links. If we all share who tagged us, our links are sure to be seen! They can be business links, favorite sites, affiliate links, whatever you want…There are Five Rules:1. MUST be clean. No R rated sites.2. Only FIVE links.3. MUST tell 5 people.4. A link back to the person who tagged youMy Five Links: <a href="http://www.vintagedutchgirl.blogspot.com/">http://www.vintagedutchgirl.blogspot.com/</a><br /><br />My Links:<br /><a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/">http://icanhascheezburger.com/</a><br />Random Pictures of cats. My manager's wife turned me on to them:)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.inanny.blogspot.com/">http://www.inanny.blogspot.com/</a><br />A friend of mine has gone to Georgia until july and she's an absolutly fabulous writer.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.wayofthemaster.com/">http://www.wayofthemaster.com/</a><br />I have learned so much from these guys and my eyes have been opened.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/</a><br />books books books books........need I say more?<br /><br /><a href="http://www.threetreescoffee.com/">http://www.threetreescoffee.com/</a><br />don't tell me you didn't see this one coming...yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-78204847741932626392008-04-07T11:42:00.000-07:002008-04-07T12:37:45.954-07:00Hey! I'm walkin' here!!So I drove to school today, something I don't usually do. Taking the bus saves on gas and it gives me 22.8-25.3 minutes to read/do homework/gaze mindlessly out of the window. Anyway so I drove today because I wanted an extra 15 minutes to sleep. So I get to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Whatcom</span>, go into the first parking lot, circle around five times, accept the fact that all the spaces are taken up by the people who forfeited their extra 15 minutes and so I hang my head and go to the other parking lot on the other side of campus. I park, get out and walk back to the other side of campus where my class is. So I get to the point where I have to cross the road, the same point that three other students have been hit by cars this year. I stop, look both ways, there's a car coming but it's a ways away so I begin my trek across the road as I’m almost half way across, I look again at the car coming towards me and I realize it’s going way faster than the “recommended” 15mph limit. Crap. It’s getting closer and it’s not stopping. So I stop, then the “sweet” little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ol</span>’ lady who can barely see over the wheel jams on her brakes. We stare at each other for .03 seconds and simultaneously we both start moving again and upon the realization that we both are going we stop. I’m really annoyed by now, my heart is racing, I don’t want this to be the place that I die. So I make a gesture telling her that she can go. So she did. And then I continued on my way, yelling at her in my mind. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Grr</span>.yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-8826436825252419892008-04-05T21:03:00.000-07:002008-04-05T21:14:33.935-07:00Probably the most pointless thing you'll read all day.I really have no subject in mind but it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve posted something so I’m just going to ramble about my day/week. Right now, I’m really quite comfy, I’m in my trusty black sweats and my “love” t-shirt I got at creation fest two years ago. I’ve got white cat hair all over me because I was just holding weird kitty and she sheds like mad. It’s somewhat gross. I have a bit of an aversion to hair, once it’s off the head/body it becomes my enemy. Now, I’m really not a huge fan of weird kitty she’s really moody, seriously you can be petting her and she’ll be purring and she’ll flip onto her back all stretched out and semi moderately cute and then BAM, before you know it she’s shred the skin on your hand. I don’t handle pain well, so it takes every ounce of resistance in my body to not kick her across the room ( I also have anger issues). However, she’s become rather pathetic since Mocha (the best cat to ever walk the planet who was taken from us just as my faith in the goodness of cats (that had been destroyed by weird kitty), was coming back) anyway ever since I found Mocha's limp body by the side of the road, weird kitty has gotten really really really really needy. I don't like needy, I like an animal who can hold its own and be there when it should but not be all over you every second of the day. ( I don't like being crowded, I need "me" time) . Anyway in the morning she’ll be right at my door waiting for me. Sometimes as I walk into the bathroom for the first of two showers a day, she’ll sneak in and just sit on the floor while I’m washing the sleepiness away. Then when I'm dried off i’ll pet her just to shut her up. She has got the most annoying meow ever. Anyway all that was just to give the back story on why I was petting her. It’ s pretty much common knowledge that I don’t really like her and I don’t want people to just assume that I like her because I was petting her. After all, I’ve got a rep to uphold.yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-4566056751399176392008-03-22T16:00:00.000-07:002008-03-27T18:58:25.143-07:00This is my job.AHHHHHHH...... today is the first day of spring break. For one week, I don't have any (mandatory) reading, no homework, no more getting up at 7:30 and no listening to tree hugging liberals rant about Christianity and global warming. So what do I do on my first day of break? I go to work. Of course I really can't call this work because I'm sitting here drinking coffee, watching Dann lose at chess to Sean and the three of us are coming up with a list of things that David Banner (the Hulk) shouldn't do for a living, this is what we've come up with so far:<br />-waitering/customer service<br />-postal worker<br />-car salesman<br />-inner city school teacher<br />-doctor<br />-k-mart associate manager<br />-telephone help desk worker<br />-public defender<br />-late night drive thru worker at a fast food restaurant<br />-hot dog vender at sport arena<br />-minimum wage security at a major concert<br />-Lynden Cup of Tea<br /><br />I love this job.yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-48489171864291583532008-03-19T16:12:00.000-07:002008-03-19T16:16:08.701-07:00I should get an award for this.It’s finals week yet again, I go through this process usually three wonderfully fantastical times a year. This quarter had been a bit strange, I didn’t “officially” get into any of my classes until two weeks into the quarter and then I proceeded to take off for a week in the middle of it to bask in the amazing sun in Hawaii. It's soooooooo much better than our sun. (And I don’t even feel one teeny tiny ounce of regret or remorse.) Anyway all said and done I have missed a quarter of the quarter. Hmm. However I have pulled through, I’ve faked my way through exams and papers about stuff I didn’t have a clue about and only once was it suggested that I should consider dropping the course and taking it again next quarter. As if!!! Now my one final magic trick is………..getting through finals while feeling like crap. I’m sick……again….two weeks ago I was sick then I got better. Then Daph came home from Disneyland carrying some infectious virus that has ripped its way through our household knocking myself and my mother off our feet ( that we can never seem to get warm) and into our beds which are stacked to the roof with blankets. It’s pathetic really. Now picture this: I’m sitting at the counter pouring over my political science book writing notes viciously and every fifteen minutes or so putting the LC sweatshirt that I just took off, back on, One minutes I feel like I’m in the Antarctic the next I’m in the Sahara desert. All this while trying to retain everything I’m reading because, me being me, I left all my studying to the night before the exam because “it’s just that easy” blah. I didn’t factor illness into my studying plans. It’s ok, it worked out, I went to class this morning and hacked and sneezed my way through the exam, I’m sure the other people adored the background sound effects I provided and the guy next to me was soooooo thankful he chose the seat rightnexttomine instead of the other open one two seats down. I’m lovely like that.yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-30884618958188208202008-03-18T04:45:00.000-07:002008-04-05T21:10:15.226-07:00Oh sleep, where art thou?Another little fun fact about me: sleep and I, aren’t the greatest of friends. As far as I can remember I have rarely had a decent, blissful, completely oblivious unconsciousness to all surroundings for a full eight hours. That’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it. That’s what night is for me. Every now and then I’ll go through phases where I can’t sleep because the monster under the bed made a deal with the sandman so he could chase me in my dreams for awhile but usually I can go through the night waking only two or three times, long enough to look around, see that I’m still in my room and roll over and fall right back into the lovely unconscious state that I am so fond of. However, then there are nights like these. I wake up and I can’t breathe out of my right nostril. That’s annoying. I lay there some more. Okay well this is ridiculous. I get up, walk the 11.3 paces into my bathroom, grab tissue, unclog said nostril, start hacking uncontrollably, hope I didn’t wake Daph up…..is she even down here tonight? I didn’t hear her come down. The hall light is on, that’s usually a good indicator if she is in her bed or not…..hmm…..I wonder if she can hear me typing…..anyway……so I’m hacking away, I go back to my room to get my water bottle so I can fill it with the calorie free, see through, liquid goodness that runs through our taps, ( I think the only time I drink water is when I realize I’m about to pass out because of dehydration, and when I’m sick) anyway on my way to get the bottle I pass weird kitty sitting in front of my door. She has this uncanny ability to appear from nowhere and yet look as if she’s been in that spot forever. Creepy. So I step over her, grab the bottle from my book case, fill ‘er up and go back to my room. Weird kitty, still there. Alright fine, she can come in but if she makes one noise she’s out! I crawl in between the sheets, snuggle up to my pillow husband and close my eyes…….riiiiiiiip riiiiiiiiip UGGGGHHHH!!! she’s scratching my carpet! I jump up, grab weird kitty and throw her out. Yes, I threw her, she has nine lives I’m sure she’ll be fine. I go back to bed. I’m awake. I can’t feel the sleep droopiness around my eyes any longer. I did too much….. Half an hour goes by, I remember back to my psychology class, apparently it’s good for you to get up and do something for a bit and then try and go back to sleep, it’s better than lying there or something. I don’t know I’ve never tried it. Then I think " hey, I’ve got a blog now, this could be something to write about", so I start planning all this out in my head, then I think why not kill two birds with one stone? I could go post this <em>and</em> test out the theory from psych class. What a capital idea. So here I am, not asleep boring you with me not being asleep. I thik I need to go to sleep. Okay I think that’s enough now. I can feel sleep around my eyes again. Goodnight.yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855577848968966816.post-40687468623003529642008-03-17T19:57:00.002-07:002008-03-17T20:23:16.623-07:00Who knew?.....Oh, that's right He did.I was going to try and ease into the blogging business by using my defense mechanism of unfunny humor, but today I can't really seem to muster it up. This is a bittersweet day for me. Today is the three year anniversary of when my mom first became ill. When I woke up March 17 2005, I had no idea what was about to happen. It took me about six months to begin to see what God was doing. At the time, I was scared, angry and very confused. I wasn't living for the Lord by any means. I was living in blatant rejection of Him. Looking back at the last three years of my life, I can't believe the journey God has taken me on. He's led me to two different homes and a new country. He's given me a new father and mother and whole bunch of brothers and sisters. While still allowing me the honor of having my Mom and Richard in my life. Looking back three years, I was a shell of what I am now. In the last six months He has started me on the path of spiritual healing, something that I never really knew I needed. It hurts sometimes more than I'd like but I'm going to keep going because I know it's what He wants from me. So this time three years ago I was sitting in the hospital in FSJ looking at my mom who was hooked up to a million machines, wondering why this had to happen. I never thought that this is where I would end up but I praise God for bringing me here.yourfavoritebaristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17969667358555488237noreply@blogger.com1