It's dry here. My heels are cracked beyond belief. The cracks have become filled with dirt. My feet are always dirty. The cabins are cinder block. My mattress sags. I get to sleep outside, though. Because there isn't enough room for me in the cabin. The people here are amazing. I feel at home.
Last night I kept waking up. I had no idea where I was. It was scary. I also had an dream that my little sister Emma died. And it was my fault. In my dream I couldn't stop crying. It was the worst feeling ever.
So far this week has just been preparation for the campers to arrive. It's pretty chill. Lots of volleyball! I gave this guy dreads. I've cleaned a lot of bathrooms.
I helped with the Earliteens during campmeeting. It was such a blessing to see God working in the lives of the kids throughout the week. The theme for the week was 'Jesus on the Streets' and so the kids were learning about how to take Jesus and make Him real in the real world. At the end of the week on Sabbath we took the kids to downtown Prescott and they stopped people on the streets asking to pray with them. It was really interesting to see the reactions of some people. It was like they were ashamed of the very mention of God's name. Or prayer. They all had excuses. "We're late for a birthday party" "Oh, I'm meeting someone right now" "I don't want to" "I don't need prayer" No one wanted to have anything to do with us. Except for one man. He was a homeless man named Jerry. He was obviously hung over. He was dirty. But the kids took an immediate liking to him. I stood back in shock as they took complete initiative to witness to this man. They crowded around him on a bench and told him that Jesus loved him. No matter what he had done. He could never go to far from God's love and forgiveness. Then it hit me. These kids got it. These same kids who I thought weren't paying attention. These same kids who were always goofing off in class. They were sharing the plan of salvation with this homeless man. Tears found their way to my eyes and I was immensely thankful for my sunglasses.
Now I know why Jesus said that the kingdom of heaven belongs to the little children (or earliteens, in this case). They weren't passing any judgment on this man. They didn't care that the people walking by were staring and making remarks. They just wanted to share Jesus. One of the boys in my group gave Jerry his Bible. After we got back to the parking lot he prayed a beautiful prayer that Jerry would read the Bible and come into a personal relationship with Jesus. I hope we see Jerry in heaven.
6.23.2010
6.06.2010
God and dreads
Last night I watched some videos on YouTube of people taking out their dreads. When it comes to dread removal, there are two ways to go - the 'comb out' or the 'cut out'. Both are difficult for different reasons. The comb out method is rather painful and very time consuming. You also lose a lot of hair. This girl at Rock Creek complimented me on my dreads, telling me that she used to sport the do herself. She decided to comb hers out after 3 years and said it took over an hour per dread. So there's that. The cut out method leaves you with very little tangles and knots to deal with, but also with very little hair. I have always wondered what I would look like with short hair, though.
It was so crazy to watch some of these people with their various dread tales. Some had had dreads for over 5 years. And then 60 seconds later, they were all gone. Their whole appearance had changed completely. I was thinking today: Maybe our spiritual lives are kind of like that. If invited, God comes in with His super-duty scissors and cuts off all of the heavy dreads that we've carried around with us for years and years. There is a noticeable change. The people around can definitely see that He's been at work.
But this haircut isn't just a one-time-fix-and-everything-stays-peachy haircut. If we don't do anything to take care of ourselves (if we use the 'neglect' dreading method), our hair gets tangled and knotted again. Little baby dreads start to form. Slowly they'll start to knot and lock up once again. Maintain that daily relationship and that all-the-time connection with God. It's so important.
It's been over a year and a half since I've had a haircut. And a couple days since I've washed my hair. I really like my dreads, but I think they might have to go soon. I don't really want to stand out even more than I know I already will next year in Peru. It was pretty cool to do something completely different. And soon it will be time to do something else, once again, completely different. I guess that's just how I like things. Gotta keep it fresh. Change is good. Change is needed.
It's just hair. Sheesh.
It was so crazy to watch some of these people with their various dread tales. Some had had dreads for over 5 years. And then 60 seconds later, they were all gone. Their whole appearance had changed completely. I was thinking today: Maybe our spiritual lives are kind of like that. If invited, God comes in with His super-duty scissors and cuts off all of the heavy dreads that we've carried around with us for years and years. There is a noticeable change. The people around can definitely see that He's been at work.
But this haircut isn't just a one-time-fix-and-everything-stays-peachy haircut. If we don't do anything to take care of ourselves (if we use the 'neglect' dreading method), our hair gets tangled and knotted again. Little baby dreads start to form. Slowly they'll start to knot and lock up once again. Maintain that daily relationship and that all-the-time connection with God. It's so important.
It's been over a year and a half since I've had a haircut. And a couple days since I've washed my hair. I really like my dreads, but I think they might have to go soon. I don't really want to stand out even more than I know I already will next year in Peru. It was pretty cool to do something completely different. And soon it will be time to do something else, once again, completely different. I guess that's just how I like things. Gotta keep it fresh. Change is good. Change is needed.
It's just hair. Sheesh.
5.26.2010
Peru
After much thinking and praying and hoping and worrying, it looks like I'll be heading to Peru in August. It was actually a pretty crazy turn of events that caused this. After receiving the phone call from AFM canceling Turkey, I applied to go to a few other places. Out of desperation, really. I can't believe that I was scared that God wasn't going to take care of me. But He exceeded my expectations - like He always does. So God got me a graphic design/project promotion position for Touch of Love in Peru. I couldn't be more stoked. It's like He knew where I really needed to be.
I got my shots last week. All 5 of them. Yellow Fever, Typhoid Fever, Polio, Hepatitis A, and Tetanus. I don't mind getting shots at all. But getting 5 at once was a rather painful experience. Especially 2 days later when I couldn't raise my arms at all.
I found this picture of a native Peruvian woman. Probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I love the face paint and the necklaces.
I also can't wait to see
Machu Picchu.
Next year is going to be crazy, to say the least. But I'm ready.
Now I just have to raise $4000. Any takers?
I got my shots last week. All 5 of them. Yellow Fever, Typhoid Fever, Polio, Hepatitis A, and Tetanus. I don't mind getting shots at all. But getting 5 at once was a rather painful experience. Especially 2 days later when I couldn't raise my arms at all.
I found this picture of a native Peruvian woman. Probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I love the face paint and the necklaces.
I also can't wait to see
Machu Picchu.Next year is going to be crazy, to say the least. But I'm ready.
Now I just have to raise $4000. Any takers?
5.09.2010
Curl up and dye
I was recently driving around Chattanooga and saw a sign for a salon. It really grabbed my attention because its name was Curl Up & Dye. Really? I thought it was morbidly hilarious, but really? I want to go in there some day and ask what kind of business they get. Or just go in and see what kind of business they get."I need a haircut."
"Oh, just go Curl Up & Dye."
Haha.
5.07.2010
My name is Hope
A lot of interesting things have happened to me in the recent weeks. For one, I've finished up my second year of college. All the projects were turned in and critiqued, exams were taken, and grades were posted. It was crunch time. And now it's over. Once the 'Submit' button is pressed, there's no going back. I've noticed that my ideas about getting good grades have changed. Maybe it's because I haven't been getting straight A's. But I'm okay with that. I know I should always do my best - and maybe I did slack a little bit more. But when I look back on the nights that I chose to do something fun over doing homework, I realize that I wouldn't want to trade those nights in for anything. The memories that I made on those nights are irreplaceable. If I would've just stuck to the books, I would've never gotten to climb a water-tower for a midnight tea party, go to the Yellow Deli, talk about life, play catch phrase, vandalize Macey and Danika's door, have dance parties with my roommate, or Modern Family marathons. All of those things wouldn't have existed. And a big fat shiny A might have taken their place. Safe and sound on my report card. But what's an A if you have no friends? Or no memories to revel in?
Traveling home is always an adventure for me. Actually, just traveling in general. It's probably because I have an awful habit of being late. Last Wednesday was funny though, because I purposed in my heart that I was not going to be late. I was going to make my flight. I was going to be early. Oh, what a funny thing to dream. So after rushing around getting everything packed up, and enjoying a grease-filled breakfast at the Waffle House (Thanks, Nick!), I headed to good ol' Groome Transportation (recently renamed Groin Transportation by my dad) to catch the 11:00 shuttle to Atlanta. Note: My flight wasn't until 3:00. Didn't end up leaving the house until 10:41. Got to Groin at 11:03. They had already left. Not to fear! I would just catch the 12:00 shuttle and then just have a little more of a rush in the airport. Nothing I love more than a good run down the terminal. To make a long story short, I missed my flight. The line was long. Luckily there was one going out 3 hours later. No big deal. I'd just sit and people watch for a couple hours. Get some lunch (which was gross), and then get home. My poor parents. They have just come to accept that being late and missing flights and forgetting wallets and getting dreads and drinking out of the orange juice carton is just a part of who I am. Thank goodness they have to love me no matter what.
And now for the exciting part. As I was sitting in the Atlanta airport awaiting my flight to Denver. An old man asked if he could sit by me. I obliged and then he very quickly proceeded to tell me that my toenails weren't painted very well. I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the audacity of this little old man. I told him that the reason my nails were painted was because I was trying to cover up a bruise under my toenail that started as a result of much abuse from continuous soccer and rock climbing. He thought this was very funny. We then shared a laugh as he continued to ask me questions and tease me about my nail polish. We ended up talking for about two hours about pretty much everything. I found out he was from Quebec. He had a cool accent and French words would periodically slip into the conversation. We moved on from talking about my gross toes to his company to graphic design to how women were more in touch with feelings than men were. I told him about my family. He told me about his. He told me about the 'good ol' days' in Canada. We talked about politics. I told him that I didn't really care.
Then the conversation became a little more serious. He started asking me about what I believed. I told him that I believed in God and a Savior. I asked him if he did too. Yes and No, he said. He said he believed in the good of human nature but also that humans had an evil side. He then continued asking me how I could believe in a God of love if there is so much death in the world. It hit me. He had the same question that so many people have. Isn't that the question that everyone wants answered? How could God allow such suffering. He told me that it made more sense for him to believe that God just didn't exist. I don't know why, but his comments brought tears to my eyes. As I started wiping them away, I told him that I believed in a God of love. I told him that I believed in a controversy taking place in the universe between good and evil. Jesus and Satan. He then asked me a question that I will never forget for as long as I live. Who's winning now? Who's winning now? As the question sunk in, I began to understand his point of view. All he could see was all the war. All the killing. All the terrorists, abortions, child soldiers, sex trafficking, domestic violence, homelessness, poverty. My thoughts were all mixed up. I told him the battle has already been won and that one day Satan will be put in his place and that everything will be made right. God hates the suffering even more than we do. He just kept asking me, Who's winning now? It does seem like Satan is winning now. Then the tears came. I thought of all of the millions of people just like him who wanted so badly to believe, but couldn't see past all of the bad. He felt bad for making me cry. I told him that it wasn't him, it was my allergies. Which was partly true.
Then his eyes got a twinkle and he said something that surprised me. Hope, he said. You have hope. He began telling me about a poem that he had read about the three daughters of God. Love, Charity, and Hope. In the poem Hope is the youngest and most beautiful daughter. And for the rest of the conversation he called me Hope. He never even asked my name. He was convinced that it was Hope.
I'm sure my angel probably nudged me to look at my phone when I did. I had become so consumed by the conversation that I had completely lost track of time. 5:38. My flight was supposed to board at 5:39. I ran off, barely getting his name. Ronal. I was the last person on the plane. I guess I just have to stay consistent with my traveling style. Very back row of the plane. I collapsed in my seat. Exhausted and yet strangely rejuvenated. The guy next to me snored the whole way to Denver. I'm sure I followed suit.
My name is Hope. Thank you, Ronal.
Traveling home is always an adventure for me. Actually, just traveling in general. It's probably because I have an awful habit of being late. Last Wednesday was funny though, because I purposed in my heart that I was not going to be late. I was going to make my flight. I was going to be early. Oh, what a funny thing to dream. So after rushing around getting everything packed up, and enjoying a grease-filled breakfast at the Waffle House (Thanks, Nick!), I headed to good ol' Groome Transportation (recently renamed Groin Transportation by my dad) to catch the 11:00 shuttle to Atlanta. Note: My flight wasn't until 3:00. Didn't end up leaving the house until 10:41. Got to Groin at 11:03. They had already left. Not to fear! I would just catch the 12:00 shuttle and then just have a little more of a rush in the airport. Nothing I love more than a good run down the terminal. To make a long story short, I missed my flight. The line was long. Luckily there was one going out 3 hours later. No big deal. I'd just sit and people watch for a couple hours. Get some lunch (which was gross), and then get home. My poor parents. They have just come to accept that being late and missing flights and forgetting wallets and getting dreads and drinking out of the orange juice carton is just a part of who I am. Thank goodness they have to love me no matter what.
And now for the exciting part. As I was sitting in the Atlanta airport awaiting my flight to Denver. An old man asked if he could sit by me. I obliged and then he very quickly proceeded to tell me that my toenails weren't painted very well. I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the audacity of this little old man. I told him that the reason my nails were painted was because I was trying to cover up a bruise under my toenail that started as a result of much abuse from continuous soccer and rock climbing. He thought this was very funny. We then shared a laugh as he continued to ask me questions and tease me about my nail polish. We ended up talking for about two hours about pretty much everything. I found out he was from Quebec. He had a cool accent and French words would periodically slip into the conversation. We moved on from talking about my gross toes to his company to graphic design to how women were more in touch with feelings than men were. I told him about my family. He told me about his. He told me about the 'good ol' days' in Canada. We talked about politics. I told him that I didn't really care.
Then the conversation became a little more serious. He started asking me about what I believed. I told him that I believed in God and a Savior. I asked him if he did too. Yes and No, he said. He said he believed in the good of human nature but also that humans had an evil side. He then continued asking me how I could believe in a God of love if there is so much death in the world. It hit me. He had the same question that so many people have. Isn't that the question that everyone wants answered? How could God allow such suffering. He told me that it made more sense for him to believe that God just didn't exist. I don't know why, but his comments brought tears to my eyes. As I started wiping them away, I told him that I believed in a God of love. I told him that I believed in a controversy taking place in the universe between good and evil. Jesus and Satan. He then asked me a question that I will never forget for as long as I live. Who's winning now? Who's winning now? As the question sunk in, I began to understand his point of view. All he could see was all the war. All the killing. All the terrorists, abortions, child soldiers, sex trafficking, domestic violence, homelessness, poverty. My thoughts were all mixed up. I told him the battle has already been won and that one day Satan will be put in his place and that everything will be made right. God hates the suffering even more than we do. He just kept asking me, Who's winning now? It does seem like Satan is winning now. Then the tears came. I thought of all of the millions of people just like him who wanted so badly to believe, but couldn't see past all of the bad. He felt bad for making me cry. I told him that it wasn't him, it was my allergies. Which was partly true.
Then his eyes got a twinkle and he said something that surprised me. Hope, he said. You have hope. He began telling me about a poem that he had read about the three daughters of God. Love, Charity, and Hope. In the poem Hope is the youngest and most beautiful daughter. And for the rest of the conversation he called me Hope. He never even asked my name. He was convinced that it was Hope.
I'm sure my angel probably nudged me to look at my phone when I did. I had become so consumed by the conversation that I had completely lost track of time. 5:38. My flight was supposed to board at 5:39. I ran off, barely getting his name. Ronal. I was the last person on the plane. I guess I just have to stay consistent with my traveling style. Very back row of the plane. I collapsed in my seat. Exhausted and yet strangely rejuvenated. The guy next to me snored the whole way to Denver. I'm sure I followed suit.
My name is Hope. Thank you, Ronal.
4.25.2010
What God has to say about timing
There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
4.22.2010
Let's just have fun
What is fun?
Well, let me tell you...
Family is fun.
Puppies are fun.
Going fast is fun.
Crashing is [not] fun.
The beach is fun.
Reggae is fun.
Traveling is fun.
Dancing is fun.
Crocheting is fun.
Eating is super fun.
Running is fun.
Sunshine is fun.
Spanish is fun.
Fires are fun (the contained ones).
Old books are fun.
Jack Johnson is fun.
Staying up late is fun.
Crossing streets is fun.
Mopeds are fun.
Rock climbing is fun.
Helping people is fun.
Cooking is fun.
Singing off-tune is fun.
Playing games is fun.
Friends are fun.
Mud puddle sliding is fun.
Making tunes with a lot of people is fun.
Subway is fun.
Sandals are fun.
Dreads are fun.
So are beards.
Scribbling is fun.
Cool furniture is fun.
Pretending to do yoga is fun.
Small children are fun.
Goodwill is fun.
The Shins are fun.
Hedgehogs are fun.
Driving with the windows down is fun.
Holding hands is fun.
Taking walks is fun.
Taking walks and holding hands is fun.
Libraries are fun.
Decorating is fun.
Longboarding is fun.
Wood floors are fun.
Shel Silverstein is fun.
Water is fun.
Making brunch is fun.
Making lists is fun.
Surfing is fun.
Wild goose chases are fun.
Incense is fun.
Yarn is fun.
The Bible is fun.
Flower shops are fun.
Hiking is fun.
My roommate is fun.
Graphic design magazines are fun.
Volleyball is fun.
Breathing is fun.
Writing is fun.
Adventures are fun.
Secret notes are fun.
Sushi is fun.
Sewing is fun.
Christmas lights are fun.
Clarinets are fun.
Nick Livanos is fun.
Basically, being alive is fun.
Well, let me tell you...
Family is fun.
Puppies are fun.
Going fast is fun.
Crashing is [not] fun.
The beach is fun.
Reggae is fun.
Traveling is fun.
Dancing is fun.
Crocheting is fun.
Eating is super fun.
Running is fun.
Sunshine is fun.
Spanish is fun.
Fires are fun (the contained ones).
Old books are fun.
Jack Johnson is fun.
Staying up late is fun.
Crossing streets is fun.
Mopeds are fun.
Rock climbing is fun.
Helping people is fun.
Cooking is fun.
Singing off-tune is fun.
Playing games is fun.
Friends are fun.
Mud puddle sliding is fun.
Making tunes with a lot of people is fun.
Subway is fun.
Sandals are fun.
Dreads are fun.
So are beards.
Scribbling is fun.
Cool furniture is fun.
Pretending to do yoga is fun.
Small children are fun.
Goodwill is fun.
The Shins are fun.
Hedgehogs are fun.
Driving with the windows down is fun.
Holding hands is fun.
Taking walks is fun.
Taking walks and holding hands is fun.
Libraries are fun.
Decorating is fun.
Longboarding is fun.
Wood floors are fun.
Shel Silverstein is fun.
Water is fun.
Making brunch is fun.
Making lists is fun.
Surfing is fun.
Wild goose chases are fun.
Incense is fun.
Yarn is fun.
The Bible is fun.
Flower shops are fun.
Hiking is fun.
My roommate is fun.
Graphic design magazines are fun.
Volleyball is fun.
Breathing is fun.
Writing is fun.
Adventures are fun.
Secret notes are fun.
Sushi is fun.
Sewing is fun.
Christmas lights are fun.
Clarinets are fun.
Nick Livanos is fun.
Basically, being alive is fun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
