Well Worth Reading

There I stood with tears streaming down my face in spite of myself. It may be just the butterflies in my stomach trying to find a way out…they usually exit through my tear ducts. I usually don’t get butterflies in front of a group. I do when I have to perform/say something memorized, I’m afraid my brain will fail me, or when I’m uncomfortable with the crowd, afraid of being judged. But this day I stood in front of my peers, my family, I wasn’t reciting anything; I was telling a story of sorts. But this day the butterflies carried my heart.

Assignment: Give a 1-2 minute speech on prophecy, prayer, or praise. A story that happened to us.

When the assignment was given my topic popped right into my head. It was what was on my mind at all times and it happened to cover all three of the topics. My dad was going into surgery in about a week and he wasn’t expected to live. I have been praying for my dad’s salvation for years. My aunt has had a prophecy about him, the song “Mighty to Save” was written for this exact situation in my life it seemed. So here I stood in front of the class filled with interns, intern teachers, and Dr. Fleming pouring out my heart and the tears of my butterflies.

I spoke about my life’s worth of prayers for my dad and his salvation. My aunt prophesied once that my dad would come to Christ, but he would come crawling. I had recently found out 3 days prior, the night before my birthday, that my dad had asked my mom not to share what the chances of him making it out of this much needed surgery alive. After some research my sister figured it was about 5%. I guess this was crawling time. My dad’s death bed awaited him that coming Thursday morning. Yet I had faith. Faith like that of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego when they faced the flames of the furnace. My God was more than able to save my dad from his nearly promised death. Yet even if he didn’t I know that my God if faithful. He was going to use this time, he was going to save my dad. Tears streaming down my face I sat down.

Dr. Fleming however called me back up to the front of the class and I soon found myself surrounded by my intern family and found me, my dad, my family, everything covered in prayer. My mind started filling with a little hope. I decided to fight the doubt, the percentages a little through this prayer time. With hands all over me I felt loved.

The night before my sister and I left for Salt Lake I spent the night at her house. We where in the drive thru getting some dinner when we got a call from our mom who was already in Salt Lake with my dad. “They might not do the surgery” Anger and bitterness filled me. They had to run some tests that day and where waiting for the results. They wanted to make sure that his stomach wasn’t filled with fluid. If it was it was to risky. They also weren’t sure his body would take the anesthesia. WHAT?! What is worse than five present chance to live. We already knew it was going to be to risky. If he didn’t have the surgery the ulcers in his stomach would explode…they can’t just send him home. We prayed. It was short but we prayed.

I woke up in the middle of the night that night on my sisters couch. My dog had thrown up. Great another sick something. This was a breaking point. I had already been feeling shut down about this whole situation in the first place. Now I was angry. Visions of my dad dieing at home started to flood my mind. I never even thought that not doing the surgery was an option. My dad already weighed 130 pounds, two weeks before his stomach couldn’t even handle jello anymore. He was going to come home and starve to death. That or the ulcers would explode and I was to much of a chicken to tell him that God loved him during all of this. I was mad, at myself, at the doctors (They didn’t understand) at all of it. I prayed for sleep.

A few hours into our trip we got a call from my mom again. We got the go ahead on his stomach. There was no fluid. PRAISE GOD! But we weren’t out of the woods yet. We still needed to know back from the other test. We waited and honestly enjoyed the ride up there just my sister and I. In the hotel room with my parents we waited. My dad was hurting pretty bad. His stomach was trying to down what little he had for lunch after not getting to have anything for breakfast due to the tests. The phone rang. It was the test results. He was good to go. PRAISE GOD! The burden lifted. After a month being depressed about this surgery happening I didn’t think I’d ever be thankful for it happening like I was now.

My sister and I went out to a fancy dinner. My parents went to have more tests and then out to dinner themselves (I found out later my dad called that his last supper). More tests left the doctor with more doubt. How would his heart do with this? I wasn’t mad at the doctor anymore though. It turned out he was a catholic. (We all laughed at this. My dad told my grandma that if the surgeon brought him out of this alive he would join his religion. We where all happy he knew God). Being a catholic he wasn’t willing to put my dad on the table if he didn’t think there was a chance he would not come out of it. He wasn’t willing to kill a man in other words. This was comforting. If the doctor was willing to operate he must have hope. Although not as strong (my faith was holding on) the burden was lightly placed back on all of our shoulders.

It was a rough night. All of us sleeping in a sick mans room was hard. It was hot in there, my dad was up much of the night, his stomach was killing him. When it was time to get up he was SO tired. He was saying that he had been looking forward to the needle for so long because it would be the first time in months he has gotten sleep. I reminded him he just needed to remember to wake up.

We checked in and waited. My Grandma, Dad’s mom, met us. We waited. A worker came and got us, my sister, mom and I, and we went into a smaller room. My dad got in his gown. We all figured/hoped that meant that his heart was good to go. We waited. Dad slept. Grandma came in. Soon after the doctor and all of the team that would be working on my dad came in as well. The little room was crowded. Everyone was very friendly. His doctor was amazing. He gently told us that he was not sure what he would be able to do in the surgery. In some ways it was like an exploratory surgery. The least they could do would be cut the nerves to his stomach. All that would do would be make his stomach make less acid. So he would hopefully be able to eat a little better. This still left the ulcer aka the pain and death threat. It was a band aid. The most they could do would be cut the ulcer out completely and reroute his large intestine to his stomach. Basically give him a gastric bypass, the same thing some people get to lose weight except in my dad’s case it would make him gain weight. This option sounded like it was less likely. My dad said that if this surgery could just make it so he could eat and sleep it would change his life.

The doctor told us he would be able to do this all lyproscopically so they didn’t have to cut him all the way open. He also very carefully told us once again not to get to excited because he didn’t know if they would be able to help at all today and that dad’s chances where slim. Unknowing to my dad’s wishes the doctor told us that dad had a 27% chance of making it “if we believed in numbers”. I don’t. I believe in God. The percentage had jumped up (my mom told us later that his chances had been 10-15%) I think due to the lyproscope.

They wheeled dad out. We all gave him kisses. I told him we where praying for him. I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t feel lead to say anything else. This may have been the last moments I would ever see my dad and I didn’t have words to tell him about God, I didn’t have the guts to asked to pray. . . I just didn’t know. I was encouraged through text by Kirstein. God was in that room with us. He was ministering to my dad. My God is more than able to reach his heart before he goes and he doesn’t have to use me. I didn’t feel God lead me to say anything…so I didn’t.

Once my dad was out of sight tears feel from my families eyes. I didn’t cry. God told me in prayer that my dad was going to be ok. I was going to trust that. I pushed the visions of how quite the house would be without him there. The “what will I do if…?” thoughts. I turned a deaf ear to them. My dad was going to be ok.

We waited. The surgery was expected to take 4 hours. I texted people what was going on. I blogged a little. We talked. We ate. 2 hours later the lady at the desk giving updates told us he was coming out of it now. Oh no. Should he be? What does that mean? Did this just turn out to be a band-aid? 2 hours? It should have taken longer. They where trying to wake him up now. Last time they did this he almost didn’t wake up. Odds where against him. I texted people asking for prayer. My mom, sister, and I (grandma was gone, back to her hotel. She has health problems too.…I wonder if she would have joined us?) gathered around and prayed. We left it in God’s hands and prayed his will be done.

The doctor come out. Dad was in recovery. PRAISE GOD! The burden lifted. My dad was awake. My dad was alive!!! My dad is a miracle! The doctor explained what they where able to do. They couldn’t take the ulcer out, that part of his stomach was like concrete (“No wonder it hurt so bad” says my dad later). So they (if I understood right) sewed around it or something. They hope that it will scar off that way and the body will just disregard it. They rerouted his stomach and cut the nerves they needed to cut. All in two hours. It was incredible. They did pretty much all they wanted to do.

My dad is funny under anesthetic. That was the happiest I’ve seen him in YEARS and the first time I saw him smile in months. Pastor Shane prayed that he would sing worship when he came out of the surgery. My dad sang in his recovery bed. It wasn’t worship….it was Johnny Cash. Some song about drugs and a whore. He also sang part of “your beautiful” by James Blunt. Pastor Shane pointed out that Johnny Cash got saved later in his life. I smile at this.
2 days later my whole family, including dad is home. 6 days later my dad gained 5 pounds. 8 days later, thanksgiving, my dad drove himself to Glens Ferry and called us after he got done bucking hay. I’m pretty sure that’s breaking the rules. This is now day 12. My dad is doing great. It’s awesome to see your dad eat. To see him eat without looking like what’s on his plate is road kill. With out being in pain ALL the time. Without drinking half of a bottle of Pepto Bismal everyday. This is day 13 of my dad not smoking. This is day 13 of my life that I haven’t been a second hand smoker. Our house smells good. It smells like candles. I can leave cloths hanging up in the hallway and not smell like a chain smoker when I leave. This is day 12 of my dad’s second chance at life. He hasn’t talked about God at all yet but something’s happening to him. A man doesn’t just give up his life long crutch, smoking, overnight.
Thank you all for your prayers.
“Never Underestimate my Jesus”
-Relient K

Forever 21

The music is blasting and I start smiling. I look around to the people around me all having a good time and it hits me...I'm changing history. I'm spitting in the devils face and changing history.


My family has a history of alcoholics and this last week I turned 21. Unlike most youth my age I decided not to go get trashed but I did party it up. I kicked it holy style and had a root beer party. As I jumped up and down with a root beer in hand singing at the top of my lungs the all to familiar "All Star" by Smashmouth I realized...this is the end. This is the cut off point, alcoholism will not continue in my family. By God's grace this will go no further. I took a stand. NO more.


While I can not give all the details about the party because of the fact that I didn't technically have permission for the location of it I can tell you that it was incredible. We tried to play drinking games and such but it ended up being a dance party instead. Watching your friends freak out is pretty entertaining let alone if you join them. We kept it holy and we had a blast.

You can have fun without drinking. I know that for a fact.

Dreams Change

I was 6 years old staring up at my heart wallpaper. It was then that I had my life all planed out. 20 was the perfect age I thought to myself. Not a teenager, not an adult. 20 was perfect. Staring up at the tiny heartfilled pattern I planed it out. When I was 20 I would just happen to meet my husband at college, 2 years later we would have a kid and so on and so forth. It would be perfect. My six year old mind was delighted and excited for the day I would turn 20.



I am now 21. No boy friend, in fact I'm in an internship that doesn't allow daiting. I've only taken one sememster of college and no kids in sight. You can try to plan your life but no...God has his own plans...AND IT'S AWESOME!

Prayer please

For so long I have kept quite but I can't anymore. I, and my family, needs prayer.

My dad is very sick. Really he has been for years. When I was in my younger teen years my dad was discovered to have had liver disease due to his years of drinking. We almost lost him the summer we found out about it, but we didn't praise God. He lost a lot of weight and his curly hair straightened out, his skin was more on the yellow side and his belly looked like a water melon.

Over the years his health has been a battle. Watching different drugs affect him in different ways. Some helping him more than others. Some making him gain weight, others not seeming to do anything.

Just this past year it seems, maybe longer it all blurs together after awhile, it got worse. I don't really remember what happened first but it all boiled down to this- my dad has ulcers in his stomach. Doesn't sound like that big of a deal right? I mean people get ulcers all the time (flash back to the episode of Friends that Joey got an ulcer and auditioned for a show regardless). It's not that big of a deal. WRONG. He can barely eat because they are blocking his stomach off. My family has watched as my dad has dwindled down to a mesly 130 pounds. The doctors where shocked that he was still walking around. In fact my dad only stopped going to work like 2 months ago. One stomic doctor said that in his (I think 20 years) of being a doctor he hasn't seen ulsers this bad.

Why not just have surgery and call it good? Because of his liver diesease his liver his huge. To cut him open would be a very high risk. Also with his body being a weak as it is puts him as a risk too. It's hard to do surgery on a walking skeloton with a beach ball for a stomic. That wasn't an exageration.

Despite the risk my dad needs surgery, if he doesn't get it the ulsers are going to burst and my dad will die. With the surgery they are worried that he won't wake up this time. They are sending him to a specialist in Salt lake on the week of the 12th to preform the surgery.

From the worlds point of view I'm looking at a dead dad at every angle. My family and I would appriciate as much prayer as possible. My dad isn't saved either which makes this all that more hard to go through. My dad needs Jesus, I've been praying for that all of my days. He is the star in my sky (if you listened to Pastor Juda you would know what I ment). Please, if you could take just 5 minutes right now and pray that God's will would be done and my dad would be saved I would be oh so greatful.
Thanks

I Know What I Should in Life Be but if I Tell You…I Might Have to Kill You

Monday nights are one of my favorite night of all week. It’s a night to kick back and watch my favorite tv shows. One of them is a show about an awkward impromptu spy named Chuck. I love this show and it has played with a thought I’ve had before. I could totally be a spy. Ok not like your typical spy. I don’t think I could do the shooting, fighting, jumping off of building thing (I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t jump very high at all. Also, I like to think I’m strong and could take on the world or lift like 200 pounds…I’m coming to terms with my short comings in strength too). But spies do much more than just fight and do stunts. They have to use their cunning, they have to think on their feet and be able to be anyone they need to be. What I’m trying to get at is I think I could be the distraction.

I think I have a gift of distraction…well I guess you could call it a gift. I can get people off on tangents so quickly. Really I’m the ADD kids worst nightmare, that includes myself. I get so easily distracted. This thought hops to that thought and before I know it I’m so off topic and at a lost. When I in an awkward situation I find me trying to distract myself and others by making them laugh. I’m pretty sure that if some Russian killer started getting hot on my teams trail I could have them talking about the dog they had when they where five a matter of minutes…or at least have them cracking up while everyone else made their way out the back window. Another thing, I like being creative. I think I could make up story’s quickly. I could so help with covers. I also use to be an actress, improv was one of my favorites and I think I was pretty good at it. “Fake it till you make it” was a theme in acting. If you act like you belong somewhere people will believe you belong there. I think I could do that. I could take on other identities and probably having people believing it. AND apparently I can pull off being foreign without even trying so that is a plus for a spy right? Between all this and gadgets I think I could be unstoppable.

Watching Chuck also brought the downsides to spy-hood to my attention. Well obviously I would have to lie…and I’m not so keen on that. But the other thing you could never fall in love and you would have to give up all of your past and pretend all of your life. Couldn’t be hanging out at my sisters house with all the fuzzy nieces and nephews. They couldn’t exist to me. And can’t fall in love…really? That’s really sucky…Technically though I don’t think I’d have to really play by the rules…I’m just the distraction right?

The Longest Goodbye

We said our goodbyes so long ago
Yet I still find myself having to say it from time to time.
You’re not here and I don’t want you to be
But I miss the adventures
I miss the crazy
I miss the kidnappings

You moved on so quickly
And I feel so foolish for still revisiting this
But sometimes I still think about you
About my friend lost.
I miss your friendship
And I’m sad that we’re a world apart now

Congrats on your life
I’m glad to hear you’re happy
I prayed for that for you
But still…I’m afraid I’ve been disregarded
As well I should be
As well as be both told each other that we would be

Yet here I am
Saying goodbye again
There are still some scratches left over I guess
Well at least the scars
We really got torn up that summer didn’t we?
Well…at least I did

God has healed me from so much
Step by step
Layer by layer
I’m specks away from having my heart completely back to me
After years
Wow
The memories still sting from time to time that’s all
Just slightly

At the beginning I could imagine surviving this long
Ha ha ha
Now I can’t believe I was that disobedient
I’m So glad I finally listened
I’m so happy that you gave me that final shove I needed
And I’m so thankful for God’s healing
I’m healed.
Just sometimes
I find myself saying yet another goodbye.
Each one needed in a different way than the one before

So goodbye again
I hope this is the last time I’ll have to say it

My uphill climb

I have a confession to make. I'm a messy kid...no like a really messy kid. Like I was watching a show one time about meth addicts...some of their rooms looked like my room. It's bad...really really bad. I live like a boy a lot of the times. My meaning being "Hey I need clothes to wear. (smell laundry) That will work. (throw in the dryer and go)"

I need to get my room clean.

It just feels like a never ending battle. I'm busy a lot of the time, when I'm not I'm rarely at home, when I am I waist my time and figure that it's ok cause I need to catch up on sleep from the rest of the week. I need to face it I'm a lazyish kid. When I start cleaning I get like half way through and before I know it it's the end of the day and my week is starting. By the end of the week the half I had clean is a mess again.

My mom and I were talking the other day about how I just need to get organized, in everything really, and my room is just a GIANT symbol of that. I feel like I'm always hanging onto life by the fingertips...and God is always pulling me through. Either by procrastination or whatever I'm never quite ready for the day.

One of my pastors the other day said something about how if we treat something badly it's being a bad steward of our stuff. It's true. I was talking to someone else about my messy room this week and she asked "What about when you get married?" *grown* I don't know. I need to change my bad habits now...But here's a question...why is the "married" card always pulled? Why is that like the pinnacle of perfection. It all builds up to "what about when you get married?" What about the bad habits when your married? What question is asked for our bad actions then?

The same old hurt...

I’ve been missing people A LOT lately. People I haven’t seen for years. This happens from time to time. God has put such amazing people in my life and has also taken some out of it too. There’s a reason I know. But wow. I was driving the other day dipping back into memories and it literally hurt. Like this deep ach…knowing I could never go back. I miss them. And it’s people that live right here in the valley…I just never get to see them, some I just have lost contact with them and have no clue how to reach them, some I had to cut them out of my life…with Gods help, and theirs…and a small part of my heart with it. Thankfully God is my healer…He’s really the only real healer. There are some hurts no doctor can touch, no councilor can rid of, no pill can erase. There’s a reason for that. God wants us to turn to him, wants us to depend on Him. Not only does he heal the wound but he smoothes the scars. I love Him.

Ps. The Fray still makes me want to cry. The piano at the beginning of ‘Vienna’ alone can make my breath stop…and ‘Trust Me’ still makes me angry with a smile… “When you’re older you’ll understand” Gurr…

thoght provoking

...a friend and I were talking the other day and she said "...like how the abc's and twinkle twinkle little star are the same song?" What? How did I never see this before? What a rip off. But which came first?

Quote/story of the day:
New starbucks employee in the drive through
"So up to anything fun today?"
"No..."
"What?! But you're in a mini-van!"
As funny as it is it also makes since...weird right? Needless to say, I've met this girl twice and she's already in the quote book.

Today I miss my brother. These days are very few and very far between…but today I miss him. I was praying and asking God to be all these things in my life and I suddenly came to the “God…be my brother.” And I started crying. I never really had thought about it before. I’ve never really thought about that being a void that I left open. God healed me very quickly from the pain of his death. But it’s not what I had with him that makes me sad, it’s not that I lost him that makes me sad either. I know where he is now and I know that God has his reasons and that they are far to many and far to complex for my little mind to comprehend. So it’s not that…it’s what could have been that hurts.

I was at work the other day and Shawnie popped into my head. If he was still alive he could come and visit me at work and get his chi that he loved. Him and his long hair. Would he have cut it now? Would he be more like an adult now or would he still be his goofy self? Would he have come to my high school plays? Would he have brought me flowers after the show? I could hug him for it. He was taller than I am now, he was a pretty tall, perfect hugging height. I could have gone to his apartment sometimes out of the blue and brought him lunch. He could tease me about boys and I could ask him questions. I miss my brother.

I never really thought about it but maybe that’s why I love hanging out with boys so much, because I’m looking for the brother that’s not here any more. God has blessed me with the best guys friends a girl could ask for and I love each and every one of them dearly…but none of them are going to fill the brother shoes. Not completely. With brothers there are no awkward boundaries. I could call my brother up in the middle of the night if and cry to him about something dumb if I wanted to and not have to think about the stupid “Is he going to take this the wrong way? I shouldn’t be pouring my heart out to a boy” because he’s my brother and I can tell him whatever. I wouldn’t have to worry if I was acting to flirty or anything because hello…he’s my brother. There would be no dodging chemistry because there would be none because well he’s my brother. He’s a boy and just a boy. A boy that I could be a tom boy with. A boy that I could rely on. A boy that I could just be Sarah with. I miss it…even though I never quite got to have it.

God be my brother.

Men are still boys

...I've always thought that the people that watched the gladiators where horrible. How could you watch people hurt each other, kill each other?! AND find that as entertainment?!?! What is wrong with you? Today that changed slightly. Today I witnessed a gladiatorial fight of sorts. It didn't involve blood, or death, maybe some bruises...and defiantly laughter. Today the intern boys went ninja...and I watched.

IT WAS SO FUNNY

Overall conclusion is that men are still boys. No matter how old they get guys still want to be heroes, still want to be the people they read about in comic books, still want to be the super stars of all the guy movies...and it cracks me up every time.
I also concluded that the cooler you try to look, the less affective you are. The people that look awesome while they fight, that try to look like their idols on the big screen end up getting bet. I've learned this other places to. One of them being fencing in the Olympics. I was all sorts of excited when I found out that there was sword play in the Olympic games only to be sorely disappointed when each duel lasted all but 3 seconds. Or take hockey games for instance...the fights there are just ugly.
True violence is all but pretty, and guys living out their five year old fantasies is amazing.

p.s. I'm well aware that I have yet to write about the intern trip to DC. I will...I'm just waiting for the right time. For now just know that it was INCREDIBLE and that God has us there at the perfect time.

I'm sick

PRAY for me please! It's nothing serious...I have a cold...or allergies that should be shot for treating a person this way. JK. I'm pretty sure I have a cold. No big deal usually, just tough it out, but you see I'm leaving for Washington DC this Saturday. We're going to be meeting and praying for our congressmen. I'm excited! But this cold needs to go. I can just see me sitting at this big meeting table with Bill Sali and as he's talking to use in an almost awkwardly quite room I'm sniffling the whole time. OR, like earlier today, I'll just sneeze 5 times nearly in a row...and these are wet sneezes people. It's not pretty. So I would love it if you would life up a quick prayer for me. Thanks

When I grow up...

I may have found my calling in life.
Rodeo clown. Think about it...

1) They get to work with animals. I totally have experience in that. I mean come on you can't get much worse than an angry Siamese cat anyway right? So bulls are huge and have horns...they just have two horns. Cat's have like 16 claws and 32 teeth AND THEY AREN'T AFRAID TO USE THEM! Even if it's just for kicks. And plus I'd have those giant barrels to jump into right?

2)The barrel jumping is like excercise. Forget the gym! That's like having benefits right there.

3)Rodeo clowns also get to wear costumes. I LOVE COSTUMES. And the face make up expresses their personality. Fun!

4)Rodeo clowns are funny. I've been told I'm funny...and I have acting experience. It's perfect. I think I would be a great rodeo clown.

I wish...and also

I wish...
That squirrels where tame. OH my lanta time of my life. If I had a pet squirrel that would be so much fun. I would laugh all the time. Forget the tv. Oh that would be fun. Or even to be a squirrel...that would be fun too! If I was an animal I would hope to be a squirrel...or maybe a ferret. They're crazy and funny too.

And also...
I just showed my mom my blog and she read it "'Make like a tree'...and leave is that what you're trying to say?" Once again my nieveness has gotten me in trouble. NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I MENT! I didn't even think of that...although that is pretty funny. No I don't want people to leave (despite prior entries) I meant make like a tree...as in psalms one.

How well God must like you-
you don't hang out at Sin Saloon,
you don't slink along Dead-End Road,
you don't go to Smart-Mouth College.
Instead you thrill to God's Word,
you chew on Scripture day and night.
You're a tree replanted in Eden,
bearing fresh fruit every month,
Never dropping a leaf,
always in blossom.
You're not at all like the wicked,
who are mere windblown dust-
Without defense in court,
unfit company for innocent people.
God charts the road you take.
The road they take is Skid Row.
(Psalms 1 -The Message)

Different

As far back as I can remember I have tried to be different...one shade off from the norm. I don't know why. It wasn't like I wanted attention, I don't remember really ever feeling neglected...I just IDK wanted to stand out perhaps. If the world was singing the same I wanted to be the one harmonizing. Just different.

Quite honestly I was destined to be different from the start. God made me very off color from the inside out. My eyes are two different colors, I'm left handed, I have a far from perfect smile, and everyone thinks I'm from a different country. I was born different.

I like being unique (which we all are btw). Yet when people pointed it out sometimes it hurt. When people would bring up how loud I was, how crazy, or how different I looked (aka they called me ugly), it hurt.

Going to the church that I do, where everyone (including babies), looked like they could have make a yanked off a run way, doesn't help at times. Here I am in my Cheerios t-shirt, hair that has a mood issues, and jeans that needed to be washed like a month ago and two year olds are running past me looking like they just sprung from a baby gap photo shoot. It starts to wear on me...

I'm different

I'm not what the world expects a 20 year old to be. I dress like a 12 year old that is still in the awkward stage of playing with the boys in the mud while the other girls are starting to plan their weddings. Not really...kind of...more like I'm dressed like the artsy (or try to) kid surrounded by super models (Picture Lainy Boggs from She's All That). I am way to messy for my old good and sometimes what makes a good day for me is if I get to be home to watch Aurthur on PBS.

I'm different

(ANNNND cue Jesus) God's been working on me. A few months ago someone came and gave me a message from God "He made you different for a reason" He said much more than this and I will treasure that forever...but that's a tangent. Like I said I do enjoy being different...it's just there's somethings that it would be nice to somewhat fit in for...

God made me different

And He's making me happy with that. I'm learning to praise God with all that I am...and how much joy it brings Him. So I happen to somehow yell in every story I tell? So my hair...we won't even to get into it's issues...So I dress laid back? God loves me and calls me fearfully and wonderfully made. I'm being who he made me..that is worship...that is fulfilling my purpose...my very different purpose.

Let it out by Leeland

It's like you got to walk like him

Got to talk like her

Got to be like them

Everybody knows you follow the crowd

Or get singled out

But God says who you are

Not the world or movie stars

Don't you know He holds the answers in His hands?

We're stuck in a system Is there anybody different?

Is anybody listening?

Is anybody listening?

Everyone has their own sound

Let it out now, let it out now

There's nothing wrong with living loud.

Let it out now, let it out now

I'm drawing the line between

Being them or being me

I'm not ashamed to call myself one of Yours, Lord

But it's a narrow bath

I've got to break from the pack

No turning back

No turning back

Yes, God's looking for a people

With a passion in their hearts

We're God's children

We need to shine bright

We need to shine bright
Everyone has their own sound

Don't you know all God's children have their sound?

The Best Pool Party EVER!

I went to a doggie pool party with my sister a week or more back. My anticipated response from you “(sarcastic) Oh how exciting…. (Not so sarcastic) I don’t know if I really want to read this post.” Just hear me out. IT WAS AMAZING! Like the most fun I’ve had in awhile. Sorry human friends…dogs might have you bet this time ;)

So Nampa is going to have a dog park soon. To raise money for it they took a kiddy pool (one of the coolest kiddy pools I’ve ever seen. Complete with fountains, a slide and a water depth of 0-31/2 feet.) A baseball field, and a small section of a field next to it and fenced it off. They charged $5 per dog and it was SO worth it. You go into this totally enclosed haven and set your dog free. Now before you start having all sorts of vision of horribleness let me paint you a picture.

Rules
All dogs must be vaccinated. No un-spayed females. And let’s face in, everyone that came was a dog person and most dogs very dog friendly. In fact there weren’t any real fights. Just some “GET OFF MY BACK” barks and snaps but nothing really. In fact the only real medical problems they had was broken toe nails. (I know this because the West Vet Pet Ambulance was there advertising…and just in case, and that’s where my sister works so I got an inside look)
The dogs had a blast. My sister’s dog, Buddy, was so excited he was barking LOUD before we even got in. He never barks. You could tell which dogs just got there because they didn’t know what to do with themselves. It was like all that they had been bared from doing all their lives they where finally free to do. They where finally off the leash. And it was a blast to watch. You have NO idea. Happy dogs acting like idiots. Oh my lanta….SO much fun.

I don’t expect you to understand or truly appreciate this. But truly it was a once in a life time experience and I’m so happy I was a part of it.

Heart broken

Feelings are dumb. And so are broken promises. They both hurt you and lead your astray.

Back story.
I finished the stupid/wonderful vampire books. I will not ruin the last book for those of you that haven't finished it. I will say that it took a different turn in the end and I was questioning my reading these now somewhat disgusting books...yet I endured it because they are addictive and thus the reason for their stupidity. I did like them A LOT. However I would not recommend them because of the fact that they are VERY hard to put down, like not getting things done hard. And because of some of the scenes. It makes me sad that some younger people are reading them. It's very easy to get attached to the characters. I went through a few days of the heart ache of finishing a series and realizing that there is no more of the story...
That brings me to my reason for my opening statement.

Reason
After finishing the series there was still hope that lingered. The author was said to be writing the same series again, but from Edward's, the leading male's, prospective. I found this not only intriguing but exciting. The story would go on, and I would see it from a different angle. I was happy. There was even the 1st chapter that the author put up online as a teaser. Talking to my co-worker about it she told me that this was now not going to happen. I did my research and I'm sad to say it's true.
One of the authors close friends/co-laborer (IDK) took the rough draft of the book and illegally put it up on the web. Hurt and betrayed the author decided not to finish this new series. She said that feelings affect authors and their writing and if she wrote it now it would be all wrong. So she put up the true rough draft for her fans to read and left it at that. There will be no more.

FEELINGS ARE BAD. Ok not really but honestly...they lead people astray. People say they fall out of love and shatter each others lives by getting a divorce. People get down about something and let it eat them until, before they know it, they have no friends and watch tv all day because the don't FEEL like doing anything else. People get betrayed and break promises to their fans.
Honestly the authors right, now wouldn't be the best time to write it...but still...never write it again? Forgive the person, and finish what you started.

Broken promises hurt to. I was looking forward to that...and now it's gone. I'm tired of that happening...but there is a reason beyond me I'm sure. Maybe it's for the best. That's all I would need during this intern year, a distraction like stupid teen vampire love...(sigh) I'm still disappointed.

A tale of pranks and the monster I am

Once upon a time there were some boys. These boys took a noble trip to ready a camp for their group of companions. While away they left their forms of transportation parked all together, their windows down, and their doors unlocked. All but one boy that is but seeing as he was so close to his friends it would be a pity for him not to suffer the wrath that his friends would soon suffer. You see girls happened by these groups of cars. Seeing a wonderful opportunity they jumped on the chance to shower love on the fellows in the form of yarn and demeaning remarks.

And the girls lived anxiously ever after waiting for retaliation.

One of these lovely girls however was a monster. She had betrayed her fellow girls to this group of boys before and offered to assist the boys in a little payback. Feeling guilty however she poured her heart out to one of her fellow girls. The girl poured some undeserving forgiveness onto this monster of a girl. Now the guilt ridden monster is trying to gain trust back and feels awful.
The end.

The Titanic...minus the romance

I had a strange dream this morning in between the snooze button parade of the day. You know what I'm talking about. ALARM ALARM ALARM snooze...nine minutes later ALARM ALARM ALARM! Tangent-Who makes a clock that has a nine minute snooze. No really. Cause all it really does is make me angry and gives me a reason to keep sleeping. I think I heard once it's healthier to sleep for an odd number of hours. I think that's crap. Give me an even ten minutes of sleep. It would be nice to press snooze a few times and end up sleeping until 7:30 verses 7:29. Grrrr.
ANYWAY back on track

I hit the snooze and sunk back into sleep. I have been blessed with that ability. In this short 9 minutes I had a dream. I was on the Titanic...well more like off of the Titanic. I was in the water with the people in the boats. The boat was slowly going down into the water crammed with people all with sad faces at the death that was to come. I'm swimming around...I think maybe looking for a boat maybe not. This one lady that had been in a boat was now back in the water. "Come on (insert name, I knew it in the dream) get back in the boat. Come on I'll come with you." She protested, saying that she couldn't bear having a way to be saved when all of these other people where watching her, waiting for their death. In the mean time her boat mate was all cozy in her sleeping bag completely stretched out taking up the whole boat.

Other stuff happened but it's a little fuzzy. I ended up on this concrete island with my friend Lizzy somehow. I think she may have saved me. The whole island was a coffee shop that, by the look of the cup labels, was a cheep rip off of Starbucks. The guy running the place was sort of grumpy, like he was annoyed with having to be there. It was his birthday apparently because with the help of Lizzy he got sung to in Japanese later on in the dream. When we got there though he seemed friendly.
"You're safe here."
"Like not sinking safe?" I ask. He re assures me and gets Lizzy and I hot chocolate.

I remember feeling really comfortable, like safe at last. Sort of like how you feel after getting out of the cold water and into some warm clothes after all day swimming. Yet I knew that people where still drowning...but I didn't want to leave again. I was safe, I was comfortable.

I woke up although still very tired. It took longer for my mind to wake up than usual. As I was getting ready for my day it hit me that this dream had a meaning. I have been saved, I have nothing to fear anymore. Lately I am finally starting to realize how truly loved I am. I don't have to search for something to fill the void in my life. God filled it all. So I have somehow made it to this concrete island, this safe haven...but I can see that people are still drowning. Out in the world people are sinking everyday...and here I sit, not talking. Here I sit, watching movies, hiding out in my room, doing my own thing. Drinking hot chocolate. All the while in the back of my head "People are dieing". Am I willing to jump off my island, my comfort zone, to save them. Am I willing to push myself until my muscles ache, until I'm beyond tired to meet them where they are at? Am I willing to give my all to see as many of them as I can reach to save them? This season is a transition season. Something huge is coming, and I need to die to myself, jump out into the ocean with the rest of the peeps, and get to work.

*Not quite sure*
I had a thought, but not quite sure, about the lady that was floating by her boat from the begging of the dream...she was like some in the church. She didn't like that these people where going to drown but she wasn't really helping either. She looked kind-hearted and noble to want to suffer along side them by staying in the cold water that they were going to have to endure but she also looked like an idiot. Seriously, she wasn't helping anyone by just hanging out in the water next to her boat. She needed to get moving and make her friend in the boat, (who by the way is also like people in the church that just sit, taking up space. A little to comfortable, and taking up more than their share, making it impossible for others to join in this life saving device. ) and throw a few people in the boat. We all need to not just talk about saving people, feeling compassion for them. Lets put that compassion into action, if we don't then really we just all suffer.

Setting myself up for disappointment.

I will get married someday. IN JESUS NAME. And that will be glorious. I like most girls already have some vague idea of what my wedding will look like (boys it's true...it's not just something on tv...girls really do think about their weddings. I know a girl that buys wedding magazines and everything). I'm excited for this day but...

I'm setting myself up for disappointment.

It's not what you think. It's not the "what if I don't get married someday" that passes through everyone's mind, not just girls. It's not that marriage won't be all that I hoped for...it will be better! It's that MARRIAGE IS NOT ALL THERE IS TO LIFE. I like to think about my wedding and such but that's not all there is in life. It's not like one day I'm going to get married and the world stops spinning and I live in this ageless bliss for the rest of my days. Life doesn't stop when the wedding bells do (honestly do wedding bells even exist anymore?). There is going to be a life after marriage. What is going to happen with that? What are my goals? Live in Africa maybe? That would be danky...that's a good thing for the record. How am I going to change the world as a wife someday...because my purpose in life is not to be Mrs. so-and-so. I'm not called to be a trophy wife. What does God want from my life? I need to stop focusing on this one blissful day that will someday come to be...because there will be many more after that. What will they be like?
I lack vision beyond this point and that's where the disappointment will be. It'll be like if Hook ever really killed Peter Pan. His whole life was centered around this one goal, this one dream, it was his motivation...what would his life had been like after he had finally accomplished it? Empty? My dreams need to go beyond this. Beyond living happily ever after. There is so much more to life than riding off into the sunset.

Christianity, The anti-pity party

I’m driving home tonight at around 2am. I’m in the car alone now with “I’m not who I was” by Brandon Heath streaming through my speakers. The summer sky illuminated above me. Beautiful. Listening to the words of the song, I smile at my past. I swear that this song was written to his ex-girlfriend. “Thinking it’s a funny thing, figured out I can sing. I’m not who I was” The lyrics brought me back to the boy that told me I could sing, encouraged it in fact. The first boy to really like me back. My mind glinted back to some of our moments together…and then started to think about where he is now…just newly married. It’s weird really. Not sad….just weird. He was one of my closest friends, he was beautiful in many ways, he was fun, and now he’s just a memory and I’m ok with that. He’s happy and I’m here.
Then it hit me, where I was. Alone. Friends talking about who likes who and then there’s me and Jesus. Everyone has their hand holders and here I am…alone. And this new feeling hit me. It was a good feeling honestly. Just me and Jesus. I felt as deep blue as the sky ahead of me. Strong, bold…ok…free in a way. Yet in some ways sad. Everyone has someone else, even if it is just in a crush and here am I…no one likes me. I’m the comic relief, the side-kick, the shoulder to cry on, the best friend. My mind started to wonder backwards to all the times that I thought the boys I liked actually liked me back…until they asked about my friend, or suddenly they where walking around holding hands, or they started pouring out there feelings for my good friend…to me.
I turned one “Jefferson aero plane” by Relient K to fit the mood on the rest of my ride home. This broken hearted boy sings about getting through the heartbreak. I’m slowly slipping into a slight pity party, but not really. Still feeling strong and bold…just wondering if this best friend role will be the only role I play in my life…and telling myself, and God that if that’s what he has planed that I’m ok with that. I stay in my car to finish the song and the last few lines stick in my mind “…so everybody knows that I found myself able to fly away without magic feathers or Jefferson Aero planes. I got with me all that I need” Oh Relient K you have words for everything. I, like the boy in the song, got through heart break, and without the tricks of the world, or the self help. God walked me out of the darkness. I’ve got with me all that I need. That’s in the past as well as the future.
God smiles at me excited about what He has planed for me. He takes my hand under this dark sky, turns my gaze from my past. With Him I can run, without worries of falling, without worries to where we’re going or what’s going to happen. Just laugh out loud running under this blue summer night sky. “I figured out I can sing”

"SHUT YOUR FACE!" (and endings of other stories)

I do need to learn to shut my face at times...and just because I'm loud. (Oh my loudness makes me sad. I really don't mean to...and I don't want to be THAT girl. Although sometimes, when I am aware of my loudness...It's way fun. A pass time really). No I'm meaning I need to keep my mouth shut. As I was saying to a friend tonight "Just because it's funny doesn't make it ok." It's true. Making people laugh is WAY fun. I like to have fun with people, make them comfortable and make me easy to talk to. But there is a line that should be drawn here. I don't want to be a Blue Like Jazz Christian. I want to be able to relate to people. I want them to know that I'm not some "holier than thou" person that frowns down on them when they let a cuss word slip or that I look down on them for smoking or whatever. So I joke around with people...and sometimes I cross a line. It's funny yes but then I look back and think that wasn't awesome....What if my pastor was standing right there would I still be having that conversation? What if Jesus was right there? Would I still be laughing about that dude's hair piece? Would I still be laughing at that disgusting comment that so and so just said?
My freshmen year of high school, well even in middle school actually I had a pretty dirty sense of humor. Worse than that I was sometimes the instigator of the bad jokes, twisting of innocent tales, dropper of the off color. I remember in my sophomore year realizing that being a Christian wasn't just getting saved but LIVING for Christ. I wanted to change...but how do I stop laughing at the inappropriate and disgusting? My friend turned to me with an answer "Just stop yourself and say 'that's not funny' and think about it because it's really not" and it's not...and I stopped laughing. But it's easy to slowly start to slip back into that...especially when you're not always around your 'christian' friends. Which I would like to point out picked up the "that's what she said" thing, I did too really...and now that I think about it...that's not funny either. But anyway. I just want to start rethinking my words. God says words are powerful. How am I using that power? I want to be wise with words not hurtful, or gross.

(other endings)
The end of the Prom story-
My friend won a free copy of the book for dressing up like Alice, one of the vampires. I saw her, and haven't seen her for years. She looked really pale and I'm thinking "that's unfortunate" because of her lack of play in the sun. Come to find out she powdered herself down along with some friends for the party. She looked awesome.
I met a really cool lady in line. We all talked like when had known each other forever. I love people like that.

The Vampire Prom

I got the text, the invite, I had no excuse except that it sounded lame and I was afraid of how the whole experience would be. Her comeback was guilt and as usual it worked. She would have to go alone and I would just be hanging out at my house with my lame excuse. So I agreed.

I went to the vampire prom.

The vampire books I've been reading shamefully (I mean that. I feel horrible reading them, yet I want to know how they end up. Reading these is becoming my dark secret that I hide), came out with the last book of the seres. This is what made me happy about jumping into the books late, I didn't have to wait like a year for the last book to come out. So I went to the opening at Hastings...or aka the vampire prom. Oh that's right the prom. No really people dresses up in dresses and suits. Some painted gore on themselves and so on and so forth.
I figured if I was going I would jump into it head first. So I painted a shirt. It was actually pretty awesome. It's black and simply says "edward". I'll eventually put a quote from Edward on the back but right now I have yet to see a quote worthy of going on it. But people said it looked like I bought it. It made me happy.
I'll add more later....got to go.

Keep bleeding Keep Keep bleeding....

I sit here in the middle of a heart break...inside of a Vampire book. Oh my lanta I just couldn't stay away. They are just so well written. You have to know what's going to happen or something I don't even know. I do know that I'm like 1/3 done with the second book...and I did that mostly all in one day. It makes me sick.

But it was beautiful

You read along knowing that this boy is going to break this girls heart and she's so nieve thinking that something else is going to happen and then you just see her crushed.The end of the chapter she sinks into complete grief and the utter pain of all that heart break is. The next four pages contains one word upon each...the tittle of the next four months. Followed by "Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me." Written so perfectly and do dramatically. My heart broke for this imaginary girl. I have so been there. Standing in the middle of this pain...there's nothing like it. Not knowing how you will get through the next few months...years...and not wanting to know.
Yet times still passes all the same. I'm so thankful for God. I don't know how people heal from heart break without Him...or if they ever really do. He heals so gently...so patiently. He takes his time, letting you get it all out, one layer at a time. No one else can do that. Not your trying to forget, not drinking away your sorrows, not even getting a new boy/girl friend. That wound will still linger.
Putting a person in God's place has to be the most stressful thing ever. That person is going to let you down. They will. The God shaped hole in your heart was never meant to be filled by a person...it is MUCH MUCH to big. Bigger in every way. When that person leaves, because eventually they will (if not by break up, we all have to die sometime) your entire world gets destroyed. Your since of being. God said "I will never leave you or forsake you" and He's the only one telling the truth when he says it...and I'm so thankful for that.

An emo trip with two happy girls

My friend is leaving on Tuesday to return to Oregon...sad sad times. So we tried to shove in an adventure today that we had been putting off. We went to Cascade...and we had a time limit of five hours. So we went, had linner (lunch dinner. It's the cousin of Brunch), and came home...after a few emo adventures.
We picked flowers...that were really weeds
We saw a bear....that was really a log
AND we found a rope bridge that was illegal to cross.

I just want you to know that we where driving and pulled over for everyone of these adventures. Ha ha ha. Good times.

STOKED OUT OF MY MIND!

I'm so freaking hyper right now. It's lovely. I have Skillet blaring...I've done my random air guitar. Oh I'm a rock star. Really.
It's funny how you forget how awesome some music is. You put it on the shelf and forget about it for awhile only to rediscover it and fall in love all over again. I listened to Skillet a lot two years ago with a broken heart. It was shelved when I had listened to it FAR to much. But they really do rock...and they are way fun to see in concert. It was good stuff. So this is a shout out to Skillet. I don't know why.

P.S. that shouldn't be the post of the script but rather just the script itself. God is really really good. Just when you think you know it all you don't. It's funny how when you are in his presence everything you thought was a big deal, everything you thought would bring you so much joy...everything just pales in comparison to him. It's incredible. Something you can't just read about something you can't fake. It's real, HE'S REAL...and I love Him. He's SO big it takes a whole eternity to get to know Him. I love it.

July 15th

Life is defined my moments. If you look back in your life you can base your time around big events. For example "Oh that happened before I graduated." or "I met so and so after I got married." For me and my family July 15th is one of those big dates. On July 15th 1997 around midnight my brother and a car load of his friends where cruising around not far from my house. The details are a little sketchy seeing as how everyone present in the car has a slightly different story, but the facts stand that the car my brother was in rolled two and a half times, he was thrown from the car and landed on the pavement. He died at age 19...I was 9 at the time.

As of today it has been 11 years since my brother died so of course I was thinking about it a bit. Shawn would have been 31 on January 2 of this year. That's the same age as my youth pastors. I hadn't really thought about this connection until I was sitting in church and one of them came and sat by his mother and was trying to whisper to her something during service. It hit me then, that could have been my mother and my brother. It was only then that it started sinking in how much it must hurt my mom not to have him around anymore. It's weird thinking that Shawn would have been the same age as some of my mentors and I don't know if I'll look at them totally the same again. To me he's stuck forever in my head as the hippie kid that he was. Would he have his hair cut now? Would he have kids too? What would our relationship be like now if he was still alive? I was just a kid when he died. What would it be like to have a big brother to go to advice to? What would he have said at my graduation? How would he have looked at my sisters wedding? What would he be like now? Would he come say hi at work and tease me about things? What would it be like?

While those questions do come up that's not what had my attention today. What really got me was the miracles around the whole event of his death. My brother grew up listening to Nirvana and other hard core music. He dabbled in the dark side of stuff and did his fare share of worldly things. Before he died, at one point he said he had a dream that one of his friends was the devil and was chasing after him. In his later years (It's weird that he was only 19...he seemed so much older. He was living on his own, and helping raise a little boy...that's a whole other story) he got into the more hippie scene than anything. At one point he found himself at the rainbow festival. While there he went out into the woods alone...picking mushrooms (IDK...while telling my mom this tale he said that he knew the difference between the ones that where deadly and not. IDK what he was planing to do with these mushrooms but I just don't worry about it.) when a elderly man walked up to him holding a Bible. He said that his name was Gabriel. He opened his Bible and read my brother a passage. (Shawn couldn't remember which one) he told him that time was getting short and then left. A few weeks later my brother passed away.

Like a week after he died I had a dream, long story short, that he was home. I didn't understand because he was dead. In my dream a lady came to our house to help with his funereal arrangements. She was talking to us, her eyes fell on him and she was like "Hey wait...why are you here?" She was mad like we where tricking her or something. He just laughed...in my dream I heard his laugh. I wish I could remember it. I think it might be on a VHS somewhere. I woke up and realized that he is with us. That's not doctrinal and no I don't think my brothers spirit hangs around....although as a kid healing from a tragedy I may have. But bottom line I knew my brother was safe in heaven and I would see him one day. I had a peace that surpassed all understanding...and despite the occasional cry I have ever since.

My mom on the other hand wasn't so sure about my brother's salvation and this hurt her. He may or may not have dabbled into satanic things. But hope lingered because of him meeting Gabrila and all.... :D So one night not to long after he died she was outside and she prayed "God, just let me know he's safe, just give me a sign. Like a shooting star." AS SOON as she opened her eyes...there it was. Coincidence. I THINK NOT. I know a 20 year old man that has never seen a shooting star...let alone one on request. God works in mysterious ways.

Shawn's life touched SO many. He was such a friendly, nice, funny guy. He was way talented with the guitar and could sing pretty awesome too. It's weird, even my brother in law, who my sister meet long after Shawn's death, knew him in high school. In fact they use to walk home together. It's just uncanny. His life touched so many, so did his death. Grief can break a person or build them and grief striking so close to home is certainly shaping. I don't know if I would be where I am today if Shawn wouldn't have died. I don't know if I would have been at the church camp that I was at when I got saved if he never would have died. I don't know if my family would treat each other the same. I just don't know.

When Shawn was ejected from the car he pretty much landed in someones front yard. The people who lived in the house where with him when he passed. They are a nice family and to this day they still send us a Christmas card every year. God had me thinking about them the other day. They are Christians and I'm sure they prayed for me, for us. How much have their prayers shaped our lives? It's all a miracle, tragic yes, but God has a plan SO much bigger than our own. I'm not saying that I'm grateful that he died, but I can see how much bigger it really is. God changed my life, who I am in a sense through Shawn's death, who knows how he used it in others life's. Life is defined by moments.

Tongue tied and heart locked

I talk…I talk a lot actually. In fact my sister tunes me out sometimes and if I ask her about it she says it’s because I never shut up. I just like to talk, and awkward silences scare me so I tend to try and avoid them. I usually do this with chatter, hoping to get the other person to talk a long with me…but lately I just walk away. “Hi nice to meet you. I’m Sarah…oh that’s nice…[insert lame excuse to walk away…and maybe possibly to go home as well].”
I, the once bubbly social butterfly, am becoming socially awkward.
I have a fake theory it’s because all the senseless drive thru talk I do. It’s literally sucked a life times worth of talking out of me. I have nothing left to say now other than “Hi…how’s your day. Good. Here’s your change…have a good day. (shut window)” Except in life there is no window…the people are still there, friends are still there, just wanting to talk to me and be talked to…but the coffee house has sucked it all out of me and all I want to do is go home.
This isn’t true…but there is something going on with me and I can’t pin point it. I don’t want to talk and I’m losing my ability to listen…and it’s becoming hard for me to care about things. I just feel blah. I don’t feel like the bubbly kid I once was, at least lately, a week ago I TOTALLY did. I feel like the mellow kid that would be just fine with reading all day and not really being talked to, although I might have a comment or two at some point. I’m becoming the quite kid at the lunch table on the inside.
I don’t get what’s going on with me spiritually. I feel all jumbled lately. I’m kind of distracted…going through the motions with a legitimate smile on my face but I haven’t felt God in a while and I don’t feel like I am really worthy to. (That’s the flesh within). I know in my head that God loves me (For the Bible tells me so) But what does God think of me right now? How does he see me at the moment? Because all I see of me lately is a jumble of thoughts and a thousand mood swings in one day. God what do you think of me? Why am I so tongue tied…and why is my heart locked up? Why don’t I feel anymore? I don’t feel like a real friend, I feel like a fake. I don’t get me. But You know me better than I know myself. Could you tell me some things then please? Change me.

Sigh...and another one bites the dust

So I've heard about these vampire books. I was skeptical. Vampires...that's creepy...and dark and weird. The friend that suggested them tends to have the opposite taste than I do. No really. We joke about it. "Oh you like this...no wonder I don't." sort of thing. She tried to convince me it wasn't dark. It's a love story. So I sort of shrugged off the suggestion. Another friend read them...all of them and now has a love hate relationship with them. She really doesn't like how much she likes them. A small group assistant talked about them and how much she loved them. Another friend read them, this time a guy. He said it was a waist of time...yet I would like to point out that he not only read them all...but bought them all too. So I borrowed the first on from a friend.


And stayed up until 4 am reading it

*SIGH*

I like words...if only I could spell them

I picked up reading again. Up until the last month I spent hours a day watching TV, which by the way without cable takes a lot of skill and tolerance because there is nothing on. But now I want to read...all the time. I just got done reading Beautiful Boy. It was a Starbucks featured book about a dad's journey through his sons addiction. It's a very true story. The guy did ALL sorts of drugs but mainly meth. Meth is from satan. Just how it makes you act and feel and what it does to you. It steals your life. It's awful in so many ways and I may get into that in a different blog. (AND no I don't do drugs and I never have...I'm just a weird kid...love me anyway) a
Now I'm on The Shack and I'm loving it. I'm also reading Confident Woman in the back ground for small group. Along with Exodus.
I want to read all the time as I have mentioned. It's kind of sad. People invite me to do things and I'm just thinking "I sort of want to just read". I had a full day off not to long ago, I'm talking NO plans and that doesn't happen often and I slept and read ALL day. It was wonderful. Yet sad. Also I need to read the Bible more. Yes I am reading Exodus...or starting it rather...but I'm devouring The Shack. Shouldn't that be the other way around?
A plus is I think my vocabulary went up two points in the last month. Woo!

Love Languages

There is a fairly famous book among the christian culture called "The five love languages". It's a book the breaks down how people give and receive love. There are ways such as words of affirmation, gift giving, quality time, touch...I can't remember the last one. My engaged friend bought the book and her and her fiance now know each others love languages thanks to a little quiz in the back. I tried to take this test...I don't think I qualified. All the questions where like "If your spouse da da da...then a, b, c, or d." IDK I'm not married...THANKS FOR POINTING THAT OUT! JK. Totally JK.
A friend of mine claims that he found the sixth love language...violence. He says this and I think "so says an abusive husband to the police"...yet he makes some good points that I would have to agree to to an extent. Yet I have some points to make as well.
I think this "love language" runs deeper in boys that girls. Little boys...and adult boys too like to wrestle and shoot each other and all sorts of hurt each other. It's bounding time. I don't understand it really but it's really really funny to watch. Normal conversation and out of no where two guys are on the ground tangled in a mass trying to kill each other.
Do you see girls doing this? Well sometimes. I had my first wrestling experience on New Years when I took down my small group leader. Oh it was awesome...I won. I have always wanted to wrestle. Boys make it look fun and I never knew if I would win really...but I did..but that's beside the point. This was with a fellow tom-boy. It's not built into girls like it is guys. Very few girls would be up to this...I learned that...it seems that it's a universal language with guys. So I can see where my friend, who is a boy would have come from in calling it a love language. My argument would have to be it is for you...because you are a boy.
Another example. Girls don't like each other two options. 1 they talk it out, most likely with tears, and are then best friends 2 they back stab them and don't ever talk to them and are mean in a way that only girls can be which I think hurts worse and scares deeper than a punch in the face. They will NOT be friends and will attempt to make sure that other people are not friends with them either. There is a rare number 3 that they just don't talk to them, avoid them, and just plan don't like them and when they are brought up there may be remnants of number two that sink in...
Boys get mad at each other and what do they do. Fight. Punch each other, wrestle and this time not in a fun way. But then everything is ok. They are buddies or understandably not friends. It's a weird loving end to a conflict. It's sort of an oxymoron isn't it?
There are some cases that girls will also fight it out...but it DOES NOT end friendly. In fact it ends up making things worse. And girls are brutal...like horror movie fighters. They will scratch you in the face. I have heard stories of a girl I know, by her own account, grabbing a girl and bashing her head against the sidewalk. Another girl I know had a girl try to punch her, she missed, her fist went flying past her face, the girl took this opportunity to reach out and bite her arm. It's not pretty...and it's defiantly not a love language.
Violence makes girls mad. This year at camp there was once again the famous game of water melon wrestling. One (sometimes two) watermelons covered in butter and other slippery things in the middle of a watered down, soaped up tarp. Goal- get the melon back to your team. You have to wrestle for it. The girl round lasted FOREVER. Probably the better part of a half an hour. All the girls had fun but I did hear of some girls getting fed up and having to punch a person or two to get people off of themselves. It starts out fun...but, I don't know what it is exactly, girls get mad when they fight. It's no longer a game...they are angry. I know this from experience. Maybe the old saying plays a big part with girls, "it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt". Having fun watermelon wrestling, then someone steps on your back and you are in pain...people still won't get off of you, won't listen to you when you say you're hurt so you throw some punches. Maybe it's the mother in us. Someone tries to take your kid, or whatever you are trying to protect, or they try to get back something back to the team or "family", in this case a watermelon you get mad. Maybe it's relationship. A friend tries to drag you off of a watermelon it's funny, you laugh. An acquaintance tries to drag you off of your goal you get furious. "What's her problem?!?!" Maybe it's the intent behind the action. Friend punches you in the arm as a hello it's fine. Make someone mad or annoy someone and they punch you in the arm you get angry. IDK but violence is not a love language to girls. And if it is taken as love on their side I would say that it would qualify as the love language as touch in their mind...or maybe even quality time.

The Choice

As a child I would never have DREAMED of saying no to my mom. Even now I don’t. That is just something that is not said to a parent. I bravely attempted that once or twice before. The conversation would stop, my mothers tone would change and I would get a fire filled look followed up by an “excuse me?”. I would then desperately back paddle with an “I just mean….” I never stood my ground on my nos. I don’t ever remember getting a consequence to saying no it was just simply something you didn’t say to my mother. Never even tried it on my father. Wouldn’t dream of it in fact. Dad says do something you do it.
Two years ago I said no to God. I was slowly walking into a relationship with a guy that I knew wasn’t my husband, God told me so. Yet when God told me to stop hanging out with the Guy I desperately said no no, please no…he’s my friend. After the terror of what he was asking sunk in I still stood my ground and said no. Fire didn’t rain down from heaven I wasn’t struck by lightning…I survived the no. Something I never thought of doing now sunk into my life. The no. God would say “Go talk to this person” out of fright I would say no. What if I said something wrong? What if I’m thinking this up on my own. No God…no.
No plague was cast down on me with my foolish decision to hang onto this boy. Instead I died on the inside. God where are you? I would walk through some of the funniest times of life yet the world was a shade of grey. I had learned to follow my own will…and the world was less bright because of it. Eventually I caved in and did what I thought was impossible and gave up a friend. He’s now married.
It strikes me as almost funny that to my parents no is a forbidden word in my mind. Yet to my heavenly father, the one true God, the creator of the universe, I can say no and attempt to run away from his request. Two years ago I got a taste of what it was like to walk my own path. It was grey. Fun didn’t exist and God’s voice came with running shoes. Like Adam and Eve I would attempt to run and hide…or just plug my ears. Yet following myself was easier, more comfortable.
My pastors have said that this is a shift year. The dissensions made this year will shape the future. Before me is two paths. One is radical, filled with adventure and danger. The second is grey, easy, comfortable. Lately I have been choosing the latter of the two. My days have been spent going to a job that to be quite honest I’m not sure, despite what I tell people, I truly enjoy. Coming home reading and watching tv or watching countless movies…trying to lose myself in others adventures. Time spent with people isn’t fun for me like it once was…it’s grey. I want to go home much of the time…go home and read.
In health class they teach us that adrenaline makes the “fight or flight” syndrome kick off in peoples brains. Working at Starbucks has taught me that I’m a runner. Drinks start lining up and something within me says “get out of here.” I fight back with “but no one else is here to take my place…calm down” Then I panic for a second…and then I just shut off my emotions. If the drinks don’t get done it doesn’t matter just go. Just go…that has been a common theme in my life. “I don’t want to be here right now” just go. “I don’t know what to say to these people” just go…just go…get to the next thing…the next event…just go. Run. Run through it. If you run you miss stuff. I want to feel…but I’m scared. God I’m scared.
God showed me the other path this weekend. I think I’ve been aware of it for sometime but I’ve been closing my eyes and running. It’s exciting…but it’s scary. I won’t get to be comfortable anymore. No more saying no and just kicking back. I’m going to have to run for God now…not from him. No more plugging my ears. But hearing every word…even the stuff that’s about me, about all the junk I have in my heart. No more just kicking back but being sensitive to his Spirit at every second. It’s going to be uncomfortable. A panic rises in me…I want to run. “but no one else can take my place…”
I stand at the cross roads with two paths in front of me. One is dangerous the other comfortable. Either way I’m going to have to run. I have a choice to make. God I’m scared.

From End to End
by Relient K
excuse me, but i've got a request
could you take the gag off of my mouth
i admit that i'm fairly impressed
cause you're the best at blocking me out
i believe that we weren't quite done
i know it's hard to hear me out again
i realize, you're not the only one
who's terrified of life from end to end

hey hey, can you hear anything i say
i'm feeling unwanted, that's not what i wanted
and attention to me is something you refuse to pay
cause i just can't believe the way that this
continues to go on
i say i wish you didn't always think i'm wrong
so tell me tell me what will it take to get this through your head
and tell me what will it take
until you see things through from end to end

excuse me, but isn't this the way
that things always turn into something good
you've tried to ignore the things i say
but in the end you found you never could

hey hey, can you hear anything i say
you search for the short-cut, you live life but for what
i love you and hope you will find the truth some day

cause i just can't believe the way that this
continues to go on
i say i wish you didn't always think i'm wrong
so tell me tell me what will it take to get this through your head
and tell me what will it take
until you see things through from end to end

so tell me tell me what will it take to get this through your head
and tell me what will it take
to get you on my good side again
and tell me what will it taketo get this through your head
and tell me what will it take

to forget what you knew
just let him find you
and then you'll see things through from end to end

*art done by me *

Real CSI conclusion (I’m a procrastinator.)

Leaving our old bed room that is apparently now some kind of a nesting place we enter back into the living room. On the wall near our old bedroom door I later discovered an upside-down cross with a 666 creatively placed next to it. The wall is lined with tea light candles along the base. This is creepy.
We make our way into the tiny kitchen. The floor is covered in a dry liquid. Because of the empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide we wonder if it’s blood. But based on the color we conclude its dried urine, most likely from someone that is intoxicated. The sink has an old water bottle under the facet. In a cupboard that would be over a refrigerator if there had been a refrigerator. It is neatly stalked with empty liquor bottles. The irony of this makes me laugh, the whole house it trashed, literally, yet this cupboard of liquor is so neatly organized. We walk down the little hallway. As a kid I remember this being much bigger. I remember my siblings stretching out with hands on one side of the hall and feet on the other and climbing up to the ceiling like this looking down at me…but it’s not that wide…or long…yet my sister reassures me that my memories are true…I guess they WERE shorter back then.
This hall leads to the bathroom on the left and my brother’s old bedroom on the right. My sister goes into the bathroom, I however do not I just peer inside. There where pills in the toilet and yet another upside down cross, a twin to the one in the living room. Other things are painted on the wall to in a reddish fingernail polish. It creped me out a little, on some of the doorways this fingernail polish was smeared with fingers….
In my brothers old bedroom there is cat litter on the floor, a naked tree painted on the wall along with an old mans face. The closet didn’t have a door…in it there is a stool…and a belt hanging from the poll. That creped me out. I’ve heard of people hanging themselves with belts in their closets.
Then we go into the back room. This room was just an off room off of the covered garage. It was sort of like a concrete covered patio. In the floor there is a wooden door. You lift it open and there are concert steps leading down to an old basement.
It’s wide open when we walk in.
This is a scene is straight from a horror movie. I’m creped out expecting to hear movement down there…we looked down this hole in the floor. Our eyes follow the old concert steps. Spider webs line the hole….
We head outside deciding to forget about the basement. But in the back of mind I’m thinking what’s down there? What if there is a dead person…what if there is a live person. I’m going to be wondering for the rest of my days. Finally we decide we are going into the basement ripped from a horror movie.
We approach the hole. While I’m thinking we’re going to find some CSI scene all that my sister is worried about is getting spiders in her afro. She’s braver than I am and starts down the steps. She gets about two steps down when flies start buzzing up out of the dark abyss.
We both chicken out at that point.
However I did peer down the entrance to the basement. All I could see was remnants of carpet and an old swivel desk chair with its back to us. That was scary!
We left after a bit. I was sure that the neighbors thought that we just bought drugs from whoever was in that house. We went back to my sister’s house. An hour or so in to watching TV my sister was like “Great now I’m going to be wondering what was in the basement.” I sort of did too…but I wasn’t going to let that haunt me. What if there was someone down there…a missing person?? A Person in need? A missing link to an open case? I’d rather live than know : D
I was thinking as we walked through that house who lives here? How did they get here? Not just physically (although that is another point my sister made…how did they get here? The house is off of the road, down a lane. How did they find out that was empty? What happened?) but to that place in life in general. What a dark place to be in spirit. How hopeless…Leaving I had this dark feeling. I am so thankful that God has saved me. So thankful. satan is a liar…and this person is caught in a dark, twisted web of lies. Please pray for them.