...but it's evidence of what is on our hearts.
I'm not a big trend-bandwagon-peer pressure sort of individual. I like to give my opinion, but I've learned not to insist that others adopt my ideas. Because I know myself, and I like to rebel against the popular. But there are certain times that I'll be pushy. For instance, I love my car. And if you're in the market for something new, you'd better believe that I'll insist you test drive my '06 Honda Civic. I'm not proud because it's new or cute. I'm proud because it's a product that I enjoy working for. It's a speedy little demon when you need it to be, was voted the safest car of 2006 (my future kids will be grateful), and if you're considering gas mileage, it's only beat by the Civic Hybrid. I push 40/gallon each tank. Eat that, fancy Hummer.
Friday night, John, Clayton & Megan and I enjoyed a showing of "An Inconvenient Truth" at the Alamo Drafthouse. As a side note, if anyone is ever in Austin (residing or visiting), don't miss the movie-going experience that is the Drafthouse. Moving on, I'd been fighting a cold all week that I think I may have caught from my daddy, so I was in full sniffle-mode. Throughout the movie, I had tears running from my ears and a pile of tissues on the table in front of me. I'm sure I was a sight, but it was nice to hide my emotions behind my "cold". Actually, the movie didn't produce too many tears, so don't be expecting a sobfest. Instead, the facts presented in the 100 minutes were highly sobering. And thought-provoking. I like that I walked away thinking, and not feeling sorry for our current state.
I feel like I'm digressing.
Something Megan said later really hit me. Clayton had attended a conference in which the speaker closed with a convicting statement, "What if God really loved the world?" Think about that for a minute. Actually, I'm going to stop for a bit, and let you answer that question.
I'll be back in a little while. I know this blog doesn't have a high volume of visitors, but I'd like to know what you wonderful-few think. Considering Gore's enlightening agenda (even if you haven't seen the movie), what should it look like for Christians to love the world?
Sunday, June 25
Friday, June 23
Our dear friends, Megan and Clayton...
...are accompanying us tonight to the Alamo Drafthouse for a showing of "An Inconvenient Truth".
I'll let you know how it goes. I wonder how, or if, it will affect my life. We'll see! Until then, take care, my friends and family!
I'll let you know how it goes. I wonder how, or if, it will affect my life. We'll see! Until then, take care, my friends and family!
Monday, June 12
I don't think I cried...
...the day I said goodbye.
Part I
Saturday morning, after having only 2.5 hours sleep, I woke up in the 3 o’clock hour to leave Austin by 4 a.m. for a drive to Tyler. I was going to visit my sister, Becca, aka Greece Monkey, at Pine Cove Camp. I drove into the sunrise, stopping only to put my contacts in and ask for directions when I’d obviously missed a key exit. Steven Curtis Chapman was my musical companion, and I danced most of the way to East Texas.
I arrived a little after 8 a.m. and watched the excitement of closing day. I saw the kids and counselors laugh together, greet their parents and go through the festivities of the last day. I proudly listened as my sister hand out Character Quality certificates, and I got to visit with some of my old campers. They loved knowing that “G-Mo” and I were sisters. I sat through staff meeting and enjoyed lunch with Becca, Katherine and some other friends.
We made tentative plans for the afternoon, which included changing cabins and cleaning clothes at The Laundry Room in town. While waiting for the washing machine, Bec and I read magazines at Starbucks. While waiting for the dryer, we hung out with a little boy and his mom and rolled a matchbox-like car (from the movie, Cars) back and forth on the folding tables while Becca Boo and I chatted about life and enjoyed the folks around us.
Leaving town, we went back to camp to finish moving her into her new cabin for the next week. On the way back, we stopped at the grade school camp, Towers, where I had worked for three summers as counselor and lifeguard. It was a quick walk-through. I wanted to see the new cabins they had built and check out other improvements. And then it was back to Ranch, where Becca is counseling junior high students. We cleaned up the cabin, had time for a quick nap, then a shower and a drive back into town to grab dinner. I had intended to spend the night, since driving 8 to 9 hours in one day didn’t quite appeal to me, but I’d had a good time with my sister and wanted to free her up to bond with her staff. I’ve been there before, and I understood the importance of the 24 hours of “free time”.
Dinner at Chili’s was fun. I liked hearing Becca’s funny stories about the goings-on at her activities class and how she’s made some incredible friends. I liked that she said she’s excited about coming down to Austin to visit her new best girl friend, Courtney, while I’m thinking that I’ve been in Austin for over 4 years, without a visit. It’s the naïve comment like that one that tells me that she’s having too much fun to care, and I’m thrilled. We shared stories, laughed about similar experiences and praised God for His grace. I was sad to say goodbye, but it seemed fitting to go by giving her directions to the church that I’d attended for three summers so that she could meet up with her new friends.
I hit the road at 8 p.m., which nicely rounded out my 12-hour stint at Pine Cove. Driving into the sunset, SCC was still singing through the speakers, and I still danced. A mellow song came on, and I noticed that I began to get teary-eyed. I knew I was tired from the whirlwind day, and refused to let my emotions cloud my eyes and my driving. I kept the songs upbeat for the rest of the drive. No stops this time! When I hit Waco, I called Amy, and we talked all the way to Stassney Lane, just two exits from my apartment. Altogether, it was a full and beautiful day. And when I walked in the door just before midnight, I told John I would be sleeping in on Sunday.
Part I
Saturday morning, after having only 2.5 hours sleep, I woke up in the 3 o’clock hour to leave Austin by 4 a.m. for a drive to Tyler. I was going to visit my sister, Becca, aka Greece Monkey, at Pine Cove Camp. I drove into the sunrise, stopping only to put my contacts in and ask for directions when I’d obviously missed a key exit. Steven Curtis Chapman was my musical companion, and I danced most of the way to East Texas.
I arrived a little after 8 a.m. and watched the excitement of closing day. I saw the kids and counselors laugh together, greet their parents and go through the festivities of the last day. I proudly listened as my sister hand out Character Quality certificates, and I got to visit with some of my old campers. They loved knowing that “G-Mo” and I were sisters. I sat through staff meeting and enjoyed lunch with Becca, Katherine and some other friends.
We made tentative plans for the afternoon, which included changing cabins and cleaning clothes at The Laundry Room in town. While waiting for the washing machine, Bec and I read magazines at Starbucks. While waiting for the dryer, we hung out with a little boy and his mom and rolled a matchbox-like car (from the movie, Cars) back and forth on the folding tables while Becca Boo and I chatted about life and enjoyed the folks around us.
Leaving town, we went back to camp to finish moving her into her new cabin for the next week. On the way back, we stopped at the grade school camp, Towers, where I had worked for three summers as counselor and lifeguard. It was a quick walk-through. I wanted to see the new cabins they had built and check out other improvements. And then it was back to Ranch, where Becca is counseling junior high students. We cleaned up the cabin, had time for a quick nap, then a shower and a drive back into town to grab dinner. I had intended to spend the night, since driving 8 to 9 hours in one day didn’t quite appeal to me, but I’d had a good time with my sister and wanted to free her up to bond with her staff. I’ve been there before, and I understood the importance of the 24 hours of “free time”.
Dinner at Chili’s was fun. I liked hearing Becca’s funny stories about the goings-on at her activities class and how she’s made some incredible friends. I liked that she said she’s excited about coming down to Austin to visit her new best girl friend, Courtney, while I’m thinking that I’ve been in Austin for over 4 years, without a visit. It’s the naïve comment like that one that tells me that she’s having too much fun to care, and I’m thrilled. We shared stories, laughed about similar experiences and praised God for His grace. I was sad to say goodbye, but it seemed fitting to go by giving her directions to the church that I’d attended for three summers so that she could meet up with her new friends.
I hit the road at 8 p.m., which nicely rounded out my 12-hour stint at Pine Cove. Driving into the sunset, SCC was still singing through the speakers, and I still danced. A mellow song came on, and I noticed that I began to get teary-eyed. I knew I was tired from the whirlwind day, and refused to let my emotions cloud my eyes and my driving. I kept the songs upbeat for the rest of the drive. No stops this time! When I hit Waco, I called Amy, and we talked all the way to Stassney Lane, just two exits from my apartment. Altogether, it was a full and beautiful day. And when I walked in the door just before midnight, I told John I would be sleeping in on Sunday.
I don't think I cried...
...the day I said goodbye.
Part II
Aside from my customary early-morning bathroom trip, I didn’t regain consciousness until after 11 a.m. on Sunday. In the first moment that I awoke, a tear rolled down my face. Interestingly enough, I didn’t feel like I was crying. But that tear was followed by many more. It wasn’t the scrunched-faced sort of cry, but rather the kind where a river seems to have calmly let itself loose from behind my eyes.
When John asked what I was thinking I said, “When you picked me up from Pine Cove after the last week, and I’d said goodbye to everyone, did I cry?” He reminded me that I had driven back with my dear friend, Erin. I remembered then that we’d put on a new CD, but talked and laughed the whole way home and didn’t listen to the music a bit. We arrived in Dallas to find that hundreds of Pine Cove ants had stowed away in the back seat and trunk, so we spent the night washing everything and detailing the car (thanks again, Dad, for all your help!) The next day flew by filled with fun until Erin hit the road to drive back to Nebraska. A few days later, I went on vacation with John’s family and was once more engrossed with the realities of life at home.
And so I realized this morning that I never cried. I guess I forgot.
Asking Becca to drive me to Towers to see my old grounds was a somewhat spontaneous act. I’d thought briefly about visiting, but never considered the consequences. As we drove up and down the road past the entrance, it was as though a movie was going on in my head. All around me, I saw real images of the green grass, horses, and cabins, but before my eyes flashed a montage of intensely-detailed images. Our time at Towers was short, but in the 10 minutes that I walked upon the dirt and pine needles and into the cabins, I must have relived a thousand memories without any conscious effort. I truly felt that my life, in the packed time of those three summers, flashed across my mind. And though I dismissed it at the time, I sensed that each image carried with it a huge weight that called out to me: “Remember this.”
Tim Stevenson once told us that the problem with our faith is that we forget. We neglect to keep active in our minds the amazing things that God has taught us. We don’t hold tight enough to the instances when He’s revealed His fantastic nature to us and shown us that He is Lord God over this universe, unbelievably sovereign and infinitely loving. Our faith fails because we forget to remember how He’s saved us already.
When I woke up this morning, I knew that I had forgotten. I forgot two summers ago to properly say goodbye to an era of my life. Three summers, sure, but an era of learning nonetheless. And by not saying goodbye, I had neglected to give that era a space in my memory. Instead, I moved on to my life at home. Though my life didn’t change drastically at first, it did change. By the same time the next year, I was living on my own power once again. And one year after that, I sit here to say that I’ve forgotten. I’ve forgotten to remember what He’s done in my life.
I’ve forgotten that my life does not belong to me. Well, I do know this, but I forget that this also means that I cannot live it in my own power. I’ve forgotten that God has offered me His strength instead. I’ve forgotten that His fruit comes forth when His Spirit moves and that I embody His Spirit. I know I am weak, but I’ve forgotten that He alone is strong. STRONG. I’ve forgotten that HE is life, HE is joy, and I’m only faking it if I live on my own.
Don’t misunderstand me. As I see it, my life is going well. I’ve not been in the pit of despair. There’s not a deep, dark sin that covers my soul. But…it’s not…I am…and there is. If I’ve forgotten that the Lord God Almighty is righteous ruler of my life, strength in my bones, and joy of my heart, then I’ve forgotten it all.
When I thought I was driving to Tyler to visit my sister, I never imagined that God would direct me there to remind me. But I needed to remember that He’s broken my legs before, in order to restore me with His Spirit. I needed to remember that He radically changed my life in more ways than I could explain, and I would fail to bring Him glory by not remembering that transformation. Those few minutes standing on familiar soil was God’s time to tell me:
“Remember this: I am Lord, and you are my Beloved.”
Remember this.
Part II
Aside from my customary early-morning bathroom trip, I didn’t regain consciousness until after 11 a.m. on Sunday. In the first moment that I awoke, a tear rolled down my face. Interestingly enough, I didn’t feel like I was crying. But that tear was followed by many more. It wasn’t the scrunched-faced sort of cry, but rather the kind where a river seems to have calmly let itself loose from behind my eyes.
When John asked what I was thinking I said, “When you picked me up from Pine Cove after the last week, and I’d said goodbye to everyone, did I cry?” He reminded me that I had driven back with my dear friend, Erin. I remembered then that we’d put on a new CD, but talked and laughed the whole way home and didn’t listen to the music a bit. We arrived in Dallas to find that hundreds of Pine Cove ants had stowed away in the back seat and trunk, so we spent the night washing everything and detailing the car (thanks again, Dad, for all your help!) The next day flew by filled with fun until Erin hit the road to drive back to Nebraska. A few days later, I went on vacation with John’s family and was once more engrossed with the realities of life at home.
And so I realized this morning that I never cried. I guess I forgot.
Asking Becca to drive me to Towers to see my old grounds was a somewhat spontaneous act. I’d thought briefly about visiting, but never considered the consequences. As we drove up and down the road past the entrance, it was as though a movie was going on in my head. All around me, I saw real images of the green grass, horses, and cabins, but before my eyes flashed a montage of intensely-detailed images. Our time at Towers was short, but in the 10 minutes that I walked upon the dirt and pine needles and into the cabins, I must have relived a thousand memories without any conscious effort. I truly felt that my life, in the packed time of those three summers, flashed across my mind. And though I dismissed it at the time, I sensed that each image carried with it a huge weight that called out to me: “Remember this.”
Tim Stevenson once told us that the problem with our faith is that we forget. We neglect to keep active in our minds the amazing things that God has taught us. We don’t hold tight enough to the instances when He’s revealed His fantastic nature to us and shown us that He is Lord God over this universe, unbelievably sovereign and infinitely loving. Our faith fails because we forget to remember how He’s saved us already.
When I woke up this morning, I knew that I had forgotten. I forgot two summers ago to properly say goodbye to an era of my life. Three summers, sure, but an era of learning nonetheless. And by not saying goodbye, I had neglected to give that era a space in my memory. Instead, I moved on to my life at home. Though my life didn’t change drastically at first, it did change. By the same time the next year, I was living on my own power once again. And one year after that, I sit here to say that I’ve forgotten. I’ve forgotten to remember what He’s done in my life.
I’ve forgotten that my life does not belong to me. Well, I do know this, but I forget that this also means that I cannot live it in my own power. I’ve forgotten that God has offered me His strength instead. I’ve forgotten that His fruit comes forth when His Spirit moves and that I embody His Spirit. I know I am weak, but I’ve forgotten that He alone is strong. STRONG. I’ve forgotten that HE is life, HE is joy, and I’m only faking it if I live on my own.
Don’t misunderstand me. As I see it, my life is going well. I’ve not been in the pit of despair. There’s not a deep, dark sin that covers my soul. But…it’s not…I am…and there is. If I’ve forgotten that the Lord God Almighty is righteous ruler of my life, strength in my bones, and joy of my heart, then I’ve forgotten it all.
When I thought I was driving to Tyler to visit my sister, I never imagined that God would direct me there to remind me. But I needed to remember that He’s broken my legs before, in order to restore me with His Spirit. I needed to remember that He radically changed my life in more ways than I could explain, and I would fail to bring Him glory by not remembering that transformation. Those few minutes standing on familiar soil was God’s time to tell me:
“Remember this: I am Lord, and you are my Beloved.”
Remember this.
Tuesday, June 6
I'm so famous...
...it hurts.
I was on the radio today. Well, my email was on the radio today. First time ever for either one of us.
While on my way home, I caught an interesting conversation on the local station while flipping around the dial. People called in to give their opinion to the DJs' question, and I couldn't resist. When I got home, I turned the radio on in the bedroom and began typing away. Minutes later, my email was being read to who-knows-how-many other listeners. Not only that, but the DJ's loved me. I got laughs, an "exactly!", and a proud, "what a great argument!".
I'm still giddy. And so proud.
I was on the radio today. Well, my email was on the radio today. First time ever for either one of us.
While on my way home, I caught an interesting conversation on the local station while flipping around the dial. People called in to give their opinion to the DJs' question, and I couldn't resist. When I got home, I turned the radio on in the bedroom and began typing away. Minutes later, my email was being read to who-knows-how-many other listeners. Not only that, but the DJ's loved me. I got laughs, an "exactly!", and a proud, "what a great argument!".
I'm still giddy. And so proud.
Step one...
...in plan to decrease current insanity in my life:
1. quit Job #2
~Done!
2. use extra time to complete book interview and knock out part of summer school
~Still working on that
good grief, I want a vacation before this summer is over
1. quit Job #2
~Done!
2. use extra time to complete book interview and knock out part of summer school
~Still working on that
good grief, I want a vacation before this summer is over
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