You know to not stay at this hotel when:

It has been a while since I've written something that accentuated anything except how characteristically dark my personality is, so here goes nothing.
This post is a bit of an ode to travel sites that don't give you quite the whole story about that hotel you just booked. You see, My family took a trip to Virginia for the weekend and needed someplace to stay. The logical 21st century progression of events ensued and my dear mother booked a room on travelocity, or expedia, or some other wittily named website that is supposed to save you money and make everyone happy. The problem with this scenario is that (insert name of witty website here) lied. (Disclaimer*** this entire situation could have been user error but I'm trying to give my flesh and blood mother the benefit of the doubt.) This hotel is not a 4 star beauty with all the modern amenities a girl could need. (Again, I have no idea if that's what the description for this hotel said, and I haven't been able to check for reasons I will expound upon later,  but again, I'm giving my mother the benefit of the doubt that the description was something marketable and charming.) Here is a list that we composed of five things (all of which have happened to us within the last 48.5 hours) that may make you desire to move your reservation elsewhere.

1. You pull into the parking lot and see no other vehicles in sight. This is fine for midafternoon, since people are checking out and checking in and, well you get my point. This is not fine, however, for the late evening/night. If no one else is staying at this hotel, it is probably a pretty good sign you shouldn't either.
2.  There are people painting the trim of the building purple and orange as you pull up to check in. I don't care what anybody says, purple and orange look ridiculous by themselves and tripley ridiculous together.
3.  You have to ask for help getting your door open every time you "come home" because there seems to be some trick to getting the card and the machine aligned just perfectly.
4. The Internet is perpetually down. (this is the reason I still do not know what the description on the website said, though making this list has made me even more curious.)
5. There are NO other cars in the entire parking lot. I just felt the need to reiterate that because it is KEY to how totally sketchy this place actually is.

Ok, I am finished now.  I had quite an urge to let the darkness within out and rant a little about American expectations, but I contained that monster. (You're welcome)

Two in one day... Wow

I stumbled upon this whilst working on a paper and felt a desperate need to share:


10 Resolutions: 


1. At least once every day I shall look steadily up at the sky and remember that I, a consciousness with a conscience, am on a planet traveling in space with wonderfully mysterious things above and about me.

2. Instead of the accustomed idea of a mindless and endless evolutionary change to which we can neither add nor subtract, I shall suppose the universe guided by an Intelligence which, as Aristotle said of Greek drama, requires a beginning, a middle, and an end. I think this will save me from the cynicism expressed by Bertrand Russell before his death when he said: "There is darkness without, and when I die there will be darkness within. There is no splendor, no vastness anywhere, only triviality for a moment, and then nothing."

3. I shall not fall into the falsehood that this day, or any day, is merely another ambiguous and plodding twenty-four hours, but rather a unique event, filled, if I so wish, with worthy potentialities. I shall not be fool enough to suppose that trouble and pain are wholly evil parentheses in my existence, but just as likely ladders to be climbed toward moral and spiritual manhood.

4. I shall not turn my life into a thin, straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.

5. I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.

6. I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their "divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic" existence.

7. I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the "child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder."

8. I shall follow Darwin's advice and turn frequently to imaginative things such as good literature and good music, preferably, as Lewis suggests, an old book and timeless music.

9. I shall not allow the devilish onrush of this century to usurp all my energies but will instead, as Charles Williams suggested, "fulfill the moment as the moment." I shall try to live well just now because the only time that exists is now.

10. Even if I turn out to be wrong, I shall bet my life on the assumption that this world is not idiotic, neither run by an absentee landlord, but that today, this very day, some stroke is being added to the cosmic canvas that in due course I shall understand with joy as a stroke made by the architect who calls himself Alpha and Omega.

- Clyde Kilby

A hundred Million Pounds

In my short lifetime I've not dealt too extensively with tragedy, and that with which I have dealt now resides in the portion of my mind dedicated solely to memories that feel as though they never happened.  In the midst of the most real tragedy I've faced to date, I am struck by my backwards thinking.
I feel so weighed down.  Tied around my wrists are balloons made of all the shock, confusion, horror, sadness, anger, hatred, pride, hopelessness, and general depravity I am battling.  My heart weighs a hundred million pounds, and my ribs are shrinking over my lungs.  The waves of turmoil have carried me out to the depths of the darkest sea and I flail about, trying to rid myself of all of my lead balloons.  My chest keeps growing smaller and smaller, and as I gasp for breath only water fills my lungs.  I tell myself that if I could just get loose of these balloons, I could float back up to the surface where my lungs can become drunk on oxygen again. The more I fight against my bonds, the faster I sink into the darkness of despair.  "I can kick back up to the surface," I tell myself again and again. "My savior is waiting there for me."  It is to no avail.  The sunlight has disappeared behind the murk of the leagues of ocean.  Darkness envelopes my already hazy consciousness and my last glimmers of hope fade to black.  That's where I found him.  When I was beyond life and beyond death, buried in the deepest and darkest of oceans, sinking against my will, he drew me towards him and breathed new life into me.  My waterlogged lungs were made to breathe again and my bonds held new meaning as the mechanisms that brought me into the arms of my savior.  He's never untied them- these lead balloons- but they are no longer a bondage to me, for he has picked me up and carries me in the palm of his hand, that I may never grow weary in this world but look to the hope of spending eternity looking upon his face.

As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?” These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God  with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival.

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. I say to God, my rock: “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?” As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?”

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

                                   -Psalm 42

The Sign of the Beaver

I love to write. I love to take photos. I love to go back and read what I have written and stare contemplatively at the photos I have taken.  There is an ethereal romanticism that comes from reminiscing.

I had coffee with a good friend this morning (grande Americano with a pump of pumpkin spice)  and though we talked about many incredible things, (he is one of my favorite conversationalists) I probably won't actually remember much of the conversation. I am positive though, that I will remember the color of the orange leaves against the perfectly crisp blue sky, and the way he squinted when the sun finally came up over the building behind me.  I'll remember the shoes we wore and the glee I felt as we looked at the time and two hours had passed without us even realizing it.  The taste of my next Americano will certainly elicit a similar emotional reaction.

Right now I am sitting next to a sunny window in the perfectly 1970's library, and my heart is so full of fondness that it will probably explode.  I am a tiny bit afraid that if I get up from this chair, where all seems right with the world, that this moment will be over and lost forever.  Then in a few months I will stumble across this post again, and the happiness and contentedness will flood back over me and I will be transported to that ethereal place of reminiscence.

(In case you were wondering what me sitting contentedly in the library looks like, here it is:

And yes, I do have a lion's mane even though I am a girl.)

*Addendum: I am actually posting this 5 days later, after a whole lot has happened and changed, and as I go back over and look at it, I do get to revel in the nostalgia that comes from $10 Chaco flip-flops and ugly black sneakers. 

Justified

That title is best read in a fun whisper, with a little Michael-Jacksonesque hand motion at the end.  (Like the hyenas say Mufasa's name in Lion King: "Mufasa... oooohhh... Mufasa... oooohhh.")

I digress. I was reading in Job today. I started reading it because I was at a point in my life when I didn't feel like things could get any worse, and felt like I needed some perspective on that.  Perhaps this is a bad reason to begin a study into a book of the Bible, but I did it anyways, and it has proven to be fruitful. (I mean, it IS the Bible, of course it is fruitful.) In chapter 32, a man named Elihu walks up on this scene of Job agonizing over his situation and his friends scolding him for the things he is saying.  They tell him he is wrong, but they have no capability to correct him.  Elihu flat out tells Job that he has been justifying himself rather than justifying God.  (Insert a little bit of my seminary education here: justify does not mean to make just, but to declare just. So in Job justifying himself, he is making the claim that he is just, when in reality it is God who is just.) --That was a lot of justice--
How deeply I felt the sting of that comment.  Every word that escapes from my lips, and 97% of my actions are meant to declare me just.  I am obsessed with justifying myself. I am addicted, consumed, engrossed, infatuated. I wonder how different my life would look if I were instead fixated on declaring God's justice, rather than my own.
In two chapters, Elihu turns from rebuking Job and his friends, to declaring the glory of God and I am as excited as a kid who is about to get Lego Star Wars on Wii.  For now, I shall contemplate the little bit of God that I understand and pray that my love for him will be radically grown and my justification will be Christocentric rather than egocentric.

(I hope this particular post does not reveal the true scatter-brainedness I am experiencing right now, but as I fear that it does, I apologize.)

wha-wha-wha- what!?

I am constantly tempted to get caught up in ego trips and pursue activities and fabricated futures that accomplish very little except my own gratification and pleasure. It is at this point that God then sits me down and strokes back the nausea that arises in my gut at my awareness that I will never be good enough to actually find pleasure in those things, and reminds me that he has provided a way out of that cycle through the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He has paved a path for me that highlights him rather than me, and is so filled with purpose that my tiny little heart would burst if I could actually see all the ripples in the pond.  The anxiety that I will never be the best crawls back into it’s hiding place in the dark corners of my soul, until I am ready to let those frivolous and meaningless dreams go. In the meantime however, I take solace in the knowledge that my way is futile, but God’s way is perfection.  God is perfection.

Start with Despair

I'm reading John Piper's mini-book When the Darkness Will Not Lift, right now, and I just came to a passage that is becoming quite revolutionary.

"Bunyan went home rejoicing when he saw this his righteousness was outside himself. It was Jesus Christ. I pray that this will be your experience too. Where should you start? Start at the easiest place for those in darkness. Start with despair. Despair of finding an answer in yourself. I pray that you will cease from all efforts to look inside yourself for the rescue you need. I pray that you will do what only desperate people can do, namely, cast yourself on Christ. May you say to him, 'you are my only hope. I have no righteousness in myself. I am overwhelmed with sin and guilt. I am under the wrath of God. My conscience condemns me, and makes me miserable. I am perishing. Darkness is all about me. Have mercy upon me. I trust you.' . . . The light will rise in your darkness in due time. God will hold onto you )Jude 24). You will make it. The glory is coming. In the meantime [and this is possibly my favorite verse] 'this slightly momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to things that are seen, but to things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.' (2 Cor. 4:17-18)"

It's easy to try and find hope in myself. It's even easier to pursue some sort of intellectual enlightenment, believing that it will be my hope.  The only deserving object of our hope is Christ, who was crucified and resurrected.  All others will fall short, leading only to despair.

Confessions of a ...

Today was an excruciatingly hard day. It was the kind of day that makes reality seem like a figment, and makes me absolutely resent everything that goes on within my mind.
I feel like I lead three separate lives: one at school and etc., one at work, and one that really only exists in my head.  They rarely coincide, despite the fact that I live all three in one day, and often even simultaneously.  Today two of my worlds took shocking blows, right to the left eyebrow, and I've been left feeling nauseous and uncertain.  The problem, however, is not really that I got punched in the face, because I am, by nature, a boxer. The problem arises in my attempts to address the ramifications of the shots, i.e, the blood dripping down my shirt.  After the first hit I tried to get a little help stopping the blood and cleaning up the mess, but it was made infinitely worse. You see, the person I so eagerly pursued for help unintentionally (or maybe intentionally) elbowed me on the side of the face . (Now this analogy is getting confusing and beginning to fall apart, but I feel I must hold it together for the sake of my own security.)  And this second blow crippled me.  It ripped out all of my sanity and left me lying on the floor of an alternate reality.  Nothing in the former reality was (or is) tangible, and this new reality is spinning in such a way that I can't get back up. My soul seems to hurt, and resentment for that elbow and its owner is quietly growing within me.
I don't like leaving things without conclusion, but that is where I am left.

Certain nostalgic emotion

There is this certain nostalgic emotion that creeps up every now and then, when a cool breeze lifts my hair, or when my kids bring me acorns and ask me to "pop the hats off of them," or when I'm walking in the shade and catch one small sliver of sunlight on my face. This emotion is quite inexplicable, and to be honest, one I rather loathe.  It all seems so lovely on the surface; those things listed above are a few of my absolute favorite things. They are also things that last only a second and then are gone, leaving me feeling achy- like I am grasping at straws.  I was in the middle of one such moment today when something struck me.  When we are resurrected to the New Earth, our deepest desires and cravings will be satisfied by intimate communion with the Son of God. We long for these manifestations of Christ's perfection, but the day will come when I will be in the presence of the creator of all of the beauties that constantly slip through my fingers. That day will be sooo glorious.

Two kids in a photograph.

I was hanging up a photo today, of two kids I had photographed whilst in Africa.  I paused for a moment to reflect on how unbelievably beautiful life is, and then realized something.  The two kids in the photograph mean nothing to me, apart from the gut-wrenchingly-nostalgic emotional reaction seeing them elicits.  I never had a relationship with them apart from the quick utterance of "sura? shukran," and I will never know what kind of men they will grow up to be, or even if they survive into manhood. To me, they really aren't people. They are subjects.  They are representations of an innate urge to capture as much of the world as I can and stuff it into little 4x6 boxes.  They are physical manifestations of my selfishness and all of humanity's inability to truly empathize within itself.  They are reminders of my sinful desire to puff up my own ego through admiration of my art. Most of all, though, they are proof of how vast this world is, how complex the human race, and how small my cognitive abilities.
I love this photograph. It is beautiful and I am proud of it. I am frightened and confused as to how some ink on a piece of paper provokes such a reaction within me, but I am amazed that God created us as such prodigiously complex beings who will never understand this earth from this earth.

Teresa

Last year I was working in Africa with a humanitarian organization, and I met Teresa. I came to school in North Carolina and ended up bumping into her at church. It's a tiny world, yet vast and mysterious.
Anyways, Teresa graduated from grad school this June, and since she didn't have any cap and gown photos from her prior two graduations, we did two very brief (like 10 minutes a piece) little sessions. (And yeah, it has taken me this long to edit them. Stop judging me now.) I wish she didn't have to return her gown, because I am now overflowing with ideas that feature that stunning face of hers.
Enjoy.

I don't know why I love this one so much, but I really, really do!

New (to me) Music

I've been spending some time the past few days unearthing some bands I had never heard of before. Here are a few:

Jay-Jay Pistolet

Mumford and Sons

Andrew Davie

I think you can probably guess what kind of music I'm into at the moment. I'm still researching lyrics, so don't judge me if some of them are bad. k? Thanks.

Originally intended

     Today I dropped my car off at the mechanic for the third time this summer, and after overcoming the fit of despair that threatened to overcome me at the realization we had no more potatoes that I could stick in the oven for a little starchy comfort, I resorted to another favorite cheesy snack. (In case you don't know, I adore anything that has a nice golden, crispy, almost burnt but not quite, cheesy crust. I love potatoes even more, but my ma keeps telling me I'll get diabetes if I continue to inhale them at the rate that I do, so I'm trying to cut back. Really though, don't even get me started on potatoes that have cheese on them, cause you'll regret it after about 30 seconds of my ranting.)

     When I was in high school, I lived in a wonderful little town in Maine, and my sister and I would walk home from school and immediately pull some bread and butter out of the fridge.  Events would then proceed in such a way that the frying pan grew weary and our outrageously lovely mother scolded us for consuming so much bread, but we would just sit back and pat our tummies and sigh at the glory and simplicity of fried bread and butter. My new favorite bready snack is substantially more healthy, since those old days were full of real butter and white bread, and the new and improved days usually contain "I can't believe it's not butter" and extra extra whole grain wheat grain bread. (In reality though, it may not be anywhere near healthier. I probably just tell myself that to stave off fears of growing pant-sizes and cankles. And yes, cankles is quite a legitimate fear.)
It's this easy:

     Butter (or I Can't Believe it's Not Butter) two pieces of whole wheat (or if you want to die an early death caused by your insides getting all gooped up, go for the white) bread. Lay them on some sort of oven-proof surface. I usually grab whatever is on top in the drawer. Put a VERY THIN layer of Dijon on each slice. I suppose you could use some other kind of sauciness, but I really love the flavor of Dijon with cheese. It's so.... tasty.  Next, layer on a slice (or shredded equivalent. Whichever you have on hand is perfectly fine.) of your favorite cheese. Today I used some smoky sharp cheddar and a bit of mozzarella for color. I forgot to mention this earlier, but you should probably heat the oven to like 450. I don't usually look, I just turn the know until I feel comfortable.

     Place those suckers (on the oven-proof surface) on the top rack. I think its better if you have the rack on the second shelf, but I haven't done enough experimenting to find out.  Let them sit in that nice toasty sauna until the cheese is melted and bubbly and golden brown. If you're like me, you will probably slow the cooking process down considerably because you will want to marvel at how amazingly simple and perfect of a snack this is, so you will open the oven door to check the progress about every thirty seconds. (Patience has never really been a strong suit of mine.) If you have any willpower, resist this temptation and let your perfect little snack bask in peace in the warm red glow of the oven coils.

     Indulge your fancy side, and avoid the paper plates. It will make it all the more enjoyable to pretend you have class.

     Now see, the original intent of this post was to talk about my ridiculously injury prone car and how it's been seeing a whole lot of my mechanic lately, but I got so distracted by the food that I completely forgot all about my auto woes. Well done cheesy bread. Well done.

Embrace the Life you never planned on.

     In my dreams, life is clean and events culminate according to my desires. Relationships are never one-sided or based solely on emotional frivolity, and mistakes are easily avoided. In real life, however, there are no clean edges. There is very little black and white, and a whole lot of mushy grey. Life is confusion and dirt. it's covered in ants and ambiguity.  I am an imperfect being, surrounded by imperfect beings, in an imperfect world, yet I am constantly caught off guard when life gets a little messy and I can't seem to see through the grime to the sun shining above the clouds.  

     Today I was driving to visit some friends a few hours away, and I was reminded how consistently I take the journey only for the destination. Destinations are perfect and ideal, journeys are often rutted, wagon wheel dirt roads that require effort and energy, and a willingness to live in the moment. 

     I love this song and have listened to it over and over again over the past few months. I love the art and raw emotion that flows together into an outpouring of worship. It reminds me of why we were created, and why I exist, even when life feels so existential and desperate. 

Death In His Grave (Performance Video) from john mark mcmillan on Vimeo.

When the world was young

There was a time when the world was new.  I am astonished and frightened at how easily time seems to slip through the cracks in my fingers, without me even realizing that a day has passed.  Life seems like nothing more than a memory and memories are so intangible. I am enveloped in a daydream, sleepwalking through life, neither awake or sleeping.  What happens to time after it passes? I cling to the few tangible representations of those times, as if they will prevent my ever-degrading memories from fading to death. The tattoos cut into my skin seem strange, seeing as their inscription is now only a fading memory in my failing mind.  Why is there so much comfort in retrospection, even though what has passed will never be grasped again?





I'm currently listening to:

 

The saga of the Pielette

Yesterday I spent the day with my dear friend Lindsey Collins. She is one of the very few people who shares in my affinity for cooking AND photography. She is a much better baker than I, (and really a much better cook as well) so she did the bulk of everything, and I made the red sauce below. Don't laugh though, it was only the second sauce I have ever made, and the very first time I had EVER cooked with wine. That sauce was unbelievable. 

The apple pie was originally called a crustada, but I found that a rather gross name, so after much debate, and several rejected names (crustini was possibly the grossest to me) I decided pielette was the best. It is a pie without a pie pan so I found it fitting. I also just realized that pienini works as well.

For dinner, we decided to have a spicy rubbed grilled chicken, orzo pasta, and roasted potatoes. YUM.

Anyways, here are some photos, since it was just an overall night of indulgence for me.

Add a little Vietnamese Cinnamon

(I think I am going to try and make some chicken with this stuff that you could cook with this)

Often, I fear, I am ruled by pragmatism rather than the Holy Spirit.

I'm a chef!

Tonight I learned that when the recipe calls for 2 medium onions, use half of one.

For my family, for dinner I made some incredible mac and cheese, and Savory/spicy chicken drumsticks.

Both recipes are from the Pioneer Woman blog (I love her).

The Spread

My amazing little brother helped out, then got bored and left.

The Mac and Cheese in all it's goodness

(I ended up using some cheddar, mozzarella, muenster, colby,

and then some more mozzarella.

The top is sprinkled with goat cheesy goodness.)

The chicken

(I put it under the broiler for the last few minutes

of cooking so that it would get nice and crisp and caramelly)

Add a little buttered broccoli and you have the final product

(and yes, we eat off of paper plates. We are ultra classy.)

I think

I think it was Mother Theresa who made popular the idea that God does not give us more than we can handle, but I am beginning to think that He does. He allows us to come to the very brink of despair and then holds our hands as we plummet to our deaths. We die to ourselves and our notions and then, once we are past ourselves and have experienced more than we could ever have handled on our own, He picks up the pieces and forms them into a being more beautiful and like Himself than the broken one from before. (Of course, we see our new selves and believe that we had something to do with it, forgetting that five minutes ago we were desperate and plummeting to our deaths, and the cycle of despair continues.)

I think though, that if God did not sometimes give us more than we could handle, we would be fully convinced in our own minds that we are capable of living without Him.

.wrecked by the gospel.

My name is Mara and

I have a sugar addiction. I hate to bake, and I am a horrible baker, but if it contains sugar and goes well with a cold glass of milk, I cannot resist. In case you don't believe me, let me lay it out for you. This morning I ate a cookie at breakfast time. (It wasn't for breakfast; it actually came AFTER breakfast). I then proceeded, in between breakfast and "lunch" to eat two brownies. The fact that I can't remember what I actually ate for lunch leads me to believe that I counted the bowl of Triscuits as an adequate meal. In the afternoon I steered clear of the kitchen and thus managed to avoid the tantalizing call of the baked goods, but then right around dinner I once again succumbed to the siren call and indulged in a cookie as the appetizer to my salad. I consumed the proper amount of calories, but my poor tummy is bawling for some veggies. This lack of busyness is leading me to inordinate amounts of sugar consumption. (insert a conversation about this form of consume and how it is not what it naturally seems like it should be, here).

On the docket for tomorrow: Gym at 8, grocery shopping: commissary style, ???

The Pool

Today we went to the pool for the first day of swimming. Both of the indoor pools that we would typically frequent were closed for rennovation or training of some sort, so we decided on the Officer's Club pool. It was not lap swim hours, so we had to share the pool, but it turns out that the lifeguard at the pool is someone we went to high school with. She gave us some tips and taught Jessica how to dive. Through all of this, I discovered something very interesting: I am afraid to dive. I can jump from the high dive, and cannonball until the sun goes down, but there is something about putting my head into the water first that unnerves me. I even tried a level 1 sitting dive, and it ended in a belly flop.

After the pool we ventured to the sporting goods store so I could pick up a new pair of goggles, and was once again reminded that I KNOW NOTHING about swimming. I had to call a friend to even figure out what type of goggles to buy. It is definitely a pride blocker to recognize how inept I am at so many things.

The saga of the gym snobs

One of my goals for the summer, well really my main goal for the summer, is to get back to the gym and beat my body back into submission. It is never as violent as it sounds, because I am actually quite the ninny, but I have a workout buddy to help me repress the wuss in me and do that last 15 minutes of cardio.

This morning was my first morning back at the gym, and much to my elation (sike) the base gym that we frequent was packed. Typically there is a light dusting of Marine wives, trying to lose the thirty pounds they gained while their husbands were on deployment so they can feel confident for the homecoming. This morning, however, every cardio machine was in use (probably around 30 machines), the studio room had two consecutive classes going, and there was a line at pretty much every weight machine. The typical light dusting of Marine wives was now a thick layer of seniors, wives, and Marines alike. Intimidating for a first day back at the gym? Incredibly.

My workout buddy had just started a new abs and butt routine that she attested was an excellent way to "get cut." I'm not so much worried about that as I am about losing the sophomore 70 I gained this year, but she is definitely on the path to "getting cut." She was a little afraid that butt workout would be kinda awkward to do in the main gym, so we waited patiently for the senior citizens spinning class to end so that we could use the studio. We walked in at the end of their workout and were met with icy glares from every bifocaled pair of eyes in the room. This is when I knew that we had encountered the gym snobs. The instructor scolded us with her eyes and muttered in an angry tone that the class would be over in a few minutes. We took our mats and scooted out the door.

5 minutes later, the class ended, we picked up our mats and made our way to a corner of the studio. To our great dejection, we were met once again with threatening looks from a much younger, more hip (and ripped) looking group of moms in spandex pants. They, shocked that anyone would dare come in 15 minutes before their class start and try and use the room for some stretching, allowed us a corner as long as no one wanted to put their cycle there. Some words were exchanged between two of them that had something to do with "smart gym" and I knew once again what we were dealing with.

Tomorrow is our first day in the pool, and I am so excited at the prospect of pool snobbery. (sike).

First day of summer

Today was the very first day of my summer vacation. My car isn't even unpacked yet, but it is highly possible that it will stay half packed until I leave again in July.

I made a quick switch from perpetual business and constant hanging out with friends to a whole day of pseudo-isolation. I think I need to get into a busy routine right quick or I am going to lose my mind.

Plans for this week:

Monday- hang out with sister and brother-in-law, finish Notes from the Underground, visit a friend from high school

Tuesday- Swim 7-8, hang time with Lindsey, start Till We Have Faces, cook amazing food for my family

Well, that's about as far as my plan goes...

Life is not about conclusions

I said goodbye to a lot of friends tonight, some for the summer and some for possibly forever. In the midst of one of these goodbyes I had a bitter sweet conversation about the conclusions we come to in life. I don't mean conclusions as in the end of things, but as in the ones we decide upon in our minds. Although now that I think of it, that is the end of things. Once we have formulated a conclusion about something, that is the end of the process of discovery. Those conclusions are set in stone, not because we are too stubborn to change our opinions, (though that is possibly sometimes true) but because we stop seeking truth and fervently pursuing knowledge. We lose our sense of wonder.

Sentences have stopped making sense to me because they are just culminations of ambiguous words slapped together to make a point. God seems to become something finite that can be summed in a series of words that actually says nothing at all, instead of a perfect, holy being full of mystery and majesty, and beyond any culmination of words possible. Commandments are thrown out there by pastors and seminarians (usually following a format "If we see God as... we will ...," or, "Understanding of the Great Commission will lead to...") and the God who gave all law and commandments is overshadowed in our minds by the arbitrary conclusions we have come to. Relationships are torn apart over camps debating God's sovereignty and the end times and etc., and we forget that our knowledge of all of these things is minute and the conclusions that we draw about them are entirely unimportant when compared to the thirst for discovery and intimacy that God's perfection warrants.

That middle paragraph was a bit of a digressive rant, but the whole point is that there will be a day when all things on earth will reach a conclusion, but for now it is about the peregrination. Enjoy it.

My new friend Anne Marie posted this on her blog a few days ago and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it so here is my rendition:

Outside my window... A thunderstorm is brewing. My God supersedes the weather.

I am thinking... that in two weeks I will be leaving my home to spend time with my family. This is a strange reversal of the norm and another sign that I am growing up.

I am thankful for... My beautiful friends who never cease to amaze me, call me out of my sin, encourage me, and show God's love to me. (And I'm also really thankful for the ibuprofen that cured my headache.)

From the kitchen... today: quesadillas for lunch, Tomorrow: Indian style chicken for dinner.

I am wearing...sweats... as per the usual.

I am creating... essay questions for a final exam. Fabricating is probably the most fitting word, however.

I am going... to sleep for 2 straight weeks as soon as this semester is over.

I am reading... Total Church by Chester and Timmis

I am hoping... solely in the glorious resurrection of Jesus Christ.

I am hearing... Brand New, thanks to Jonathan and Quinny. I love the constantly expanding musical palette of my friends.

Around the house... What house? I live in a dorm... which is a mess. I did spend an hour scrubbing the bathroom today though, and it felt quite marvelous.

One of my favorite things... Wind. and rain. that is two things, but I think that they are possibly the two coolest phenomena in the world. Air moves fast for no apparent logical reason, making leaves rustle and hair fly and water gathers up into the sky in great fluffy bunches and then falls down to the ground and makes things grow. Incredible.

A few plans for the rest of the week... finals, finals, and more finals. Hopefully there will be some cooking and joviality thrown in there somewhere.

Affirmation

It has not been very often in my life that I have truly felt that I was surrounded by people who love me and have my best interest in mind. It has also not been very often in life that I have truly even felt that there were that many people that liked me (shocking, I know). Lately though, God has truly given me the incredible gift of surrounding me with godly people who see Him in me rather than me in me.

I find that when God gives me gifts, however, I take them, give myself credit for them, and then get really upset when they are no longer there. Right now I am in the 'giving myself credit' phase of this particular gift. It is so easy for me to look at the friends I have and say, "Well why wouldn't they want to be my friend? I'm funny and smart and pretty stinking talented in oh so many ways." It's then that I remember that I'm not actually that funny, I'm on the opposite side of the spectrum of smart, and my talent really pales (to putrid shades of mustard yellow and brown) in comparison to the beauty of the world around me. Another aspect of this is how I react when I don't feel that people give me the attention and affirmation I desire. I've noticed that in a few of my relationships, (and really only a few. I am sinfully selective) I am controlled by how much the other person likes me rather than how intimately I can love them, and in loving them, lavish service upon them. Instead of loving them, however, I use them for my own gratification, thinking that my worth comes from how many praises they utter or how much time they are willing to spend with me. When my standards of approval are not met, I get angry or sad or (insert any other negative emotion here and it is probably applicable).

The only thing that is good in me is Jesus Christ. Without him I am nothing more than dust.

Tonight I was reminded in an exceptionally painful way that comparing myself to others only leads to hurt and grand feelings of inadequacy. My comfort and conviction in the midst of my insecurity was this:

Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.-- Hebrews 10:19-25

How does this relate at all to the dilemma in which I found myself earlier today? Well I am glad you ask. It is easy for me to compare my talents to other's and to seek accolades for them when I am feeling down. My confidence does not come from the success I experience from or in my talents. My hope is not in flesh or any other earthly thing, but in the blood of Jesus Christ and the purification it rendered in my soul. There is no room for love when envy resides in my heart. So instead of being envious (or to use that gross word, jealous) of the gifts and talents that my brothers and sisters have, I can come to them in love and good works and encourage them. I long desperately to love my brothers and sisters in a way that edifies them, so jealousy has to go out the window. And though I know it will creep back up, right now I'm not the slightest bit sad to see it go.

A parting thought for the day: God is beautiful and perfect and has lavished more love and mercy and forgiveness on me than I can take. I often neglect to recognize His beauty and when I do, I forget to forgive others and lavish that same mercy and love on them. Revel in His beauty!

Faith my eyes

The words in this post did not pour out from my own mind, rather from one who has caused me to often stop and praise God for His perfection and grace. I have only met this man once, and it is very likely I will never see him again, but God gifted him with a mighty pen that causes me to stand in wonder. I hope this causes worship to spring forth from your lips.

Today, the heat was turned back up.

News came this afternoon that workers across five separate cities were informed that they must leave the country immediately. A new wave of persecution has hit this nation with the announcement of a second "list". The first list resulted in the expulsion of over 40 foreign brothers. The first list resulted in the traumatic closing of a local orphanage. The first list caused many national brothers to be jailed, tortured, and closely watched.

This week I have had the opportunity to come together with a group of believers to practice crafting Bible stories under the leadership of a skilled trainer. As our group has storied through the book of Acts, we have seen the amazing results of persecution in the early church. Persecution results in Spirit-filled worship and the spread of the good news of Jesus!

" 'And now, Lord, take note of their threats, and grant that Your bond-servants may speak Your word with all confidence'... And when they had prayed, the place where they had gathered together was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak the word of God with boldness." - Acts 4:29, 31

"They flogged them and ordered them not to speak in the name of Jesus, and then released them. So they went on their way from the presence of the Council, rejoicing that they had been considered worthy to suffer shame for His name." - Acts 5:40-41

"And on that day a great persecution began against the church in Jerusalem, and they were scattered... those who had been scattered went about preaching the word." - Acts 8:1a, 4

Yet despite this knowledge, news of more persecution ties my insides up in knots. I swallow the rotten fruit of uncertainty that travels to my stomach and spreads through my entire body in an ache of distrust. I want justice. I want retribution. I want fair treatment. But God does not work for my glory, only His own. God is jealous for His glory and I am but His bond-servant.

He awoke, but to a dream. As one transcending physical boundaries to wander outside himself, he searched the room expecting to find his own sleeping body. Instead, he discovered an angel. It was a vision! Just like the rooftop weeks ago, his hairs stood as a cold sweat wrapped his body in shivers. His consciousness dulled from sleep, he did not at first understand the words spoken by this angel. "Get up!" repeated the angel kicking his side.

He knew nothing but to obey. He knew not where he was. He knew not why or when or how. He simply knew that an angel had spoken and he had no cause to contradict. As he stood, chains crashed to the floor alerting him to two men standing on either side of him. Large men, soldiers heavily armed. His sudden fright was stifled almost immediately as not a muscle even twitched on any one of the soldiers. Chains loud enough to wake the dead had no effect on these dormant combatants.

By the light of the angel, he dressed himself and followed. Passing through the door into a brightly lit stone hallway, he glanced back to see a small, dark cell guarded by a squad of sleeping soldiers inside and a squad outside. As he followed closely, the angel entered a courtyard passing two more squads of unconscious guards. At the head of the courtyard was a large iron gate opening toward them. Entering the city, day turned to night as he stumbled falling painfully to the city road. The light borne by the angel had disappeared!

The angel himself was nowhere in sight, yet the dream did not end. But had it been a dream? Consciousness was now fully functioning as he understood the truth. It was all real! The jail. The angel. The escape. Yes, the escape. He was free from not only jail, but the trial to be held in the morning. Surely he was to be sentenced to death in the very same way his good friend James had been. It was a day of rejoicing amongst the religious leaders when James received the sword. And here he was, free. Unbound in the middle of the night on the city road.

Days earlier word had reached him that brothers all over the city were gathering day and night to pray fervently. He quickly picked himself up and made for the house of the mother of John Mark. Sure enough, the lights were still on even at this late hour. He knocked on the door to the welcome of John Mark's servant girl. "Peter? Is it really you!" Before he could respond she ran off calling frantically throughout the house, "Peter is here! He is here at the door!!" Within minutes, he had told the group everything. This story spread throughout the city amongst believers and unbelievers alike. Praise for God and sharing of the good news abounded.

And as a result, "the word of the Lord continued to grow and to be multiplied."

Last week I had the privilege of meeting a brother who has suffered under this present persecution. After an initial questioning he was blindfolded and taken far from his home. This Spirit-filled brother was stripped naked and blasted with water from a fire hose. After questioning him, the authorities beat him and left him in a small cell to rethink his answers. The process was repeated for three days. In the two months since then, he has traveled throughout the country praising God to be counted worthy to suffer shame for His name.

I fear for other brothers who may endure such treatment. Two of my close friends and brothers have serious medical issues, yet they patiently persevere under the watchful eye of the religious FBI. I fear for their lives, yet just what is the cost of national spiritual awakening? What must my brothers suffer to see this people know Spirit-filled worship and the spread of the good news of Jesus? And how in the midst of it all must I pray?

I can not pray for persecution, I love my brothers too much to want to see them suffer. But knowing it is here, I can pray for God to use it to His glory for the building of His church. The believers in the early church did not pray for persecution, but when it came they scattered bearing the good news of Jesus Christ. Wherever they were, they came together with one heart and mind to worship God. And so this patterned has been followed throughout history, most recently amongst our Chinese brothers who now number 30-50 million. We do not pray for persecution, we pray that God will teach His people to take advantage of it.

For the past three years I have prayed for this nation. I have often sensed the Spirit telling me that a time is coming when the church will grow in an amazing outpouring of grace. Perhaps we are on the brink. A seesaw teetering, waiting for that catalystic ounce of weight that will turn the entire apparatus on an unalterable course. Perhaps it will be this persecution that, like Rome, Northern Europe, and America, tips the scales to a Great Awakening.

By whatever means necessary the number one priority should be Spirit-filled worship and spreading the good news of Jesus. After all, that is His number one priority. What is at stake is the glory of the one true God. What is not at stake is the health, happiness, or prosperity of any one believer or group. May God use whatever means necessary to spread His fame. And may we pray appropriately, taking advantage of these times to seek His glory.

Undeserving

GOD PURSUES ME. Even when I scorn Him and show Him how little I love Him, even when I pursue everything but Him, He pursues me. He loves me. His love is perfect and lovely, and He lavishes it upon me, the undeserving one.

Till the Sun Turns Black

I sat down at my desk tonight to create:to worship God by putting pencil to paper and experiencing wholly what resulted from it. Nothing lovely or intricate came from the tip of my pencil, but an overwhelming sense of the importance of creativity flooded me. God created me. He knit me together as a piece of art that serves one function: bringing pleasure and glory to Him. I fulfill that purpose perfectly. That is ludicrous right? In view of my outrageous sin and utter inability to think of anyone except myself, despite fervent effort, the idea that I fulfill my purpose of pleasing God perfectly is ridiculous. Here is the rub though. When God looks at me, He doesn't see my sin or my selfishness. He sees His perfect son who was the unblemished sacrifice. He sees His own glory presented before Him in my place. He loves me where I am because He created me, and He loves me where I will one day be because then I will stand before Him, absolutely righteous and empty of sin.
It still drops me to my knees to realize that HE LOVES ME.

Hawaii day 2, night 3

I woke up again this morning, super confused as to what time it was. Got dressed, and jumped in the car to head over to Waikiki beach. I paddled out over the breaks, but didn't have enough energy to try and stand up or anything. It was exhausting. I am sore in places I forgot I had muscles, which just reminds me how unbelievably out of shape I really am. We then spent the afternoon at a museum in Honolulu, which had everything from a life size whale replica to an "active volcano," to a circus exhibit. It was a grand time. I tried scallops for dinner, but I am beginning to believe I have a slight shellfish intolerance because they didn't sit well (and shrimp always make me sick). Now I'm laying in bed. My body thinks its past midnight, even though its barely 8, and I am cringing at the thought that I have to be back to work on Monday, jetlag and all.

Here are a few photos from the day. I wish I had my camera, but I will get the film from the 35mm developed when I get home and there will be ample photos to indulge in. Sorry for the lack of editing.

Hawaii day 1, night 2

My camera lens busted in the midst of my traveling woes on Saturday morning, but here are a few from a different camera. Enjoy.

prone

I am so prone to jump straight into judgement and complaint. God is perfect though. He LOVES me and has an ultimate plan that will bring only good in the end. I am so concerned with what will build up my ego the most now that I utterly fail to pause and thank God for giving me the millions of good gifts that He gives me every day.

Habitual Cup of Water

Friends come and go. this is especially true in view of my transient, impersonal lifestyle. One particular friend came back into my life today over coffee. Coffee is not actually accurate, because she drank a bizarre banana/ espresso combination and I stuck to my 'becomingmoreandmorehabitual' cup of water. I think the barista gave me the first little plastic cup on the stack because when I picked up the icy water to take a sip, my eyes were afronted with some random black fuzz floating amidst the tiny icebergs.

We chose a table and, in an act of utter selflessness, I sat facing the sunny window. The scrapes on the lenses of my glasses made it impossible to see this friend's face, rather I was blessed with colorful rainbow-like mirages, which provided a whimsical, nonsensical tone to the conversation. Our conversation ranged from dating to school to church- the three things that Southeastern life typically consists of and I was blessed with this comment:

There have been several girls who have come to me

and noticed that you are just not the same girl you were last semester.

I am constantly stunned when I hear this, (and I have been hearing it a lot lately) but I am grateful that God has placed people in my life to speak these things to me. I have changed a lot. well, more accurately, God has changed me a lot. He has crushed a good part of my restless uncomfortable spirit, and planted the broken pieces in a garden of humility and love. (A man just walked by the window with a handlebar mustache and a full beard. I have a barely controllable urge to run out the door after him and ask him to be my friend. It probably would not end well for either of us though. I am a gigantic clutz and would probably knock him over, or trip and skid my face on the pavement.)

The whole purpose of this post is simply to say that God changed me in a moment from an object of wrath to a child of the king, by He is also still changing me and working in me newness everyday. I am not the same as I was yesterday and I will not be the same tomorrow.

Life lessons in Personal Finance

I really dreaded taking personal finance this semester, but God has been working incredibly through that class. I was working through a lesson a couple of days ago about who our possessions really belong to. This was the point: everything belongs to God. Everything was created by God, for His own glory.

• If it is God's money, and not my own, will I spend it frivolously on things that I don't need?
• If it is God's body, will I eat junk and not exercise?
• If it is God's time, will I spend it watching tv or putting around on Facebook?
• If it is God's car, will I speed or drive recklessly?
• If they are God's people, will I treat them abruptly, or as anything less than a magnificent part of God's creation?

These are only a few aspects of life, and they are all phrased in the negative, but if we actually realized our lives don't belong to us, how would we live differently? Just a though.