The Everyday Failings

There is nothing more frustrating than believing yourself to be in control till you are smacked down into nothingness.

One time I was organizing a fundraiser and making food and feeling so very mature, thinking I had everything going perfectly. But as I was driving to pick up a crockpot for the food, my car ran out of gas. I like saying it that way because it makes it sound as though I were the victim of my car's inability to retain gas. But in reality- my car finally stalled on the side of the road because I had been driving around for four days having it be below "E"...yeah I know. Fail.

Another time I had just gotten back from a road trip I had coordinated and had driven my parents car with my friends in the back. Having made it safely home with few mishaps, I believed myself to finally have come to the point of adulthood. Ah now I had made it!

Or so I hoped...

That night I couldn't find the keys to my car and I was too tired to look, but the next morning I woke up late and had no time to look for them. For TWO DAYS I had to drive my parents van to school and work because I had lost my key. "What about a spare key?" you might ask. Well, thats the thing, it WAS my spare key. I had lost my real one only a few short months ago and though my Dad nagged me to get it copied, I never made time for it. For a full day I was worried that I would have to pay an exorbitant amount for an agency to come and make a key from the key hole. I got home and the whole family helped me search for it, even my dad tried to break into my car.

Behold it had been in the van I had been driving for the past week...right below the radio. Went a few days later and paid $2.11 for a spare key. Thank the Lord.

These things caused me to become so frustrated with myself, how could I be so foolish?! I had been trying to keep my life in perfect order. Wake up early, have devotions, exercise - then head off to school or work. Read the exact number of chapters in my Bible every morning and listen to Alistair Begg as I got ready for school. Without realizing it, I had become confident in my ability to lead a "perfect" life.

But as those days became harder to keep I would fall down farther. If I couldn't have a perfect day then I would condemn myself or give up entirely. The world became a rough, discouraging place and everyday was a defeat in itself.

What was this? This obsession with perfection? I had never considered myself a perfectionist before yet here I was fighting with my imperfect ways. I couldn't see that the root of it was simply pride and unthankfulness.

 All I know is that everyday is a gift from God. Every breath I take and action I make is a privilege. The belief that I should do better because I believe I am better is a frightening lie.

When we fill ourselves with pride at our own accomplishments, the enemy uses that to bring us low. Because we won't be able to have a perfect day everyday, it is impossible!

So my solution? I'm not sure I could say there is a definite solution, it is a constant sacrificing of our own will to His. But what I have found that helps me to do that and keep it in perspective, is a simple daily prayer. So every morning (at least I try every morning...) I get on my knees and give the day to the Lord. All my goals and hopes for the day are nothing if they are not in His will. I recognize that I am nothing and He is everything. He can give me the motivation to work hard throughout the day and to be thankful for what gets done.

I can then find peace in the gift of my ordinary every days and be more appreciative for the rare extraordinary ones.

Hear the Call

Everyday can become so ordinary. It can become so monotonous that we forget to fight. We forget to be challenged so that when we are- we give up.

I have been raised in a Bible believing, Christian home. I went to our church's small private school that consisted of MAYBE sixty kids in the elementary and junior high- it didn't go any higher. After that I went on to a small conservative, baptist high school in league with other schools of the same belief. 

So according to my college professors, I have been groomed and fashioned to become a typical conservative American, believing all the bias' and opinions of the close-minded Christians. My simple words and testimony that I may have been able to share in Sunday school, now seem weak and unable to stand as evidence in a classroom. 

So what do I do? I have three options- 

1.) I can leave. I can go away to a school that teaches ONLY the things I believe in. To be able to relax and not come home spiritually exhausted sometimes sounds beautiful. Some should do this if God  leads you there- but make sure it's the Lord and not fear. If you're running away then you will always be running from your own ignorance. 

2.) I could conform. It would be so easy sometimes, to soak in everything that's being taught. Especially when everyone else believes it. When your foundation is weak- you will crumble. If all you've ever relied on is one Sunday out of the week, or the fact that you were top of your class at the Christian school, or maybe you had won in Bible verse competitions. Yet again- if your foundation is weak- you will fall.

3.) I could be challenged. To not give up or conform. I could go back to my roots, to that solid foundation, the Bible. So many think that it has no relevance to us today, that you would simply be wasting your time on some book that they will tell you is not even reliable. The courage and confidence I have gained from reading even a little every day has been as food that sustains me through the influences all around me. 

Well, to me, I only have one option. I've been told that it runs in my blood, therefore, I will not be pushed down. I will not be forced to think as they do. I love school- the fact that it challenges me. I love going there and learning new things, yet everyday there is a challenge. The scary thing is that so many don't see them.  

Everyday is extraordinary. Everyday we are given the chance to fight- to look beyond ourselves and our own petty problems and to see the bigger picture. We cannot give up, we cannot hide behind our perfectly structured walls and let those without a home wander. It's true that I grew up in a God-fearing home. God blessed me with that shelter that now, as I venture out on my own, I have a firm foundation to help others. Through Christ, I am strengthened which allows me to fight. This world has too many weak Christians, let us not give up- but stand and stand for truth.

True Living?

Well I see looking at my page that I obviously am not a blogger. Whatever possessed me to begin must have been a fleeting dream...

So why am I writing now? Well, partly because I'm sick of being on Pinterest, Facebook and Instagram. I'm tired of letting everybody know everything I'm thinking this very second and doing and liking and wishing. Yet at the same time I love it! Isn't that why I'm this very minute composing my thoughts into sentences for anyone who wishes to read?

All of these connections help me to view the human race on a very intimate level. What is it that causes us to wake up in the morning? To go outside and enjoy the beauty of everything around us? Is it simply because we want others to see we have a life? That we're unique?

Is that what drives our every move now?

Let's be honest here. Everybody wants someone to see something they're doing. We want to be coveted and admired. So we post thoughtful status' or put up funny pictures or basically just try to make ourselves look like we really live. Not all the time, but that is the default setting isn't  it?

So is that what's causing us to get out of bed and go do something exciting? Is that why the drive today is to have an adventure everyday? Have we lost sight of the quiet enjoyment of just sitting outside and thinking? Yet now we feel the need to let everybody know->

 "Ahhh pretty sunset, just chillin! Text <3"

It all gives me such a headache. I fall prey to it too! I have been sucked into the whirlwind of this constant need to never be alone.

Isn't that what it all comes down to?

We are afraid of our own thoughts. More precisely put, we don't know how to think on our own. How often do you sit, with no music, no phone, no movie, not computer and simply read? Or think, or write?

When I was younger in my spare time I would read. I read constantly; silly books, good books and I never got sick of it. Yet now as I'm reading I find myself looking at my phone after about 15 min., then an hour later I have thirty new pins and started following three more people...but my book lay collecting dust.

I miss the days of not checking my phone. Not knowing when I got a new notification or that this one person I don't even remember from my old job years ago that i never talk to, just got out of a terrible relationship and though I barely remember them I now know the whole story because it was all over my news feed. Is that the type of stuff I want to fill my mind with?

I don't mean to bash social media like everyone who's obsessed with it loves to do; I just want to know how. How I can somehow find the contented middle and get back into the adventures I found on paper while doing those I find everyday.

Take me back to the true everyday adventures.

Story of Redemption

I wrote this about a classic story. Tell me which one...

                                A man, beaten, broken, a candle at his side.  

His last hope of freedom faded with his pride

This man from poverty, chained to his past, 

Rose from the ashes and glory was grasped. 

A simple act had changed him, silver tokens stolen,

A humble priest redeemed him with gracious words spoken.

A bitter heart turned to love, stumbling towards success.

As he triumphed, now he rescued others who transgressed.

A pair of eyes, no soul behind them, a beauty lost with years of use, 

Ragged clothes betrayed her lies, with no remnants of her youth.

Her dying breaths spoke of a child, with strangers she had left behind.

She asked only for him to bring her little one, her desperation had made her blind.

He readied to leave, to save this child, with a love so strong.

Yet justice, long past, sought to prove his wrong.

Was he to save a child so pure, and let the guiltless take his blame?

Or speak the truth for a man, and let the child live in shame?

He confessed his past, and let the court have its own way.

The heavy chains could not restrain,  his hope to rescue her someday.

Years of toil, the debt now paid, alas freed from years of strife.

With freedom earned and  promise sealed, he purchased life.

A little lark with silenced song, trodden down by life's cruel lot.

He took her in and gave her all, everything that she had not.

She grew to love him as her father, knew no other life than this.

Till loomed a shadow creeping back to send her dreams amiss.  

The loving father saw the man, seeking to un-cover all.

Darkness would not forget and had to see this great man fall.

The great good done could never cover his stains and elusive doubt.

The debt of justice, in evil's mind, was stayed on his account.

A heart for God, he returns, vengeance with grace.

Would cold eyes see mercy, and drop his heartless case?

No, the heart of stone grew bitter, determined to wield the law.

Never mercy give; he vanquished every flaw.

The merciful, now vulnerable, chose one last soul to save.   

                                Even his last free moments, he willingly gave.

Carried his daughter's fallen love, for he, her future best.

Across the threshold, to his sweet one, and into the arms of rest.

The bitter man put the barrel to his head, unable to comprehend.

What was his life if mercy was victorious in the end?

This one, who'd fastened tight the irons, life's goals were now shattered

The other stands with chains again, but his heart's unfettered.

Behind a Casement Window

I love stories.

 I love being able to gaze at buildings and know the story behind it. In my History of American Architecture class, I find myself fascinated with the ideas and influences behind a simple two story home. The ideals that caused fan lights to become popular and the statement that simple windows can make. My eyes now search and identify certain key characteristics in buildings and I guess at the architect's reasons for each brick laid.

I imagine the stories behind a home, a painting or a chair. Was it a young family moving in right after World War II? Did the woman idolize Jackie Kennedy, therefore causing that style of drapes to be there? It's amazing how many stories there are surrounding us.

Then my mind turns to people.

If there is so much to know behind a few wooden clapboards and a spiral staircase, what of those faces around me? Rather than just seeing architectural designs, my eyes look at the people inhabiting those designs.

There are  hands, faces, and eyes that I had not noticed. What stories do they hold? What makes them who they are? Who do they love?

I look at the tired, lonely, or smiling faces that capture my eye. With every movement made, or laugh that echoes, I see the architect's design. Though I can't always see the reasons behind his work, his image is reflected. Just as on each building we can identify what different architects were like, here we can also see His personality. He knows how to align the roof with the balcony, or maybe he wants some to be a little off balance. Either way, behind each window is a story, and I want to know them.

The Waters of Passing Time

Do you ever find yourself reminiscing? Thinking back on old memories and stories that do nothing but make  you smile? Tonight I see four girls...four little women.

We all stood, cooling in the pool. Laughing and playing our "Olympic" water-louge game. Maegan stood straight and spoke as low as her seventeen-year old voice could speak, "I now announce the American team: Brytanie, Tiphony, Shaynah, and Courtneigh." We all turned on our valley girl voices and waved to the imaginary crowd linking along the pool.

"Alright girls! This is it!" squealed Elisabeth, or Tiphony. She curled her upper lip and lisped out her words. "Even if we don't win, we just have fun!" We all laugh, then get back into character as we realize, we must be professional.

"Remember," Katie reminds us, sticking our her stomach and imitating a balding professor having no idea what he's saying,  "Be a reader and you shall succeed!" I laugh almost uncontrollably.

My twelve-year old eyes, with the circular goggle tan, look in wonder at my sister and oldest cousin. Being the youngest, I felt as though we were professional swimmers.

"Elisabeth your legs are never spread wide enough!" Katie, falling out of character, states rather emphatically.

"Katie you don't pull the ankles that's why!"

"Well maybe its cause you haven't shaved and they feel nasty!" The crowd grows restless as we share our petty arguments.

"Elisabeth just spread them wider and Katie who cares! Ok guys now let's be serious!"You can tell Maegan's the oldest and she knows how to lead.

We all focus as Maegan (Brytanie) leads the way.

Full circle with no interruption, we silently loop our bodies in and out as a chain around the pool, arms perfectly straight and hair slicked back.
"No other team has been able to do it through the center, the deep area, let's see if these American ones are any better," we hear the gruff announcer shout over the speakers. We'd show him. Katie takes the first step into the middle, one swift, smooth motion and she's bobbing with me following right behind her. This is where it gets intense. "I don't believe it! The girls are attempting the middle with only 10 seconds to go and the entire team's almost all under water! Do my eyes betray me?" His words are the last thing Maegan hears as she submerges under water, she has the farthest to go and no goggles to see. We wait a full three breathless seconds till she comes shooting out of the water!

"They did it! They did it! The American team has won!"The crowds run wild as we jump up and hug each other.

We did it, we made it. Even through deep waters we were together. Each of us made sure the other made it out safely. All our training had prepared us for this moment, we had conquered the waves, the disdain.

Though years have past and there may be no more olympic victories, we never realized how much that has mirrored our lives. Through whatever storm or change, the four little women stay together.

"I know Him! I KNOW Him!"

     Today my Dad opened our worship service with the idea of knowing God, the Father. He told the story of the father with two sons (one being the prodigal). The youngest hadn't known the Father before he left and squandered all his riches and the elder didn't truly know and understand the heart of the Father when he brought back the youngest son.

    Knowing God. Not just knowing about him, but truly understanding him as a friend and Father. His idea  brought a random movie scene to my mind. And to those who know me well, this happens often.

     I  thought of Elf (the movie). The part when Will Ferrell, Buddy, hears that Santa's coming and he shouts across the store excitedly, "SANTA!!! I know him! I KNOW him!" He had the childlike mindset of knowing Santa. Everybody else obviously knew about him, but he KNEW him.

     Ok so Santa is obviously not equal to God and hopefully we're not like Will Ferrell in that sense, but I'm talking about his innocent excitement of KNOWING Santa.

     How much more excited can we be? We KNOW the Creator, the Messiah, the King of Kings! I KNOW Him! That blows my mind.

                               
                                            The only thing is... I want to know Him more.


     Who would ever say to a friend, "Ok, I think I know you enough so let's just stick to me coming to you whenever I feel like it ok? Great."

     No! Unless somebody was a terrible friend, they would never say that! People want to spend more time with their friends, get to know them better, enjoy the time spent with them. In that way I want to get to know my Lord, I'm so glad that there's no "limit."

Only don't expect to see me in a green costume shouting, "I KNOW Him!" through the stores. :)

A Joyful Awakening

     It's been quite a while since I've written. In fact, its been so long that I not only forgot the password to the blog but also the password to the email account I used for this, and now that I think of it, I don't even remember the email account! Much has happened since those long ago stories. My days are now filled with happy nothings, but yet I love those happy nothings.

     Today I realized just how truly blessed I am to have everyday adventures, nothing necessarily exciting or tragic, just a simple day by day life. But how many days do we honestly appreciate the freedom that we enjoy?

     As every girl does at some point, I've looked at myself and hated what I saw. Not understanding why I was the way I was while others were better. At the gym I was thinking this bitterly and watching the screens above me as every star danced in front of me parading their perfection. Being so consumed with myself I almost didn't notice the girl in the wheelchair in front of me. Her mother was moving her onto a machine to work her legs. I saw tears of frustration in her eyes. Her movements were slow and almost unbearable to watch. She made a joke to her mother who's concern could not be hidden even with a smile.

     What had happened to this girl? Did she ever experience the feeling of running freely or playing hopscotch?

     I couldn't help but watch her. I admired her strength and determination. Who was I to pity myself and be completely selfish while she, who cannot even move on her own, ignores her own disabilities and laughs at life.

     This girl, about fifteen, though she never spoke a word to me, showed me how to truly live. Where is the beauty in life if all we see is what we lack and others have? Our vision is limited to the negatives in life causing our thoughts to become increasingly bleak.

     How easily we believe the lies whispered in our ears that we're not good enough, never will be good enough. Weren't we created in his image? Isn't it enough to be alive? I've heard this said to me time and again but it never hit me as it did today.

     I looked back at the screens above me and rather than seeing beautiful women smiling, living their perfect lives, I saw an emptiness. There was a vacancy in their eyes and in their actions a desperate need to be noticed. I looked back at the young girl struggling into a machine, there was strength in her eyes and courage in her actions.

    I walked away now knowing within whom true joy could be found.