I really feel the need to blog, though there's nothing specific that I want to write about.
So people, you've been warned.
Today, I used my green serrated knife to cut up a pumpkin. THE green serrated knife. The first time I used it, I sliced open my knuckle. (Remember that lovely incident?) Tonight, as I was cutting through this darn pumpkin, I thought to myself, Okay, Erin, be careful. But you know what happened?
I cut myself.
Afreakinggain.
This time, though, I cut my finger (a different one!) at such an angle that the wound basically closes on itself. Because of this, I refuse(d) to go to Urgent Care for stitches. After all, it only bled for about fifteen minutes. And this time, I couldn't see bone. That's always a plus.
I baked the pumpkin, and now have a wonderful dish of it to use for muffins. Speaking (writing) of baking, I'm participating in a "craft fair" type of thing this weekend. The whole idea of it is to produce art (in the broadest sense of the word) that others can buy. Here's my art: muffins and dishrags. Yes, I'm being serious. I'm making cranberry apple muffins, apple muffins, chocolate chip muffins, pumpkin muffins...and more muffins. I've crocheted a bunch of dishrags, too. Totally random, I know, but variety is the spice of life...or so I'm told.
I wore moccasins today, which was a dumb idea. I got a late start this morning and didn't even bother to look out the window. It was raining. The rain turned to freezing rain, which then became very wet snow. I didn't have time to go back to my room until 3pm, at which point my feet were so sopping I could wring out my socks. Clearly, moccasins are not rain/slush/snow shoes. I feel like after 3.5 years of college, I should have known that before now, or at least have been intelligent enough to act upon my knowledge. Sheesh.
My sister and I both left our formal dresses at home, so Momma mailed them to us. Last night, I submitted my very last supplemental application for grad school. I couldn't be more delighted that this ridiculously long process is officially over. It's really hard to type with a piece of gauze taped around my index finger. I'm ready for the semester to end. I even hung up Christmas lights around my apartment today and decorated a foot-high tree in hopes that they will make the end of the semester come sooner. I bought a suit this past weekend for my interview (!) next Friday. Let me tell you something: finding a suit these days is tough. I ended up getting a black suit, since finding a navy blue skirt suit was literally impossible, even at Macy's. It stinks, though, because apparently female applicants that wear blue tend to be the ones that get accepted. Weird statistic, I know. But y'all have figured out by now that I'm just a strange cat.
Yes, I did just refer to myself as a cat.
My stomach is rumbling, but I'm pretty much out of food. If I go to Target to get more food, I'll end up spending $60 on stuff I don't need but think is so cute or is such a good deal. Seriously, that store is going to be the death of my checking account. That being said, I think I'll just stick with the gurgling stomach.
I probably should go to bed. Honestly, though, I just don't feel like it. Is that bad? Probably. I've been fighting apathy like crazy this semester. There are an incredible number of things that I just don't feel like doing that I've forced myself to do anyway. I think I've struggled against some of that each semester, but this semester is especially bad. (Can I use the word semester one more time in this pseudo-paragraph, possibly? And in case you're wondering, I call it a pseudo-paragraph because I don't indent, don't have a topic sentence, and certainly don't have any sort of nicely-phrased transitions. Grammatically, this blog is a disaster. I use short, choppy sentences. I jump around from topic to topic, at least in this particular post. I write fragments instead of complete sentences. I leave out commas because in real life I wouldn't pause as I'm saying it; therefore, I feel no need to write any differently than I speak. Oh, and I make use of ridiculously long parenthetical remarks.) The Christmas lights just fell again. Stinkin' 3M hooks.
Sometimes, I just wish Jesus could physically wrap His arms around me. Today's chapel was presented by Middleton's Psalms class, and it was so good. They discussed a Psalm(s) of lament, and man, it's nice to have confirmation that I can express my frustrations to God when necessary. I mean, believe me, I do. I'm more honest with Him than I am with anyone else in my life, and as you should be able to tell from reading this blog...I'm a very straightforward person. I tell it like it is. Sometimes I feel like I'm almost too blunt with God. But if He knows it all anyway, then why not? As was mentioned in chapel, too, lamenting can be a healing process and actually serve as a way to draw closer to God and worship Him. That all being said, I still really want Jesus here in the flesh. It's so much easier to spend time with someone you can meet for lunch, high-five on the way to class, do homework with, and hug. I understand that that's the point of this lovely thing called faith, but dahhh.
I just want Him to hold me right now.
12/02/2010
11/21/2010
A Legacy
The more I learn, the more I'm thankful for.
When I was taking Genetics, for example, I gained an overwhelming appreciation for not having any debilitating/life-threatening genetic problems.
Developmental Psychology, though, didn't really strike me as the kind of class that would make me ridiculously thankful.
But it has.
We just submitted papers on Friday about our personal development. While my life hasn't been a walk in the park, I certainly like to think that I've come out okay. I've had some ups and some major downs, but with the help of family, I've made it through some of the roughest years of my life.
With the help of family.
We've spent the last several classes talking about family and parents and parenting and siblings and all that jazz. We've had in-class discussions about growing up with siblings and "helicopter parents". I sat in class on Friday just totally overwhelmed that I was given the opportunity to be part of such an incredible family.
And no, I'm not receiving compensation of any type for saying this.
In fact, I'm the only one who even knows I'm awake at 2am writing this.
Let me introduce y'all to my family:
I have a mom. I call her Momma.
I have a dad, too. I call him Daddy.
I have two younger sisters that I call Lane and Beef.
I have two younger brothers that haven't really earned nicknames yet.
My family is only screwed up in the sense that I never know how to explain my sibling situation to people. You see, I have two sisters that look just like me, or so I'm told. I have a brown-skinned, brown-eyed brother who lives with our parents and has been legally made a Nichols. I have another little brother, also brown-skinned and brown-eyed, who looks nothing like the first brother, doesn't live with our parents, and has yet to be legally made a Nichols.
But he's my brother, nonetheless.
The US government doesn't recognize this yet, and the Guatemalan government won't let him leave the country yet, but he's ours. He's a Nichols. He's been my brother since I laid eyes on him in August 2007. I don't know him well, he speaks a different language than I do, and we temporarily live in different countries, but he's one of us. When people ask how many siblings I have, I tell them four. Because it's true, despite the complexities.
So that's my (immediate) family.
Momma and I have been close since I was fourteen. I remember so clearly the day she became my friend. Neither of us were expecting it. It's not that we didn't get along, because we did--at least, as well as most mothers and fourteen-year-old daughters did. But this day, things changed. I had been struggling a lot emotionally, and had reached my breaking point. It became evident physically that I was not okay emotionally. Momma, being the sensitive, attentive person that she is, noticed immediately and knew she needed to intervene.
She drove me home from church separately; for some reason my family had taken two cars to church that day. We didn't really talk or say much. She missed the turn to our house, though, and kept driving up the highway, heading North. It was then that the conversation began. I don't remember much of what either of us said, but I remember her telling me how desperately she wanted to help me and how much she loved me and wanted me to be okay.
Sheesh, I'm tearing up just writing this.
I don't remember how our conversation ended, either. But when we finally made it home that day, I stepped out of the car with a new friend. We started having late-night talks. (In high school, "late night" meant after 10pm.) I trusted her explicitly, and she trusted me, too. Years passed, and our relationship deepened. I shared my life with her. Having her as a constant in my life was one of the main reasons I didn't completely lose it emotionally.
Toward the end of high school, she and Dad allowed me to begin making decisions for myself, since they knew someday I'd be on my own. I had more of a say in what movies I watched. I could choose what I ate. I picked out my own clothes. I got to decide if I wanted to sleep or go to church. They began to trust me with smaller things because they knew they had done everything possibly to raise me to make good decisions. From them I learned to trust God, forgive others, use a hammer, have self-control, say "please" and "thank you", persevere even when quitting seems better, mow the lawn, pick a perfect watermelon, do laundry, sew on buttons, change a tire, show patience, enjoy nature, bake muffins, listen intentionally, and love unconditionally. (Among other things.)
They had given me roots. When I was ready, they gave me wings. When I left for college at age seventeen, I proved to them that I had learned to fly.
Since then, I've soared.
My mom has never had to worry about calling me. In fact, I've had her ask me if I'm trying to set the record for the number of times you can call someone in a single day. Since that Sunday in the car, she's been my best friend. I call her for advice. I call her to vent about life. I call her to see how things are at home. I call her to celebrate good grades and share disappointment in bad ones. I call her to have her talk me out of (or into) doing something. I call her to tell her about cool stuff at Target. I call her just to talk.
I've never had that stereotypical father-daughter relationship with my dad, but we're close in a different kind of way. Rather than talking, our relationship is about doing. Daddy has been the one to go running with me, show me how to build things, and teach me how to build a good fire. It's because of him that I enjoy being active and love being outside: he took me skiing with him when I slowed him down, let me run with him when I belonged in pointe shoes, took me camping when I was miserable to be around, and always told me to keep going when I got discouraged. He's an incredible judge of character, and even though he didn't always approve of the guys I chose to date, he allowed me to learn for myself. He still gets visibly upset every time I go back to college. Before this year, Dad would almost always come to pick me up for school breaks. Every time, I would talk his ear off for the first hour-and-a-half while he drove, just nodding and listening. Eventually, I'd fall asleep. I would so enjoy those times in the car with him, just the two of us. It was the greatest way to start off my breaks
My sisters are both crazy. Lane and I have definitely gotten closer over the last five years, though we're not superclose. As Beef has gotten older, she and I have started to have more frequent conversations and fewer shouting matches. Even though the three of us choose not to tell each other everything, there's definitely a sense of trust. More than anything, we can laugh together, quote Gilmore Girls together, and have finally reached the point of actually enjoying each others' company. I love my brothers more than they'll ever understand. One of my favorite things is when Cristian wraps his arms around me, lays his head on my shoulder, and says, "Luh-loo, Ayin." Bringing him (and eventually Brandon) into our family was one of the greatest gifts my parents ever could have given my sisters and me. It's not without its frustrations, but it's not without its joys, either.
So many children don't have the opportunity to grow up in the nurturing environment that I had. So many teenagers spend countless hours arguing with their parents. So many people have been hurt and scarred by their families. The more I learn about families and parenting, the more I'm grateful for the way I was raised. There simply aren't enough words to express my thankfulness.
The challenge for me is to someday continue the incredible family legacy that my parents and their parents have established.
When I was taking Genetics, for example, I gained an overwhelming appreciation for not having any debilitating/life-threatening genetic problems.
Developmental Psychology, though, didn't really strike me as the kind of class that would make me ridiculously thankful.
But it has.
We just submitted papers on Friday about our personal development. While my life hasn't been a walk in the park, I certainly like to think that I've come out okay. I've had some ups and some major downs, but with the help of family, I've made it through some of the roughest years of my life.
With the help of family.
We've spent the last several classes talking about family and parents and parenting and siblings and all that jazz. We've had in-class discussions about growing up with siblings and "helicopter parents". I sat in class on Friday just totally overwhelmed that I was given the opportunity to be part of such an incredible family.
And no, I'm not receiving compensation of any type for saying this.
In fact, I'm the only one who even knows I'm awake at 2am writing this.
Let me introduce y'all to my family:
I have a mom. I call her Momma.
I have a dad, too. I call him Daddy.
I have two younger sisters that I call Lane and Beef.
I have two younger brothers that haven't really earned nicknames yet.
My family is only screwed up in the sense that I never know how to explain my sibling situation to people. You see, I have two sisters that look just like me, or so I'm told. I have a brown-skinned, brown-eyed brother who lives with our parents and has been legally made a Nichols. I have another little brother, also brown-skinned and brown-eyed, who looks nothing like the first brother, doesn't live with our parents, and has yet to be legally made a Nichols.
But he's my brother, nonetheless.
The US government doesn't recognize this yet, and the Guatemalan government won't let him leave the country yet, but he's ours. He's a Nichols. He's been my brother since I laid eyes on him in August 2007. I don't know him well, he speaks a different language than I do, and we temporarily live in different countries, but he's one of us. When people ask how many siblings I have, I tell them four. Because it's true, despite the complexities.
So that's my (immediate) family.
Momma and I have been close since I was fourteen. I remember so clearly the day she became my friend. Neither of us were expecting it. It's not that we didn't get along, because we did--at least, as well as most mothers and fourteen-year-old daughters did. But this day, things changed. I had been struggling a lot emotionally, and had reached my breaking point. It became evident physically that I was not okay emotionally. Momma, being the sensitive, attentive person that she is, noticed immediately and knew she needed to intervene.
She drove me home from church separately; for some reason my family had taken two cars to church that day. We didn't really talk or say much. She missed the turn to our house, though, and kept driving up the highway, heading North. It was then that the conversation began. I don't remember much of what either of us said, but I remember her telling me how desperately she wanted to help me and how much she loved me and wanted me to be okay.
Sheesh, I'm tearing up just writing this.
I don't remember how our conversation ended, either. But when we finally made it home that day, I stepped out of the car with a new friend. We started having late-night talks. (In high school, "late night" meant after 10pm.) I trusted her explicitly, and she trusted me, too. Years passed, and our relationship deepened. I shared my life with her. Having her as a constant in my life was one of the main reasons I didn't completely lose it emotionally.
Toward the end of high school, she and Dad allowed me to begin making decisions for myself, since they knew someday I'd be on my own. I had more of a say in what movies I watched. I could choose what I ate. I picked out my own clothes. I got to decide if I wanted to sleep or go to church. They began to trust me with smaller things because they knew they had done everything possibly to raise me to make good decisions. From them I learned to trust God, forgive others, use a hammer, have self-control, say "please" and "thank you", persevere even when quitting seems better, mow the lawn, pick a perfect watermelon, do laundry, sew on buttons, change a tire, show patience, enjoy nature, bake muffins, listen intentionally, and love unconditionally. (Among other things.)
They had given me roots. When I was ready, they gave me wings. When I left for college at age seventeen, I proved to them that I had learned to fly.
Since then, I've soared.
My mom has never had to worry about calling me. In fact, I've had her ask me if I'm trying to set the record for the number of times you can call someone in a single day. Since that Sunday in the car, she's been my best friend. I call her for advice. I call her to vent about life. I call her to see how things are at home. I call her to celebrate good grades and share disappointment in bad ones. I call her to have her talk me out of (or into) doing something. I call her to tell her about cool stuff at Target. I call her just to talk.
I've never had that stereotypical father-daughter relationship with my dad, but we're close in a different kind of way. Rather than talking, our relationship is about doing. Daddy has been the one to go running with me, show me how to build things, and teach me how to build a good fire. It's because of him that I enjoy being active and love being outside: he took me skiing with him when I slowed him down, let me run with him when I belonged in pointe shoes, took me camping when I was miserable to be around, and always told me to keep going when I got discouraged. He's an incredible judge of character, and even though he didn't always approve of the guys I chose to date, he allowed me to learn for myself. He still gets visibly upset every time I go back to college. Before this year, Dad would almost always come to pick me up for school breaks. Every time, I would talk his ear off for the first hour-and-a-half while he drove, just nodding and listening. Eventually, I'd fall asleep. I would so enjoy those times in the car with him, just the two of us. It was the greatest way to start off my breaks
My sisters are both crazy. Lane and I have definitely gotten closer over the last five years, though we're not superclose. As Beef has gotten older, she and I have started to have more frequent conversations and fewer shouting matches. Even though the three of us choose not to tell each other everything, there's definitely a sense of trust. More than anything, we can laugh together, quote Gilmore Girls together, and have finally reached the point of actually enjoying each others' company. I love my brothers more than they'll ever understand. One of my favorite things is when Cristian wraps his arms around me, lays his head on my shoulder, and says, "Luh-loo, Ayin." Bringing him (and eventually Brandon) into our family was one of the greatest gifts my parents ever could have given my sisters and me. It's not without its frustrations, but it's not without its joys, either.
So many children don't have the opportunity to grow up in the nurturing environment that I had. So many teenagers spend countless hours arguing with their parents. So many people have been hurt and scarred by their families. The more I learn about families and parenting, the more I'm grateful for the way I was raised. There simply aren't enough words to express my thankfulness.
The challenge for me is to someday continue the incredible family legacy that my parents and their parents have established.
11/16/2010
Of Melatonin and Mountains
I have finally figured out what day it is.
And what time it is.
...kinda.
As much as I love to travel, my little pineal body (or pineal gland, whichever you prefer) just can't handle it. It simply cannot decide when to produce how much melatonin. Poor little thing.
Sorry for the science lecture. Sometimes, I just can't help myself.
I just got back from a weekend (plus three days) in Colorado. Let me just tell you something: Ben Franklin was wrong when he said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." Clearly, he had never traveled farther west than the thirteen colonies. (Well, you know, since the land hadn't been explored yet.) Let's face it: the Rocky Mountains are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. Seriously. Look at this and tell me otherwise:
I know. I'm speechless, too. Even photos cannot describe the majesty that is nature. I could look at this every day for the rest of my life and never tire of it. In church on Sunday, the pastor talked about Romans 1:19-20 during his sermon about apologetics. To paraphrase, Paul basically says to the Romans, "Look around you! The natural world points to me as Creator God. You are without excuse for your unbelief, because My creation shouts of My existence." When I first read this in high school, I was taken aback. Even now, it is a hard idea to fully understand. Does God really say that all men, even those who have never been verbally told of His love and sacrifice, are accountable to Him? The answer is yes. Does that mean that we Christians should be any less proactive in our sharing of the gospel? Absolutely not.
That was somewhat tangential; I apologize. (But we're still working with applications of differentiation in Calculus, so keep in mind a few things a) I have tangents on the brain and b) tangents are really useful.) But next time you see something like this (my probably-messed-up-somewhere panoramic from the summit of Pike's Peak):
...think of God. Our Creator. Our Lover. Our Friend.
Yeah, it's proof that He loves us.
And what time it is.
...kinda.
As much as I love to travel, my little pineal body (or pineal gland, whichever you prefer) just can't handle it. It simply cannot decide when to produce how much melatonin. Poor little thing.
Sorry for the science lecture. Sometimes, I just can't help myself.
I just got back from a weekend (plus three days) in Colorado. Let me just tell you something: Ben Franklin was wrong when he said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." Clearly, he had never traveled farther west than the thirteen colonies. (Well, you know, since the land hadn't been explored yet.) Let's face it: the Rocky Mountains are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. Seriously. Look at this and tell me otherwise:
I know. I'm speechless, too. Even photos cannot describe the majesty that is nature. I could look at this every day for the rest of my life and never tire of it. In church on Sunday, the pastor talked about Romans 1:19-20 during his sermon about apologetics. To paraphrase, Paul basically says to the Romans, "Look around you! The natural world points to me as Creator God. You are without excuse for your unbelief, because My creation shouts of My existence." When I first read this in high school, I was taken aback. Even now, it is a hard idea to fully understand. Does God really say that all men, even those who have never been verbally told of His love and sacrifice, are accountable to Him? The answer is yes. Does that mean that we Christians should be any less proactive in our sharing of the gospel? Absolutely not.
That was somewhat tangential; I apologize. (But we're still working with applications of differentiation in Calculus, so keep in mind a few things a) I have tangents on the brain and b) tangents are really useful.) But next time you see something like this (my probably-messed-up-somewhere panoramic from the summit of Pike's Peak):
...think of God. Our Creator. Our Lover. Our Friend.Yeah, it's proof that He loves us.
11/02/2010
Equilibrium
I am intending for this post to be a simple update about my life.
Ha.
Nothing about my life is simple.
1. Senior year of college
Let me tell you what, taking a handful of gen ed classes my senior year was a bad idea. I'm already getting antsy to move on to "bigger and better" things in my life, and sitting through a bunch of non-major-related freshman level classes is making me even more antsy (antsier?). Between tutoring, grading, and TAing, I work between ten and twelve hours a week. It's wonderful. Teaching is by far the most rewarding kind of work - though I can't say that I envision myself doing it as a profession.
2. Graduate school
Yeah, it exists. I took the GRE in August, hated every minute of it, and had my scores sent to grad schools all over the country. Literally. I finished my CASPA (Central Application Service for Physician Assistants) application early (!), and am currently finishing up the last few supplemental applications. If you're curious, I applied to the following schools:
1. Emory University (Atlanta)
2. Texas Tech (Midland)
3. University of Colorado (Denver)
4. Oregon Health and Sciences University (Portland)
5. Daemen College (Amherst, NY)
Going right into a physician assistant program is definitely Plan A. Surprisingly, I don't have a Plan B yet, though I have been tossing around ideas. I'll be grateful for the day when all of my applications are totally and completely done and I have a better idea of what I'll be doing next year.
3. The rest of life
Uh...what's that? (Haha...?) Right now, I'm in a state of equilibrium. It's wonderful because life isn't absolutely insane. I can actually function, think clearly, and sleep more than six hours each night. It sucks because it means I have big decisions to make soon. However, I have seen God's faithfulness in the (seemingly) small things in my life, and I have no doubt that He'll remain faithful in the (seemingly) big things, too. (On a side note, I thought that in Spanish before I wrote it in English. This is a small victory on my way to actually learning Spanish for once and for all.) In other news, I'm munching (kind of?) on what I like to call Chocolate Cheese right now (and it's better than it sounds, people). I went speed dating last month in the guys' dorm. I'm helping with a high school science competition this weekend. I played water polo for the first time last night and loved it, despite losing. I have a meeting at 7am tomorrow. Aaaaand I should really be doing homework.
Ha.
Nothing about my life is simple.
1. Senior year of college
Let me tell you what, taking a handful of gen ed classes my senior year was a bad idea. I'm already getting antsy to move on to "bigger and better" things in my life, and sitting through a bunch of non-major-related freshman level classes is making me even more antsy (antsier?). Between tutoring, grading, and TAing, I work between ten and twelve hours a week. It's wonderful. Teaching is by far the most rewarding kind of work - though I can't say that I envision myself doing it as a profession.
2. Graduate school
Yeah, it exists. I took the GRE in August, hated every minute of it, and had my scores sent to grad schools all over the country. Literally. I finished my CASPA (Central Application Service for Physician Assistants) application early (!), and am currently finishing up the last few supplemental applications. If you're curious, I applied to the following schools:
1. Emory University (Atlanta)
2. Texas Tech (Midland)
3. University of Colorado (Denver)
4. Oregon Health and Sciences University (Portland)
5. Daemen College (Amherst, NY)
Going right into a physician assistant program is definitely Plan A. Surprisingly, I don't have a Plan B yet, though I have been tossing around ideas. I'll be grateful for the day when all of my applications are totally and completely done and I have a better idea of what I'll be doing next year.
3. The rest of life
Uh...what's that? (Haha...?) Right now, I'm in a state of equilibrium. It's wonderful because life isn't absolutely insane. I can actually function, think clearly, and sleep more than six hours each night. It sucks because it means I have big decisions to make soon. However, I have seen God's faithfulness in the (seemingly) small things in my life, and I have no doubt that He'll remain faithful in the (seemingly) big things, too. (On a side note, I thought that in Spanish before I wrote it in English. This is a small victory on my way to actually learning Spanish for once and for all.) In other news, I'm munching (kind of?) on what I like to call Chocolate Cheese right now (and it's better than it sounds, people). I went speed dating last month in the guys' dorm. I'm helping with a high school science competition this weekend. I played water polo for the first time last night and loved it, despite losing. I have a meeting at 7am tomorrow. Aaaaand I should really be doing homework.
9/22/2010
There's a storm brewing.
I feel the wind slap my face as dark clouds groan in the distance.
I told a friend of mine this summer that I felt like God was preparing me for something big. I didn't know if it was going to be good or bad, but I could tell even then that something was going on.
Today in chapel I was reminded of this. The message today was about praying when life happens...and life sure happens an awful lot. Everything he (Denis Johnson) said today was an echo of what God has been making so clear in my life recently:
1. Even when I can't find my way out of the ruts I get stuck in, God still has my future put together perfectly. He knows my dreams, my passions, my longings, my struggles, my fears--but He asks me to trust Him with all of them.
2. "You don't have to wait until the end of the battle to start praising God." Regardless of what is going on in my life, God remains worthy of the best worship my human self can give Him.
3. "In the time of the storm, pray with honesty, humility, and expectancy--and pray continuously." God yearns for me to be in constant communication with Him (see 1 Thessalonians 5:17) about everything I experience. He wants me to spill my guts to Him, and He wants me to trust that He will carry me through the unknown.
I can sense that the rain is coming. Be it cleansing showers or a violent flood, I'm ready for it.
I told a friend of mine this summer that I felt like God was preparing me for something big. I didn't know if it was going to be good or bad, but I could tell even then that something was going on.
Today in chapel I was reminded of this. The message today was about praying when life happens...and life sure happens an awful lot. Everything he (Denis Johnson) said today was an echo of what God has been making so clear in my life recently:
1. Even when I can't find my way out of the ruts I get stuck in, God still has my future put together perfectly. He knows my dreams, my passions, my longings, my struggles, my fears--but He asks me to trust Him with all of them.
2. "You don't have to wait until the end of the battle to start praising God." Regardless of what is going on in my life, God remains worthy of the best worship my human self can give Him.
3. "In the time of the storm, pray with honesty, humility, and expectancy--and pray continuously." God yearns for me to be in constant communication with Him (see 1 Thessalonians 5:17) about everything I experience. He wants me to spill my guts to Him, and He wants me to trust that He will carry me through the unknown.
I can sense that the rain is coming. Be it cleansing showers or a violent flood, I'm ready for it.
9/16/2010
The Path
I would have enough money to pay for college if I got a nickel every time I had an awkward meeting with someone on The Path here at Roberts.
Think about it:
You're walking briskly in one direction and your friend passes you going the other way.
You: Hey! How's it going?
Friend: Good, how're you?
You: (Unable to respond because you'll a) be late to class or b) clog up The Path if you stop to answer.)
Let's consider another option with the same scenario:
You: Hey! What's up?
Friend: Oh, heading to class.
You: (Unable to respond. Friend doesn't ask anything because he or she is smart enough to know where you're headed if you're walking down The Path with a backpack on during the week.)
This leaves four non-verbal options:
1- Classic high five.
2 - Light punch in the arm.
3 - Awkward wave.
4 - Smile and keep walking.
Under normal circumstances, the classic high five would be an excellent option. However, due to the rate of speed at which students are walking, it could prove dangerous. And if the receiver of the high five isn't expecting it, then it's just plain embarrassing.
A light punch in the arm is great, but it's definitely situational. It can only be used 1) if the receiver of the punch is male, 2) if the receiver of the punch is a close friend, and 3) if your pace is slow enough that you don't miss and hit his face...or the air.
The awkward wave is usually just that: awkward. With the typical parade of students, it's easy for people to get confused and think you're waving to them if you're not. Also, if it's early morning, do not be offended if the person you intended the wave for doesn't notice. His or her eyes are probably opened just barely enough to see the ground in front of them.
And, finally, the smile and keep walking. This really is the only viable option for Path walking. If you are able to make eye contact with a friend, it's great, and anyone else who sees you just thinks you're friendly.
There you have it, friends. All of those awkward Path moments...solved.
Think about it:
You're walking briskly in one direction and your friend passes you going the other way.
You: Hey! How's it going?
Friend: Good, how're you?
You: (Unable to respond because you'll a) be late to class or b) clog up The Path if you stop to answer.)
Let's consider another option with the same scenario:
You: Hey! What's up?
Friend: Oh, heading to class.
You: (Unable to respond. Friend doesn't ask anything because he or she is smart enough to know where you're headed if you're walking down The Path with a backpack on during the week.)
This leaves four non-verbal options:
1- Classic high five.
2 - Light punch in the arm.
3 - Awkward wave.
4 - Smile and keep walking.
Under normal circumstances, the classic high five would be an excellent option. However, due to the rate of speed at which students are walking, it could prove dangerous. And if the receiver of the high five isn't expecting it, then it's just plain embarrassing.
A light punch in the arm is great, but it's definitely situational. It can only be used 1) if the receiver of the punch is male, 2) if the receiver of the punch is a close friend, and 3) if your pace is slow enough that you don't miss and hit his face...or the air.
The awkward wave is usually just that: awkward. With the typical parade of students, it's easy for people to get confused and think you're waving to them if you're not. Also, if it's early morning, do not be offended if the person you intended the wave for doesn't notice. His or her eyes are probably opened just barely enough to see the ground in front of them.
And, finally, the smile and keep walking. This really is the only viable option for Path walking. If you are able to make eye contact with a friend, it's great, and anyone else who sees you just thinks you're friendly.
There you have it, friends. All of those awkward Path moments...solved.
9/14/2010
Of Baseball and Coffee
I have a goal for this year.
Well, several, actually.
This comes as no surprise to those of you who know me well.
I have lived just outside of Rochester for roughly 27.5 months (not consecutively, mind you), but I have yet to experience some of the best things that the city has to offer. It's not that I haven't had opportunities to do things, it's that I've chosen not to. (My favorite excuse usually contains one of the following words: homework, chemistry, exam, or Dr. Enich*.) But this year is the year.
*Name changed to protect the privacy and reputation of the parties involved.
This is the year to do something or go somewhere that is unique to Rochester at least once each week that school is in session from now until I graduate. This is the year to get homework done early so that I have time to enjoy life. This is the year to live intentionally (and take advantage of having a car to drive).
The first weekend of school I went to a Rochester Red Wings game. It was a little cold and rainy, but there were several rainbows during the course of the game.
(Please excuse the poor image quality. My two-year-old phone is on its last legs.)
Brenda, the campus mom and Assistant Dean for Student Programming extraordinaire, held up her Roberts umbrella and said, "Now you can get both the rainbow and Roberts!"
This past weekend I got up at 5:30am (on a Saturday - GASP!) to experience the Rochester Public Market in all its glory. I had been before, but not recently.
I'm pretty sure these quesitos are my favorite thing to buy. These sweet, cheesy delights taste kind of like a cheese danish...only so much more delicious.
Apparently it's the number one public market in America, or something like that.
On the way out, I stopped at this somewhat sketch coffee shop. There was no sign, but the double doors were both swung open and the place looked pretty cozy. Two Asian women were working. When I ordered a coffee with just sugar, one of them looked at me and said, "No, we bring you cream, too. You white girls not used to this strong coffee." It was all I could do to keep from laughing. I love strong coffee, but it turns out she was right - it was too strong for me. The way she made it fascinated me, though.
She had a tall mug-height net made out of what appeared to be cheesecloth. She filled it to the brim with coffee grinds, then poured about half a mug's worth of hot water through it. She caught the strained water (now looking like coffee) in the mug and poured it back through the filter/grinds a second time. This time, it came out looking dark. Finally, she filled the remainder of the mug with hot water. My first impression was that the extra water was going to dilute the coffee like crazy, but evidently I was wrong. It was the strongest coffee I have ever tasted in my life--and I've tried a lot of different coffee.
And that, dear friends, is all I have time for tonight.
Well, several, actually.
This comes as no surprise to those of you who know me well.
I have lived just outside of Rochester for roughly 27.5 months (not consecutively, mind you), but I have yet to experience some of the best things that the city has to offer. It's not that I haven't had opportunities to do things, it's that I've chosen not to. (My favorite excuse usually contains one of the following words: homework, chemistry, exam, or Dr. Enich*.) But this year is the year.
*Name changed to protect the privacy and reputation of the parties involved.
This is the year to do something or go somewhere that is unique to Rochester at least once each week that school is in session from now until I graduate. This is the year to get homework done early so that I have time to enjoy life. This is the year to live intentionally (and take advantage of having a car to drive).
The first weekend of school I went to a Rochester Red Wings game. It was a little cold and rainy, but there were several rainbows during the course of the game.
(Please excuse the poor image quality. My two-year-old phone is on its last legs.)Brenda, the campus mom and Assistant Dean for Student Programming extraordinaire, held up her Roberts umbrella and said, "Now you can get both the rainbow and Roberts!"
This past weekend I got up at 5:30am (on a Saturday - GASP!) to experience the Rochester Public Market in all its glory. I had been before, but not recently.
I'm pretty sure these quesitos are my favorite thing to buy. These sweet, cheesy delights taste kind of like a cheese danish...only so much more delicious.
Apparently it's the number one public market in America, or something like that.On the way out, I stopped at this somewhat sketch coffee shop. There was no sign, but the double doors were both swung open and the place looked pretty cozy. Two Asian women were working. When I ordered a coffee with just sugar, one of them looked at me and said, "No, we bring you cream, too. You white girls not used to this strong coffee." It was all I could do to keep from laughing. I love strong coffee, but it turns out she was right - it was too strong for me. The way she made it fascinated me, though.
She had a tall mug-height net made out of what appeared to be cheesecloth. She filled it to the brim with coffee grinds, then poured about half a mug's worth of hot water through it. She caught the strained water (now looking like coffee) in the mug and poured it back through the filter/grinds a second time. This time, it came out looking dark. Finally, she filled the remainder of the mug with hot water. My first impression was that the extra water was going to dilute the coffee like crazy, but evidently I was wrong. It was the strongest coffee I have ever tasted in my life--and I've tried a lot of different coffee.
And that, dear friends, is all I have time for tonight.
9/02/2010
It'll all be over far too soon...
Senior year, so far, is unlike any other.
I was sitting in P Chem on Tuesday (Physical Chemistry, for those of you wondering), laughing and joking around with JT and my classmates, when I got really, really sad. I was pensive as JT reviewed the syllabus. Never again will I have classes as laid back as this. Never again will I be in a class where we all openly make fun of each other. Never again will I have a project where the object is to find God in thermodynamics. (Never again will I have a class where the main topic is thermodynamics.) I realized that I am going to miss this.
Yesterday, convocation took the place of a normal chapel. Unlike most students, I actually enjoy convocation and love having all the professors there with us. After a simply beautiful prayer by one of the professors, we sang Be Thou My Vision with the organ and trumpet leading. I had goosebumps and nearly cried as I heard a large portion of the student body singing along. I'm not a huge fan of supertraditional church services, and I usually could do without the organ. This, though, was breathtaking. The speaker (VP of Northeastern Seminary) challenged us to listen to the calling of God upon our lives. He posed this question at the end: What would happen if, for a week, we each wore t-shirts that declared what we are living for? If, right across the front, mine said, "Money" or "Looking cute" or "Getting A's" -- would I try to hide it? The message itself was convicting, but I couldn't help but think the whole time that I won't experience the overwhelming presence of God like that at any grad school I attend. I realized that I am going to miss this.
So far this week I've spent quality time with incredible friends of mine, two of whom have graduated and are moving many, many miles away. I've had more meetings than I can count. I've been intentional about getting to know new students. My binders aren't organized. I have a ridiculously long to-do list. Bowls and cups are multiplying in the kitchen sink. A stack of miscellaneous papers sits on my desk, waiting to be filed. Clean laundry has taken up residence on the couch.
But you know what? Who cares?!
I have my entire life ahead of me to wash dishes and file papers and put away laundry. Relationships cannot wait.
And they will not wait any longer.
Because the truth is, I am going to miss this.
It'll all be over far too soon.
So far this week I've spent quality time with incredible friends of mine, two of whom have graduated and are moving many, many miles away. I've had more meetings than I can count. I've been intentional about getting to know new students. My binders aren't organized. I have a ridiculously long to-do list. Bowls and cups are multiplying in the kitchen sink. A stack of miscellaneous papers sits on my desk, waiting to be filed. Clean laundry has taken up residence on the couch.
But you know what? Who cares?!
I have my entire life ahead of me to wash dishes and file papers and put away laundry. Relationships cannot wait.
And they will not wait any longer.
Because the truth is, I am going to miss this.
It'll all be over far too soon.
8/27/2010
Ramblings
I finally got all the blue paint off my face. The things I do for freshman! Running around campus with an itchy face playing Capture the Flag is definitely not high on my list of favorite things to do, but I've learned that if I am enthusiastic, it rubs off on others. (I've also learned that long sentences, even if grammatically correct, are really obnoxious. But I ignore it.)
Some of my belongings are still haphazardly strewn all over the living room, and that actually is obnoxious! I hate that so much of my stuff doesn't have a long-term home. On the bright side, the lava lamp that my dad gave me for my birthday looks really awesome. I just want to feel settled, though.
I'm so excited for what God has already begun to do in the students here this year! The Student Association Leadership Team (SALT) has really grown together and bonded in a supernatural way. We really are a completely random group of people who all just want to be like Jesus and make attending Roberts an incredible experience. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to be involved.
My sister moved onto campus today! I'm so glad she's here. It was great to see my family again (and get my vacuum). It's weird to think that a year from now I could potentially (hopefully?) be across the country for grad school. Ugh. Grad school. Applications are due in a matter of weeks. My GRE scores weren't great. I'm antsy to move away from everything familiar and explore the unknown. I'm terrified to move away from everything familiar and explore the unknown.
Someone told me recently that they'd be praying that all the proverbial doors close except one so that God's will becomes as plain as day. At first I was taken aback by this, but I am now praying for the same thing myself. God knows where He wants me, and I want to be willing to go wherever that may be.
I'm listening to Pandora, and the song Hallelujah by Bethany Dillon was on while I was typing that last paragraph. The lyrics definitely got my attention:
I could climb a mountain, swim the ocean, or do anything
But it's when you hold me that I start unfolding
And all I can say is hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me, I'll choose to sing hallelujah
I'm pretty sure it's the first song of hers that I've ever heard, but I really love it. In fact, it's index card worthy. I have fluorescent-colored index cards that I write Scripture and lyrics on and stick all over my walls. They've helped me to memorize so many incredible verses and are a constant reminder for me to include prayer and worship as a part of everyday life.
So many people are engaged! It's really depressing. On a somewhat related note, I've decided that little kids with big brown eyes and blond hair are the absolute cutest things ever. Apparently it's one of the most rare genetic combinations, but I am completely in love with it!
I probably should go to bed since it's 1am and I have a busy day (again) tomorrow. September is going to be ridiculously insane. No local Verizon customers have phone service right now and it sucks.
Some of my belongings are still haphazardly strewn all over the living room, and that actually is obnoxious! I hate that so much of my stuff doesn't have a long-term home. On the bright side, the lava lamp that my dad gave me for my birthday looks really awesome. I just want to feel settled, though.
I'm so excited for what God has already begun to do in the students here this year! The Student Association Leadership Team (SALT) has really grown together and bonded in a supernatural way. We really are a completely random group of people who all just want to be like Jesus and make attending Roberts an incredible experience. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to be involved.
My sister moved onto campus today! I'm so glad she's here. It was great to see my family again (and get my vacuum). It's weird to think that a year from now I could potentially (hopefully?) be across the country for grad school. Ugh. Grad school. Applications are due in a matter of weeks. My GRE scores weren't great. I'm antsy to move away from everything familiar and explore the unknown. I'm terrified to move away from everything familiar and explore the unknown.
Someone told me recently that they'd be praying that all the proverbial doors close except one so that God's will becomes as plain as day. At first I was taken aback by this, but I am now praying for the same thing myself. God knows where He wants me, and I want to be willing to go wherever that may be.
I'm listening to Pandora, and the song Hallelujah by Bethany Dillon was on while I was typing that last paragraph. The lyrics definitely got my attention:
I could climb a mountain, swim the ocean, or do anything
But it's when you hold me that I start unfolding
And all I can say is hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me, I'll choose to sing hallelujah
I'm pretty sure it's the first song of hers that I've ever heard, but I really love it. In fact, it's index card worthy. I have fluorescent-colored index cards that I write Scripture and lyrics on and stick all over my walls. They've helped me to memorize so many incredible verses and are a constant reminder for me to include prayer and worship as a part of everyday life.
So many people are engaged! It's really depressing. On a somewhat related note, I've decided that little kids with big brown eyes and blond hair are the absolute cutest things ever. Apparently it's one of the most rare genetic combinations, but I am completely in love with it!
I probably should go to bed since it's 1am and I have a busy day (again) tomorrow. September is going to be ridiculously insane. No local Verizon customers have phone service right now and it sucks.
8/21/2010
Forgetfulness
What an interesting couple of days.
I got to Roberts around five o'clock last night with the car absolutely chock full of stuff. I pulled out my key to unlock our apartment, and the key wouldn't work. I found Security's number and hit send.
Ten minutes later, the door was opened for me. There wasn't a piece of furniture in sight, save a lonely chair. I opened the bedroom door, assuming they must have crammed it all into one room. Nothing. I called one of my friends and he brought down a mattress for me to crash on for the weekend. My key still doesn't work, and neither does my roommate's.
I began unloading. I'm pretty sure this is the first year Steve and Ryan haven't helped me unpack my car, including freshman year. It took me about 17, 385 trips to get everything from point A to point B. I unpacked as much as I could, but pretty much everything is sitting in the living room.
Still.
But among the things that are not currently in the living room is my laptop charger. Why, you ask? Because I left it at home. Actually, I left it in a little storage compartment in the back seat of the family van. I still can't think of a single good reason that I put it there.
The biggest downside to not having a functional computer, though, is not having any music. Normally without a computer, I would just plug my iPod into my speakers or (if absolutely necessary) use the radio in my alarm clock. But guess who didn't bring her speakers or her alarm clock! If you guessed me, you're right. (Go ahead and pat yourself on the back.)
It's interesting, though. As much as I can whine and complain about everything I didn't bring to college, I have no reason not to be thankful.
1. I can (kind of) afford to go to college in the first place.
2. I have such incredible friends here!
3. I was able to borrow a mattress.
4. Lack of music = deeper thought.
5. I still have so freaking much stuff with me.
6. My momma is awesome enough to mail me my charger.
7. My sister comes to Roberts on Friday!
8. I have my phone charger.
9. I have an incredible church to go to tomorrow morning!
10. Forgetfulness doesn't exist in Heaven, and eventually I'll live there.
I got to Roberts around five o'clock last night with the car absolutely chock full of stuff. I pulled out my key to unlock our apartment, and the key wouldn't work. I found Security's number and hit send.
Ten minutes later, the door was opened for me. There wasn't a piece of furniture in sight, save a lonely chair. I opened the bedroom door, assuming they must have crammed it all into one room. Nothing. I called one of my friends and he brought down a mattress for me to crash on for the weekend. My key still doesn't work, and neither does my roommate's.
I began unloading. I'm pretty sure this is the first year Steve and Ryan haven't helped me unpack my car, including freshman year. It took me about 17, 385 trips to get everything from point A to point B. I unpacked as much as I could, but pretty much everything is sitting in the living room.
Still.
But among the things that are not currently in the living room is my laptop charger. Why, you ask? Because I left it at home. Actually, I left it in a little storage compartment in the back seat of the family van. I still can't think of a single good reason that I put it there.
The biggest downside to not having a functional computer, though, is not having any music. Normally without a computer, I would just plug my iPod into my speakers or (if absolutely necessary) use the radio in my alarm clock. But guess who didn't bring her speakers or her alarm clock! If you guessed me, you're right. (Go ahead and pat yourself on the back.)
It's interesting, though. As much as I can whine and complain about everything I didn't bring to college, I have no reason not to be thankful.
1. I can (kind of) afford to go to college in the first place.
2. I have such incredible friends here!
3. I was able to borrow a mattress.
4. Lack of music = deeper thought.
5. I still have so freaking much stuff with me.
6. My momma is awesome enough to mail me my charger.
7. My sister comes to Roberts on Friday!
8. I have my phone charger.
9. I have an incredible church to go to tomorrow morning!
10. Forgetfulness doesn't exist in Heaven, and eventually I'll live there.
8/19/2010
8/18/2010
C. Harold Hurley & McDonalds.
I heard an absolutely wretched song today on the radio. I was appalled. Disgusted, really.
But let me tell a funny story first!
The Merritts and I had dinner tonight at Taco Bell. I parked behind the restaurant next door, because I turned in too early and didn't feel like fighting rush hour traffic to park in the correct lot. We were talking at dinner about school this year, and Steve said something about having to drive me somewhere. I said, "No! I'll have a car on campus this year!" He started laughing and said, "Well, look who's finally taking off the diaper!" (He proceeded to nickname me Little Bear. Yeah, I don't get it either.) As we were heading to the parking lot, he told me he was looking for the van. I wasn't sure what van (because I don't drive a van!), but then he explained that I seem like the soccer mom type. I looked at him and said, "So am I in diapers or am I a soccer mom?!"
Anyway, the diapers reference made me chuckle, so I thought I'd share. (But now that it's typed, it doesn't seem that funny. Sorry, people.)
(And insert C. Harold Hurley's voice into that last sentence.)
Back to the disgustingwretchedawfulhorriblerepulsiverevolting song.
It's called Carry Out (by Timbaland) - I googled it.
I want to share some of the lyrics strictly for the sake of making my point, not to make you puke.
...Have it your way, foreplay
Before I feed your appetite
Let me get my ticket, baby, let me get in line
I can tell the way you like, baby, super size...
...Take my order 'cause your body like a carry out
Let me walk it to your body 'til it's lights out...
...Number one, I'll take two number-three's
That's a whole out of you and a side of me
Now is it full of myself to want you full me?
And if it's room for dessert then I want a piece
Baby, get my order right, no errors
I'mma touch you in all the right areas
I can feed you, you can feed me
Girl, deliver that to me, come see me...
...Do you like it well done? 'Cause I do it well
'Cause I'm well seasoned if you couldn't tell...
...What's your name?
What's your number?...
Does anyone else think this is totally prurient?! (GRE word of the day!) I can't believe our stupid American culture has cheapened sex to the point of treating it like freaking fast food. Hello, gentlemen, I am not a McDonalds!
I was going to turn off the song as soon as I heard the chorus (can you call it that?) the first time through, but I wanted to know who sang it so I could blog about it tonight. Is that lame? Probably.
But anyway.
Girls, don't listen to this crap. Wait for someone who is going to be thankful for every moment he gets to spend with you, not someone who's wanting to be all up in your...grill. You don't owe guys anything. Demand respect. Remember Who your Father is.
Guys, don't you listen to this crap either. Girls who are desperate enough to take orders such as those described above aren't worth your time - run the other direction. Girls don't owe you anything. Demand respect. Remember Whose you are.
End of rant.
But let me tell a funny story first!
The Merritts and I had dinner tonight at Taco Bell. I parked behind the restaurant next door, because I turned in too early and didn't feel like fighting rush hour traffic to park in the correct lot. We were talking at dinner about school this year, and Steve said something about having to drive me somewhere. I said, "No! I'll have a car on campus this year!" He started laughing and said, "Well, look who's finally taking off the diaper!" (He proceeded to nickname me Little Bear. Yeah, I don't get it either.) As we were heading to the parking lot, he told me he was looking for the van. I wasn't sure what van (because I don't drive a van!), but then he explained that I seem like the soccer mom type. I looked at him and said, "So am I in diapers or am I a soccer mom?!"
Anyway, the diapers reference made me chuckle, so I thought I'd share. (But now that it's typed, it doesn't seem that funny. Sorry, people.)
(And insert C. Harold Hurley's voice into that last sentence.)
Back to the disgustingwretchedawfulhorriblerepulsiverevolting song.
It's called Carry Out (by Timbaland) - I googled it.
I want to share some of the lyrics strictly for the sake of making my point, not to make you puke.
...Have it your way, foreplay
Before I feed your appetite
Let me get my ticket, baby, let me get in line
I can tell the way you like, baby, super size...
...Take my order 'cause your body like a carry out
Let me walk it to your body 'til it's lights out...
...Number one, I'll take two number-three's
That's a whole out of you and a side of me
Now is it full of myself to want you full me?
And if it's room for dessert then I want a piece
Baby, get my order right, no errors
I'mma touch you in all the right areas
I can feed you, you can feed me
Girl, deliver that to me, come see me...
...Do you like it well done? 'Cause I do it well
'Cause I'm well seasoned if you couldn't tell...
...What's your name?
What's your number?...
Does anyone else think this is totally prurient?! (GRE word of the day!) I can't believe our stupid American culture has cheapened sex to the point of treating it like freaking fast food. Hello, gentlemen, I am not a McDonalds!
I was going to turn off the song as soon as I heard the chorus (can you call it that?) the first time through, but I wanted to know who sang it so I could blog about it tonight. Is that lame? Probably.
But anyway.
Girls, don't listen to this crap. Wait for someone who is going to be thankful for every moment he gets to spend with you, not someone who's wanting to be all up in your...grill. You don't owe guys anything. Demand respect. Remember Who your Father is.
Guys, don't you listen to this crap either. Girls who are desperate enough to take orders such as those described above aren't worth your time - run the other direction. Girls don't owe you anything. Demand respect. Remember Whose you are.
End of rant.
8/03/2010
Of Sleepless Nights, Canoes, and Ants
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It's true.
I'm becoming partially nocturnal. At the beginning of the summer, I was a regular Benjamin Franklin: early to bed, early to rise. For most of July, I just didn't sleep much at all. And now, I just sleep during abnormal hours: usually between 2 and 9am. I'm sure Scheske is going to deeply appreciate this new pattern of secretion that my pineal body has chosen when it comes time for 8am Calc this fall.
In other news, I'm seriously missing camp. I miss coming home (well, "home") from work and hanging out with some of my best friends. I miss spending time with Jesus every day at the dock. I miss doing my own dishes and cooking for myself. I miss the campers. I miss having the constant support of Christian friends just across King's Highway. I miss singing (shouting?) to my Jesus while surrounded by people who are crazy about Him, too.
I love Dave Overholt. He pastors this church in Ontario - someday I'd love to visit! But anyway.
He was the speaker for Sr. High camp last week, and I was able to sit in on most of the services. I heard him speak seven years ago when I was a camper, and nothing about him has changed. There's one point from one of his messages this past week that stands out to me more than anything. It's funny, too, because it's such a duh statement.
I'm becoming partially nocturnal. At the beginning of the summer, I was a regular Benjamin Franklin: early to bed, early to rise. For most of July, I just didn't sleep much at all. And now, I just sleep during abnormal hours: usually between 2 and 9am. I'm sure Scheske is going to deeply appreciate this new pattern of secretion that my pineal body has chosen when it comes time for 8am Calc this fall.
In other news, I'm seriously missing camp. I miss coming home (well, "home") from work and hanging out with some of my best friends. I miss spending time with Jesus every day at the dock. I miss doing my own dishes and cooking for myself. I miss the campers. I miss having the constant support of Christian friends just across King's Highway. I miss singing (shouting?) to my Jesus while surrounded by people who are crazy about Him, too.
I love Dave Overholt. He pastors this church in Ontario - someday I'd love to visit! But anyway.
He was the speaker for Sr. High camp last week, and I was able to sit in on most of the services. I heard him speak seven years ago when I was a camper, and nothing about him has changed. There's one point from one of his messages this past week that stands out to me more than anything. It's funny, too, because it's such a duh statement.
He told a story about how he decided that a camping and canoe trip would be
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an excellent honeymoon for him and his wife. (At this point, Deb and I agreed that camping wouldn't be a bad honeymoon at all.) Everything went okay until the water got really choppy and the waves started coming into the canoe. His wife freaked out a little bit and stopped paddling, and he was left to steer from the back. However, he realized that steering was impossible when his wife wasn't paddling forward. Did you get that?You can't steer a canoe unless you're moving forward.
The same is true in life: God can't steer you unless you're moving forward.
Nonetheless, he followed the canoe story by reminding us about the ant.
You know, the ant.
The ant that focuses on moving that massive crumb, bit by bit. It's all the ant lives for, really: to slowly but consistantly gather food. We need to be like the ant in our lives, understanding that things don't happen all at once and sometimes we just need to press on. Sometimes life moves slowly, but over time big things happen.
WHOA.
You mean it's okay not to do everything at once? It's okay not to race through life?
Whoa.
I am typically the kind of person that says, "Screw the ant and bring in an excavator. I've got things to get done!" This was such an incredible reminder, though, that I need to slow down. I need to find joy in every single day I'm given. I don't need to have the next ten years of my life planned. God has it taken care of, and He wants me to just chill.
And yet He needs me to keep taking little strokes with my paddle so He can steer.
7/25/2010
Anger Management
I’ve spent the last half hour trying to connect to the DLBCC WiFi. I officially give up.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to experience only one emotion for an entire week (or more). I think most people would (obviously) pick a good emotion—like joyful or excited. Me? I would pick content. But only if I had to.
Experiencing only one emotion for that amount of time would drive me crazy. Even the “good” emotions would get old after a while. Let’s face it: you know those people who are always happy? They never have a mean word to say about anybody, they’re always complimentary, they never complain, and they are just happy. Sometimes I just want to punch those people in the face. For crying out loud, just get angry! Yell at the driver who cut you off. Complain about the humidity. Spill something on your shirt. Say something embarrassing. But please, stop being joyful!
Then there are those people who are just bitter. Constantly bitter. I want to punch them in the face, too. Just shut up about your ex-boyfriend’s current fling. Treat the eighty-year-old with some respect. Stop whining. Find something to be grateful for. But please, stop being bitter!
But I digress.
Emotions are wonderful things. Sometimes (like today), I hate experiencing such a broad range of them in such a short amount of time. (One of the perks of being female, I suppose.) Sometimes (like right this minute), I wish I could make myself experience a little bit broader of a range.
Because right now, you’re probably all convinced that I could benefit from anger management classes.
7/19/2010
An Oil Spill
Me: Some of the nurses were talking last week about using olive oil to restore dry hair. Genius here tried it and bathed her head in oil. Moral of the story: shampoo doesn't adequately remove oil.
Andrew: hahahahahahahahahahahahaha I am trying to contain my laughter.... ERIN YOU MORON!! I LOVE YOU
Me: Seriously, I've washed my hair like 5 times AND I AM STILL LIKE THE FREAKING GULF COAST!
Andrew: Call BP they're good at this stuff. OH MY GOSH I'M EFFING DYING!
Me: Okay. Wash number 6: FAIL. I refuse to use dish soap in my hair. Shoot. Why did I ever listen to them?
Andrew: hahahahaha You might need the laundry detergent. I have extra strength. And it's hypoallergenic :)
Me: ANDREWWW! I FEEL SO STUPID!
Andrew: Remember, we've all done stupid things and you will do a LOT more in your life. The grease-cutting dish soap might be your best bet.
Me: I'm gonna see if it miraculously looks less oil-slick-like in the morning. Oh my gosh, This is almost a more stupid thing to do than....
Andrew: HAHAHAHAHAHA GIRL!
Me: What if all my hair falls out? Or if detergent/dish soap isn't affective on human hair? OH SHOOT ANDREW THEY USED HUMAN HAIR TO ABSORB SOME OF THE OIL IN THE GULF I AM SO SCREWED.
Andrew: hahahahahahahahahahahahaha I am trying to contain my laughter.... ERIN YOU MORON!! I LOVE YOU
Me: Seriously, I've washed my hair like 5 times AND I AM STILL LIKE THE FREAKING GULF COAST!
Andrew: Call BP they're good at this stuff. OH MY GOSH I'M EFFING DYING!
Me: Okay. Wash number 6: FAIL. I refuse to use dish soap in my hair. Shoot. Why did I ever listen to them?
Andrew: hahahahaha You might need the laundry detergent. I have extra strength. And it's hypoallergenic :)
Me: ANDREWWW! I FEEL SO STUPID!
Andrew: Remember, we've all done stupid things and you will do a LOT more in your life. The grease-cutting dish soap might be your best bet.
Me: I'm gonna see if it miraculously looks less oil-slick-like in the morning. Oh my gosh, This is almost a more stupid thing to do than....
Andrew: HAHAHAHAHAHA GIRL!
Me: What if all my hair falls out? Or if detergent/dish soap isn't affective on human hair? OH SHOOT ANDREW THEY USED HUMAN HAIR TO ABSORB SOME OF THE OIL IN THE GULF I AM SO SCREWED.
7/15/2010
People and Poop
I love people.
For example:
Today at work, I got called into one of the rooms. The patient was in his bathroom with the physical therapist. He had just pooped everywhere and the PT basically had no idea how to handle it. I entered, armed with a handful of washcloths and cleansing spray. (Keep in mind, the bathroom is about two-and-a-half feet wide by four feet long--just barely big enough for a sink and toilet with a bit of standing room. It is not by any means designed to be large enough for three adults and a walker.) Our cute little (but not) patient had tried to wipe himself, but the toilet paper had failed (it was single-ply). Because of this, he resorted to his hand. That's right: his hand.
After a bit of unintentional ring-around-the-rosy-ing, I got into the far corner, the PT stood in front of the patient, and latex-free gloves protected us from misplaced feces. Phew. With a bit of encouragement and muscle, we got the patient to stand--but only halfway. You see, his oxygen tube (forgot to mention the oxygen tank that was in the bathroom, too!) had gotten stuck around his back and under the toilet seat. When he tried to stand, he got partially hung by a partially poopy plastic tube. The PT held him in a somewhat-seated-but-off-the-seat position while I wiped the tubing and untangled him. Yay! We finally got our friend to stand.
I wiped him down. However, his poop-covered hands were still grasping the walker for dear life. There was no room for him to move closer to the sink, so I washed his hands with a few washcloths and lots of soap. While drying his hands off, I realized we were still missing something: Depends. And believe me when I say that his guy depends on Depends. (Well, we depend on them to make our job easier.) I slid between the walker, PT, and the doorway to grab a clean Depends. Got one. Slid back in. Whew.
There was no room to bend over, so I sat in an awkward squatting position with my back against the wall (and my face definitely popping my patient's personal bubble, albeit completely unintentionally, people!!!). I got one side around him. I bent over the still-full toilet with the back of my ankles against one wall and one shoulder supporting my weight against the opposite wall. Somehow I managed to get the other side around him and his gown re-tied. The PT helped him shuffle out of the bathroom and I was left laughing hysterically. Whew.
And when I got to camp, my sister's campers tried to provide matchmaking skills for two lifeguards (who happen to be brother and sister). One of them looked at me and said, "If you could choose, how would you die?" and proceeded to list off my options: drowning (which could potentially happen, with them around!), being stabbed, being shot, or being burned. I told her I'd rather stay alive, but she poked me in the stomach until I said, "Okay! I'd rather be shot!"
This, my friends, is why I love people.
For example:
Today at work, I got called into one of the rooms. The patient was in his bathroom with the physical therapist. He had just pooped everywhere and the PT basically had no idea how to handle it. I entered, armed with a handful of washcloths and cleansing spray. (Keep in mind, the bathroom is about two-and-a-half feet wide by four feet long--just barely big enough for a sink and toilet with a bit of standing room. It is not by any means designed to be large enough for three adults and a walker.) Our cute little (but not) patient had tried to wipe himself, but the toilet paper had failed (it was single-ply). Because of this, he resorted to his hand. That's right: his hand.
After a bit of unintentional ring-around-the-rosy-ing, I got into the far corner, the PT stood in front of the patient, and latex-free gloves protected us from misplaced feces. Phew. With a bit of encouragement and muscle, we got the patient to stand--but only halfway. You see, his oxygen tube (forgot to mention the oxygen tank that was in the bathroom, too!) had gotten stuck around his back and under the toilet seat. When he tried to stand, he got partially hung by a partially poopy plastic tube. The PT held him in a somewhat-seated-but-off-the-seat position while I wiped the tubing and untangled him. Yay! We finally got our friend to stand.
I wiped him down. However, his poop-covered hands were still grasping the walker for dear life. There was no room for him to move closer to the sink, so I washed his hands with a few washcloths and lots of soap. While drying his hands off, I realized we were still missing something: Depends. And believe me when I say that his guy depends on Depends. (Well, we depend on them to make our job easier.) I slid between the walker, PT, and the doorway to grab a clean Depends. Got one. Slid back in. Whew.
There was no room to bend over, so I sat in an awkward squatting position with my back against the wall (and my face definitely popping my patient's personal bubble, albeit completely unintentionally, people!!!). I got one side around him. I bent over the still-full toilet with the back of my ankles against one wall and one shoulder supporting my weight against the opposite wall. Somehow I managed to get the other side around him and his gown re-tied. The PT helped him shuffle out of the bathroom and I was left laughing hysterically. Whew.
And when I got to camp, my sister's campers tried to provide matchmaking skills for two lifeguards (who happen to be brother and sister). One of them looked at me and said, "If you could choose, how would you die?" and proceeded to list off my options: drowning (which could potentially happen, with them around!), being stabbed, being shot, or being burned. I told her I'd rather stay alive, but she poked me in the stomach until I said, "Okay! I'd rather be shot!"
This, my friends, is why I love people.
7/10/2010
Rant
I'm annoyed.
Really annoyed.
By Christians.
I don't care if you've been the perfect little Christian all your life. You're no better than anyone who has come to know Jesus recently.
I don't care if you haven't committed that sin. You've still screwed up and Jesus still died to cover your butt.
I don't care if you get annoyed by that kind of person. Jesus loved those who drove everyone else bonkers, then called us to be like Him.
Seriously, people. Just love. Just encourage. Forget about the stupid, petty shananigans and just focus on becoming more like the One Who saved you.
Really annoyed.
By Christians.
I don't care if you've been the perfect little Christian all your life. You're no better than anyone who has come to know Jesus recently.
I don't care if you haven't committed that sin. You've still screwed up and Jesus still died to cover your butt.
I don't care if you get annoyed by that kind of person. Jesus loved those who drove everyone else bonkers, then called us to be like Him.
Seriously, people. Just love. Just encourage. Forget about the stupid, petty shananigans and just focus on becoming more like the One Who saved you.
6/30/2010
A Spewing of Words
I've been blogging in my head during car trips since Sunday. I apologize if this is scattered - it totally is. But hey, that's how my brain works. (Women are spaghetti, remember? Life's events are all scrambled together.)
I found it slightly odd that every so often on the thruway, NYS felt inclined to spend precious budget dollars to put up signs that remind us we're on Interstate 90. Uhm, thanks? Generally when people have been driving on the same road for several miles (in my case, 125+) and they have to pay to exit, they know what highway they're on. But thank you, New York. Your elderly population that drives 50 mph everywhere is grateful.
The little "Freshmen Welcome" at Roberts on Monday made me reminisce. President Martin told all the incoming students (I say all, but there are only 170-something of them, I think) that their lives will be drastically changed over the next several years. I actually wanted to clap and agree with him. I thought back on all the days I've had at Bobby Wes. And all the nights I spent dreaming of intravenous caffeine while studying in the library. And all the roommates I've had. And all the crazy, stupid things I did freshman year that I'd never consider doing now (i.e. making a video of you and your roommate acting drunk in the snow and posting it on Facebook for the world's viewing pleasure). All the coffee and mochas. All the discussions and papers and money spent on textbooks. All the post-its and index cards. All the memories.
Thinking about leaving the Roberts Bubble behind freaks me out. I'm registered for the GRE (August 18th!) and I started my CASPA (Central Application Service for Physician Assistants) application! There are a few schools I'll most likely apply to: SUNY Upstate (backup), University of New Mexico, University of Colorado, Emory University, and Yale. There will definitely be more, but I haven't narrowed it down yet. I would love to move west or south. Yale and Emory have a dual PA/MPH program that would be awesome to get into, but it would also mean a really crazy three years. I guess I just have to wait and see...and do well on the GRE.
In other news, I was at urgent care for the second time in less than a week yesterday. I have a bilateral ear infection - joy. Story of my life. Toy Story 3 is remarkable (check out these cupcakes!). I'm going to the cottage by myself tomorrow for some alone time. Expect more blogs.
I love healthcare. I say that seriously, believe it or not. Medicine is an incredible profession; the ability to improve the quality of life is such a gift. If doctors would just stop to listen to their patients and laugh with them, I think the healing process would be much faster. I'm blessed to be in the position I'm in at the hospital, not because it helps me meet criteria for grad school, but because I'm learning to interact with people who are desperate for human interaction. More than anything, though, I'm learning to love those who couldn't care less about anything.
I could babble forever, but I'll spare you. I'm off to pack for the weekend. Buenas noches.
I found it slightly odd that every so often on the thruway, NYS felt inclined to spend precious budget dollars to put up signs that remind us we're on Interstate 90. Uhm, thanks? Generally when people have been driving on the same road for several miles (in my case, 125+) and they have to pay to exit, they know what highway they're on. But thank you, New York. Your elderly population that drives 50 mph everywhere is grateful.
The little "Freshmen Welcome" at Roberts on Monday made me reminisce. President Martin told all the incoming students (I say all, but there are only 170-something of them, I think) that their lives will be drastically changed over the next several years. I actually wanted to clap and agree with him. I thought back on all the days I've had at Bobby Wes. And all the nights I spent dreaming of intravenous caffeine while studying in the library. And all the roommates I've had. And all the crazy, stupid things I did freshman year that I'd never consider doing now (i.e. making a video of you and your roommate acting drunk in the snow and posting it on Facebook for the world's viewing pleasure). All the coffee and mochas. All the discussions and papers and money spent on textbooks. All the post-its and index cards. All the memories.
Thinking about leaving the Roberts Bubble behind freaks me out. I'm registered for the GRE (August 18th!) and I started my CASPA (Central Application Service for Physician Assistants) application! There are a few schools I'll most likely apply to: SUNY Upstate (backup), University of New Mexico, University of Colorado, Emory University, and Yale. There will definitely be more, but I haven't narrowed it down yet. I would love to move west or south. Yale and Emory have a dual PA/MPH program that would be awesome to get into, but it would also mean a really crazy three years. I guess I just have to wait and see...and do well on the GRE.
In other news, I was at urgent care for the second time in less than a week yesterday. I have a bilateral ear infection - joy. Story of my life. Toy Story 3 is remarkable (check out these cupcakes!). I'm going to the cottage by myself tomorrow for some alone time. Expect more blogs.
I love healthcare. I say that seriously, believe it or not. Medicine is an incredible profession; the ability to improve the quality of life is such a gift. If doctors would just stop to listen to their patients and laugh with them, I think the healing process would be much faster. I'm blessed to be in the position I'm in at the hospital, not because it helps me meet criteria for grad school, but because I'm learning to interact with people who are desperate for human interaction. More than anything, though, I'm learning to love those who couldn't care less about anything.
I could babble forever, but I'll spare you. I'm off to pack for the weekend. Buenas noches.
6/27/2010
Stitches and Confirmation
I got my first stitches this week. That is, the first stitches I was awake to get. I cut my finger open on a knife. The real kicker? I had just opened the package, which said, "Caution: Blade is sharp." I rolled my eyes and wondered Who is stupid enough to cut themselves on a kitchen knife? It turns out I am.
But anyway. There's a family that has been in the hospital for over a week now. I say family because the dad was the patient last week, and his son and daughter-in-law kept him company. This week, the son was the patient. The entire time they've been there, they've been nothing but easy-to-please, appreciative, and just plain wonderful.
The son, who is probably about my dad's age, looked at me this morning and said, "Wow, you look nice today! Do you have a hot date tonight or somethin'?" (His personality is very much like my dad's, too, so I knew he didn't mean to be creepy.) His wife came in to say hello this morning, left for church, and came back after church was over. He, on the other hand, sat in his chair and took notes while some TV pastor was preaching.
Lunch was late today, and it came up in conversation when I went in to check on his roommate. We chatted about "normal" times to eat, and I mentioned that when I'm at school, I always eat lunch at noon unless I skip chapel. The next time I came in, he asked me where I was in college, and I told him I go to Roberts. It turns out, his pastor's son goes there (and is a super-fantastic pianist).
I met his pastor (who stopped in after lunch) and spoke with him for a bit - what a great guy. I went to say goodbye before I left today (I know, I know, who does that? But in my defense, he's probaby getting discharged soon and I'm off tomorrow.) and told him and his wife that I really enjoyed talking with them and that I hope they all stay out of the hospital for a while. He looked at me and said, "You know, you're in the right field. Good luck on your last year in college. You really stand out here - keep it up."
And I knew. Hearing that from a patient was simply confirmation to me that I am where God wants me. I'm pursuing something that I'm not only fascinated by, but that I'm good at. I was so encouraged. Even though I missed church this morning, God spoke loudly and clearly through one man who was willing to open his mouth and say something kind. I am in awe.
But anyway. There's a family that has been in the hospital for over a week now. I say family because the dad was the patient last week, and his son and daughter-in-law kept him company. This week, the son was the patient. The entire time they've been there, they've been nothing but easy-to-please, appreciative, and just plain wonderful.
The son, who is probably about my dad's age, looked at me this morning and said, "Wow, you look nice today! Do you have a hot date tonight or somethin'?" (His personality is very much like my dad's, too, so I knew he didn't mean to be creepy.) His wife came in to say hello this morning, left for church, and came back after church was over. He, on the other hand, sat in his chair and took notes while some TV pastor was preaching.
Lunch was late today, and it came up in conversation when I went in to check on his roommate. We chatted about "normal" times to eat, and I mentioned that when I'm at school, I always eat lunch at noon unless I skip chapel. The next time I came in, he asked me where I was in college, and I told him I go to Roberts. It turns out, his pastor's son goes there (and is a super-fantastic pianist).
I met his pastor (who stopped in after lunch) and spoke with him for a bit - what a great guy. I went to say goodbye before I left today (I know, I know, who does that? But in my defense, he's probaby getting discharged soon and I'm off tomorrow.) and told him and his wife that I really enjoyed talking with them and that I hope they all stay out of the hospital for a while. He looked at me and said, "You know, you're in the right field. Good luck on your last year in college. You really stand out here - keep it up."
And I knew. Hearing that from a patient was simply confirmation to me that I am where God wants me. I'm pursuing something that I'm not only fascinated by, but that I'm good at. I was so encouraged. Even though I missed church this morning, God spoke loudly and clearly through one man who was willing to open his mouth and say something kind. I am in awe.
6/21/2010
Death
People died today.
People die everyday, I know. But today, two people died that I once had some form of interaction with.
Soon after feeding one of my patients lunch today (if raspberry sherbet counts as lunch), I went in to clean him up. Two minutes later, we found out his heart rate was dropping rapidly. A minute after that, he was pronounced dead.
I came home from work and Mom told me that Dave Camp died early this morning. I knew him from Camp Shiloh, and even though I didn't know him well, I still feel like I lost a friend.
I've dealt with death before; three of my grandparents died before I was ten. But dealing with death like this is new to me. I cared for this patient that died today. I was one of the last people to interact with him. And even though I know healthcare professionals have to deal with death and dying frequently, I don't think I was quite ready for it.
There's such a fine line between accepting death and moving forward with work while still grieving sufficiently. Today, I had to harden myself a bit, at least while I was still on the floor. I had a somewhat cathartic run today when I got home, though at some points I couldn't tell if I was wiping tears or sweat off my face. Either way, in a strange way it enabled me to grieve.
I don't ever want to become so callous that death of patients doesn't affect me. At the same time, I don't want to cry over every patient I ever lose. More than anything, though, I don't want to stop learning, laughing, loving, and living.
People die everyday, I know. But today, two people died that I once had some form of interaction with.
Soon after feeding one of my patients lunch today (if raspberry sherbet counts as lunch), I went in to clean him up. Two minutes later, we found out his heart rate was dropping rapidly. A minute after that, he was pronounced dead.
I came home from work and Mom told me that Dave Camp died early this morning. I knew him from Camp Shiloh, and even though I didn't know him well, I still feel like I lost a friend.
I've dealt with death before; three of my grandparents died before I was ten. But dealing with death like this is new to me. I cared for this patient that died today. I was one of the last people to interact with him. And even though I know healthcare professionals have to deal with death and dying frequently, I don't think I was quite ready for it.
There's such a fine line between accepting death and moving forward with work while still grieving sufficiently. Today, I had to harden myself a bit, at least while I was still on the floor. I had a somewhat cathartic run today when I got home, though at some points I couldn't tell if I was wiping tears or sweat off my face. Either way, in a strange way it enabled me to grieve.
I don't ever want to become so callous that death of patients doesn't affect me. At the same time, I don't want to cry over every patient I ever lose. More than anything, though, I don't want to stop learning, laughing, loving, and living.
6/19/2010
Growing Up and Getting Weird
I feel old. At least, older.
Yeah, my birthday was yesterday, which led to a gazillion posts on my Facebook wall. (Thanks! You guys are fantastic!) But it was today that made me realize that I'm actually becoming an adult.
My sister's graduation party was today. She's going to Roberts in the fall (insert cheers and grins here) as a Childhood Ed major. If she continues and becomes a teacher, she's going to be fantastic at it. (She'll be good at whatever she does, really.) And dang, isn't she beautiful??
Yeah, my birthday was yesterday, which led to a gazillion posts on my Facebook wall. (Thanks! You guys are fantastic!) But it was today that made me realize that I'm actually becoming an adult.
My sister's graduation party was today. She's going to Roberts in the fall (insert cheers and grins here) as a Childhood Ed major. If she continues and becomes a teacher, she's going to be fantastic at it. (She'll be good at whatever she does, really.) And dang, isn't she beautiful??
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My graduation party was last weekend. Yesterday, I was at RWConnection, figuring out the whole college thing and playing ultimate frisbee. I start my freshman year of college in a few months and I'm so nervous!
And then reality hit.
My graduation party was three years ago. RWConnection is coming up, and I wish I could be there to welcome the freshman class. I start my last year of college in a few months and I'm so nervous!
It's strange that I can now carry on lengthy conversations with adults and not feel (completely) awkward. Clothes in the Juniors department make me look significantly younger than I am. I enjoy cooking and cleaning, and getting laundry done leaves me feeling accomplished. The whole thing is just weird.
Or maybe it's just me.
6/02/2010
Chasing Abby's Wish
Someday I'll actually be a real blogger who updates her posts on a regular basis. Someday.
Today, I want to introduce you to a beautiful little girl named Abby. She was adopted from Guatemala several years ago, but now has leukemia. She has been receiving chemo treatments since 2008 and has 170 days to go. To read her full story, you can click here.
Abby has a wish: to be cancer free and have a baby brother or sister. Her parents, Brent and Michelle, fully support her desire for another sibling. They have such a passion to adopt another child, though the upfront costs of this are exorbitant.
I am a goal setter. I have been for as long as I can remember. When I was a senior in high school, I set this goal for myself: to run the Boilermaker before I graduate from college. It's a 15K road race (that's 9.3 miles, if you're curious) that spans the city of Utica. I am so not a runner by nature, but I want to make this happen--not just for me, but for Abby.
I'm asking that you become part of Abby's Wish by sponsoring me to run. Donate per mile or donate for the whole race. Pray for Abby and her family. Help make Abby's Wish come to fruition. My goal is to bring her family $930 ($100 per mile) closer to giving another orphan a mom and dad.
Donations can be made directly to Abby's Wish by clicking here. Please be part of making Abby's Wish come true! Do it for Abby. Do it for her family. Most importantly, do it for the child that will be rescued from poverty and given a forever family.
Today, I want to introduce you to a beautiful little girl named Abby. She was adopted from Guatemala several years ago, but now has leukemia. She has been receiving chemo treatments since 2008 and has 170 days to go. To read her full story, you can click here.
Abby has a wish: to be cancer free and have a baby brother or sister. Her parents, Brent and Michelle, fully support her desire for another sibling. They have such a passion to adopt another child, though the upfront costs of this are exorbitant.
I am a goal setter. I have been for as long as I can remember. When I was a senior in high school, I set this goal for myself: to run the Boilermaker before I graduate from college. It's a 15K road race (that's 9.3 miles, if you're curious) that spans the city of Utica. I am so not a runner by nature, but I want to make this happen--not just for me, but for Abby.
I'm asking that you become part of Abby's Wish by sponsoring me to run. Donate per mile or donate for the whole race. Pray for Abby and her family. Help make Abby's Wish come to fruition. My goal is to bring her family $930 ($100 per mile) closer to giving another orphan a mom and dad.
Donations can be made directly to Abby's Wish by clicking here. Please be part of making Abby's Wish come true! Do it for Abby. Do it for her family. Most importantly, do it for the child that will be rescued from poverty and given a forever family.
2/08/2010
Storms and Tangents
If last week was the storm, this week is that beautiful time of rejuvenation after it. It's ironic, then, that I have woken up the past three mornings completely and utterly exhausted after 7+ hours of sleep. To some extent, though, I know I'm being tested.
I resolved at the beginning of this year to read through the Bible chronologically. (The schedule is available here.) I am a firm believer in going through devotionals and doing studies on different topics or books in the Bible. That being said, I have very little success with them, personally. I am the kind of person that needs structure; I need a schedule to hold me accountable (you know, in case that little check in my spirit doesn't do the trick). From previous experience, I've found that the whole Bible-in-a-year thing is best for me.
That being said, spending about a half hour reading the Bible each day seemed really daunting, especially since I'm taking four (yep, FOUR) science classes this semester. I also felt really convicted that giving God a half hour of my I'm-so-exhausted-I-just-want-to-go-to-sleep time wasn't exactly giving Him my best. So I made a second decision: I was going to do my Scripture reading in the morning and finish off the day with Streams in the Desert.
If you know me, you know I'm the kind of person to wake up half-an-hour before my first class, throw on a t-shirt and jeans, grab a bowl of cereal at Garlock, and head to class. The idea of waking up earlier didn't thrill me, to say the least. But you know what?
I've been up earlier than I ever have been (consistently) at school. Last week was hell, I'll admit. I was up late doing homework and finishing labs, then up early to finish homework and do last-minute calculations. (I sound like such a nerd when I say that.) I struggled to have that time with God when my body just craved sleep. There were mornings that I didn't read my Bible, and I gave God the leftover time at the end of the day. But honestly, I have to be excited that I haven't yet missed a day with Him this year. It's hard to stay consistent in college - I know, because this is my third year of trying - but it is so worth it.
Well, this post is completely different than what I sat down to write. But it's okay. I leave for Guatemala in four days. I cannot wait to see those precious children!
Lord, let my heart beat only to bring You glory.
I resolved at the beginning of this year to read through the Bible chronologically. (The schedule is available here.) I am a firm believer in going through devotionals and doing studies on different topics or books in the Bible. That being said, I have very little success with them, personally. I am the kind of person that needs structure; I need a schedule to hold me accountable (you know, in case that little check in my spirit doesn't do the trick). From previous experience, I've found that the whole Bible-in-a-year thing is best for me.
That being said, spending about a half hour reading the Bible each day seemed really daunting, especially since I'm taking four (yep, FOUR) science classes this semester. I also felt really convicted that giving God a half hour of my I'm-so-exhausted-I-just-want-to-go-to-sleep time wasn't exactly giving Him my best. So I made a second decision: I was going to do my Scripture reading in the morning and finish off the day with Streams in the Desert.
If you know me, you know I'm the kind of person to wake up half-an-hour before my first class, throw on a t-shirt and jeans, grab a bowl of cereal at Garlock, and head to class. The idea of waking up earlier didn't thrill me, to say the least. But you know what?
I've been up earlier than I ever have been (consistently) at school. Last week was hell, I'll admit. I was up late doing homework and finishing labs, then up early to finish homework and do last-minute calculations. (I sound like such a nerd when I say that.) I struggled to have that time with God when my body just craved sleep. There were mornings that I didn't read my Bible, and I gave God the leftover time at the end of the day. But honestly, I have to be excited that I haven't yet missed a day with Him this year. It's hard to stay consistent in college - I know, because this is my third year of trying - but it is so worth it.
Well, this post is completely different than what I sat down to write. But it's okay. I leave for Guatemala in four days. I cannot wait to see those precious children!
Lord, let my heart beat only to bring You glory.
1/20/2010
Wednesday.
I daresay this has been the busiest day of my college career.
And I get to repeat it every Wednesday until the end of the semester. Whoopee.
6:06am - The first of four alarms goes off.
6:09am - Alarm one, snooze one.
6:12am - Alarm one, snooze two.
6:15am - Alarm one, snooze three. I finally turn off alarm one.
6:16am - The second of four alarms goes off.
This cycle repeats itself until all four alarms have gone off. After the fourth alarm, I'm up for good. (Did I mention that I keep my alarm clock on the other side of my room so I have to literally have to jump out of bed and run across the room to turn it off? I don't want to bother counting the number of times I got out of bed this morning before actually staying up.)
7:30am - Leave home for breakfast with Bre and Aubree.
8:00am - Head to the SSC to TA for CHM 114.
10:00am - Walk downstairs for Physics.
11:00am - Lunch with Kate, Maria, and Justine.
12:00pm - Head back to the SSC for Bioinformatics.
1:00pm - Walk to the next room over for Comparative Anatomy lab.
3:15pm - Leave Comparative Anatomy lab early and walk downstairs for Physics lab.
6:00pm - Finally leave the darn SSC and get dinner.
6:20pm - Leave dinner for Creative Writing.
9:00pm - Creative Writing ends early. Hurrah! I can go home.
10:00pm - ICC meeting.
10:30pm - Exhausted.
Seriously, why did I ever plan my schedule like this? I hate that I always think I can handle way more than I can. Someday, I will learn to acknowledge my shortcomings and plan accordingly.
And I get to repeat it every Wednesday until the end of the semester. Whoopee.
6:06am - The first of four alarms goes off.
6:09am - Alarm one, snooze one.
6:12am - Alarm one, snooze two.
6:15am - Alarm one, snooze three. I finally turn off alarm one.
6:16am - The second of four alarms goes off.
This cycle repeats itself until all four alarms have gone off. After the fourth alarm, I'm up for good. (Did I mention that I keep my alarm clock on the other side of my room so I have to literally have to jump out of bed and run across the room to turn it off? I don't want to bother counting the number of times I got out of bed this morning before actually staying up.)
7:30am - Leave home for breakfast with Bre and Aubree.
8:00am - Head to the SSC to TA for CHM 114.
10:00am - Walk downstairs for Physics.
11:00am - Lunch with Kate, Maria, and Justine.
12:00pm - Head back to the SSC for Bioinformatics.
1:00pm - Walk to the next room over for Comparative Anatomy lab.
3:15pm - Leave Comparative Anatomy lab early and walk downstairs for Physics lab.
6:00pm - Finally leave the darn SSC and get dinner.
6:20pm - Leave dinner for Creative Writing.
9:00pm - Creative Writing ends early. Hurrah! I can go home.
10:00pm - ICC meeting.
10:30pm - Exhausted.
Seriously, why did I ever plan my schedule like this? I hate that I always think I can handle way more than I can. Someday, I will learn to acknowledge my shortcomings and plan accordingly.
I miss this little brother of mine.
1/16/2010
Victoria
My dear friend Victoria is back at school after several days at home. She has Lyme Disease, and has been having numerous seizures and such this past week because of it. For now, she's in a wheelchair, as the frequent seizures took their toll on her body. From what I understand, her nerves are misfiring and she cannot support her own body weight. She will walk again, it's just a matter of time.
However, she's a full-time nursing student. She has dreams, goals, and a busy schedule! Her health wreaked havoc on her daily routine last semester, and I know it was a constant stress in her life. Her faith is strong and her attitude is upbeat, despite the massive amounts of pain that she's in. Those of you who know her know what an encouragement she is to everyone she comes in contact with.
Please be praying for her! Pray that her nerves calm down and that she is able to walk around again on her own soon. Pray that she continues to rely on God to be her source of strength in the midst of this. Pray for God to give her doctors wisdom to know how to best treat her. To read her entire story and updates, either click here or click her name at the top.
However, she's a full-time nursing student. She has dreams, goals, and a busy schedule! Her health wreaked havoc on her daily routine last semester, and I know it was a constant stress in her life. Her faith is strong and her attitude is upbeat, despite the massive amounts of pain that she's in. Those of you who know her know what an encouragement she is to everyone she comes in contact with.
Please be praying for her! Pray that her nerves calm down and that she is able to walk around again on her own soon. Pray that she continues to rely on God to be her source of strength in the midst of this. Pray for God to give her doctors wisdom to know how to best treat her. To read her entire story and updates, either click here or click her name at the top.
1/15/2010
Growing is good.
This semester, I am taking four science classes and a writing class. (I'm crazy, I know. But hey, college is for doing what you love, right?) It has been a crazy week, but I love learning. In general, science presents questions that can be answered by evidence. Scientists ask why, they do research, and after time (sometimes a long time) they come up with answers.
In Creative Writing this week, I was asked to answer this question: Why do you write? Shoot. That's a good question. I wrote my answer, and was pleased with the paradoxical statements I came up with. However, this question why kept resounding in my head as I walked across campus after class. In the midst of physics homework, I still found myself thinking about it.
Why do I _______?
I do so many stupid things that I wish I had a better reason for doing. Why do I think so poorly of him? I think poorly of him because he sits in front of me in class and reads the notes aloud (from the first time he took this class) before the professor has a chance to put the notes on the board. Why do I feel so compelled to read the Bible every day? I feel compelled to read the Bible because I set a goal for myself and I want to meet that goal.
Do you see a pattern here? I think poorly of him because he annoys me. I read the Bible to meet my goal. How selfish I am! Only when I began asking why did I realize how much I live to please myself and how little I love like Jesus did. I shouldn't even have to ask the question why do I think so poorly of him. I should be compelled to read the Bible every day because I love my Savior and want to hear from Him and be challenged by Him.
Needless to say, I am off to a thoughtful yet challenging start to my year and my semester. However, when I am striving to be more like Christ, I am not stagnant. Not being stagnant means I'm growing, and growing is good.
In Creative Writing this week, I was asked to answer this question: Why do you write? Shoot. That's a good question. I wrote my answer, and was pleased with the paradoxical statements I came up with. However, this question why kept resounding in my head as I walked across campus after class. In the midst of physics homework, I still found myself thinking about it.
Why do I _______?
I do so many stupid things that I wish I had a better reason for doing. Why do I think so poorly of him? I think poorly of him because he sits in front of me in class and reads the notes aloud (from the first time he took this class) before the professor has a chance to put the notes on the board. Why do I feel so compelled to read the Bible every day? I feel compelled to read the Bible because I set a goal for myself and I want to meet that goal.
Do you see a pattern here? I think poorly of him because he annoys me. I read the Bible to meet my goal. How selfish I am! Only when I began asking why did I realize how much I live to please myself and how little I love like Jesus did. I shouldn't even have to ask the question why do I think so poorly of him. I should be compelled to read the Bible every day because I love my Savior and want to hear from Him and be challenged by Him.
Needless to say, I am off to a thoughtful yet challenging start to my year and my semester. However, when I am striving to be more like Christ, I am not stagnant. Not being stagnant means I'm growing, and growing is good.
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