I can be a very heavy-handed, didactic writer. Sometimes I feel the need to tie everything up with a little bow, showing that I've learned something or that there is a morale to the story. But not all of life fits into pretty boxes; not everything teaches me lessons. Some things are just hilarious and some are just awful. I can't necessarily see a point to these things, but I see them. And that's all that counts. In reality, writing isn't about teaching, it's about learning. I think writing isn't about speaking, it's all about listening. So here is a week in my life--give for take a few days. I wrote about things that just happened. Enjoy.
Sunday 5/13:
I found a tortilla chip in my belly button this afternoon. I'd spent five consecutive hours reading an outrageously confusing novel, and while I was reading I had to keep up my energy with sustenance of course. Too much homework and too much snacking leads to crazy things.
Monday:
I woke up and found that I'd slept on a t-shirt all night. I didn't notice it when I went to bed because its pink, soft, cotton fabric is the same exact shade and texture of my sheets. Not sure what this says about my bedding and my clothing choices...probably bad things; also, it means I am way too tired when I go to bed.
I realized that my eyebrows are too completely different shapes and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Talk about first world problems.
Tuesday:
I read some Russian poetry that was so beautiful it made my voice catch in my throat. I read it out loud over and over, listening to the sad melancholy words slither through my dorm and echo off the walls.
Erin gave me a pink bucket with Rapunzel and Cinderella on it. It is the best bucket ever, definitely the highlight of Tuesday.
I oscillated all day between being determined to be single my whole life and being willing to give anything for a boy just to look at me with a tiny inkling of romantic interest. I've been single for about 5 months now. It is fantastic and it sucks. It's freeing and it's terrifying. I know this is a time of growth in my life. I'm figuring out who I am and sorting through my own emotional baggage. I'm deciding who I want to be and what I want my life to look like. I'm not strong enough to love and support a man as he goes through all these changes as I do too. I know all this, but that doesn't make me feel less alone or shitty. I find myself wondering if I'll be single my whole life. For those of you who don't know, if I don't get married, or find a significant significant other, I'm moving to India and I'm going to have a ton of cats. So ya, that's the back up plan. *Deep breath* I don't need to figure out everything right now. I'm 19. The future can worry about it's self. I'm living one day at a time. Tomorrow is a brand new day.
Wednesday:
I did 3 reps of 10 on the bench press tonight. It was like three hours ago and my arms are still slightly shaking. The great thing about all this? It was only 20 lb. Just let my incredible weakness soak in for a little....let it sink in just a little more....ya 20 lb. and my arms are still shaking. I am positive that I could challenge anyone to "who-has-a-weaker-upper-body-contest" and I would totally whoop him/her with sparkly, rainbowy, flying colors.
I was practicing piano tonight in Allee Chapel and said the s-word once, the d-word once, and poop at least twenty times. This was in a church. I just laughed at myself and my absurdity. Like it matters if I swear in or out of a church, God can still hear me. But, I'm not even convinced He cares; sometimes I feel like he'd have a worse potty mouth than me. Anyways, if you say poop over and over it starts to sound really funny. Say it 5 times and I promise you'll giggle.
Thursday:
I basked in the sun today. It feels so good to finally thaw out after my Iowa first winter. The sun does something for my skin--I tan so fast--but it does something for my soul too. It revives me, brings me to life, makes me happy again. The sun rays sparkle and glitter as they tumble down from the sky and add so much beauty to the world. So, laying in the grass, I stretched out my sore muscles(they were crying from a six mile bike ride on Wednesday)--pointing my toes, arching my back, feeling my sinews stretch out and breath again, and reaching all the way up through my finger tips. I laid with arms above my head and felt the warm, sparkly sun dance on my nose and play with my hair. Then I realized that with my hands above my head and my toes pointed I am well over six feet tall. I was as tall as most of the guys at my school! This height increase plus have sore muscles made me feel quite powerful. Then I realized that people who are actually six feet tall are well over seven feet tall when they stretch out like me and probably have way more muscle than me. But, this was just a fleeting thought. I decided I could just duck tape their arms to their sides and pretend that they don't have muscles. My empowered feeling continued. I'm crazy. Maybe it was sun fever? Whatever it was, it was wonderful.
Friday:
I visited a new state today: Minnesota! Ooooh yaaa. They have adorable accents.
Anyways, I want to visit all 50 states. I've been to about fifteen of them. It's my dream to just do a ridiculous road trip and visit like twenty states in a week and buy a cheesy t-shirt from each one--yes the second part of the plan is essential. Coming to college, moving to Iowa, changing my entire life has shown be how huge the world is and I just want to explore it all. I'm not sure where I'm going to end up after college. I used to be sure that I'd move back to Chandler, but now I'm reconsidering that. So, every time I go somewhere new, I know that I could have a life, a future there. It is so exciting!
Saturday:
I finished my first journal today. It's the first time I've ever filled a journal from the first page to the last. It feels so good. I feel like it's truly me on those pages, like my soul has suddenly extended. I feel like a real writer now.
Monday:
I inadvertently hit on a security guard at my school today. Awkward.
Tuesday:
While on a run tonight, I came within 2 inches of losing my life, literally. I was chugging along in the semi-concious state that accompanies running, I looked up at the last second and BAM there were 5 ladders sticking out of a truck that I was about close-lined myself on. Somehow, my body responded before I actually knew what was going on. I quickly swerved around them, kept running, and realized how lucky I just was. They would have hit my stomach, chest, and head. I probably would have slammed my head on the concrete and passed out; all of this happening in the dark when no one knew where I was. Man, I was lucky. A few minutes later, I ran straight into some branches from an overhanging tree. I laughed at myself and my clumsiness and dumb luck. Sometimes, I honestly frighten myself, so all I can do is laugh.
In Psalm 136 the phrase "God's faithful love lasts forever" is repeated 26 times. 26 times!! That just blows my mind. That Psalm is such beautiful poetry. I read it aloud like 3 times at 2 in the morning. It was the perfect way to end the day.
Remember, every day is a brand new day!
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
My ticking biological clock. Mermaid Blood.
It's May 7th. I turn 19 tomorrow. 19, not a very significant birthday. There are a few dance clubs in AZ that are 19 and over, so you can bet I'll hit those up this summer. I can't drink yet, and I can't rent a car. 19 seems pretty significant, but it has been staring at me from my calendar for the last two months, taunting me. You see, my mom got married when she was 19. My sister got married when I was 19. And then...there's me. I am single on the eve of my 19th birthday. Not that this bothers me; there is no way in heaven, earth, or hell, that I am going to be ready to get married in the coming year. I am way to immature and selfish for marriage. But, it's hard being different than the other women in my family. Realizing that I'm not quite like them makes me ask many questions...Did I do something wrong? Will I ever get married? Is there something wrong with me? Does love even exist in my future? How fast does my biological clock tick? Are my eggs gonna dry up and fall off soon? Do I even want to get married? Now, these might seems like exaggerations, but I have honestly asked myself ever single one of those questions. I didn't realize how much I expected myself to conform to my family's accidental tradition--it is accidental, they're not exerting any pressure on me--until all of the sudden I didn't. All this is to say, that May 8th 2012 has been sticking its tongue out at me ever since December when I became single after a very steady 2 1/2 year relationship and realized that I would not be fitting the Lady Kurtz mold.
In fact, my whole life has been sticking it's poopy little tongue out at me this past semester.
6 months ago, I could have told you pretty certainly who I was going to marry, what my career would be, where I'd live, the pets I'd have, and pretty much any other minor detail or large aspect of my life. Now, I have no idea. Everything, and I mean everything has either been up in the air at some point this semester or still is. I don't know if you've ever been there, but it is absolutely terrifying. Sometimes it feels like I'm floating aimlessly in the ocean with no anchor and no control. I have nothing holding me down, keeping me safe or even telling me who I am. But, this is also exhilarating beyond belief. All the sudden, all the limits that others had placed on my life or I had implemented for the sake of a plan and safe were shattered. I no longer had any limits. My horizons were insanely expanded. Swimming through that Ocean, walking forward towards the line where the sky meets the edge of the earth is something I have to do every day now. This is the scariest and most amazing time in my life. Every day, I make a journey towards the unknown. The vikings used to scrawl on the edges of their maps, where the land had yet to be explored, "Here be Dragons." I'm at the edge of my map, stepping into dragon territory. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
As I walk into the dragons' land, I'm living one day at a time. I'm loving people, loving myself, and loving my God. I'm pouring myself into everything I do, living passionately. I think and I speak with meaning. I don't try to control things anymore; I know they'll unfold perfectly. I know that right now, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. God has brought me here, and he wants me here, he will not leave me or abandon the work he has started in me. God is good, all the time. And all the time, God is good. So, trusting in this, my life is very similar to Pocahontas', I'm looking and waiting for what's just around the river bend, and I'm canoeing down that river peacefully, enjoying the present water and thinking fondly, but not trying to control, predict, or guess, what's just around the next bend. In the beautiful words of Anton Chekhov"The blood of mermaids flows in your veins, so be a mermaid! Let yourself go for once in your life, fall head over heels in love with some water sprite, and plunge headlong into the deep". I have mermaids blood; I have life to live; I have water to plunge into; I have no need to hold back; I have passion to spread; I have no right or reason to place limits on myself; I have dragons to battle; I have mermaids blood.
In fact, my whole life has been sticking it's poopy little tongue out at me this past semester.
6 months ago, I could have told you pretty certainly who I was going to marry, what my career would be, where I'd live, the pets I'd have, and pretty much any other minor detail or large aspect of my life. Now, I have no idea. Everything, and I mean everything has either been up in the air at some point this semester or still is. I don't know if you've ever been there, but it is absolutely terrifying. Sometimes it feels like I'm floating aimlessly in the ocean with no anchor and no control. I have nothing holding me down, keeping me safe or even telling me who I am. But, this is also exhilarating beyond belief. All the sudden, all the limits that others had placed on my life or I had implemented for the sake of a plan and safe were shattered. I no longer had any limits. My horizons were insanely expanded. Swimming through that Ocean, walking forward towards the line where the sky meets the edge of the earth is something I have to do every day now. This is the scariest and most amazing time in my life. Every day, I make a journey towards the unknown. The vikings used to scrawl on the edges of their maps, where the land had yet to be explored, "Here be Dragons." I'm at the edge of my map, stepping into dragon territory. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
As I walk into the dragons' land, I'm living one day at a time. I'm loving people, loving myself, and loving my God. I'm pouring myself into everything I do, living passionately. I think and I speak with meaning. I don't try to control things anymore; I know they'll unfold perfectly. I know that right now, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. God has brought me here, and he wants me here, he will not leave me or abandon the work he has started in me. God is good, all the time. And all the time, God is good. So, trusting in this, my life is very similar to Pocahontas', I'm looking and waiting for what's just around the river bend, and I'm canoeing down that river peacefully, enjoying the present water and thinking fondly, but not trying to control, predict, or guess, what's just around the next bend. In the beautiful words of Anton Chekhov"The blood of mermaids flows in your veins, so be a mermaid! Let yourself go for once in your life, fall head over heels in love with some water sprite, and plunge headlong into the deep". I have mermaids blood; I have life to live; I have water to plunge into; I have no need to hold back; I have passion to spread; I have no right or reason to place limits on myself; I have dragons to battle; I have mermaids blood.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Predictable College Stories
Hello,
It's been a while, like almost a year actually.
So I'm sitting in Bailey's (my roommate) attic, enjoying my final block break. It's 1:37 am and it's humid and a little too warm. I'll be home for the summer in less than a month. I'm feeling contemplative, philosophical, sleepy, silly, and a little homesick. I'm listening to Everclear, which makes me want to rage for social justice. But I'm tired, so I'll just blog instead.
I actually started this entry in November 2011. It was supposed to be a cute little update about college, but I couldn't get my words right, so I stopped. Now, as the year comes to a close, I feel like I should publish this. There will of course be a butt-ton of omissions, but that's okay. You'd laugh too much and cry too much if I told you everything.
So I wrote this little tidbit in November:
So New Student Orientation Week (NSO) all the freshman came to Cornell early and got oriented to the campus. I was studious and went to all the events. I met with my PA group regularly, played nice with all the other kids, and nervously tried to make friends, learn names, and laugh at every moment. NSO week was great for me. It was even greater for some others! The girl next door to me was getting drunk every night. I must emphasize that school hadn't even started yet. One night her crazy friends dropped her off and then decided to pay me a visit. They ran into my doorway and made my and Bailey's night. One was wearing a chicken suit; the other lifted her shirt, gave us a face-ful of boob and shouted "I love Sluts". They then ran down the hall way and bolted down the stairs. Welcome to Cornell.
Now this is me writing in the present. Enjoy.
During the first block break I ever had at Cornell, I was watching Moulin Rouge with three other girls from my floor. We heard this terrifyingly loud ruckus on the first floor of our building, it was a dim, but vicious roar. We heard it travel up the stairs and stampede through 2nd floor. Then it was on 3rd floor. By that time, we figured it was a pack of drunk men, but we were missing the hairy (pun intended) details. We heard them coming up the final set of stairs to our floor. They were at the opposite end of the hall, so one of the girls stuck her head out the door to survey the situation. She said "Oh dear God", slammed the door, locked it, and sat on the futon with a stunned look on her face. "What?" What?!" we all demanded. "They're all naked. There's like 30 of them." We all started cracking up, as we listened to them make their way through the hallway. They heard us laughing, and started banging on the door, demanding that we open. At this point, if I'd been by myself I would have peed my pants out of fear, but instead we all just laughed. This was in September. Again, welcome to Cornell.
In October, I thought I was auditorally privy to shower sex. I was getting ready for bed in the bathroom when I heard one girl in the shower say, quite breathily and a little panicky, "Oww oww stop! stop! get it out! Out! Oww OUT! Stop." I stared at myself in the mirror, mouth agape. Was this really happening to me? And then, I heard another girl shout "just wash it out of your eye, you pansy." I laughed so hard, both of them were probably wondering what the weird girl at the sinks was laughing about. Definitely one of my best memories from Dows' 4th floor bathroom.
During my first class at Cornell, my professor fell asleep during my oral presentation. That definitely made me feel like the move half way across the country for the sake of my education was worth it. I got an -A on that presentation. Insert success child meme.
In October I went to an all night Blues dance club in Chicago. I met some very interesting men there. I salsaed with a Russian computer programer named Ivan. I danced with twins from Loyola. One's hip movements were super jerky and when he tried to grind his pelvis against me, it was just painful. He'd get frustrated that I didn't grind and gyrate in return. I just giggled at him. I preferred the other twin. At the end of the night he told me I was "insatiable" and asked if I was coming back next month. There was a big fat "NO" flashing in my head, but I smiled and said maybe. Poor sucker. During the lesson, the dance instructor said she wanted us to understand that blues is about body connection, not just arm connection. To really drive this home, she had us lean into our partners, connecting from knee to shoulder without arms. My partner, a 30ish male, was little over eager and smashed his whole chest against mine and pressed his cheek passionately to mine. Terrible, awkward, and unsanitary then. Hilarious now. Dave, a 50ish man--so old enough to be my father--asked me to dance. I agreed. I noticed he kept looking down the front of my dress. Old pervert. He asked to dance again, and I politely refused. He asked a few more times throughout the night. Sicko.
I went all of January without shaving my legs. Iowa is cold in the winter! The fur helps. And I was reading Huckle Berry Finn. I was trying the method acting method for literature. Don't judge me.
Just yesterday, I was sitting on the window seal in Bailey's attic, reading, enjoying the sun and breeze through an open, screen-less window. All the sudden, Stella, the adorable kitty, crawled underneath my legs and was out on the roof. This roof is steep, only like 2 feet long, three stories up, And the cat is freaking on it. Visions of kitty sky diving minus the parachute flash through my mind. All I can think is "shit" over and over and over. I frantically call, but then realize cats don't respond well to panic. I try to calm myself and call her back in. She just meows. I want to grab her, but know that cats can be jumpy. I then decide to go get Bailey for help. But I quickly calculate what Stella could do, accidentally or suicidally, in the time it would take me to get down the two flights of stairs. I turn around and keep calling her, meowing, purring, and using all my other cat whispering skills to lure her back to safety. Finally, the little poop independently decided to come back in the house. My heart did not stop racing for several minutes. It would be just my luck to inadvertently murder, or solicit the suicide, of my roommate's family's cat. But, crisis averted.
My underwear is on inside out 75% of the time. And no, it's not what you're thinking. It's because I just lack the ability to put my underwear on correctly like a normal person. I've just embraced this about myself and now giggle every time I see that rude seam stick out when I go pee.
I've decided there are two kinds of people in this world. People who think dandelions are weeds, and people who know that dandelions are actually flowers. To me, this makes all the difference. You can choose to see beauty in the world, or you can ignore it.
So I have a ton more stories and bits of "wisdom", but I'm done now. I'll write soon, that way I don't forget everything profound and hilarious. I promise it won't take a year again.
Remember, everyday it a brand new day.
Live today with passion.
It's been a while, like almost a year actually.
So I'm sitting in Bailey's (my roommate) attic, enjoying my final block break. It's 1:37 am and it's humid and a little too warm. I'll be home for the summer in less than a month. I'm feeling contemplative, philosophical, sleepy, silly, and a little homesick. I'm listening to Everclear, which makes me want to rage for social justice. But I'm tired, so I'll just blog instead.
I actually started this entry in November 2011. It was supposed to be a cute little update about college, but I couldn't get my words right, so I stopped. Now, as the year comes to a close, I feel like I should publish this. There will of course be a butt-ton of omissions, but that's okay. You'd laugh too much and cry too much if I told you everything.
So I wrote this little tidbit in November:
So New Student Orientation Week (NSO) all the freshman came to Cornell early and got oriented to the campus. I was studious and went to all the events. I met with my PA group regularly, played nice with all the other kids, and nervously tried to make friends, learn names, and laugh at every moment. NSO week was great for me. It was even greater for some others! The girl next door to me was getting drunk every night. I must emphasize that school hadn't even started yet. One night her crazy friends dropped her off and then decided to pay me a visit. They ran into my doorway and made my and Bailey's night. One was wearing a chicken suit; the other lifted her shirt, gave us a face-ful of boob and shouted "I love Sluts". They then ran down the hall way and bolted down the stairs. Welcome to Cornell.
Now this is me writing in the present. Enjoy.
During the first block break I ever had at Cornell, I was watching Moulin Rouge with three other girls from my floor. We heard this terrifyingly loud ruckus on the first floor of our building, it was a dim, but vicious roar. We heard it travel up the stairs and stampede through 2nd floor. Then it was on 3rd floor. By that time, we figured it was a pack of drunk men, but we were missing the hairy (pun intended) details. We heard them coming up the final set of stairs to our floor. They were at the opposite end of the hall, so one of the girls stuck her head out the door to survey the situation. She said "Oh dear God", slammed the door, locked it, and sat on the futon with a stunned look on her face. "What?" What?!" we all demanded. "They're all naked. There's like 30 of them." We all started cracking up, as we listened to them make their way through the hallway. They heard us laughing, and started banging on the door, demanding that we open. At this point, if I'd been by myself I would have peed my pants out of fear, but instead we all just laughed. This was in September. Again, welcome to Cornell.
In October, I thought I was auditorally privy to shower sex. I was getting ready for bed in the bathroom when I heard one girl in the shower say, quite breathily and a little panicky, "Oww oww stop! stop! get it out! Out! Oww OUT! Stop." I stared at myself in the mirror, mouth agape. Was this really happening to me? And then, I heard another girl shout "just wash it out of your eye, you pansy." I laughed so hard, both of them were probably wondering what the weird girl at the sinks was laughing about. Definitely one of my best memories from Dows' 4th floor bathroom.
During my first class at Cornell, my professor fell asleep during my oral presentation. That definitely made me feel like the move half way across the country for the sake of my education was worth it. I got an -A on that presentation. Insert success child meme.
In October I went to an all night Blues dance club in Chicago. I met some very interesting men there. I salsaed with a Russian computer programer named Ivan. I danced with twins from Loyola. One's hip movements were super jerky and when he tried to grind his pelvis against me, it was just painful. He'd get frustrated that I didn't grind and gyrate in return. I just giggled at him. I preferred the other twin. At the end of the night he told me I was "insatiable" and asked if I was coming back next month. There was a big fat "NO" flashing in my head, but I smiled and said maybe. Poor sucker. During the lesson, the dance instructor said she wanted us to understand that blues is about body connection, not just arm connection. To really drive this home, she had us lean into our partners, connecting from knee to shoulder without arms. My partner, a 30ish male, was little over eager and smashed his whole chest against mine and pressed his cheek passionately to mine. Terrible, awkward, and unsanitary then. Hilarious now. Dave, a 50ish man--so old enough to be my father--asked me to dance. I agreed. I noticed he kept looking down the front of my dress. Old pervert. He asked to dance again, and I politely refused. He asked a few more times throughout the night. Sicko.
I went all of January without shaving my legs. Iowa is cold in the winter! The fur helps. And I was reading Huckle Berry Finn. I was trying the method acting method for literature. Don't judge me.
Just yesterday, I was sitting on the window seal in Bailey's attic, reading, enjoying the sun and breeze through an open, screen-less window. All the sudden, Stella, the adorable kitty, crawled underneath my legs and was out on the roof. This roof is steep, only like 2 feet long, three stories up, And the cat is freaking on it. Visions of kitty sky diving minus the parachute flash through my mind. All I can think is "shit" over and over and over. I frantically call, but then realize cats don't respond well to panic. I try to calm myself and call her back in. She just meows. I want to grab her, but know that cats can be jumpy. I then decide to go get Bailey for help. But I quickly calculate what Stella could do, accidentally or suicidally, in the time it would take me to get down the two flights of stairs. I turn around and keep calling her, meowing, purring, and using all my other cat whispering skills to lure her back to safety. Finally, the little poop independently decided to come back in the house. My heart did not stop racing for several minutes. It would be just my luck to inadvertently murder, or solicit the suicide, of my roommate's family's cat. But, crisis averted.
My underwear is on inside out 75% of the time. And no, it's not what you're thinking. It's because I just lack the ability to put my underwear on correctly like a normal person. I've just embraced this about myself and now giggle every time I see that rude seam stick out when I go pee.
I've decided there are two kinds of people in this world. People who think dandelions are weeds, and people who know that dandelions are actually flowers. To me, this makes all the difference. You can choose to see beauty in the world, or you can ignore it.
So I have a ton more stories and bits of "wisdom", but I'm done now. I'll write soon, that way I don't forget everything profound and hilarious. I promise it won't take a year again.
Remember, everyday it a brand new day.
Live today with passion.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Boo Boo's and Pee Pee Stories
I am on children overload. I've been working with children for three weeks straight, endlessly and fruitlessly trying to corral them, getting them to be quiet for a few precious moments. During my two weeks in Belize, my team ran countless children programs; and when nothing formal was planned, the kids just hung around the church, spending as much time as possible with us. Some boys were at the church from 8 in the morning till 6 at night. This whole time, I was "shh-ing" those hyper little Belizians , trying to get them to stop wiggling and squirming, so that I could tell them about the love of Jesus. It was beyond exhausting, and at moments I felt like a foreigner, sent only to brain wash small children. And now this week, I'm co-leading the 4&5 year old's class in VBS. These kids already know their ABC's and how to play "duck duck goose, but even these shiny spots cannot lighten the load of sheer numbers. Today there were 34 kids in my class today. 34! Just trying to count them was a challenge. Trying to get them to move from class to class was nearly impossible. We had them grab a rope so that we wouldn't lose any of them, and as adorable, obedient, trusting 4&5 year olds, they banged their heads on fire hydrants, scraped against walls, and tripped on pipes so they could cling to the rope. And despite all our efforts, we lost a 4 year old boy. I went into pure panic mode, already imagining the life-altering guilt I would always live with after this day, until someone told me that his dad picked him up earlier. Crisis Averted.
Sometimes I wonder why I even do stuff like this; it's too hard, it's pointless: they're too young to understand anything anyways. And then I get a simple reminder. In Belize I found a little girl who'd tripped and got cuts on her arm and leg; her bottom lip was trembling and her big brown eyes were welling with tears. Without thinking, I scooped her up, rushed her into the house and plastered her in neosporin and bandaids. She sat on my lap and whimpered the rest of the day. If I hadn't been there, maybe no one would have kissed her boo boo's and held her. Even when I can't get kids to hold still or listen, Jesus finds a way to work through me and show his love.
Besides all this profound stuff, I work with little kids because they're hilarious. Yesterday, the first day of VBS, I was helping some little ones with a game in Bible, when, by chance, I turned my head and saw a little boy in the bathroom, pulling his pants down, with the door wide open. I rushed over and told him to shut the door. At this exact moment, his gravity-defying, arching stream of pee, changed directions as he turned his head to look at me. Instead of hitting the wall beyond the toilet, his little torrent of pee skimmed over the back of the toilet and started hitting the floor, only a few dangerous inches from my feet. I sprang out of his aim and quickly turned him, and he got a few last drops in the toilet. He finished, washed his hands, and was on his way to wreck havoc somewhere else. I glanced into the bathroom, thought about cleaning up, quickly wiped off the toilet, but left the urine glazed floor and wall for some other sucker. I laughed quietly to myself. I love kids.
Sometimes I wonder why I even do stuff like this; it's too hard, it's pointless: they're too young to understand anything anyways. And then I get a simple reminder. In Belize I found a little girl who'd tripped and got cuts on her arm and leg; her bottom lip was trembling and her big brown eyes were welling with tears. Without thinking, I scooped her up, rushed her into the house and plastered her in neosporin and bandaids. She sat on my lap and whimpered the rest of the day. If I hadn't been there, maybe no one would have kissed her boo boo's and held her. Even when I can't get kids to hold still or listen, Jesus finds a way to work through me and show his love.
Besides all this profound stuff, I work with little kids because they're hilarious. Yesterday, the first day of VBS, I was helping some little ones with a game in Bible, when, by chance, I turned my head and saw a little boy in the bathroom, pulling his pants down, with the door wide open. I rushed over and told him to shut the door. At this exact moment, his gravity-defying, arching stream of pee, changed directions as he turned his head to look at me. Instead of hitting the wall beyond the toilet, his little torrent of pee skimmed over the back of the toilet and started hitting the floor, only a few dangerous inches from my feet. I sprang out of his aim and quickly turned him, and he got a few last drops in the toilet. He finished, washed his hands, and was on his way to wreck havoc somewhere else. I glanced into the bathroom, thought about cleaning up, quickly wiped off the toilet, but left the urine glazed floor and wall for some other sucker. I laughed quietly to myself. I love kids.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Enough
I've been going to church since I was born; people like to joke that I was born on a pew: "right side, third pew from the front". Because of this, it makes it hard for me to pinpoint a time when I completely understood God's grace and accepted Jesus' gift. My mom tells me that I prayed "the prayer" when I was three. I remember fully feeling the impact of the Truth and accepting Jesus' gift at a summer camp in 8th grade. Honestly, my faith has been a process and a journey.
I have grown more spiritually in the past year than I ever have in the past. I'm starting to grasp God's immense love for me. It knows no bounds; it penetrates everything, even my stubbornness. One of my favorite verses is Romans 8:38-39: "neither death, not life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus." To me this verse says that nothing, not even myself and my actions can make God stop loving me; God loves me, no matter what. I'm just starting to understand the incredible freedom that comes with this.
I don't have to impress Jesus. I don't have to be on my best behavior, or pretend to be someone I'm not. I can be me--plain old Bekah--full of holes and flaws, and He is still crazy about me.
Often in life, I feel like I'm not enough; I'm not pretty enough, smart enough, I'm not involved enough, happy enough. I feel like I'm a tiny puddle when everybody is demanding a pool. But for Jesus, I am exactly enough.
I have grown more spiritually in the past year than I ever have in the past. I'm starting to grasp God's immense love for me. It knows no bounds; it penetrates everything, even my stubbornness. One of my favorite verses is Romans 8:38-39: "neither death, not life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus." To me this verse says that nothing, not even myself and my actions can make God stop loving me; God loves me, no matter what. I'm just starting to understand the incredible freedom that comes with this.
I don't have to impress Jesus. I don't have to be on my best behavior, or pretend to be someone I'm not. I can be me--plain old Bekah--full of holes and flaws, and He is still crazy about me.
Often in life, I feel like I'm not enough; I'm not pretty enough, smart enough, I'm not involved enough, happy enough. I feel like I'm a tiny puddle when everybody is demanding a pool. But for Jesus, I am exactly enough.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Cherry Tomatos
This is my first blog, ever! So in the future, I'm going to write about books, Jesus, Love, my kitty, Belize, my nerdiness, Philosophy, piggy banks my life in Iowa, chocolate shakes and nail polish, sweaters and snow and pretty much anything that is weighing down my brain. I'm starting this blog so that when I move to Iowa, people in AZ can see where I am mentally so that we can still feel connected through my haphazard thoughts. So if you enjoy my quirky perspective of the world, please read!
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