Location; it matters so much, or perhaps so little.
I love my Grandma and Grandpa's house. To step through the door into that familiar abode is to enter comfort, security, and love; to be appreciated and accepted for all that I am.
Grilled cheese sandwiches (with perfectly melted cheese), comfortable furniture (with a cozy blanket neatly folded across the back of every seat), and pictures of family (a frame for every grandchild) adorn the walls and appease my senses with familiarity.
I know I am in a place where I am wanted and loved.
Is it the house that promotes a sense of belonging? The wood, windows, and shingles that embrace me upon crossing the threshold?
No.
A museum without art is a building with awkwardly arranged walls and not nearly enough seating. A home without people is mearly a roof under which to store things.
It is my Grandparents that make their house special. They offer the sandwiches, embrace me with love, and attentively listen to the stories of my life. They are the reasons I frequently long to go to that wood structure where I am always utterly overwhelmed with warmth and fuzziness.
Geographical location of these two whom I treasure is meaningless. Even if they had no stove on which to make grilled cheese sandwiches, my visits would be no less frequent. I love them more than is logical for the frail human condition.
The people are what give a place its meaning. Without them, a house is only organized space to hide from the rain.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Theory on Sleep Patterns
I have a problem. Every morning my alarm clocks sings to me, and every morning I hit snooze. I doze for five minutes, and snooze again. This can go on for an undeterminate amount of time, particularly if I have nothing to do that morning.
Every night, I crawl in bed, and cannot sleep. I watch TV episodes. I facebook. I read blogs. I write blogs. I turn off my computer and start thinking. I use the bathroom three or four times. I think some more. I read. Finally, after laying in bed for what seems to be forever, I fall asleep.
Why is it that when I want to be awake I sleep, but when I want to sleep I am awake?
Perhaps I am dissatisified with my life. I do not want to sleep because I continue to hope something great will happen to end the day, or I do not wake up because I fear nothing will occur to make being awake worth the trouble.
Perhaps the opposite is true and I love my life. I feel a sleep cycle officially ends a day, but why would I want a wonderful day to end? To belay sleeping and waking up make the good times last longer.
I doubt either is accurate. That's the thing about extremes; they tend to eliminate the more moderate truth.
Really, I've probably created a habit of doing homework late, and, since I need copious amounts of sleep, I optimize every single moment of rest possible. Hence the habit of staying up late and sleeping as long as possible.
Or, the childhood hatred of having to go to bed continues to persist. Plus, to lay in bed, curled up under the covers with nothing to do, is one of the most comfortable things I've ever experienced.
But, you know, whatever sounds most interesting to you. I just wish counting sheep worked and I could wake up at the first discordant notes of my alarm.
Every night, I crawl in bed, and cannot sleep. I watch TV episodes. I facebook. I read blogs. I write blogs. I turn off my computer and start thinking. I use the bathroom three or four times. I think some more. I read. Finally, after laying in bed for what seems to be forever, I fall asleep.
Why is it that when I want to be awake I sleep, but when I want to sleep I am awake?
Perhaps I am dissatisified with my life. I do not want to sleep because I continue to hope something great will happen to end the day, or I do not wake up because I fear nothing will occur to make being awake worth the trouble.
Perhaps the opposite is true and I love my life. I feel a sleep cycle officially ends a day, but why would I want a wonderful day to end? To belay sleeping and waking up make the good times last longer.
I doubt either is accurate. That's the thing about extremes; they tend to eliminate the more moderate truth.
Really, I've probably created a habit of doing homework late, and, since I need copious amounts of sleep, I optimize every single moment of rest possible. Hence the habit of staying up late and sleeping as long as possible.
Or, the childhood hatred of having to go to bed continues to persist. Plus, to lay in bed, curled up under the covers with nothing to do, is one of the most comfortable things I've ever experienced.
But, you know, whatever sounds most interesting to you. I just wish counting sheep worked and I could wake up at the first discordant notes of my alarm.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Inspiration
I like to write.
I would like to write well.
I would like to write things that people need to hear.
I would like to write encouraging and thought provoking things.
I would like to write the type of things that spark revolutionary living.
I would like to write things from heaven that people on earth need to hear.
I cannot do this alone.
I am from this world.
I write like one from this world.
This world is corrupt.
Do I write things that are corrupt?
Jesus is above the corrupt world.
I would like Jesus to be my inspiration.
I would like to write things from above the corruption.
Be my inspiration in all that I do.
Amen.
I would like to write well.
I would like to write things that people need to hear.
I would like to write encouraging and thought provoking things.
I would like to write the type of things that spark revolutionary living.
I would like to write things from heaven that people on earth need to hear.
I cannot do this alone.
I am from this world.
I write like one from this world.
This world is corrupt.
Do I write things that are corrupt?
Jesus is above the corrupt world.
I would like Jesus to be my inspiration.
I would like to write things from above the corruption.
"The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is from the earth belongs t0 the earth, and speaks as one from the earth. The one who comes from heaven is above all." -John 3:31Dear Jesus,
Be my inspiration in all that I do.
Amen.
Monday, December 6, 2010
The Perfect Place to Study
I sit at my dorm room desk and stare at a map of colonial Africa. From the crack under my door a host of distractions beckon: a dance party in the bathroom, a movie in the room across the hall, a trip to get hamburgers, and a game of Ultimate Frisbee.
The smell of burnt popcorn and fresh baked cookies assail my nose. My stomach gurgles in response. A snack would taste yummy, but would only make studying harder.
My roommate turns on the TV. Of course, Wipeout. The big red balls toss ordinary people like acrobats, twisting and turning into the waters below. It is one of the funniest shows I have ever seen. How am I supposed to get anything done now?
After a plethora of weak-willed attempts, a paper describing the decolonization of Ghana has proceeded no farther than a title. The blinking cursor flashes like a neon sign taunting me to chase it across the page with a torrent of words, but none will come.
It takes all my powers of refusal to pass up an opportunity to play ping pong. Instead, I gather my supplies and strike out on a quest to find a place where I can study.
I try the library. I sit at a desk with walls on three sides, immediately eliminating any potential for visual distraction. This could work.
Twenty other students study around me. I can smell the remains of a portable dinner- Thai food from a doggie bag-mingling with the musk of old books.
Only the sound of air whizzing through a vent can be heard.
My ears ring with the silence.
It is intolerable.
Again, nothing is being accomplished.
I decided to move again, this time off campus to a coffee shop.
I walk through the doors and am greeted by delicious smells and cheerful baristas.
I purchase a cup of heaven covered in whip cream and sit at a table by the window. I situate my textbook and computer, sip my beverage, and try again.
My quest, it seems, has finally come to an end.
Baristas continue to brew coffee, crush ice in the blender, and steam milk. Other patrons talk quietly across the little tables. The unique white noise is louder than silence, quieter than my thoughts, and diverse enough to prevent a stalemate in my mind.
Trendy music flows through the room and unique artwork adorns the warmly painted walls. The ambiance surrounds me like a friend who knows me well enough to let me work in peace.
Distractions are limited. There is no TV, no friendly floor mates, no dance music and no flying discs. I do not need to worry about my laundry, my messy desk, my perpetually unmade bed or the constant stream of customers who remain outside of my sphere of interest.
Many of the people seated around me are reading, writing, knitting, and other such solitary activities. They focus only on what it is they are doing. I am inspired to do the same and dedicate myself completely to the task at hand.
Time slips past unnoticed. I easily become so absorbed in my studies that the “open” sign is turned to “closed” before I realize it is time to go.
If I am diligent in my work and finish before the sun has fully set, there is the opportunity to walk back to campus. I step out the door and find myself embraced by the crisp air. Colorful leaves crunch underfoot. Cozy houses line the street, and occasionally the smell of a homemade dinner will drift from a kitchen window, teasing my palate with its garlic scent.
Feeling like a conquering hero, I return from my quest ready to socialize. My assignment is finished, and the brisk stroll in the fresh air has chased away the heavy, intellectual thoughts that had previously consumed my mind.
In the future, should I be confronted with a monumental task, or menial writing assignment, I intend to skip the foreplay and go directly to a coffee shop, where success is assured.
(written for my journalism class as my first column)
The smell of burnt popcorn and fresh baked cookies assail my nose. My stomach gurgles in response. A snack would taste yummy, but would only make studying harder.
My roommate turns on the TV. Of course, Wipeout. The big red balls toss ordinary people like acrobats, twisting and turning into the waters below. It is one of the funniest shows I have ever seen. How am I supposed to get anything done now?
After a plethora of weak-willed attempts, a paper describing the decolonization of Ghana has proceeded no farther than a title. The blinking cursor flashes like a neon sign taunting me to chase it across the page with a torrent of words, but none will come.
It takes all my powers of refusal to pass up an opportunity to play ping pong. Instead, I gather my supplies and strike out on a quest to find a place where I can study.
I try the library. I sit at a desk with walls on three sides, immediately eliminating any potential for visual distraction. This could work.
Twenty other students study around me. I can smell the remains of a portable dinner- Thai food from a doggie bag-mingling with the musk of old books.
Only the sound of air whizzing through a vent can be heard.
My ears ring with the silence.
It is intolerable.
Again, nothing is being accomplished.
I decided to move again, this time off campus to a coffee shop.
I walk through the doors and am greeted by delicious smells and cheerful baristas.
I purchase a cup of heaven covered in whip cream and sit at a table by the window. I situate my textbook and computer, sip my beverage, and try again.
My quest, it seems, has finally come to an end.
Baristas continue to brew coffee, crush ice in the blender, and steam milk. Other patrons talk quietly across the little tables. The unique white noise is louder than silence, quieter than my thoughts, and diverse enough to prevent a stalemate in my mind.
Trendy music flows through the room and unique artwork adorns the warmly painted walls. The ambiance surrounds me like a friend who knows me well enough to let me work in peace.
Distractions are limited. There is no TV, no friendly floor mates, no dance music and no flying discs. I do not need to worry about my laundry, my messy desk, my perpetually unmade bed or the constant stream of customers who remain outside of my sphere of interest.
Many of the people seated around me are reading, writing, knitting, and other such solitary activities. They focus only on what it is they are doing. I am inspired to do the same and dedicate myself completely to the task at hand.
Time slips past unnoticed. I easily become so absorbed in my studies that the “open” sign is turned to “closed” before I realize it is time to go.
If I am diligent in my work and finish before the sun has fully set, there is the opportunity to walk back to campus. I step out the door and find myself embraced by the crisp air. Colorful leaves crunch underfoot. Cozy houses line the street, and occasionally the smell of a homemade dinner will drift from a kitchen window, teasing my palate with its garlic scent.
Feeling like a conquering hero, I return from my quest ready to socialize. My assignment is finished, and the brisk stroll in the fresh air has chased away the heavy, intellectual thoughts that had previously consumed my mind.
In the future, should I be confronted with a monumental task, or menial writing assignment, I intend to skip the foreplay and go directly to a coffee shop, where success is assured.
(written for my journalism class as my first column)
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Life Calling
The most stressful day of the quarter is not what you might think.
Some would say it is the first day of class. Walking into a new class, trying to find a good seat, and hoping some one you know will walk through the doors and the two of you can be bosom friends throughout the hour and twenty minutes you will be sitting there.
Others will declare that is completely incorrect! The most stressful time in college is not a day at all, but the three days of finals, and the "dead week" that proceeds them.
I disagree with both of these statements. The most agonizing time for me is registration.
Every single time I pick classes I seem to re-evaluate what I want to do with my life, and what major/double major/minor/double minor combination would be the best path to getting me there.
And of course, now that I have registered I have been doubting if I am taking the correct classes and constantly scan the "open class" list, searching for a class that particularly calls out to me. None have yet screamed my name.
These thoughts have been running through my head all week. All month, really. But last night, when I went to my secret place to spend time with Jesus, I wasn't thinking about it at all.
I said, "Jesus, I love you. I'm listening."
And this is what he said to me:
Then I wondered what exactly this meant for me? The voice that calls out in the desert promises that all obstacles will be removed at the glory of God will shine everywhere. That is such a hopeful message! I need to share that message with people in deserts. Does that mean a literal desert? No. It means places where there is no life. It is there that I should go.
Haiti.
I asked if I thought it out of habit, but I am certain that God whispered it in my ear.
I am going to go there and say good things for them
So I'm going to stick with a communications major, but I plan to throw in some english courses (for writing purposes), some theology courses (for a more sound biblical education), and political science courses (because I like them so much that they must be important for something in my life).
Now that you have read this, I ask that you help me. When I can't seem to have forgotten what direction I am supposed to be going with my life, remind me to read this post. Then I can remember where exactly I am going.
It'll make the most stressful time of the quarter a little easier on me.
Some would say it is the first day of class. Walking into a new class, trying to find a good seat, and hoping some one you know will walk through the doors and the two of you can be bosom friends throughout the hour and twenty minutes you will be sitting there.
Others will declare that is completely incorrect! The most stressful time in college is not a day at all, but the three days of finals, and the "dead week" that proceeds them.
I disagree with both of these statements. The most agonizing time for me is registration.
Every single time I pick classes I seem to re-evaluate what I want to do with my life, and what major/double major/minor/double minor combination would be the best path to getting me there.
And of course, now that I have registered I have been doubting if I am taking the correct classes and constantly scan the "open class" list, searching for a class that particularly calls out to me. None have yet screamed my name.
These thoughts have been running through my head all week. All month, really. But last night, when I went to my secret place to spend time with Jesus, I wasn't thinking about it at all.
I said, "Jesus, I love you. I'm listening."
And this is what he said to me:
"I am like the voice of one calling in the desert, 'Make straight the way for the Lord.'" -John 1:23b
"A voice of one calling, 'In the desert prepare the way for the Lord; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill laid low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain. And the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all mankind together will see it. For the mouth of the Lord has spoken." -Isaiah 40:3-5First I thought, "If everything is made smooth, we will have no hills for sledding! Instead, we will fly on our joy."
Then I wondered what exactly this meant for me? The voice that calls out in the desert promises that all obstacles will be removed at the glory of God will shine everywhere. That is such a hopeful message! I need to share that message with people in deserts. Does that mean a literal desert? No. It means places where there is no life. It is there that I should go.
Haiti.
I asked if I thought it out of habit, but I am certain that God whispered it in my ear.
I am going to go there and say good things for them
"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy." -Proverbs 31:8-9and to them
"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your moths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." -Ephesians 4:29I know I am headed in the right direction because
"If the Lord delights in a man's way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand." -Psalms 37:23-24You can bet I'm shaking, but I have not fallen yet.
So I'm going to stick with a communications major, but I plan to throw in some english courses (for writing purposes), some theology courses (for a more sound biblical education), and political science courses (because I like them so much that they must be important for something in my life).
Now that you have read this, I ask that you help me. When I can't seem to have forgotten what direction I am supposed to be going with my life, remind me to read this post. Then I can remember where exactly I am going.
It'll make the most stressful time of the quarter a little easier on me.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Splattered Orange Juice
Once upon a time, I sat at a large round table in the lunch room with a group of band friends.
A boy from a different table, one of the "cool kids" who no one at my table was friends with, came and sat next to us, bringing his plastic bottle of orange juice.
Odd thing about this bottle; he had squished in the sides, destroying the original shape.
After a few moments he left, forgetting his juice in the crushed bottle.
Just as I was about to take his orange juice to his table for him, the squished sides popped out, and juice came flying out of the bottle and splattered my friends and I.
The guy's table busted up laughing.
Rude.
I grabbed the bottle and tossed it in the garbage. Only after did I consider pouring the remaining juice on his carefully combed hair and all over his designer t-shirt.
Those kids thought they were better than us and could push us around. It is easy to laugh at those who aren't as bold, flashy, or laugh quite as loudly as you do. But it is one of the most humiliating things that could possibly happen to a high school freshman.
Senior year of high school, I became friends with those cool kids.
A Vietnamese girl was sitting with us at the table during lunch. She had lived in America for several years, but her English still wasn't the best.
When she got up to leave the table, a "cool dude" said that she should learn to speak English or get out of America.
I laid into him for his rude, uncalled for, insensitive comment.
We never spoke again.
I would so much rather never speak to the "cool kids" if it means I can uphold the weak in society.
A boy from a different table, one of the "cool kids" who no one at my table was friends with, came and sat next to us, bringing his plastic bottle of orange juice.
Odd thing about this bottle; he had squished in the sides, destroying the original shape.
After a few moments he left, forgetting his juice in the crushed bottle.
Just as I was about to take his orange juice to his table for him, the squished sides popped out, and juice came flying out of the bottle and splattered my friends and I.
The guy's table busted up laughing.
Rude.
I grabbed the bottle and tossed it in the garbage. Only after did I consider pouring the remaining juice on his carefully combed hair and all over his designer t-shirt.
Those kids thought they were better than us and could push us around. It is easy to laugh at those who aren't as bold, flashy, or laugh quite as loudly as you do. But it is one of the most humiliating things that could possibly happen to a high school freshman.
We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves." -Romans 15:1That means if you are the confident, fun loving kid with all the friends, you should not tease the kid who sits alone in the lunch room because it makes you laugh. Instead, you need to stand by the loner kid-they need your help.
Senior year of high school, I became friends with those cool kids.
A Vietnamese girl was sitting with us at the table during lunch. She had lived in America for several years, but her English still wasn't the best.
When she got up to leave the table, a "cool dude" said that she should learn to speak English or get out of America.
I laid into him for his rude, uncalled for, insensitive comment.
We never spoke again.
I would so much rather never speak to the "cool kids" if it means I can uphold the weak in society.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Faith, Trust, and...Pixie Dust?
Trust.
It seems to be a problem of mine, or else Jesus wouldn't bring it up so often.
How big is faith like a mustard seed anyway?
They say that if you have enough faith to ask some one if they need prayer, you have faith at least as big as a mustard seed. The mountain you pray for will be moved.
I have faith to pray for this situation.
God said it will happen, but it hasn't yet. Now I have to trust.
The bible says to trust with "all your heart." How do I trust with all my heart when my heart is aching because the very thing that I'm praying for is ripping it apart?
I simply need to remember I wont be put to shame. I wont be embarrassed, or teased, laughed at or ridiculed. I just need to trust.
Wouldn't it be easier if everyone I know with tough stuff going on could fly away from these situations and take a break from all the crap that makes our lives suck on a daily basis?
Sadly, there is no such thing as pixie dust.
Back to plan A; I need to learn to trust.
It seems to be a problem of mine, or else Jesus wouldn't bring it up so often.
I'm terrified to say everything is going to be all right. I believe Jesus told me so, but what if I say it and it doesn't actually happen? Does that mean my faith is smaller than a mustard seed, because I'm facing a mountain and it doesn't seem to be moving so much?"As the scripture says, 'Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.'" Romans 10:11
How big is faith like a mustard seed anyway?
They say that if you have enough faith to ask some one if they need prayer, you have faith at least as big as a mustard seed. The mountain you pray for will be moved.
I have faith to pray for this situation.
God said it will happen, but it hasn't yet. Now I have to trust.
The bible says to trust with "all your heart." How do I trust with all my heart when my heart is aching because the very thing that I'm praying for is ripping it apart?
I simply need to remember I wont be put to shame. I wont be embarrassed, or teased, laughed at or ridiculed. I just need to trust.
Wouldn't it be easier if everyone I know with tough stuff going on could fly away from these situations and take a break from all the crap that makes our lives suck on a daily basis?
Sadly, there is no such thing as pixie dust.
Back to plan A; I need to learn to trust.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Gratitude
I love thanksgiving!
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, to write down everything I am thankful for is impossible. The list would be so incredibly long that I would die from hunger before I finished; especially considering that I have not eaten breakfast yet.
Therefore, I've decided to do an abbreviated list focusing on why I am thankful to be at my house, as opposed to still being at school.
Have a happy Thanksgiving!
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, to write down everything I am thankful for is impossible. The list would be so incredibly long that I would die from hunger before I finished; especially considering that I have not eaten breakfast yet.
Therefore, I've decided to do an abbreviated list focusing on why I am thankful to be at my house, as opposed to still being at school.
- Better quality toilet paper: I never realized that I missed it until I used the bathroom and my fingers weren't slightly damp afterwards.
- A fully equipped kitchen: butter knifes and itty bitty sauce pans have their limits, but my Mom's kitchen? Anything is possible there!
- My own room: no, I did not get dressed right after getting out of the shower yesterday. I laid under the covers and watched a TV show for two hours instead. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that, but when some one you hardly know catches you naked, it makes being naked in your room a little less comforting. Unless, of course, they have seen you naked since you/they were born (i.e. my mom, my sisters etc)
- A comfy couch: the stupid couches at school have hard backs and solid arm rests, but real couches in real houses are much more squishy.
- One toilet, one shower, one sink, one person: I really love the girls on my floor, but did you ever want to brush your teeth alone? Call me crazy, but sometimes I do.
- Hand Towels: students at colleges across the country use so many paper towels in all of their bathrooms. I wash my hands, I dry them with the paper towels. I wash my face, I dry them with the paper towels. I spill stuff on the floor, I dry it with paper towels. I need tissue paper to wrap a present in, I use paper towels. SO MANY DEAD TREES!
- Hugs: family gives hugs all the time, without the awkward "who's on top?" and "I don't like touch" problems. I am certain I do not get enough hugs at school, and it is bad for my health.
- Predictable "floormates": yesterday, my little sister came into my room. She set her scarf on my desk and her coffee on my window sill. Despite her promise to remember both when she left, I still bet against her. As predicted, both the coffee and scarf were there long after she left. It is comforting to know the habits of the people around you.
- Friendly Fire: as in, fighting-my-littlest-sister-tooth-and-nail-for-the-chocolate-that-I-stole-from-her-because-if-I-didn't-steal-hers-first-she-might-have-stolen-mine-and-I-wanted-to-win. Considering I enjoyed two truffles compared to her single piece, I consider myself victorious.
- Mediation: when two of the sisters start fighting, without fail the third, and/or fourth, will step up to try and stop the argument. No one came to my rescue when my roommate-whom-I-love-so-much was sitting on me the other day. (POST-PUBLICATION EDIT: My roommate whom-I-love-so-much would like me to add that I was sittng on her pillows, therefore deserving of being sat on. I, on the other hand, would like to add that she took my keys and phone, which is I why sat on her pillows)
- The Wii: that's right, a video game system. Granted, we've only got two racing games, Super Mario Bros, Wii Fit, Wii Sport, and Wii Sport Resort, but that sister I fought tooth and nail for chocolate? Well, I get to blow her up, push her off cliffs, stab her with a sword, and bounce of her head as much as I darn well please. Or, if we are so inclined, work with her to beat up on everyone else.
- A toaster that toasts evenly: I'm so tired of burnt toast.
- My Doggie: always wanting affection, always giving affection.
- Parents: they are among my favorite people in the world and I much prefer talking to them face to face. Facebook chats and phone calls are in no way comparable to real life conversation. Not to mention my Mom is a fantastic inspiration, and my Dad can fix anything, even my hurting relationships.
- Grandparents: especially those that call me Rachel Elf and tell me how proud they are of me and feed me Elf food when I help them do holiday things. Oh, and then there's the Grandma who makes macaroni and cheese with bacon, and does anything sewing-related that I ask for. I'm a pretty lucky girl!
Have a happy Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Romance
Romance.
Sometimes I think it is the most poorly defined word in society today, or perhaps the most under used.
Media portrays fit and fine people out dancing, drinking, and otherwise merry making. The hot man manages to woo the sexy woman for a night of love making, and life goes on. Maybe the relationship will continue, maybe it will end; but that depends on whether it is a movie or a tv show.
You could call this a romance, but it is also called a fling. To fling is to throw away. Children fling boogers. I fling things out of my closet after deciding not to wear them. Banana peels are flung into the garbage.
No one needs to be treated like some one else's garbage.
Have some self respect and hold out for a real romance.
A real romance is like art. It takes time and effort, mistakes are made, not everyone agrees what the final product should look like, and it lasts forever if properly perserved. Without constant effort the canvas becomes nothing more than a piece of trash.
Does it suck? Sometimes, yes. If I ever figure out how not to wish I had a date on Valentine's Day or for Mr. Darcy to step out of the pages, I will be sure to let you know. Heck, if you solve these problems tell me how! But until then I plan to constantly remind myself that I deserve way more than to be some one else's garbage. God has much better plans for me (and you) than that!
Sometimes I think it is the most poorly defined word in society today, or perhaps the most under used.
Media portrays fit and fine people out dancing, drinking, and otherwise merry making. The hot man manages to woo the sexy woman for a night of love making, and life goes on. Maybe the relationship will continue, maybe it will end; but that depends on whether it is a movie or a tv show.
You could call this a romance, but it is also called a fling. To fling is to throw away. Children fling boogers. I fling things out of my closet after deciding not to wear them. Banana peels are flung into the garbage.
No one needs to be treated like some one else's garbage.
Have some self respect and hold out for a real romance.
A real romance is like art. It takes time and effort, mistakes are made, not everyone agrees what the final product should look like, and it lasts forever if properly perserved. Without constant effort the canvas becomes nothing more than a piece of trash.
Does it suck? Sometimes, yes. If I ever figure out how not to wish I had a date on Valentine's Day or for Mr. Darcy to step out of the pages, I will be sure to let you know. Heck, if you solve these problems tell me how! But until then I plan to constantly remind myself that I deserve way more than to be some one else's garbage. God has much better plans for me (and you) than that!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Power of One
"Consequently, just as the result of one trespass was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all me." -Romans 5:18One act condemned humanity to hell; one act gave us the oppurtunity to live in eternal bliss.
One person, one act, and history is changed.
There is so much power in one.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Suffering is Necessary
Why do we suffer? So we can have hope."Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, becasue we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character; and character hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God as poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit whom he has given us." Romans 5:3-5
Can't God give us hope without suffering? If we never suffered, we would not know what hope is.
Take Eve. God told her not to eat the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Then some snake comes along and tells her to, so she does.
It's easy to look at her and say how dumb she is. God, the maker of heaven and earth, the awe-inspiring being who walks with you through the garden on a regular basis, says not to do something. A lowly animal tells you that you should. Who are you going to listen to?
When I thought about that, I instantly decided Eve must have been an idiot.
Then I wondered, did Eve know what "evil" meant? I imagine the Garden of Eden had nothing evil in it, so how could she have really understood what eating the fruit from that tree would do? Like telling a child the stove is hot, until they touch the red burners, they probably will not believe you. Instead of believing God that eating the fruit was wrong, she decided to try it herself.
I wonder if I would have done the same thing.
Then I got to thinking; why would God even plant such a tree in the garden? I mean, it was his decision to put it there. And, being the all powerful being that he is, he knew what would happen because of it.
I believe God put it there because he does not want to make our choices for us. Yes, ask him what to do and he will tell you, but God wanted Adam and Eve to choose for themselves if they were going to follow his perfect will for their lives, or not. This is the way God chose to let them make that decision..
Unfortunately, humanity is now forced to suffer. But, God promises that through suffering, we will have hope, and hope will never fail us.
"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end."
I'm afraid I don't know who said that, but I truely believe it. So long as things are "not okay" there will be people with the gumption to fight back; there will be hope. Without suffering, we cannot have hope. Without hope, there are no expectations for the future, good or bad. We would all probably kill ourselves.
For that reason, suffering is necessary because hope is vital.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
3 Wishes
Once upon a time there lived a young woman named Rose.
Poor Rose's garden looked utterly despondent. Her flowers were browning, aphids had taken over, and the tomatoes refused to grow. In an effort to bring new life to her yard, she rolled up her sleeves and pushed her spade into the ground and withdrew a clump of earth. Returning her shovel to the ground, she heard a quiet "clink." Curious, she pushed the dirt out of the way and discovered a teapot buried there.
Painted a deep shade of purple with elaborate gold filigree, Rose was surpised to find it there. She removed it from the ground and worked to rub away the dirt with her coat sleeve.
Suddenly, the teapot began to vigorously shake! A puff of glitter spewed from the spout and a little girl appeared!
Wearing a gold tutu with purple polka-dots, she floated three feet above the ground in order to make herself eye level with Rose. After taking a moment to adjust the golden curls surrounding a cheribic face, the little person bowed to Rose and said, "Your wish is my command!"
"Oh dear!" said Rose. "What are you?"
"I am a genie, Rose. I live in that teapot and only come out when it is rubbed by mortals. It is quite cozy, actually, andI would very much like to go back. Unfortunatley I am doomed to remain out here until I grant three wishes for the bearer of the teapot."
"You enjoy living in this thing?" asked Rose.
"Yes I do! I have filled it with the most wonderful things; sunshine, rainbows, crunchy leaves, green trees, and chocolate milk cows."
At first Rose was suprised that so many things fit into that ordinary sized tea pot, but then she realized she was talking to a genie, and decided it was not worth meditating on. Instead she asked what she should call her new companion.
"Gertrude," was the response. "But enough with the formalities, please Rose, let me grant you three wishes so that I may go back home."
Since she had been working in her garden anyway, Rose wished her garden was beautiful.
"As you wish," responded Gertrude, who pulled out a handkerchief and began sneezing. The cheerless garden turned into a flowering Eden, complete with water feature. "I threw that in as a bonus," she explained.
Rose was astounded! Her feet carried her around her new yard as she soaked in all the sights and smells. Stunning flowers in a rainbow of colors, grass softer than a feather bed, and grape tomatoes the size of apples!
But Gertrude was impatient. Floating in front of Rose as she wandered, she demanded another wish be asked. "You have the rest of your life to enjoy your garden, now help me get back to mine!"
Rose looked around herself. Between the branches of her vivacious apple tree, she could see her delapitated house. The shutters were falling, the paint was peeling, the roof leaked, and the door was so difficult to open that Rose had resorted to climbing through the window.
"I wish my house could look like the darling country cottage it was intended to be."
Pulling out her hankie and falling into a second sneezing fit more violent than the last, Gertrude transformed the crumbling shack into a house directly out of a story book. Painted yellow with a dark red door and calico curtains in the window, Rose fell instantly in love.
But before she could cross the threshold, Gertrude blocked her path once more. "I will not let you in your home until you send me back to mine!"
Dissapointed, but not wanting to upset the Genie too much, Rose stepped back into her garden.
As she stood there, she caught a glimpse of herself in her new fountain. She despised her appearance. Her hair never sat right, her cheeks always had a ruddy hue, and her nose seemed to be the most prominent feature on her face.
"My garden is beautiful, my house is beautiful, I wish I was beautiful too!"
Gertrude pulled out her hankie, made one, delicate sniffle, and zipped towards the teapot. But Rose jerked it away as she turned to look at her reflection.
"Nothing has changed!" she cried in despair. "You could grow my dying garden and fix my broken house, but I am so far gone that nothing can be done for me!"
Offended, Gertrude retorted, "Now wait a minute! I did my job, you are beautiful, so let me back to my house!" Making a dash for her teapot, she caught sight of the tears streaming down Rose's face. With an exasperated sigh, she tried again.
"Your garden was pretty bad, so it took quite a sneeze to fix it. Your house was much worse, and it took even more sneezing to fix that. You, on the other hand, have always been beautiful. All you took was a sniffle to get the dirt out from under your finger nails."
Rose looked at her, unconvinced. "Then why do the other girls look so much prettier than me all the time?"
"Don't you know? God made you beautiful in your own way, completely different than anyone else's beauty. So stop crying and let me go home!"
Rose uncovered the teapot and Gertrude shrunk to the size of a push pin and slid down the spout.
Drying her eyes, Rose looked at her reflection once more. Her hair had too much life to sit a certain way, her cheeks were rosy, not ruddy, and her nose seemed much more appropriately sized than she realized.
Looking around her, she realized Gertrude must be right. The Genie had enough power to make the garden utterly glorious and the house completely charming, Rose must be beautiful too.
Beauty, she decided, is not a scale with which to compare who is prettiest. "Beauty simpy is, and it is all over me."
Poor Rose's garden looked utterly despondent. Her flowers were browning, aphids had taken over, and the tomatoes refused to grow. In an effort to bring new life to her yard, she rolled up her sleeves and pushed her spade into the ground and withdrew a clump of earth. Returning her shovel to the ground, she heard a quiet "clink." Curious, she pushed the dirt out of the way and discovered a teapot buried there.
Painted a deep shade of purple with elaborate gold filigree, Rose was surpised to find it there. She removed it from the ground and worked to rub away the dirt with her coat sleeve.
Suddenly, the teapot began to vigorously shake! A puff of glitter spewed from the spout and a little girl appeared!
Wearing a gold tutu with purple polka-dots, she floated three feet above the ground in order to make herself eye level with Rose. After taking a moment to adjust the golden curls surrounding a cheribic face, the little person bowed to Rose and said, "Your wish is my command!"
"Oh dear!" said Rose. "What are you?"
"I am a genie, Rose. I live in that teapot and only come out when it is rubbed by mortals. It is quite cozy, actually, andI would very much like to go back. Unfortunatley I am doomed to remain out here until I grant three wishes for the bearer of the teapot."
"You enjoy living in this thing?" asked Rose.
"Yes I do! I have filled it with the most wonderful things; sunshine, rainbows, crunchy leaves, green trees, and chocolate milk cows."
At first Rose was suprised that so many things fit into that ordinary sized tea pot, but then she realized she was talking to a genie, and decided it was not worth meditating on. Instead she asked what she should call her new companion.
"Gertrude," was the response. "But enough with the formalities, please Rose, let me grant you three wishes so that I may go back home."
Since she had been working in her garden anyway, Rose wished her garden was beautiful.
"As you wish," responded Gertrude, who pulled out a handkerchief and began sneezing. The cheerless garden turned into a flowering Eden, complete with water feature. "I threw that in as a bonus," she explained.
Rose was astounded! Her feet carried her around her new yard as she soaked in all the sights and smells. Stunning flowers in a rainbow of colors, grass softer than a feather bed, and grape tomatoes the size of apples!
But Gertrude was impatient. Floating in front of Rose as she wandered, she demanded another wish be asked. "You have the rest of your life to enjoy your garden, now help me get back to mine!"
Rose looked around herself. Between the branches of her vivacious apple tree, she could see her delapitated house. The shutters were falling, the paint was peeling, the roof leaked, and the door was so difficult to open that Rose had resorted to climbing through the window.
"I wish my house could look like the darling country cottage it was intended to be."
Pulling out her hankie and falling into a second sneezing fit more violent than the last, Gertrude transformed the crumbling shack into a house directly out of a story book. Painted yellow with a dark red door and calico curtains in the window, Rose fell instantly in love.
But before she could cross the threshold, Gertrude blocked her path once more. "I will not let you in your home until you send me back to mine!"
Dissapointed, but not wanting to upset the Genie too much, Rose stepped back into her garden.
As she stood there, she caught a glimpse of herself in her new fountain. She despised her appearance. Her hair never sat right, her cheeks always had a ruddy hue, and her nose seemed to be the most prominent feature on her face.
"My garden is beautiful, my house is beautiful, I wish I was beautiful too!"
Gertrude pulled out her hankie, made one, delicate sniffle, and zipped towards the teapot. But Rose jerked it away as she turned to look at her reflection.
"Nothing has changed!" she cried in despair. "You could grow my dying garden and fix my broken house, but I am so far gone that nothing can be done for me!"
Offended, Gertrude retorted, "Now wait a minute! I did my job, you are beautiful, so let me back to my house!" Making a dash for her teapot, she caught sight of the tears streaming down Rose's face. With an exasperated sigh, she tried again.
"Your garden was pretty bad, so it took quite a sneeze to fix it. Your house was much worse, and it took even more sneezing to fix that. You, on the other hand, have always been beautiful. All you took was a sniffle to get the dirt out from under your finger nails."
Rose looked at her, unconvinced. "Then why do the other girls look so much prettier than me all the time?"
"Don't you know? God made you beautiful in your own way, completely different than anyone else's beauty. So stop crying and let me go home!"
Rose uncovered the teapot and Gertrude shrunk to the size of a push pin and slid down the spout.
Drying her eyes, Rose looked at her reflection once more. Her hair had too much life to sit a certain way, her cheeks were rosy, not ruddy, and her nose seemed much more appropriately sized than she realized.
Looking around her, she realized Gertrude must be right. The Genie had enough power to make the garden utterly glorious and the house completely charming, Rose must be beautiful too.
Beauty, she decided, is not a scale with which to compare who is prettiest. "Beauty simpy is, and it is all over me."
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Man Whose Daughter Died
"Don't be afraid; just believe," said Jesus to a man who had just heard his daughter was dead.
Not exactly what I would want to hear if my daughter just died. Seriously, grief has begun to cloud my mind. "Just believe?" Who the heck wants to hear that?
And yet, that is exactly what this man needed to hear!
This man's name was Jairus, and was a Synagogue Ruler. He had found Jesus and asked him to come and heal his daughter at his house. She was very sick, but Jairus believed that if Jesus put his hand on her, she would be healed.
Jesus, Jairus, and a large crowd were on their way to get this little girl healed, when some men from Jairus's house told him that his daughter was dead; that it was usless to bring Jesus over anymore.
That's when Jesus said his line: "Don't be afraid; just believe."
The man continued to believe.
How do I know this? Because when Jesus got to Jairus's house, he healed the little girl. Without Jairus's faith, that could not have happened, but it did. Faith was certainly there.
The moral of the story? Yes, faith can do anything;, Jesus can do anything, but I believe there is more. Jesus knew that when Jairus heard his daughter was dead, he would plunge into the depths of despair. His mind would cloud; grief would take over. Tears were going to flow, and hope would flee. Jesus understood what those words would mean to Jairus.
So, instead of declaring "Well, you obviously don't have enough faith, so I'm gonna jet," Jesus said "What a second; don't panic. I've got this. Just believe in me like you did before. Nothing has really changed, I can still do this."
Jesus had grace for the poor Jairus. Grace grace grace. Whenever our faith is fleeting, whenever we are ready to despair, Jesus has grace.
P.S. This story can be found in Mark 5:21-43
Not exactly what I would want to hear if my daughter just died. Seriously, grief has begun to cloud my mind. "Just believe?" Who the heck wants to hear that?
And yet, that is exactly what this man needed to hear!
This man's name was Jairus, and was a Synagogue Ruler. He had found Jesus and asked him to come and heal his daughter at his house. She was very sick, but Jairus believed that if Jesus put his hand on her, she would be healed.
Jesus, Jairus, and a large crowd were on their way to get this little girl healed, when some men from Jairus's house told him that his daughter was dead; that it was usless to bring Jesus over anymore.
That's when Jesus said his line: "Don't be afraid; just believe."
The man continued to believe.
How do I know this? Because when Jesus got to Jairus's house, he healed the little girl. Without Jairus's faith, that could not have happened, but it did. Faith was certainly there.
The moral of the story? Yes, faith can do anything;, Jesus can do anything, but I believe there is more. Jesus knew that when Jairus heard his daughter was dead, he would plunge into the depths of despair. His mind would cloud; grief would take over. Tears were going to flow, and hope would flee. Jesus understood what those words would mean to Jairus.
So, instead of declaring "Well, you obviously don't have enough faith, so I'm gonna jet," Jesus said "What a second; don't panic. I've got this. Just believe in me like you did before. Nothing has really changed, I can still do this."
Jesus had grace for the poor Jairus. Grace grace grace. Whenever our faith is fleeting, whenever we are ready to despair, Jesus has grace.
P.S. This story can be found in Mark 5:21-43
The Bleeding Woman
A woman was bleeding for twelve years. Anything she did to get better only made it worse.
Misery.
Taking a step of faith, she saw Jesus in a crowd and manuvered close to him. Reaching out and touching the edge of his cloak, she was healed. Twelve years of shame, and pain, gone.
Despite the fact that Jesus was surrounded by people touching him, pushing against him, pressing close upon him, he knew that one woman had touched him. He wanted to see her face and speak to her. She mattered that much to him. It was not important that he was supposed to be going with a Synogogue Ruler to his house; Mr. Big Cheese could wait. Jesus needed to talk to this woman.
The woman fell at his feet, trembling with fear, and told him what happened. He told her "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering."
Faith.
After twelve long years. After many, many doctors who only made her condition worse. After suffering continuously, without respite. After being shut out from society. After having shame reaped on upon her head. After all of this, she had faith enough to try one more thing.
Heck, who knows? Perhaps her mind was filled with doubt. Perhaps the screams telling her it would not work all but drowned out the tiny whisper of hope; but that tiny whisper was all it took. That miniscule breeze that could scarcely stir the fog of despair was all the faith it took to reach for the cloak hem and heal 12 years of suffering.
Woah.
If that little faith can accomplish that much, then why haven't the Christians of the world stepped up and used it yet?
P.S. This story can be found in Mark 5:25-34
Misery.
Taking a step of faith, she saw Jesus in a crowd and manuvered close to him. Reaching out and touching the edge of his cloak, she was healed. Twelve years of shame, and pain, gone.
Despite the fact that Jesus was surrounded by people touching him, pushing against him, pressing close upon him, he knew that one woman had touched him. He wanted to see her face and speak to her. She mattered that much to him. It was not important that he was supposed to be going with a Synogogue Ruler to his house; Mr. Big Cheese could wait. Jesus needed to talk to this woman.
The woman fell at his feet, trembling with fear, and told him what happened. He told her "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering."
Faith.
After twelve long years. After many, many doctors who only made her condition worse. After suffering continuously, without respite. After being shut out from society. After having shame reaped on upon her head. After all of this, she had faith enough to try one more thing.
Heck, who knows? Perhaps her mind was filled with doubt. Perhaps the screams telling her it would not work all but drowned out the tiny whisper of hope; but that tiny whisper was all it took. That miniscule breeze that could scarcely stir the fog of despair was all the faith it took to reach for the cloak hem and heal 12 years of suffering.
Woah.
If that little faith can accomplish that much, then why haven't the Christians of the world stepped up and used it yet?
P.S. This story can be found in Mark 5:25-34
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Eye Contact
Imagine a beautiful fall day. The sun is shining, the leaves are crunch, and the air is just crisp enough for to wear your new coat. Glorious.
You stroll down the sidewalk, feeling in good humor with the rest of the world, and see a stranger striding towards you.
Uh-oh. Dilema.
Do you smile at them? Because if they don't smile back you might feel like an idiot. But if they smile and you don't, you'll look like a jerk. How about a head nod? A head nod has far too many potential implications! They might think all kinds of things about a head nod! Oh no, time is running out! They have almost stepped into "acceptable greeting" distance! AND you made eye contact! No turning back now, do something!
In a panic, you press your lips against your teeth, hoping you look cheerful--and they do the same thing back. This, awkward facial expression is not quite smile; teeth are not shown and the cheeks are not at all lifted.
This expression is in fact a grimace.
Instead of a friendly, kind face that shares the joys of the day, the general population has reduced their greetings to a grimace as if to share the burden of this life; a proof that you are not alone in your misery.
Good grief. Eye contact is just no fun anymore.
You stroll down the sidewalk, feeling in good humor with the rest of the world, and see a stranger striding towards you.
Uh-oh. Dilema.
Do you smile at them? Because if they don't smile back you might feel like an idiot. But if they smile and you don't, you'll look like a jerk. How about a head nod? A head nod has far too many potential implications! They might think all kinds of things about a head nod! Oh no, time is running out! They have almost stepped into "acceptable greeting" distance! AND you made eye contact! No turning back now, do something!
In a panic, you press your lips against your teeth, hoping you look cheerful--and they do the same thing back. This, awkward facial expression is not quite smile; teeth are not shown and the cheeks are not at all lifted.
This expression is in fact a grimace.
Instead of a friendly, kind face that shares the joys of the day, the general population has reduced their greetings to a grimace as if to share the burden of this life; a proof that you are not alone in your misery.
Good grief. Eye contact is just no fun anymore.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Blushes
God blushes.
I know this because when I sincerely tell him how wonderful he is, I can feel the heat from his cheeks warm me to the core.
I know this because when I sincerely tell him how wonderful he is, I can feel the heat from his cheeks warm me to the core.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Identity
Who am I? Not my name, but when people think of Rachel, who is she?
The easiest answer to this question comes in the form of titles. It appears most often in the form of an automatic signature at the end of each of my e-mails, telling my name and all of the important positions I hold in different organizations.
But that is not the correct answer to the question. Titles generally only last for the school year anyway, at least at this point in my life.
So then the question must be more specific. Who is Rachel now that will stay the same forever? Who is "Rachel" at her core?
Oh boy; that's a tough one. Even after two weeks of pondering, I could not come up with a real answer. Finally, I did what should have been obvious; I asked Jesus.
"Who am I God? Who did you make me to be?"
These are the verses he showed me.
Acts 11:24 "He [Barnabas] was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and faith, and a great number of people were brought to the Lord."
Acts 13:22b "'I [God] have found David son of Jesse a man after my own heart; he will do everything I want him to do.'"
Obviously, I am neither Barnabas nor David. But the name isn't the important thing here. I want to be considered a good woman, full of the Holy Spirit and faith, and lead a great number of people to the Lord. I want Jesus to look at me and say "Rachel is a woman after my own heart; she will do everything I want her to do."
So, back to the question, "Who am I?"
I am a traveler on the road to who I will be; a woman after God's own heart.
The easiest answer to this question comes in the form of titles. It appears most often in the form of an automatic signature at the end of each of my e-mails, telling my name and all of the important positions I hold in different organizations.
But that is not the correct answer to the question. Titles generally only last for the school year anyway, at least at this point in my life.
So then the question must be more specific. Who is Rachel now that will stay the same forever? Who is "Rachel" at her core?
Oh boy; that's a tough one. Even after two weeks of pondering, I could not come up with a real answer. Finally, I did what should have been obvious; I asked Jesus.
"Who am I God? Who did you make me to be?"
These are the verses he showed me.
Acts 11:24 "He [Barnabas] was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and faith, and a great number of people were brought to the Lord."
Acts 13:22b "'I [God] have found David son of Jesse a man after my own heart; he will do everything I want him to do.'"
Obviously, I am neither Barnabas nor David. But the name isn't the important thing here. I want to be considered a good woman, full of the Holy Spirit and faith, and lead a great number of people to the Lord. I want Jesus to look at me and say "Rachel is a woman after my own heart; she will do everything I want her to do."
So, back to the question, "Who am I?"
I am a traveler on the road to who I will be; a woman after God's own heart.
Monday, October 25, 2010
What should I wear today Jesus?
What does it mean to really follow Jesus? What would my day look like if I did everything the way he asked me to? Would he really care to answer if I asked what I should wear that day? I mean really, in the massive universe full of starts and billions of people, to some one who knows all that was, all that is, and all that will be, does it all really matter?
I've read the bible. I know my name is written on the palm of his hand and that he knows the numbers of hairs on my head and the stars in the sky, but what is the point of knowing the hairs on my head? How does that affect in any way how the universe operates? What difference does it make in the big picture of things?
As I asked the question, Jesus answered. He said the number of hairs on my head do not affect the way the universe operates. Campus is so much bigger than the hairs on my head, let alone the universe.
"But I care anyway."
I've been watching "Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman" in my free time, and I think Jesus is like Superman, and I'm like Lois Lane. I constantly get myself in difficult situations and he is always there to take care of me. No matter how many windows I get pushed through, his arms are always there to catch me. When I'm scared and can't sleep, all I need to do is rest in him and I will find peace. He threatens the bad guys, "If you hurt one hair on her head..." because he cares how many hairs I have.
So what would it look like if I asked God what I should wear every morning? I think he would say, "Rachel, I made you a beautiful person. I have given you these clothes to accent that beauty. Pick whatever makes you feel good today. You will look wonderful."
I've read the bible. I know my name is written on the palm of his hand and that he knows the numbers of hairs on my head and the stars in the sky, but what is the point of knowing the hairs on my head? How does that affect in any way how the universe operates? What difference does it make in the big picture of things?
As I asked the question, Jesus answered. He said the number of hairs on my head do not affect the way the universe operates. Campus is so much bigger than the hairs on my head, let alone the universe.
"But I care anyway."
I've been watching "Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman" in my free time, and I think Jesus is like Superman, and I'm like Lois Lane. I constantly get myself in difficult situations and he is always there to take care of me. No matter how many windows I get pushed through, his arms are always there to catch me. When I'm scared and can't sleep, all I need to do is rest in him and I will find peace. He threatens the bad guys, "If you hurt one hair on her head..." because he cares how many hairs I have.
So what would it look like if I asked God what I should wear every morning? I think he would say, "Rachel, I made you a beautiful person. I have given you these clothes to accent that beauty. Pick whatever makes you feel good today. You will look wonderful."
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Love Like Woah
Hello World,
You hurt my feelings.
I love you.
You spat on my face.
I love you.
You gave me the middle finger.
I love you.
You ignored me.
I love you.
You spurned my love.
I love you still.
You have done many terrible things.
I forgive you.
I have forgotten it all.
My love is patient.
My love is kind.
My love doesn't keep score.
This love is not an emotion, but a choice.
I choose to love you forever.
I love you.
-God
You hurt my feelings.
I love you.
You spat on my face.
I love you.
You gave me the middle finger.
I love you.
You ignored me.
I love you.
You spurned my love.
I love you still.
You have done many terrible things.
I forgive you.
I have forgotten it all.
My love is patient.
My love is kind.
My love doesn't keep score.
This love is not an emotion, but a choice.
I choose to love you forever.
I love you.
-God
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Lessons from a SuperDog
Call me immature, call me childish. Tell the world I have not yet chosen to grow up. I don't care. I truly enjoy the movie Bolt.
Bolt is the story of an ordinary dog who thinks that he has super powers. Super strength, super bark, super vision, he believes he can do it all. When is owner is allegedly kidnapped, he travels across the country to rescue her from her terrible fate. Despite the fact that is super strength vanishes, his bark has become ordinary, and he really can't see that well, Bolt continues to fight against all odds because he believes that he can not fail. In the end, he manages to not only find his beloved Penny, but he rescues her from certain death. He believed he could not fail; and, did you notice? He didn't.
Bolt believed that he could do anything; and I think that is a vital lesson for us all. My Pastor often asks the question, "What would happen if we actually believed this stuff?" If we actually believed we could do all things through Christ? If we actually thought our itty bitty faith could move mountains?
When I was a kid, adults at church always fed me the same line. "God may not do what you ask him to. He knows best and it will all happen in his perfect timing." As such, I have always prayed with the expectation that my prayer probably would not be answered, and only now do I realize the folly of my ways. God can do anything, but how much more if we actually believed it?
I propose to be like Bolt. While I do not intend to live my life believing I cross wide ravines in a single bound, I choose to believe that through the power within me, I cannot fail.
Bolt is the story of an ordinary dog who thinks that he has super powers. Super strength, super bark, super vision, he believes he can do it all. When is owner is allegedly kidnapped, he travels across the country to rescue her from her terrible fate. Despite the fact that is super strength vanishes, his bark has become ordinary, and he really can't see that well, Bolt continues to fight against all odds because he believes that he can not fail. In the end, he manages to not only find his beloved Penny, but he rescues her from certain death. He believed he could not fail; and, did you notice? He didn't.
Bolt believed that he could do anything; and I think that is a vital lesson for us all. My Pastor often asks the question, "What would happen if we actually believed this stuff?" If we actually believed we could do all things through Christ? If we actually thought our itty bitty faith could move mountains?
When I was a kid, adults at church always fed me the same line. "God may not do what you ask him to. He knows best and it will all happen in his perfect timing." As such, I have always prayed with the expectation that my prayer probably would not be answered, and only now do I realize the folly of my ways. God can do anything, but how much more if we actually believed it?
I propose to be like Bolt. While I do not intend to live my life believing I cross wide ravines in a single bound, I choose to believe that through the power within me, I cannot fail.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
How Good I Am Not
I have been a church kid my whole life. In fact, it is hard to remember a Sunday without a church service of some sort. I know many verses, thousands of worship songs, and most bible stories. I even used to teach a Sunday school class on a regular basis. I know Jesus is my provider, my protector, my healer, my comforter, and he loves me more than I could possibly imagine; but some how between the Sunday school classes, summer camps, and missions trip, I never really understood a very important aspect of the Christian faith-Jesus as my Savior. The one to rescue me from the horrible things I have done.
I have never done any of the "big" sins; never murdered, never abused any substances, never had pre-marital sex, and never robbed even a piggy bank. I have told lies, disobeyed and disrespected my parents, treated my sisters badly, been extremely prideful, and horribly judged people before I knew them. Even so, I've never had "that moment." The one where you find yourself covered in the filth of your own mistakes, at the end of your rope, in the deepest hole you can dig, and desperately need Jesus to save you from your sins. I have always considered myself to be a pretty good person; at least until I read this verse:
"Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins." James 4:17
Woah.
I am a terribly sinful person.
How could anyone possibly live up to that standard?! To be so completely selfless that they do all the good that they know they ought to do? Always have a listening ear, never say the mean thing on the tip of their tongue, always take less and share more, always give the homeless person a dollar or a meal, always do what they know to be right.
It is impossible. It goes completely against human nature. Without an immense amount of help from Jesus and an incredibly strong will it can never be completely accomplished. I can only imagine the millions of times I have not done the good thing I ought to do, and the BILLIONS of times to come when I will not do what I know to be right.
Suddenly I realize how much I need Jesus to be my Savior. Only he can rescue me from both how bad I am, and how good I am not.
I have never done any of the "big" sins; never murdered, never abused any substances, never had pre-marital sex, and never robbed even a piggy bank. I have told lies, disobeyed and disrespected my parents, treated my sisters badly, been extremely prideful, and horribly judged people before I knew them. Even so, I've never had "that moment." The one where you find yourself covered in the filth of your own mistakes, at the end of your rope, in the deepest hole you can dig, and desperately need Jesus to save you from your sins. I have always considered myself to be a pretty good person; at least until I read this verse:
"Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins." James 4:17
Woah.
I am a terribly sinful person.
How could anyone possibly live up to that standard?! To be so completely selfless that they do all the good that they know they ought to do? Always have a listening ear, never say the mean thing on the tip of their tongue, always take less and share more, always give the homeless person a dollar or a meal, always do what they know to be right.
It is impossible. It goes completely against human nature. Without an immense amount of help from Jesus and an incredibly strong will it can never be completely accomplished. I can only imagine the millions of times I have not done the good thing I ought to do, and the BILLIONS of times to come when I will not do what I know to be right.
Suddenly I realize how much I need Jesus to be my Savior. Only he can rescue me from both how bad I am, and how good I am not.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Eating Vegetables on the Road of Life
Life is often described as a journey. A long road or path we all must walk until we die and go to Heaven or Hell. Many things can happen on this journey; good things, bad things, fun things, sad things, things that hurt and things that heal, things that give and things that steal (the rhyme was entirely unintentional). What really matters is how we react to what we are given. Samwise Gamgee in J.R.R. Tolkien's book entitled The Two Towers would agree with me. For those who are not familiar with The Fellowship of the Ring, Sam is the ever faithful friend of the main character Frodo Baggins. The find themselves on a quest alone and in an evil land, far from the other members of their company who were not only taller, but were also far more capapble. Frodo says how he would never have chosen to be where he is now, but is reconciled to it, understanding that "so our path is laid." He has a task and walking through the destitute land of Morgul is part of it; and there is nothing he can do about it.
Sam is pointing out that no one looks for "adventures" that often lead to headache and frustration (not to mention the constant threat of being captured and mauled by orcs). But it is what you do, when caught in the middle of one at the deepest, darkest, moment, when all hope seems lost, that really matters. Will you turn back in despair? Or will you go forward into victory?
Hebrews chapter 11 is all about faith. Paul lists off many of the great acts of faith in the Old Testament. Noah and the arc, Abraham following when God promised him new lands, Moses' parent's who kept him safe from the Pharaoh, Moses leading the Israelite people, the People trusting to cross the red sea, the People marching around Jericho, Rahab hiding the spies, Gideon, Samson, David, Samuel: far too many to list in one chapter of the bible! All of these people faced a seeming insurmountable challenge. They all had a moment when they could have turned back-when the world seemed too dark to press on, when the risk of ridicule appeared more than one individual could suffer-but they didn't. They pressed on. They kept going, they took the chance, they continued to do what they knew was right.
Why?
Because they had faith. They believed in the good that was promised to them, and it was worth every cost to attain because they knew without a doubt that it would happen.
Allow me to break it down to an experience we can all relate to-eating vegetables. Most kids hate at least one kind of vegetable. And in most families unless you eat those vegetables you will not get dessert. As such, most kids suck it up and eat those vegetables. They suffer through every individual pea, every string bean, or-if their parents are really heartless-every single bite of steamed spinach on their plate, because they know that chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream is coming. It is a complete certainty in their life. Clean your plate of all it's nasty, and you will get a delicious reward.
I want to live with faith that scarfs down vegetables because it will make dessert come even sooner.
"'Yes, that's so,' said Sam. 'And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you pit it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just when on - and not all to a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same - like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of tale we've fallen into?"
Sam is pointing out that no one looks for "adventures" that often lead to headache and frustration (not to mention the constant threat of being captured and mauled by orcs). But it is what you do, when caught in the middle of one at the deepest, darkest, moment, when all hope seems lost, that really matters. Will you turn back in despair? Or will you go forward into victory?
Hebrews chapter 11 is all about faith. Paul lists off many of the great acts of faith in the Old Testament. Noah and the arc, Abraham following when God promised him new lands, Moses' parent's who kept him safe from the Pharaoh, Moses leading the Israelite people, the People trusting to cross the red sea, the People marching around Jericho, Rahab hiding the spies, Gideon, Samson, David, Samuel: far too many to list in one chapter of the bible! All of these people faced a seeming insurmountable challenge. They all had a moment when they could have turned back-when the world seemed too dark to press on, when the risk of ridicule appeared more than one individual could suffer-but they didn't. They pressed on. They kept going, they took the chance, they continued to do what they knew was right.
Why?
Because they had faith. They believed in the good that was promised to them, and it was worth every cost to attain because they knew without a doubt that it would happen.
Allow me to break it down to an experience we can all relate to-eating vegetables. Most kids hate at least one kind of vegetable. And in most families unless you eat those vegetables you will not get dessert. As such, most kids suck it up and eat those vegetables. They suffer through every individual pea, every string bean, or-if their parents are really heartless-every single bite of steamed spinach on their plate, because they know that chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream is coming. It is a complete certainty in their life. Clean your plate of all it's nasty, and you will get a delicious reward.
I want to live with faith that scarfs down vegetables because it will make dessert come even sooner.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Woosh Wash Wish
Oh the things you find on myspace! The following is a poem I wrote for my sophomore year honors english class. My older sister posted it on her blog, and we happed to stumble across it yesterday, so I thought I would share it with the rest of the world! Remember, I was only 14.
Enjoy!
Woosh-Wash-Wish
by Rachel B.
This spot looks cozy.
To there I flit
And quickly settle
As I sit.
The pages ruffle.
The wind feels fair.
I sit down,
And then I'm there.
Woosh-wash-wish
I'm in the castle.
I see the king.
As he bestows
A Diamond ring,
To the Lady
Who won his heart,
She says "Yes!"
My favorite part!
Woosh-wash-wish
Now they stand
To be wed
'Till she falls
and holds her head.
"The Witch!" she cries,
"Has cast a spell!
Her vicious evil
We see befell!"
Woosh-wash-wish
Now let me say,
That evil Witch,
Who has a strange,
And ugly twitch,
Claims that she
Should hold the throne.
And she whimpers,
Like a dog for bone.
Woosh-wash-wish
She owns a dragon
Who is barely tame.
But to save the queen
He must be slain!
A knight is sought
To kill the beast.
Win or not,
There'll be a feast!
Woosh-wash-wish
The scaley brute,
he then attacks!
But our brave knight
just says "Relax!"
Fire and brimstone
Our knight has braved.
Before we know it
the Queen is saved!
Woosh-wash-wish
The King and Queen
are awfully happy.
And now our story,
Gets quite sappy.
They kiss and hug,
And hug and kiss.
And forget the world,
They'll never miss.
Woosh-wash-wish
"The End" it says.
I close the book.
And shortly leave
My sunny nook.
The story's done
Just like the breeze,
That ruffled the pages
With a gentle ease.
Woosh-wash-wish
Enjoy!
Woosh-Wash-Wish
by Rachel B.
This spot looks cozy.
To there I flit
And quickly settle
As I sit.
The pages ruffle.
The wind feels fair.
I sit down,
And then I'm there.
Woosh-wash-wish
I'm in the castle.
I see the king.
As he bestows
A Diamond ring,
To the Lady
Who won his heart,
She says "Yes!"
My favorite part!
Woosh-wash-wish
Now they stand
To be wed
'Till she falls
and holds her head.
"The Witch!" she cries,
"Has cast a spell!
Her vicious evil
We see befell!"
Woosh-wash-wish
Now let me say,
That evil Witch,
Who has a strange,
And ugly twitch,
Claims that she
Should hold the throne.
And she whimpers,
Like a dog for bone.
Woosh-wash-wish
She owns a dragon
Who is barely tame.
But to save the queen
He must be slain!
A knight is sought
To kill the beast.
Win or not,
There'll be a feast!
Woosh-wash-wish
The scaley brute,
he then attacks!
But our brave knight
just says "Relax!"
Fire and brimstone
Our knight has braved.
Before we know it
the Queen is saved!
Woosh-wash-wish
The King and Queen
are awfully happy.
And now our story,
Gets quite sappy.
They kiss and hug,
And hug and kiss.
And forget the world,
They'll never miss.
Woosh-wash-wish
"The End" it says.
I close the book.
And shortly leave
My sunny nook.
The story's done
Just like the breeze,
That ruffled the pages
With a gentle ease.
Woosh-wash-wish
Monday, August 9, 2010
A Depressing Blog
Have you ever read those blogs by people who always talk about how much their lives suck, and give you a horribly depressed feeling after the first three, long winded, sentences that do not actually say anything about what is really going on in the author's life? I have; and I always told myself that I was not going to be one of those bloggers. Instead, I would write about encouraging things, all the good stuff that happens in my life and the lives of the people around me. But tonight I remembered something some wise person some where once said: without the bad stuff, we would not know what "good" is.
Growing up, everything was good. A loving family, great friends, lots of interesting books to read, and many days filled with the backyard play set and glorious sunshine and ridiculous games and delicious home-cooked meals. Sure, my Dad lost his job a few times and, with a stay-at-home Mom, we had no income. We rarely went to restaurants, wore hand-me-down clothes and most vacations consisted of camping trips with other families from the church. It was my job to go to school, do my chores, and get along with my sisters. All fairly easy and entirely uncomplicated tasks. Life was simple. Life was good.
So when did that change? Why did things become so much more complicated? Why does the "good life" now require a cute hair cut, a sexy body, stylish clothes, and constant fun and smiles?
I put to the court that my life is good. Yes, I have a full time job this summer and I have limited fun time. Yes, academic scholarships are essential to making it through college and demand an intense amount of studying. Yes, I cannot afford a car and have to take the bus everywhere. Yes, my Grandma is sick with a disease that cannot be cured and my family is hurting. My life is still good.
At the rate I am going with the money God is providing, I will graduate college debt free. I will owe zip, nada, nothing. I get to read for hours on the bus, every single day and save a mammoth on gas and car insurance; or I catch rides and have insightful conversations with friends on the drive home. And as much as my family is hurting, we are growing stronger. God is doing things in us and through us and for us and around us, because of what my Grandma is going through.
My Mom and Dad still have a strong marriage. My sisters and I are still very close. God is still taking care of me, and talks to me all the time. The sun still shines, the stars still glow, and I still eat good food. Life is good.
Yes, you must have bad in order to see good. But let bad things (human trafficking, starvation, thirst, crime, hate, abuse, drugs, natural disasters, terrorist attacks) be bad things and let good things (family, love, caring, sunshine, cookies, ice cream, pets, Jesus, books, mattress to sleep on) be good things.
Philippians 4:8 "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things."
With all the good stuff to think about in the world, why would anyone write a depressing blog? I promise, life does not suck nearly as much as your veiled complaints and ambiguous statements make it seem.
Growing up, everything was good. A loving family, great friends, lots of interesting books to read, and many days filled with the backyard play set and glorious sunshine and ridiculous games and delicious home-cooked meals. Sure, my Dad lost his job a few times and, with a stay-at-home Mom, we had no income. We rarely went to restaurants, wore hand-me-down clothes and most vacations consisted of camping trips with other families from the church. It was my job to go to school, do my chores, and get along with my sisters. All fairly easy and entirely uncomplicated tasks. Life was simple. Life was good.
So when did that change? Why did things become so much more complicated? Why does the "good life" now require a cute hair cut, a sexy body, stylish clothes, and constant fun and smiles?
I put to the court that my life is good. Yes, I have a full time job this summer and I have limited fun time. Yes, academic scholarships are essential to making it through college and demand an intense amount of studying. Yes, I cannot afford a car and have to take the bus everywhere. Yes, my Grandma is sick with a disease that cannot be cured and my family is hurting. My life is still good.
At the rate I am going with the money God is providing, I will graduate college debt free. I will owe zip, nada, nothing. I get to read for hours on the bus, every single day and save a mammoth on gas and car insurance; or I catch rides and have insightful conversations with friends on the drive home. And as much as my family is hurting, we are growing stronger. God is doing things in us and through us and for us and around us, because of what my Grandma is going through.
My Mom and Dad still have a strong marriage. My sisters and I are still very close. God is still taking care of me, and talks to me all the time. The sun still shines, the stars still glow, and I still eat good food. Life is good.
Yes, you must have bad in order to see good. But let bad things (human trafficking, starvation, thirst, crime, hate, abuse, drugs, natural disasters, terrorist attacks) be bad things and let good things (family, love, caring, sunshine, cookies, ice cream, pets, Jesus, books, mattress to sleep on) be good things.
Philippians 4:8 "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things."
With all the good stuff to think about in the world, why would anyone write a depressing blog? I promise, life does not suck nearly as much as your veiled complaints and ambiguous statements make it seem.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Sleep and Summer Camp
It has been scientifically demonstrated (I'd say proven, but whether science can "prove" something is debatable in some circles) that a human being should average 8-9 hours of sleep a night. It has also been shown that many college students are able to stay up until the wee hours of the morning every night of the week, sleep away half the weekend, and repeat the process the following Monday with very little difficulty. It is a tactic often employed for finals cramming, paper writing, girl's night outs, and very late movies. No sleep? No problem!
I am not one of these college students.
I am the type who needs at least 6 hours-preferably more-every night of the week. If this pattern is interrupted, I spend the next day, potentially two, bleary eyed and with my arms stretched forward in a zombie-like manner. Paired with the fact that I find coffee bitter beyond consumption, there is no cure except for more sleep.
When I decided to be an over-night camp counselor for a week, I anticipated a damaging lack of sleep. I expected my 8-11 year old girls to be snoring, falling out of bed, crying from homesickness, crying from stomach aches, being afraid of the dark, screaming in their sleep, and sleep walking into a busy road, probably in front of a semi, or even a train. All of this would occur at least every half hour and require my immediate assistance every single time. I imagined that the the 8-11 year old girls would be awfully disturbed, if not down right terrified, by my zombie behavior prevelant by the third day of camp.
Luckily for me, I did the thing every Christian is supposed to do whenever something is concerning them. I talked to God about it. I said, "Jesus, I'M GONNA NEED SO MUCH HELP! I'll be exhausted, cranky, and rude the whole time! I want to be at camp and give to my girls, but I don't want my gifts to be coated in a poopy attitude! Help me!" And you know what Jesus did? He said, "...if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have." 2 Corinthians 8:12. He explained, "Rachel, you want to go to this camp. You want to help these girls. You are willing. What you do will be good enough. Who you are is good enough. There will always be enough." I said, "In that case, I want enough sleep, enough food, enough patience, enough nice words, enough discipline, enough smiles, and enough tooth paste." And God said, "Stay willing, and you got it!"
Camp week rolled around, and guess what? I always had enough. I got six hours of sleep every night (only interrupted once by some one falling out of bed, but she did not cry), was never hungry until we were lining up for food, never ran out of patience, never ran out of toothpaste, and even had enough foam star stickers to decorate each and every pine wood derby car in my cabin. It was a fantastic week! God did wonderful things for all of my girls, and took the time to share a lesson with me.
Lesson learned? If I am doing what God wants me to do, I just need to do it. There is no need to worry about money or food or sleep; God will always give me enough.
I am not one of these college students.
I am the type who needs at least 6 hours-preferably more-every night of the week. If this pattern is interrupted, I spend the next day, potentially two, bleary eyed and with my arms stretched forward in a zombie-like manner. Paired with the fact that I find coffee bitter beyond consumption, there is no cure except for more sleep.
When I decided to be an over-night camp counselor for a week, I anticipated a damaging lack of sleep. I expected my 8-11 year old girls to be snoring, falling out of bed, crying from homesickness, crying from stomach aches, being afraid of the dark, screaming in their sleep, and sleep walking into a busy road, probably in front of a semi, or even a train. All of this would occur at least every half hour and require my immediate assistance every single time. I imagined that the the 8-11 year old girls would be awfully disturbed, if not down right terrified, by my zombie behavior prevelant by the third day of camp.
Luckily for me, I did the thing every Christian is supposed to do whenever something is concerning them. I talked to God about it. I said, "Jesus, I'M GONNA NEED SO MUCH HELP! I'll be exhausted, cranky, and rude the whole time! I want to be at camp and give to my girls, but I don't want my gifts to be coated in a poopy attitude! Help me!" And you know what Jesus did? He said, "...if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have." 2 Corinthians 8:12. He explained, "Rachel, you want to go to this camp. You want to help these girls. You are willing. What you do will be good enough. Who you are is good enough. There will always be enough." I said, "In that case, I want enough sleep, enough food, enough patience, enough nice words, enough discipline, enough smiles, and enough tooth paste." And God said, "Stay willing, and you got it!"
Camp week rolled around, and guess what? I always had enough. I got six hours of sleep every night (only interrupted once by some one falling out of bed, but she did not cry), was never hungry until we were lining up for food, never ran out of patience, never ran out of toothpaste, and even had enough foam star stickers to decorate each and every pine wood derby car in my cabin. It was a fantastic week! God did wonderful things for all of my girls, and took the time to share a lesson with me.
Lesson learned? If I am doing what God wants me to do, I just need to do it. There is no need to worry about money or food or sleep; God will always give me enough.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
The Beginning
My first entry into the world of blogging, what do I say? It is a question I have pondered for at a week or two, when I struggled to determine what I could possibly say that would be worthy of being posted on the internet for all to see. I imagine it is similar to a first date; anxiously striving to be as impressive as possible so as not to loose the man, or, in this case, the casual reader.
I am afraid I never really decided what should be in my first blog post. I could tell you all about myself, but why give everything away at once? It seems more interesting to explain things as life deems them necessary, as opposed to spouting random, currently irrelevant, and potentially uninteresting facts. What then, should this post be about?
The question brings to mind a song from the Sound of Music. Where the main character (who's name I have forgotten as I have only seen the movie once) sings: "Start at the very beginning/A very good place to start..." And while the advice is simple enough when learning how to sing, I feel as though I am at the beginning, writing my first post. As a matter of fact, I am three paragraphs into it and still feel a lack of direction. That piece of advice does not seem to apply!
Nevertheless, I have begun. After all, I can hum and ha and ponder and consider many different things about how to write a blog, what to say in a blog and the like, but I have decided to leap off the cliff, take the plunge, and see where I am when I resurface. I my only hope going into this is that you, my dearest reader, will be inspired in some way. To laugh, to cry, to give advice, to smile, to ponder some deep thought...any of the above (and countless others) would be utterly satisfying to me.
Oh, by the way, my name is Rachel, and this is the beginning.
I am afraid I never really decided what should be in my first blog post. I could tell you all about myself, but why give everything away at once? It seems more interesting to explain things as life deems them necessary, as opposed to spouting random, currently irrelevant, and potentially uninteresting facts. What then, should this post be about?
The question brings to mind a song from the Sound of Music. Where the main character (who's name I have forgotten as I have only seen the movie once) sings: "Start at the very beginning/A very good place to start..." And while the advice is simple enough when learning how to sing, I feel as though I am at the beginning, writing my first post. As a matter of fact, I am three paragraphs into it and still feel a lack of direction. That piece of advice does not seem to apply!
Nevertheless, I have begun. After all, I can hum and ha and ponder and consider many different things about how to write a blog, what to say in a blog and the like, but I have decided to leap off the cliff, take the plunge, and see where I am when I resurface. I my only hope going into this is that you, my dearest reader, will be inspired in some way. To laugh, to cry, to give advice, to smile, to ponder some deep thought...any of the above (and countless others) would be utterly satisfying to me.
Oh, by the way, my name is Rachel, and this is the beginning.
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