Thumbs Up

Puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies...

2011-12-20T13:09:00.000-08:00

People may say I'm a weird dog person. Maybe I am, but I enjoy them so much that I don't mind what I'm called. I had the great pleasure of watching another litter of Maggie's puppies be born and grow up for 2 months. She had 8 of them this time, so double the fun :)

There was a different side to taking care of this litter as opposed to the last one. This time I had to realize that I wasn't going to get to keep one of them. It's difficult to watch such adorable, fluffy critters be taken away one by one. You can't help but invest time and attention into the puppies because they require a lot of both. And while you are investing time and attention you grow to love the little things. So this time I had to fully embrace the joy of seeing the joy the new owners had as they picked up their new pups and see that as a greater joy than what I would have in keeping a THIRD dog. My mom tries to remind me that we would become the "crazy dog family" if we had 3 soft coated wheaten terriers. I'm still not convinced of that... but oh well.
Thankfully one of the new owners lives very close by! And another family that got one of the pups has one from our first litter! And most exciting of all, another group that got a puppy are my friends! This means that when I go hiking and backpacking and other things with them I will get to see "Fatty" and "Fatty" will get to see her sister and mom :)(Fatty is what we named their puppy) Wow, as I write this I realize that I might be a little crazy. Oh well. I just like them so much! They are so cute!
There is a lot I could say, about each puppy even, lots of funny and cute stories. But there is one thing that is the best about me getting to enjoy a litter of puppies and that is what I learn from it. I always like to think about what a circumstance teaches me and believe it or not you can learn a lot from watching a litter of puppies. I get to learn about God's care. His care extends even to a tiny puppy. He loves them, even more than an Elmira can love a pup. So every time I was tempted to worry about the puppies I had to remember God's care for them and His care for me. I know that is a trait of His that I will have to think about again and again for even bigger and more weightier issues. I love that my God is kind, perfectly kind and perfectly in control. I love that He cares about small things, nothing is too insignificant. Even a puppy.

After 13 Long Years

2010-03-20T00:33:00.000-07:00

I moved into my bedroom when I was 10 years old, after Amanda decided she was old enough to have her own room. I was crushed. I didn't want to move into the "play room", I liked sharing with my big sister, but I got the boot anyway. My room is pretty tiny. It sits in between my mom's room and Amanda's room on the second story. It's about 10' by 10' and I have a queen sized bed. Floor space is minimal, if you can picture it. Growing up my room was a light pink, decorated with pink flower pictures, a pink quilt with hearts that my mom made for me, and my awesome pink lamp (words fail me). Let's just say my room had not changed - all except for my desk. When someone new would come into my room I would ask them which part of it represented me. It never took long for them to look at the rather full, colorful, random desk - covered with yearbooks, cds, photographs, and lots of nick-knacks to discover the answer. I could live like this. I had my desk, the rest was just history.

But then there's my sister and my mom. Both of them have the arty, decorating bug/gene. I often call myself the black sheep of the family because I seem to have missed out on some very nice genes. But that's for another post. Amanda moved downstairs for awhile while our friend was living in her old room (the purple room). The room downstairs was always our computer room so Amanda looked at moving in as a time to redecorate. She did a fantastic job of course, with classy red, black and white colors and great pieces of furniture and sophisticated artwork to put on her walls. Seeing this room after completion started to give me some feelings of discontent with my room. I pushed it aside for a time. Then Amanda moved back upstairs after our friend moved out and got married. Amanda decided it was time for the purple room to have some changes. So she completely redecorated it and made it so amazingly nice and modern and clean looking. This started to push me over the edge.

After much encouragement from family and friends alike I finally made the move. I gradually started to dismember my desk - the greatest task to accomplish in order to redo my room. I needed to get rid of the desk and make a clean start. Once all the going through and cleaning out was accomplished (which took far longer than the average organized person... or even unorganized for that matter, would take) the fun began. I had picked out a bedspread long before and bought it as another means of encourage me to actually accomplish the task. Everyday I would look at the all rolled up in its cute Anthropologie package and long for it to be on my bead with a new coat of paint on the walls and no overflowing desk in my room. Last Saturday I woke up at 7:30am, put on some paint clothes, and started the makeover. My buddy Erin came over and helped Mom, Amanda and I paint. Three of the walls are a light tan and the last is a rich chocolate brown - the walls turned out spectacular I must say, and Erin did a fine job with her precise edging capabilities. My mom slaved over my dresser. I insisted on keeping my old dresser, rather than buying more new furniture. She had the great idea of restaining it a darker color. She smoothed on two coats for me during the course of the day and painted their wooden nobs a bright blue at my request. I LOVE color! At the end of that day my whole room was painted, my dresser was in pieces but ready to go, and my one purchased piece of furniture, my bookcase, was painted a wonderful peachy orange to match one of the many colors in my bedspread.

Things aren't complete yet, there are still a few walls with nothing on them because I have neglected to hang my new, cool items on them. But my bookcase is filled, my bed has its new bedspread and my dresser is back together with its blue nobs. The difference between what it once was and how it is today is unbelievable, truly. I'm shocked at how much I have enjoyed the whole decorating process, maybe I'm not as much of a black sheep as I thought :) I smile when I come into my room - it feels comfortable and welcoming and familiar. A bedroom should feel that way, especially to its owner.

Congratulations! I feel like whoever got this far in reading this post should have a prize. Good grief that was long and probably really super not interesting to most of you. But this is my blog, and it's not like you had to read it or anything. So I don't feel bad for you. But I do hope you don't feel your time was wasted. That would be sad.

Diaper Butt

2010-02-26T21:37:00.000-08:00

My apologies if anyone finds the title of this post objectionable, but it is the only way to describe the humorous image that I have to share with you in words.

For quite some time the Taylor ladies have been wanting to breed my dog, Maggie. The idea of little Maggie puppies and even keeping one for our own is very appealing. About a month ago we figured Maggie was approaching the appropriate time for her to start the process of having puppies, so I went on the hunt for boy doggies of Maggie's same breed ([Irish] soft coated wheaten terrier). It was extremely difficult to find this particular dog that was still able to produce. About six months earlier I had tried emailing a bunch of candidates in southern California, but I had never heard back from any of them. So this time I tried the last thing I could think of - calling soft coated wheaten terrier breeders. I looked online and I could only find 2 of this breeders of wheatens in southern California. I called the first one on the list and she flat out told me there was no way I would be able to find a stud dog because these dogs were no longer able to be bred in California. For a moment I felt so dejected and sad that I almost gave up on the whole things. But then I reasoned with myself that this lady couldn't be the final word, so I gave the second on the list a try. I left him a message and he returned my call the following day telling me that he would be able to find a stud for me to use, under certain agreements. I could write another blog about this man and the "agreements" but I won't.

I bet by now you have lost hope that I will ever explain the title of this post. Sorry, I'm often slow at getting to the point and I thought some history could be helpful in the explanation. Most people have their dogs fixed as a puppy so they can avoid all the unpleasantries that go along with not being fixed. I think it must be obvious why those unpleasantries would be even worse with a girl dog. Hence the title. Maggie needs a diaper. Once ever 6-9 months Maggie needs a diaper. The reason I did all of my explaining earlier on is so that you will understand that there is a reason why we put up with this rather repulsive inconvenience. It's all for a good cause.

The diaper is hilarious. There is a hole for her tail and it has little doggie bone decorations. We are not the type of people that care to accessorize their dog, but I think if I could always have Maggie in a diaper I might. She's cute on an everyday level, but give her a diaper and the funny and cute mix together perfectly to create the most amiable creature you've ever stumbled across.

Sad Story

2010-02-01T21:12:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking a bit about doggies lately. I love dogs. I'm obviously a big fan of my own dog. In fact, we are planning on getting Maggie bred which will hopefully mean 6 or 7 new little puppies around :), we won't keep them all. I've heard about some doggie rescues lately, brave people saving dogs from running into streets. I also just finished watching The Sandlot with Amanda - in that case people are running from the dog instead of the dog running away. This reminded me of a sad event in my life, one with my dad. It was a rescue attempt.

I was in high school, not sure how old. It was night time and my dad and I were driving in Santa Clarita, Canyon Country to be exact. I think we must have been on Sierra Hwy. I'm pretty sure I was in my pajamas. I'm not sure why I would be in my pajamas, driving around at night with my dad, but that's what I remember, so work with me.

Sierra Hwy is a pretty busy road, one of Santa Clarita's major roads with lots of traffic. As we were passing through we noticed a scuffle on our left side as we were driving along. There was a man running down the road and yelling, who soon slowed and put his hands to his head. We looked down the road and noticed a little black dog running down the sidewalk as fast as he could. Both being dog lovers my dad and I felt for the guy and wished there was something we could do. My dad looked over at me and said, "let's head him off." Or something like that. I eagerly agreed to the challenge. I was already imagining the fun of having a cute little black dog in my lap as we drove him back to his owner, and the joy of seeing the relief and thankfulness of the owner at our successful return. My dad drove down the road ahead of the dog and took a quick left into a group of homes. We parked and ran out of the car. Our plan was to meet the dog as it ran, to greet it with open arms. We ran to the road and I saw the little guy running furiously toward us. I remember my dad calling the dog to us, I think he just said hi in a calm, kind voice. I can't remember if I said anything or not. All I remember is seeing the dumb little thing spot us and take an immediate right into the heavy traffic. After calling after the dog in horror I turned away. I knew the inevitable had to happen. I could tell you about the sound but I will spare you.

And here's the part where I confess. My dad and I got back in the car and drove away. On the ride home my mind kept returning to the man with his hands on his head who would eventually follow his dog's trail to the end of his little friend's life. I had wondered if my dad and I should have waited for the man, if we should have explained how we had tried to help, how our intentions were nothing but honorable. Maybe that would have been the better way, but then maybe the man would have wondered the same thing as me... Why hadn't his dog just trusted us and made the right choice? The truth is, neither of us wanted to see the man's reaction to what happened and we certainly didn't want to be held responsible, and boy did I feel responsible. Later that night I wondered, why couldn't we have just minded our own business and left well enough alone? Maybe then the dog would have stayed on the sidewalk and eventually his master would have caught up to him. The "what ifs" killed me.

I don't feel so guilty now, now that I know we tried our best and now that I know sometimes the next dog is the best dog :) (sorry Higgins)... The other day I saw a dog crossing Newhall Ave. and I actually shut my eyes for a few seconds, but my dad wasn't driving this time so I had to open them. Thankfully the dog had made it safely to the other side. This time I didn't stop to try and help it. Instead I remembered my sad story and wondered if I would ever have the guts to try again.

So, for all of you would be dog rescuers, I hope you have a better time of it than my dad and I, and remember that dogs don't really make choices, they just react.

--this post is dedicated to the little black dog and his owner... sorry.

Cool Hymn

2009-10-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

I stole this from Chris Powell who mentioned this hymn when he was teaching at Bible study at my house. Really encouraging.

Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,
I've no cause for worry or for fear.
He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,
Gives unto each day what He deems best,
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Every day the Lord Himself is near me,
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He fain would bear and cheer me,
He whose name is Counselor and Pow'r.
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid;
"As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,"
This the pledge to me He made.

Help me then, in every tribulation,
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith's sweet consolation,
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E're to take, as from a father's hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till with Christ the Lord I stand.

From "The Power of Prayer in a Believer's Life"

2009-10-11T17:13:00.000-07:00

"The Story is told that as the Athenian senate met together in the open air, a sparrow that was pursued by a hawk flew in the direction of the senate. Being hard pressed by the bird of prey, the sparrow sought shelter in the bosom of one of the senators. Being a man of rough and vulgar mold, the senator took the bird from his bosom, dashed it on the ground, and so killed it. Whereupon the whole senate rose in uproar and without one single dissenting voice condemned him to die for not rendering aid to a creature that confided in him. Can we suppose that the God of heaven, whose nature is love, could tear out of His bosom the poor fluttering dove that flies from the eagle of justice into the bosom of His mercy? Will He give the invitation to seek His face, and when we with so much trepidation summon courage enough to fly into His bosom, will He then be unjust and ungracious enough to forget to hear our cry and to answer us? Where do such thoughts come from?"

Oh Maggie!

2009-06-08T20:51:00.000-07:00

On Sunday afternoon I heard Maggie, my cute puppy, barking outside. This isn't an abnormal occurrence; she often goes outside to bark with our neighbor dogs. But this time I couldn't hear any other dogs barking. My dad made some remark like, "Now, what's she barking at?" And my mom, probably knowing Maggie best since she is around her so much replied, "She's probably playing with some poor bug."

I had heard about Maggie "playing" with bugs from all members of my family, but I had never had the opportunity to see it for myself. So, in hopes that my mom was right, and Maggie was "playing" with a bug; I quickly went into the backyard to investigate.

I found Maggie near our patio table, nowhere near either side wall (where she would normally be if barking at the neighbor dogs). She saw me come outside and she quickly glanced at me and then back at what she was doing. She let out a bark, literally the cutest bark I've ever heard. I don't know how to not sound biased, but I really do believe that it is one of the cutest sounds I've ever heard. It's a mixture between a howl and a woof - it usually sounds like she's telling someone to come play with her - kind of impatient but longing.

I quickly looked where she had now placed her attention, on the ground at a little struggling bee. If you've ever seen a bee that has been drowning in a pool until someone decides to splash it back on shore, then you can picture what this bee looked like. After the bee has been rescued from the water it kind of wriggles pathetically, its legs moving in all directions, body convulsing - trying to go back to its natural form of life. At this point Maggie was just looking at the bee and I was trying to figure out what she had done to cause the bee this kind of torture and then she showed me...

I don't love cats, but one of the most endearing things a cat can do (in my opinion) is when it paws at something, like a ball of yarn. It just looks really cute. Well, you can imagine how cute my already adorable puppy looked pawing at the bee. She pawed at it with hesitation and curiosity, mingled with a desire for the bee to react. I don't think she realized the bee was already too injured to do any sort of fighting back or "playing". When the pawing didn't create the desired effect, Maggie tried a different tact, the fake eating game. I saw Maggie come down on the bee with her mouth and I thought that the show was over, without a doubt. But once she put the bee in her mouth she spit him out again. She did this a number of times, and would afterward look at the bee intently and expectantly.

At this point I was shocked the bee was still living, but it still struggled in it's poor pathetic way. If I hadn't been so entertained by Maggie I might have been a little more compassionate towards the bee. Maggie went back to pawing some more at the bee. He had to have only moments left. I was sure that soon his struggling body would become still and peaceful.

Then, she ate him.

After she swallowed the bee she looked around for awhile. She must have assumed she had spit him out again, but she finally gave up on her search and came back in the house.

Those were two really entertaining minutes of Maggie.

Embarrassing Moment

2009-02-12T14:36:00.000-08:00

This is an old story, but the other day some of us were chatting in the office about the Crossroads volleyball tournament that raises money for short term missions, and so it came to my mind. I told Lisa Martin about it and she told me to blog about it, so here you go. One of the most embarrassing moments I have experienced happened at one of these tournaments.

The day before the tournament I had rediscovered a pair of khaki capri pants that had been missing. Do you know that feeling of losing an item of clothing that you would wear all the time and fit just right and looked just right - it's a horribly sad feeling. After about a year I had given up hope of ever finding them and had come to grips with the loss. But they reappeared - they had been stored away in some "summer clothes" storage box that had never been unpacked. The morning of the tournament I excited pulled them on - they were a little more snug then I remembered, but they still fit. I performed the usual stretching techniques and was ready to go.

The tournament began and I was feeling good. I was on a team with some good friends and my hilarious Bible study shepherd. He was hilarious for many reasons, but this day in particular he was funny because of his competitive nature. He was serious about winning, the only problem was that our team just wasn't cut out for that sort of thing, including him. It was funny to watch him scurry all over the grass going for the ball and calling out commands to the other team members. I also happen to be competitive, especially in sport games. I'm not much good at volleyball, but was still getting a little caught up in the competitive spirit. In one of our earlier rounds, at the upper field, the ball came to me. The ball was coming in too early so I was really going to have to stretch to get it. I did what was necessary. I took a giant step with my right leg, bringing my left knee to the ground, I heard and felt a rip the sucked all the air from my body and then made contact with the ball. The ball sailed safely over the net to the other side. It may have been a moment of glory, with people cheering for me and giving me pats on the back, but I quickly said "sub! sub!" and ran off the field behind a friend of mine.

After making contact with the ball I looked down at the damage and it was great. The rip started at my knee and went all the way up. The rip was not on a seam either - it was shredded. I've never felt so exposed in all my life, hiding behind a friend of my mine while people looked at me strangely... I needed to find a bathroom and fast, I also needed new pants. There was still a lot of volleyball to play and I was stuck there until the end of the day. Thankfully, Becky, the friend I had found refuge behind, had an extra pair of pants, but she had to get them from her car which was very far away. I found a bathroom in that time and waited it out, thinking through the incredible embarrassment that had just occurred and laughing to myself. She came back with some rust colored capri pants and they were such a relief to put on. I threw away the greatly anticipated khaki capri pants, knowing they could never be rescued from the destruction they had gone through.

There were a few people that questioned me as to why I had a different pair of pants on. Some people got the story, others... a very generalized something.

I don't know what it is about ripping pants, but it is really humbling, and not just from this experience do I know this, but it happened to me in junior high as well. And there is no worse time to rip your pants than in junior high, I'm sure all of you will agree with me. And you know in the movies... when people rip their pants in the back, right along the seam? That doesn't actually happen to anyone right? That's what I thought. But no... it happens and I know from personal experience. In 8th grade I would sit on a brick wall with my friends at lunch, the brick wall was just low enough to take one giant step to climb up. So I, in my freshly washed jeans, took my giant step onto the wall. "RIIIIPPPPPPP!" It was horrible and right down the center. I had to spend the rest of the day with my jacket tied around my waist - hoping it wouldn't come untied or hike up a little. Somehow I made it through the day with little abuse, but it was pretty scarring.

Embarrassing...

Christmas Fever

2008-12-09T13:15:00.000-08:00

That's right, it's happened again. The Christmas spirit has me. And I know that sounds worldly of me, at least I think it does. The Christmas spirit that I'm writing about is that warm and cozy feeling you get when you see Christmas lights, snowmen, snowflakes, drink hot cocoa and listen to jazzy Christmas tunes. I love to walk into my house after work and be greeted by the warm glow of lights from my Christmas tree and soft humm of carols. My family may go a bit overboard on the Christmas decorations but I love every bit of it. You can't go into a room in my house and not know that it's Christmas. My mom has even made Christmas pillowcases.

The sad thing about all of this wonderful decoration is that I'm not at home most of the time; I'm at work. That needed to be fixed and my good friend Lisa who works with me agreed. So the two of us put our efforts together and created our own winter wonderland in the basement where no natural light shines. It is so pleasant to have decorations around; it's such a festive atmosphere now. We even made our own snowflakes. I don't know if any of you have tried that but it is quite crafty and easy to do. You cut out a circle of paper fold it up as much as you can and then make a bunch of cut outs,the more you cut the better it looks. You unfold it and miraculously have a beautiful snowflake. Lisa started getting creative on me and made a snowflake with Christmas tree cut outs. I had to copy her because it was so cool. The trees turned out nicely, but then I tried to make a gingerbread cut out and that didn't turn out quite as well. I don't know if any of you have seen "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" but my gingerbread men most closeley resemble the aliens in that film than actual gingerbread men.

I have often struggled at Christmastime in not getting too caught up in the "spirit of Christmas" and remembering what I'm actually celebrating. While I love the pretty Christmas decorations and music the whole point of the holiday is to celebrate the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. So I'm making a pact with myself, that each time I get that warm cozy feeling from the enjoyments the holiday spirit brings that I remember Christ. This is when the real warmth and real joy comes because of Him I can live and rejoice with joy inexpressible because of the life I have in Him. So don't be scroogy and say that a true spiritual person can't have fun with decorations, Christmas trees, and snowmen, because every good gift is from above and as long as we give Him the glory and honor and attention we can enjoy those gifst.

Tribute to Jeremy and Amanda

2008-11-26T10:53:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of Thanksgiving and simply the fact that I really love these people, I wanted to write a brief post about why these two members of my family are so incredibly amazing.

I was recently thinking about how my sister is my very best friend. It's kind of nice to have that knowledge, I remember the drama of the "best friend" status in grade school. I wanted to be my best friend's best friend. I didn't know then that Amanda was my best friend, we have grown closer over the years. Now I no longer have the "best friend" drama because she is it and that won't change. She is a pretty great one too, it will be impossible to expound on all the ways she qualifies, but here are a few. She loves me, she cares for me, she teaches me, she's patient with me, she laughs with me, she laughs at me, she makes me laugh, she listens to me, she confides in me, she gives to me, she prays for me, she considers me, she forgives me, she includes me, she's honest with me, she shares with me, she's silly with me, she understands me... I could go on and on. I wish all of you could understand the context in which all of these individual things have taken place and how many times, pretty cool. So anyway, love you Manda.

Then there's Jeremy. As I was thinking about how Amanda is my best friend, I think about my really close friends, but suddenly as I was sitting in Jeremy's truck with Amanda I realized that Jeremy is my second best friend. I haven't told him this before, maybe he just knows that it's true. I have always been close with Jeremy, he was my buddy growing up and now he is my friend in Christ which is so much more meaningful and he's still my buddy. I have some great times with Jeremy, I've already written about the laughing game, but there are so many more silly, fun things that the cousins to together. But recently in addition to those things Jeremy's relationship to me has changed, he is an encourager, a convicter, a confider, and many more things. But the fact that I can say those things about our relationship now is totally a testimony of God's grace and power and how little trust I have in Him. Never in my wildest dreams or most doubtful prayers did I imagine this kind of deep relationship with my cuz. It's truly a blessing.

The three of us have often spoken about how we always want to be together, near enough to spend time together. We have talked about how our possible future spouses will have to get used to our strange closeness and have to come to enjoy the cousin hang out time. What a sweet relationship the Lord has given to us. I can honestly say I get a glimpse of heaven and the way relationships will be there when the three of us are at our best together. I love you both mucho!

2nd Annual Sister Day

2008-11-06T11:16:00.000-08:00

Today is the second annual sister day for Amanda and I. She posted on our last year's sister day and she will probably post again, but I wanted to post too. Especially since part of this post will be a sequel to one of my earlier posts "Louie Lee". Amanda and I went to breakfast, per usual, at the Egg Plantation. At the restaurant we did our gift exchange - because sister day isn't sister day without presents, I mean come on! She opened my present first, there were four goodies in there for her. Of course she pretty much always outdoes me both in style and quantity. My favorite part about her gift, and hers too, is that she gave me two cards. The first was titled "card #1 - Happy Sister Day" and was a very sweet card about our close relationship. The other card was titled "card #2 Because on Sister Day you can do Whatever you Want (pretty much.)" Needless to say I was intrigued by this card #2. I opened it and found the picture above and inside there was no explanatory funny saying that explained the picture - it was a blank card - with her writing in it of course. This is what I found inside... (please keep in mind "Louie Lee" at this point)

"A Short Story

Little Lee lee always worked hard. (That was why her real name was Emily, which means industrious, or something like that.) Lee lee had 2 dreams. One was to fly. The other was to marry a man bearing the last name of Lee. That way she could have the amazingly unpredictable name; Emily Lee Lee. She worked hard at achieving both goals. Starting at the age of 2. (Lee lee was always a brilliant child, a true prodigy.)

At the age of 3, Lee lee had already bought a plane making kit. She worked hard on building that thing every day after preschool. Neighborhood kids mocked her. They didn't understand why she never came over to hang in their crib. (Literal use of the word.) But Lee lee had a dream.

At the age of four, Lee lee was almost done with work on the plane. She thought she would finally allow herself to try her first ice cream cone. (Up until now she had been watching her weight so that the plane could actually take off with her inside it.)

She rode her trike down to one of the parks in Newhall where she met up with the neighborhood ice cream truck. She paid the man her quarter and turned around, ice cream cone in hand, only to trip on a green shoe. Amazingly enough, the ice cream cone was still in tact. As she lifted her head she was suddenly gazing into the eyes of an Asian boy. He pointed out that she had skinned her elbow in saving her ice cream. I say pointed because the only English word he knew was "yes." Lee lee asked if he happened to have the last name of Lee? He replied, "yes." Lee lee was overjoyed! She ran home, got a band aid from her mommy and proceeded to puffy paint her purple shirt with one word. She put in on and went to go sit in her almost completed plane. She had a feeling it would fly the next day.

The End."

Yes, that is my sister, and that is how much she wants me to be Emily Lee Lee. The rest of our day will consist of more normal activity and behavior, hopefully. We will probably go see a movie after work in Pasadena, hit up some shops, have dinner at Hurry Curry and then dessert it up at the Melting Pot - we've never been there before. It should be fun, and yes, all of you who do not practice sister day or who don't have a sister should be sad you don't get to experience such a day of fun. You should start a sister day of your own, or a sibling day, or a brother day, or a friend day, depending on your own circumstances. It is highly enjoyable!

I love you Amanda!

Louie Lee

2008-10-06T09:43:00.000-07:00

Every Sunday night a bunch of us SCVers go to the VanStraatens' house for some fun fellowship time. I was very excited because this week Caitie and Justin Wade came for the first time. I don't get to see Caitie as much since she's been married so I cherish the times I get to spend with her, Justin is pretty fun to be around too :)

Anyway, Michelle and Caitie started talking about this one conversation we had a number of months ago in Caitie's car while eating Golden Spoon. We were talking about relationships because Caitie was dating Justin at the time. Somehow this led to me telling the girls that I only had two physical requirements in the man that I will one day marry. I don't think that's being too picky. Anyway, the two requirements are that one, he is taller than me (I am only 5'3 so how hard can that be) and two, he is able to carry me across the threshold. No one wants to have the embarrassing moment after their married, the husband goes down to sweep up the wife's legs and then collapses from the effort, both landing on the ground in an awkward way. These requirements I now realize shouldn't be requirements but only strong desires, because Michelle and Caitie immediately started to picture my future husband as a midget with no arms. Of course they thought this was hysterical, and I have to admit it was pretty funny. We went on and on describing how I wouldn't be able to help it because I would love him so much that I wouldn't be able to hold to my requirements. Caitie started mimicking how he would move and wave at people, this became funnier and funnier.

So last night while Michelle and Caitie were both there the conversation came up again. Only this time everyone that was there got involved, especially Justin. Now my future husband has a name, Louie Lee. This name is also just to spite me because I've also said I don't want to marry anyone with the last name Lee because then my name would be EmiLY Lee Lee. Everyone thinks this is hilarious, especially my loving sister. So not only will my husband be a midget with no arms, but he will have a ridiculous name and harry ankles for some reason. I don't really remember how that developed.

In closing I have some advice for everyone... don't state your requirements for something because either it will eventually come true, you will have the fear of it coming true, or you will simply be mocked until it doesn't come true.

Thanks for reading,

- The Future Mrs. Louie Lee Lee Lee Lee Lee...

Surfs up!

2008-09-19T15:02:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not I'm posting again, and believe it or not the title means what you think it means. I went surfing, well... kind of. If any of you reading this have ever been surfing you will know that first time you go you don't actually surf, well maybe some people do, but I'm not some people. But man what I did was super fun!

I went with some pretty great girls. My friend Erin was the ring leader, the only one of us who had surfing experience, and let me tell you that experience is extensive. She brought three of her boards along with her, all different sizes (she actually has 5 boards total) cool huh!? The plan was for her to train us on proper balance, jumping up into position, and then riding the wave. Any confidence which I may have had quickly disappeared when I tried the first step, getting from the lay down position on the board into the stand up position. We did this on land at first. I watched Erin do it, no sweat. I got on and felt like an overlarge whale trying to stand on my fins. It was pathetic. Erin told me that I should start out as if I was going to do a push up. Having my toes planted on the board helped a lot and a small bit of confidence returned when I got to the standing position. But if it was already this hard to do on land, how crazy hard would it be in the water!?

We got into the water and I was ready to surf, also somewhat doubtful. Erin helped each of us lay on our boards and pointed us in the right direction. For awhile the three of us just rode the waves on our tummies, sometimes being dumped into the water after losing our balance. Erin had to give me several boosts from behind so that I would actually catch the wave, she didn't have to do this with the other girls. I was a bit disappointed in myself. Erin assured me that it was probably because I had the smallest board which therefore made it the most tricky to learn on. I kept trying, sometimes I would catch the wave pretty good, other times I would just lay there after the wave had already passed me by. After a few attempts at standing on the board (I'm sure all humorous to behold) we took a slight break to give us the chance to watch Erin do her thing. Of course she was really good and cool to watch. The three of us got back into the water, for awhile I did some body surfing and watch the others improve their surfing skills, both Amanda and Hannah were having great success standing on their boards. After awhile Erin let me use here board for awhile which was the longest board of all. This board was much easier to catch waves with, and after awhile I began to stand up to. Mind you, we were standing up on the very end of these waves, fully white water, but it was still a cool feeling. After about two hours we were all sufficiently pooped and satisfied with our progress.

It was a very fun day of surfing and spending time with some of my favorite people. Now I feel that I can fully live up to my status as a California girl.

The New Life

2008-06-06T17:20:00.001-07:00

Amanda wants me to post again. I honestly think that is the only reason why I continue to post. So thank her if you happen to enjoy what I randomly write on this. If you only knew about some of the drafts I have on here that I think twice about before posting. You would probably really enjoy those.

Anyway… this post will be about the newest part about my life. People often ask me the question; “What’s new?” and I always answer, “Nothin’ much.” I finally have an answer to that question that is actually pretty significant, at least for me. I have my first real, full-time, grown-up job. And there is a cool series of events that I must tell you about before you can know what the job is, although most of you who do read this probably already know what it is.

I am the type of person that freaks out about the future. So in getting close to graduating from college and having no idea what I wanted to do with my life afterword was making me pretty crazy. One day in Crossroads, Austin Duncan, the High School pastor at my church came to the front to make an announcement. He was advertising for college people to come on high school staff and he was also making it known that there was a secretary job for the student ministries office available. I kind of thought, “mmm… interesting…” but then about 5 people that I know, sitting around me, looked at me and made comments like, “that job was made for you.” Of course all these people knew my desperate state of being completely at a loss as far as jobs went.

Later that night my good friend Michelle reminded me of the great opportunity this could be for me, and so right then and there I emailed Austin to apply. He got back to me the very next morning and the interview was set up for later that week. I met with him on a Thursday; for what I’m sure was the most enjoyable and entertaining interview possible and he told me that he would get back to me early in the following week. He got back to me on Tuesday and I had the job. All I can think is how amazing God’s timing is and how He provides me with something I don’t deserve in the slightest. I started working the Monday after graduation. I mean, the timing can’t be any better than that.

Three weeks into the job, I really love it, there are some stressful and difficult aspects of it and I’m being forced to grow in areas that I’m weak in. But hey, that’s one of the reasons this job is so great.

Another part of the newness of my life is that I am now on high school staff. I was planning on joining staff in another year, but this job put that idea on fast forward a little bit. I have to admit that it is a little difficult for me to get into a new group of people and to make new friends, but I’m excited to be involved in a ministry where I can really practice the command of discipling younger women.

So that is that, my new life… hope you liked it.

Tagged

2008-05-08T00:25:00.000-07:00

Thanks for tagging me Amber.

Five things on my To-Do list:
1. Move out of my dorm room.
2. Buy foot cushion thingies.
3. Wash my car.
4. Start my new job.
5.

Five favorite snacks:
1. Anything chocolate
2. Crackers (especially Wheat Thins)
3. Cherry tomatoes
4. Bread with honey
5. Diet Coke

Five things I would do if I was a billionaire:
1. Support missionaries
2. Pay off school loans
3. Buy a house by the ocean, Monterrey area
4. Stuff for my parents, maybe a house by the sea, they'd want to be near me
5. Give money to TMC and TMS to support the work they do.

Five places I've lived:
1. Saugus, the house I don't remember living in - one story
2. Saugus, the house I still live in with my family - two story
3. Waldock dorm at Master's
4. N/A
5. N/A

Five jobs I've had:
1. Transciptor for Grace to You
2. Student Finance Center Intern
3. COC Public Information Intern
4. Secretary for Junior high/High school ministry at G.Com.
5.

Five people I'm tagging:
1. Amanda Taylor
2. Hayley Hayes
3. Kim Archer
4. Mariejte Van Straaten
5. Nicole Pickard

Heels

2008-04-24T15:59:00.000-07:00

"I don't do heels." This is something one might hear me say on occasion. I have a number of good reasons for this.

1. I am a klutz, simple and true.

2. They aren't very comfortable.

3. I never buy shoes anyway, unless they are flip flops.

4. I broke my ankle last summer.

The fourth reason has recently gone up in the list of importance based on experience, which I will explain later. Two important events are coming up, my lovely friend's wedding (my first wedding party experience) and my college graduation. Come to find out, events such as these typically require fancy footwear, to put it another way, heels. So what the heck, as a member of society I decided to compromise in my desire for comfort and safety.

My mom and I went out to find some strappy, brown, high-heeled shoes and a pair of red shoes for my graduation. On our first attempt we went to the mall and looked in Macy's and J.C. Penny for some shoes, there were none that grabbed our attention. I never knew I could be that picky about something I don't even care about that much - shoes. Finally we found a few pairs of brown shoes that could work at another shoe store in the mall. All three pairs had heels that were about three inches high and as wide as a toothpick. Ok, so not that thin, but still, the thinnest I think I have ever seen. But those were the only types that met the criteria of brown, strappy heel in the store. So we bought the prettiest and least uncomfortable. When I put them on at the store I felt a little awkward, like this was never what nature intended. I think heels are definitely a product of the Fall. But they didn't feel too bad. When I came back to school, ready to show them off to my friends who know me to be an avid flat shoes wearer, they were shocked and I think a little amused. "Emily, I don't even think I would buy those kind of heels!" was my loving roommates reply. Now I started to get a little doubtful. I have to walk down the aisle in these puppies and what if I fall and make an idiot out of myself. I knew extreme measures needed to be taken. By extreme I mean breaking them in at work. And it really has been extreme for my poor inexperienced feet. And let me tell you, my supposedly healed ankle injury still has a lot of stiffness to work out. I look like a limping, stiff, jerky, weirdo by the end of the day. I only hope I can wear them enough before the wedding to get myself looking like only a partial idiot. Ayayay!

After this experience one would think someone would learn to stay away from dramatic heels and stick to flats, especially in very important and public situations. Not me. My mom and I went shopping another day for the red graduation shoes, and let me tell you it took forever. I did not want to repeat what I had done with the brown shoes, in know way did I want to fall on my face as I climbed the stares to receive my diploma with John MacArthur looking at me with pity. I was looking for low heels, but I wanted a really pretty red. Everything that looked like a possibility failed by either being too orange, too flat or too high. Finally, when we were both at our wits end, we found them. But they broke the rules. They are certainly a thicker heel than the previous pair of shoes, but they are still quite high. Man, I seriously don't know what happened to me. One might think that I am actually growing up. But why in the world should growing up equal wearing uncomfortable heels?

The Waldock Wings

2008-04-06T13:33:00.000-07:00

I have written a little about my dorm in the past on this blog, but now I would like to go a little more in depth. Waldock, an all girls dormitory, is the greatest dorm on The Master's College campus. Every dorm has a stereotype to it, but I'm still not exactly sure what Waldock's is, but I have heard from some people that we are considered the weird dorm. If that is the case, then cool, being weird is much more interesting than being normal. I'm not ashamed to admit we are weird because we have a lot of fun with our weirdness, thus explains the Waldock Wings.

On Friday night the women of Waldock gathered together for the second annual Waldock Wings competition. The competition is loosely based off the most prestigious, Master's Cup competition, with the same intensity and twice the creativity. This year the competition was organized around reality tv, meaning that each event was based on a different reality tv show. The first competition was based off the show that involves fashion designers. So all the wings were required to show up in a specific collection of clothing design. Our wing chose to represent Japanese, crazy combinations collection. This meant that we dressed in the brightest clothing possible, added a lot of accessories and smeared pink lipstick on both cheeks in a small circle. We then took turns walking down a runway constructed in the lower lounge of Waldock. Our wing won this competition, firmly beating the gangster wing, the hats wing, and the Hotchkiss wing. Things were off to a good start.

The next event was based off the show, "Trading Spaces". Every wing had to fill a basket up of things from different rooms in their wings to decorate an empty room with. Our wing went to work overflowing our basket with the best looking stuff from our rooms. We went out to the lounge and stood around our towering basket trying to keep everything from tumbling down. Too bad we didn't think things through very wisely. We seemed to forget that in "Trading Spaces" the people on the show fix up somebody else's room. So each wing had to pick someone else's basket to decorate their room. Because we had won the last event we had to pick last, so of course we lost all of our stuff for the most measly basket in the bunch. Needless to say, we received last place in this event.

The next event was even more ridiculous... the mind wonders how, but it really was. This event was based off of "The Bachelor". The host of the evening started out by collecting everyone's cell phones. Then we were told we had seven minutes to round up as many bachelors as we could and bring them back to the lounge. So in the ensuing minutes there were about 40 girls running wildly into the depths of The Master's College desperately asking the deer-caught-in-the-head-lights male to come with them for some reason or another. You must remember that all the girls looked very very strange, most of us on the ugly side. But the competition helped us fight against all odds and we pounded on doors and yelled out for the men to come. We wound up having seven I think, some other wings definitely had more than us, but one of the girls on our wing had stolen some of the guys as they came in, too confused to argue. I think we might have cheated a little in the scoring of points because we won the round somehow, but cheating in the Waldock Wings is kind of expected and in a funny way appreciated.

I was surprised that so far the competition had avoided the disgusting side of things, the year before we had been asked to do some pretty yucky things, and I was hoping this year to be different. It was worse. The next event was "Fear Factor" and we had to go outside where there awaited for us, four pans of oatmeal with gummy worms mixed in. Each girl had to take a turn and dip our faces into the slop and pull out a gummy worm, each time a girl went she had to come back with a gummy worm, there were no passes. We had to dunk for 15 worms and spit them into our RA's hands. It was really gross when you went after someone who had a lot of trouble finding a worm and they took a lot of bites, found no worms, and then spit it out to look for another. We wound up with second place in this event, not too shabby I must say.

Then there was the dreaded "American Idol", both humiliating and hilarious all at once. All the wings had ten minutes to practice a song that was written by some of our very own Waldockians and had no tune. Our group had one strong singer and we decided she would lead us and the rest of us would do as little singing as possible. We started out with her singing operatically while a few of us did some beat boxing, in practice it sounded pretty cool. Sadly during the actual performance, the two girls doing the interpretive dance of a blossoming flower sent the beat boxers over the edge and our whole group lost composure. We soundly lost this competition, but at least we got to see some other pretty hilarious acts.

The final competition was rather easy, "America's Next Top Model". While we had first entered the whole competition, showing off our outfits, our photos were taken at the end of the runway. The host had put these photos in a slideshow and we went to the upper lounge to see all of them. It was amusing to see all the poses both practiced and accidental. The RA from each wing picked which girl would represent the wing and then those pictures were judged for who would win this event. I'm still not exactly sure of the standings of this event because it was the last one and all everyone wanted to know was the final score. But I think we had to have won because the girl we picked Lottie looked fantastic and had the best model look ever.

We all gathered with bated breath as Jen, our RD started to give us the final standings. It came down to our wing and one of the upper wings; at this point it really could go either way. I was trying to think negatively; I didn't want my hopes to be crushed. But then it happened. Lower West had won, we were awarded the wings and there was great rejoicing. The nine of us girls jumped up and down, screamed, high fived, body slammed each other... whatever kind of celebrating action, you name it and we did it. We literally were awarded with wings that one of the girls on our wing had actually made herself. They were pink with a "W" in the middle like a seal. We all kissed the seal and then took a picture. This all might seem very strange to an outsider, but the nine of us experienced a moment of intense bonding and intense emotional satisfaction in that moment. Our little wing had accomplished the prestige of Waldock Wing champion, what is there more to accomplish in life than this may I ask? Ok, so there's a lot more, but just let me have my moment.

Laughter

2008-03-28T14:36:00.000-07:00

Sitting at lunch today with Michelle and Megan - very fun and interesting people in my life - we started an interesting conversation about laughter. The conversation mainly consisted of storytelling and mocking, but that's pretty much commonplace for most of our conversations. Laughter is quite strange if you really think about it... something is so funny that your body simply has no other way to contain the funny thought or circumstance than to blurt out a weird combination of awkward sounds. Maybe that's why so many laughs only create more laughs because they are simply that ridiculous.

It seems that everyone has a laugh for different situations. Let's take Michelle. When she thinks something is funny she will do her "dolphin laugh", just imagine Flipper with red curly hair and much cuter and you have it about right. When she thinks something is sort of funny she will simply "ha" a few times with a rather low pitch. When she thinks something is really funny she will make a ridiculous looking face, open her mouth noislessly, look down, and then a much louder quicker dolphin laugh emerges. This is quite entertaining. There are many more variations of laughter that she does but I have neither the time or the space. Michelle is famous for the "that's funny" saying. Whenever I hear someone say this with no trace of laughter in their voice, I simply cannot believe them. Funny will come out, but not in a bland statement.

Megan is another one with laugher full of variety. Her hardest laughter is my favorite variation. She is my roommate, so there are of course many opportunities for her to laugh her hardest because I am so funny... just kidding. But I have seen her laugh really hard. Most of the time I witness this event I am sitting across from her on my bed. She will lean forward on her bed, where she is sitting, squint her eyes up, looked shocked, open her mouth, make a few voiceless laughs, and then rock around laughing out loud. She often tears up when she laughs this hard. Very funny. Then of course there is her "I want to laugh but I'm not going to face", you have to see it to truly appreciate it, describing it would take away from its splendor. She has one of the most unconvincing fake laughs you have ever heard. She will squish up her face and laugh like an old nerd - again you have to see it to truly understand and agree with me.

I guess in publicly, or however public this blog is, poking fun at my friends I need to involve myself in this. I have many laughs, many. It all started with the donkey laugh which I adopted as a younger person in grade school. A portion of that laugh still lives on in my vault of laughs, but it is much more mature now. The way I laugh now comes out in many forms, but the one in which we were discussing today at lunch is a laugh that has not been replicated since. One night in South Africa with Michelle and my sister we got into a laugh attack. It was late at night and we were all a little out of it - so when I started laughing in cycles of "hahaha, hehehe, hohoho" the humor of it got blown way out of proportion and Michelle will never let me live it down. Another laugh that my sister would add to the list if she could would be my most recent, still unreplicated laugh, that took place a week ago at Chipotle. It was a very windy afternoon and I was wearing a dress. As I was stepping into my cousins, overly large truck, the wind started to pick up my dress in a bad way. So I blurted out a completely uncontrollable "Woohoohoo" and it happend to be a very low pitched "Woohoohoo". My sister of course laughed her head off. And being herself, a major STASM (small things amuse small minds) she kept on trying to repeat my laugh and in so doing would crack herself up. She did this repeatedly until we arrived home.

I love laughter and I'm so thankful that God created us to react to funny situations with it! I think it probably makes Him laugh too.

The Little Guy

2008-03-15T16:14:00.000-07:00

My roommate and I live in a dorm called Waldock. I love this dorm and will have a deep loyalty to it until the day I die. But it does suffer from one major flaw, central air. Every single other dormitory on The Master's College campus has rooms with their very own air systems, but not Waldock. So every time the air conditioning unit decides to die, we all die of asphyxiation, and every time the air conditioning decides to blast away we have to bundle up in five layers before going to bed. So far this year has mainly been hot rather than cold so my roommate and I decided to do something about it. Megan (my roomie) lived in C. W. Smith dorm before she moved in with me and so she had her own little unit and she would always have the fan going when she went to bed, it helped her sleep. So she went out and bought our "little guy". I don't know if you have seen the little baby fans that are out there but it is quite a pleasing little fan both aesthetically and usefully. We do not always treat our little fan very kindly, we will forget about it and leave it running sometimes all day. I would come in after a long day of classes and realize the poor "little guy" had been working hard all day for no one in particular. I would go over and turn him off, patting him affectionately for a job well done. Just recently our "little guy" has started to have a little trouble. We will turn him on and nothing will happen. We might here a little start noise, like an engine trying to catch, but the little fan won't spin. Then, ten or so minutes later it will finally get started as if nothing was wrong. It has been doing this for months now and it hasn't died yet. Now Megan and I root him on each time we turn him on, "You can do it 'little guy'" and when he finally turns on, "What a good 'little guy'". This may be strange to those of you, strange enough to read my blog, but the little fan has really become a significant part of our little room. It will be a very sad day when he just can't spin anymore, heaven forbid. So enjoy your fans and treat them with some respect, don't leave them running when they don't have to be, otherwise you too will find out too late, what a good thing you had while it lasted.

The Flap Hat

2008-01-18T16:48:00.000-08:00

So I haven't posted on this in a long time, I just have not felt the inclination. The last time I felt inclined to write I wound up being lazy and didn't bother. So I will now write about what I felt inclined to write about earlier but didn't.

After Christmas I did a little return shopping with my mom and sister. On one of these occassion we decided to go to the Simi Valley mall because Mom needed to go to an Eddie Bauer store to return something and we don't have one in Santa Clarita. If any of you have not gone to this mall you should seriously consider it. It is a really nice mall, enclosed, but still open air. It makes you feel less claustraphobic. Anyway, usually I hate malls, but this one is ok.

We made our way to Eddie Bauer first because Mom wanted to get her spending money from her return. I don't enjoy my trips to Eddie Bauer, because in my mind that store does not offer a lot to a 21-year-old girl. I have had negative past experiences. But I went in with my Mom and sister just so we would stick together. While my Mom was taking care of her business, Amanda and I did some recon. I typically walk quickly through one of these stores, looking for things that I can try on without going into a dressing room, I really dislike dressing rooms. As we were walking around I saw a lone hat sitting on a display pocket (I have no idea how to describe this display thing). It was one of those hats that you see "mountain men" wear, but it was on the woman's side of the store. It was a red plaid hat with gray fuzzy inside. This was something that screamed out for me to try on, so of course I did. When I tried it on the flaps were up, so one could see the gray, fuzzy inside of the hat. I turned to Amanda to see her mixed look of amusement and disgust. I then looked into the mirror; I liked it.

It's just one of those things, I still had 20 dollars left of Christmas money and I feel that when you are spending money that is not your own, that is the time to get things you wouldn't normally get. My mom like the hat as well which helped me make my decision.

If you were to ask me now, whether or not I regret the decision of buying the hat, I would have to say no. Although I have not had many opportunities to wear it yet (I did wear it for a walk once and when my sister and I went ice skating) I look forward to my future ventures into the snow. Then I will look at Amanda with a look of amusement and disgust, because then she will look out of place without the very practical flap hat. I may post pictures later.

Late Night

2007-12-03T08:36:00.000-08:00

I don't really have words. You must go to the link and then do it yourself, it is pretty much one of the funniest things I have seen and done in a long time. Just click on the title of the post, "Late Night".

Camping

2007-11-04T22:31:00.001-08:00

It has been a long time since I have last camped in the mountains. My family and I used to go camping all the time on our way to Montana or Michigan to visit our grandparents. We have also gone camping at the beach often enough, but in the last seven years or so there has been a serious lack of hard core camping in my life. So when the opportunity came to go camping with some cool people from my amazing Bible study I was very excited. We drove up to Sequoia National Park and camped in a beautiful area surrounded by large trees and mountains. My car and the other car we were caravanning with, filled with a bunch of fun girls, got to the campsite at around 6:30 pm. We were told to pack warm clothes because the nights were cold, but I was taken by surprise by the reality of the chilliness. I wound up borrowing an extra beanie and extra gloves from someone because I had been somewhat unprepared. It was dark at this time of night and the group that had arrived earlier in the day had already started a fire. After we took a hurried and much needed trip to the bathroom we unpacked our stuff and waited for the men to put our tent up. That's what boys are good for! We then crowded around the fire and cooked our hot dogs and roasted marshmallows. When we were through eating and just hanging around the fire, the normal camping routine did not occur. We were all too cold to pursue playing any sort of game, our musical man had forgotten his guitar so we didn't sing, and no one really wanted to tell any ghost stories. But that is the great thing about the people in my Bible study, we can talk it up and have a great time. I'm not a huge talker, even if it is a smaller groups (about 19 of us came) so I was mainly observing and listening, which I have grown to enjoy a lot over the years. I think you can learn quite a bit about a person by listening to what they say, what they think is funny, and watching to how they react to certain things, whether it be silly or serious. After hours of conversation and warming by the fire, most of the girls headed to bed. A few stragglers waited up for two or our group who had to leave from home later than anyone else (they didn't arrive until 1 am).

The boys made fun of the girls on this camping trip for many reasons, but the biggest one had to be the bathroom scenario. Boys always seem to find it quite amusing how women will go in packs to the bathrooms. I think we had good reason in all going together this time. It was so cold at nights and no camping bathroom has a heating system, so by packing seven bodies into a little room we basically made our own little heating system. Each of use went through our own routine, some taking longer than others, but we all waited for one another to walk back to camp and get in bed. Getting into bed was another interesting adventure. In my seven year absence from camping I seem to have forgotten how cold it can get in the evenings. As I made my way to the tent I was looking for it to be like a little house and be nice and toasty inside, but I was disappointed. Everything was cold, my pajamas that I put on and the sleeping bag I wriggled into, cold, cold, cold. Thankfully my good friend Michelle is always prepared for everything, and since I was sharing my air mattress with her she shared her liner and comforter with me, so when getting into bed was all said and done I was actually quite toasty, apart from my bum that is. I find it very frustrating that the meatiest part of my body was the thing that got the most cold, I then am led to question "what is the meat good for", answer "nothing" so I have decided to get rid of it.

I slept quite well and was excited to start out our only full day of camping in the Sequoias. All the girls were awake quite early in my tent and were all anxious to go to the bathroom. For some reason, in my morning idiocy, I thought they were all getting up for good to help with breakfast or something, so I begrudgingly got up with them and traveled over to the bathroom. As soon as we got back everyone went back to sleep, in our once again cold sleeping bags. If I had known it was only an emergency run I would have stayed behind and waited for the real thing. We got a couple more hours of sleep and then headed back for the bathroom for the real stuff, brushed our teeth and some of the girls washed their faces and then we finally joined the rest of the group around the fire for breakfast. We had eggs and bacon and some wonderful little muffins that one of the girls made, so yummy! After a few hours of hanging out and cleaning up we split up into groups of what we were going to do with the day. Some of us went on a scenic drive, some went on a little hike to see the General Sherman tree, one of the oldest Sequoias, and my group went rock climbing.

My cousin drove us on this escapade, and if you know Jeremy you know he is kind of crazy in most of his endeavors, and driving is no different. There were a lot of iffy mountain turns and crazy bumps along the way, but thankfully we made it there safe and sound. We got to Buckrock Lookout. There was a tower on top on this big rock and we climbed many stairs to get to the top and the view was well worth the huffing and puffing. High elevation always takes me by surprise. We talked to the ranger lady in the lookout tower and she told us there were great places to climb on the rock and so we went back down and the boys started attaching their ropes to the anchors at the tops of the rocks. Melissa and I were the only two girls that went, and we definitely got showed up by the boys in climbing, as we should, since we have much smaller muscles, but it was annoying just the same. The cliff was hard to climb because the tilt of the rock was opposite of what you would normally expect it to be, instead of leaning inward as you go up, it went outward. So it was basically like climbing out and up the whole time. Needless to say it was too difficult for me and I was forced to be content with my few feet of climbing and watching some of the athletic ability in our family be put to use by my insanely strong and athletic cousin. At first I wondered if I had made the right decision of where to spend my day, part of me had wanted to stay with the bigger group of people and not risk doing a poor and disappointing job of climbing. Even though I was disappointed with my climbing, I was thankful to see the ways God is faithful to change and grow us. A year ago I would have been so embarrassed and so angry that I had failed that much in a physical endeavor, because that is normally where my talent lies. But I was almost happy that I couldn't climb it because it helped to remind me how weak I am and how small I am and how much I need to rely on God. As I sat on a rock, my hands shaking from the intense gripping on the rock, I gazed at the immense beauty of the mountains covered with majestic trees and the misty blue sky all around. I was happy I made the choice to come climbing because I was blessed with the reminder of how great our God is and how grateful I am that He has saved such a weak, prideful soul like me. It was also a blessing to spend time with the group I was with, they were a fun bunch.

We got back to the camp and all our food for dinner was laid about before us. We were going to make "hobos" Basically was stacked potatoes, meat, carrots, various other vegetables, and seasonings in a piece of tinfoil and then wrapped it all up and threw it in the fire. It was really fun and easy make and turned out very tasty, that was definitely a new camping highlight for me. After that we made "banana boats." Another weird thing about me is that I do not like any cooked fruit, if the fruit is hot you can usually count me out, but since this was a special camping experience I decided to try it out. We cut a banana down the middle, stuffed it with pieces of Hersheys chocolate and peanut butter, and then wrapped it in tinfoil and put it in the fire. When it came out I am shocked to say it was amazing and I loved it. I would definitely recommend trying it sometime.

Man oh man this is really long and I'm really tired, so maybe I'll finish it later. If I don't I will tell you this: We talked around the campfire again and slept in our tents again, I took a prescription sleeping pill that was not my own, we got up the next morning, ate breakfast again, cleaned up again, packed up our stuff, some of us met at this cool pizza place for lunch, and then we came home and showered. Wow, this post could have been a lot shorter. Good job for those of you who made it this far!

Murder Mystery

2007-10-27T21:46:00.000-07:00

My Bible study has implemented something we call, Dinner for 8. This is a dinner where 8 random people from our very large Bible study all go to dinner together as an opportunity to get to know one another better. This Dinner for 8 actually turned out to be a dinner for 17. Two of the groups wound up coming together so we could play the murder mystery game. I have heard of these from my sister and some other friends that have done them, but I myself had never been involved with one before. I was excited to get my chance to see what it was all about, especially since we got to dress up in 1920s gear, which is one of my favorite decades. The hosts sent all the guests background information on their specified characters and then general information on all of the other characters. I had no idea it was going to be so detailed! My character's name was Rebbecca Ravioli, the daughter of the head of the Chicago mob, Don "Big Jim" Ravioli. And in my background information I found out I was going to be the murderer and I was going to kill my father. After reading this the party was starting to lose a little of its attraction. I'm not good at playing parts in front of large groups of people and I'm really not good at making a lie look convincing. I started to think about how awkward being someone who is not myself, that is a murderer, that can't let anyone know I was a murderer, would be. If you know me well you know I don't have the easiest time just being myself in larger groups, so I began to worry that pretending to be someone else would be ten times worse.

The beginning of the night was a little awkward as people were arriving. It was hard to transition from saying hi as our real selves to getting into our assumed characters. Our host Meme Wannabe officially began the evening by explaining the rules of the game and then all of us sprung into our characters full bore. It turned out to be a lot easier and more fun than I had imagined. Everyone was really good at playing their parts and really got into the game. After dinner the murder occurred and then everyone started to question each other about the clues different people knew from their secret packets they had received. They were trying to figure out the identity of the murderer. This part was interesting for me, as people I had an alliance with came up to me for tips on who the murderer could be. Lying turned out to be pretty easy because my character was supposed to be a pretty shady person so I just lied the way I thought she would have lied if she was real. No one really seemed to suspect me, which I was very surprised and happy about, but there was Scott, or should I say the Congressman. He knew it was me and I'm still not quite sure how. Whenever he would see me in the house he would make eye contact and say, "Guilty!" I tried to stay away from him so that his suspicions wouldn't affect the others.

Another murder took place during the evening. I didn't do the murdering this time, it was actually my newly ex-husband, Sly Sleaze (Joe) that had done the killing. Shortly after that the game came to a close and everyone filled out a paper that noted who was the suspected murderer, who was the best dressed, and who had done the best acting. We found out the results of the murder after all the cards were collected. There were of course cries of shock and horror and then everyone talked about who they had guessed and why; it was very fun. We all had dessert as our normal selves. It was very relaxing just to be Emily again and to take off my hat and other uncomfortable costume items. We hung out for awhile afterwards and ended with a very fitting game of mafia.

So if you have the chance to play Murder Mystery, do it! Even if you think it might be awkward, it's fun, and believe me it is a little awkward. And a little awkward never hurt anyone, in fact I would venture to say it is good to have a little awkward in your life.

Cold Turkey

2007-10-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

I don't know what all of you think of street/campus/door to door evangelism, but I have always been scared out of my mind to do it. I have done a couple of campus evangelism outreaches and been to USC Medical Center to share the gospel. Each time I have had high hopes of sharing the gospel with unbelievers with boldness and joy. Sadly this was never the case. On these evangelism excurrsions one always gets paired up with someone else. I always seemed to get paired with someone who is much more comfortable in sharing the gospel than me, and I would sit back and let them take care of business while I twiddled my thumbs in the background. I have been constantly convicted by this fear in my life. Evangelism is the one thing we can do on earth that we won't be able to do once we get to heaven, and it is the last thing Jesus commanded His followers to do while He was still in the flesh. "Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Mat. 28:19, 20. I have known this truth for a long time and yet I remained disobedient because of fear and a sense of hopelessness. It felt similar to how I felt about being baptized. I know I was commanded to do it in the Bible, and yet I was just too afraid to go in front of so many people and share my testimony. I think back now and think of how much more scary it should have been to me that I was disobeying my Heavenly Father.

Anyways, Outreach Week was this past week at Master's. For those of you don't know what Outreach Week is, it is when a group of college students from Master's go to different churches in the area and do whatever is needed. This year I went to Grace Baptist Church of Wilmington. I knew before I started out on the trip that we were supposed to be doing campus evangelism and small work projects around the church. This didn't bother me too much because I just assumed I would participate in my normal routine of standing next to someone while they shared the gospel. This is my senior year and I was the only senior on this team of people from Master's; I began to realize that I had no excuse to stand behind someone and let them do the talking. I saw that some of the girls in my group would need a leader in this because they were even less bold than myself. I started to feel a little panicky because I was being put in a position I didn't feel I was ready for. We finally arrived at Harbor College, a community college about ten minutes from the church. We had tracts to go through with people and informational cards about the church to hand out. As I stepped onto the campus and saw all the students walking around I thought about all of the people that were probably on there way to hell and suddenly I wasn't as afraid anymore. This change in me can only be attributed to the power of God in my life. He needed people to step up that day and share the gospel and He chose me. After the fact I realized how it truly is the work of God to save souls. We are His tools, yes, but He is still the one that gives the tools the ability and courage to speak. Nothing I have within me apart from Christ could have spoken up to complete strangers about the gospel. As I walked away from every person I spoke with about Christ I had a peace because I knew that it is God who works in the hearts of unbelievers and all I can do is tell them the message and pray; it is God who changes hearts.

Most of you reading this are probably far beyond me in your boldness in evangelism. But if this post can be of any encouragement I hope it is in this way. I have prayed and prayed and struggled and struggled to obey God in this area of my life and I reached a point where I never thought I would get over my fear and selfishness. With any other sin I needed to die to myself and turn this area of life over to God, but it was so hard. God is so much greater than us, and even if we think we are a lost cause and completely useless-we are, but through Christ we are slaves to sin no more and have the ability to battle the sin in our lives. So if there is a sin or a fear bogging you down in your Christian walk, don't give up. Keep fighting and our loving Lord will be faithful and gracious.

Nicknames

2007-08-29T14:28:00.000-07:00

My sister has been complaining about my lack of posts, so this one's for you Amanda!

As I have gone through the long process of having a broken ankle, and being on month three I promise it has been long, I have noticed that the major way people respond to my broken state is nicknames. I don't know if I can even recall all of the names I have been called because there have been so many, but I will give it a go... there has been "gimpy" and "hopalong" I think these are the two favorites at this point. The first few times I heard them I would give a good natured chuckle, but after the 10th or 11th person started using them I have realized how very unoriginal these people are in their mocking. My mom first called me "click clack" because of the sound my crutches made on the floor, this was just plain mean, it made me feel like some old and no longer useful robot. Thankfully that one didn't last long. She also called my "hoppity" for a short time, only my mom could get away with calling me such a bunny rabbit like name. Since I have transitioned away from my cast and crutches, I get a lot of new names with the boot. Having a large boot on my leg has of course changed the normal way in which I would walk, so the mocking has continued. There are the unoriginal people who continue to call me "hopalong" even though the idea of hopping is absolutely out of the question with such a heavy addition. During welcome week for the new students at Master's I had some freshmen in my group who thought they were very clever in coming up with names such as "heavy step" and "lead foot". I have to admit "heavy step" is pretty good, not only is it accurate, it sounds pretty cool. One of my favorite nicknames has to be from my good friend Amber. She started to refer to my boot as "booty". I was walking in front of her one day, doing my best to get around at a semi-normal speed, despite my limp, and she calls out to me, "Work that booty!" Anyway, I was confused at first, but she was in fact referring to my boot. If you know Amber she is not the type throw out phrases like that.

Finally, the last nickname I can recall is having to do with my leg and ankle when it is out of its boot. During the first few weeks it was not a pretty sight to see my leg outside of the boot, my ankle was still quite swollen and my calf muscle was significantly shrunken compared to my other leg. It looks much better now, I still have my gnarly scars on either side of my ankle, but the swelling is almost gone, but my calf muscle refuses to grow back. So I was taking my boot off to go to sleep in my dorm room and my roommate and my friend Michelle were in the room and they both wanted to make comments on what my leg and ankle looked like to them. Megan my roommate says I have an "old lady leg" and Michelle automatically went with the "kankle" comment. Needless to say I will not allow them to look upon my poor leg often.

I was telling my roommate the other day that I have a new relationship to my right foot. Every night I take it out of its boot and I have to put lotion on it and I spend quite a bit of time purusing how my scars are looking, whether they have faded at all. Now I have the added duty to exercise it every night. Strangely enough I have begun to look at my ankle and foot as not just another part of my body, but as a poor little weak friend. I think my roommate has noticed this, the other night we were talking and I was holding my ankle with both of my hands. She asked if I didn't have the ability to hold my ankle up on its own or if I could move it by itself. I told her I could, but I like to hold it for some reason. So anyway, as weird as that is, it is the truth. And this post needs to end because I am getting to the point of being to honest and open, blame Amanda for this post.

Sorry I write so much about my ankle, but it is still the most notable and unique part of my life at the moment.

A Wonderful Injury

2007-07-26T14:54:00.000-07:00

About four weeks ago I was thinking my broken ankle might stand between me and my trip to South Africa. I questioned God and why He decided to allow me to break my ankle right before my missions trip. He wound up being incredibly gracious to me like always, and healed my incisions from my surgery quickly. The doctor put my cast on and told me that I could go on my trip to South Africa that was two days after this appointment. I was so excited to be able to go, but then my sinful heart started to worry over many things. I began to wonder whether or not I would actually be able to serve in a useful way, I worried about the flight over - what if I got a blood clot, I worried about too many things that I was not willing to turn over to the Lord in the time before the trip. I arrived at the airport and saw all of my teammates walking on two legs with their luggage, and then there was me and my crutches, my dad lugging all my stuff. I already started to feel useless and that I would be nothing but a hindrance. Immediately after this I worried about the flight, one of the airport people said that the plane was too full to get me a better seat with more room to put my foot up. My doctor had wanted me to be able to elevate my foot for the flight and this looked like an impossibility. Again, the Lord had to show me that His ways are higher than mine, and His thoughts are higher than my thoughts. On the first five hour flight He put me in a seat right behind two of my team members and beside my sister. Because of this seat I could put my foot up between the headrests of my two teammates, something I couldn't have done if they were strangers. In the second flight that was 15 hours I was really nervous, what if I had to have my foot down for so long, I thought I would for sure get a blood clot. The flight was empty enough that I was able to move to a seat that had to other open seats next to it, so the whole flight I had my foot elevated and a nice place to sleep. God is just so good to me and He is faithful to meet needs!

We landed in Durban and my first set of fears was at an end; I had survived without a blood clot. Now I just had to figure out a way to actually be of use to my teammates and the church we had come to serve. It was helpful when my teammates and the pastor we were visiting were already cracking jokes like, "Emily, why don't you get that suitcase." Thankfully God was already starting to teach me that I could not rely on myself to do anything. The first major activity we did on the trip was go on a retreat with the college group of the church for three days. The retreat was amazing because the people were wonderful! And through this first part of the trip the Lord was already showing me how He wanted to use me. I got to have so many great conversations and just get to know the people. There were many times I had to sit out of games or hikes, but this gave me the opportunity to focus on who I could talk to or who I could pray for. Normally I am wanting to be involved in everything, especially athletic events. The Lord forced me into humility in having to deny those desires to show off which was so good for me. Something I also realized that was good about my crippled state was giving others the opportunity to serve me. My friend Michelle truly showed the love of Christ in how she served me every moment. And there were so many others from my team and from the church that were constantly seeking out ways to help me. I know the Lord was glorified in that.

Another cool thing that happened on the trip, well it wasn't exactly cool, but it was kind of ironic. The Junior High leader was on the trip and they all went on a hike and he sprained his right ankle really bad. He hurt it so bad that he could not get around at first without crutches, and I just happened to have some of those. For a few days we shared my crutches, and if I hadn't had a broken ankle he would have had to hop around on one foot. I just thought it was cool to see the little ways God reveals to you how He uses the things you can't understand.

While he was sanctifying me on this trip he was using my sanctification to encourage and sanctify others. And when I think of my own heart and how much I struggled with selfishness and feeling sorry for myself I am amazed at how the Lord used my actions and my presence in South Africa to point to Christ. Only Jesus working through me could have caused any of this to be.

I was so blessed on this trip, more than any other missions trip that I have ever been on, because God not only used our team to encourage and lift up the body of Christ, but He grew me so much and He showed me how in control of every little detail He is. The only way I survived that trip and loved it so much was knowing God had planned it ahead of time for His glory and my good. And He was so good to reveal to me many of the reasons. I made so many wonderful, strong friendships and I learned so much from the Zulu people and their love for God and for eachother. It is amazing to see how far the arm of Christ reaches. I was as far away from Los Angeles, California as I could have been, and yet I saw the same love for Christ in the people there that I see at home. I love the bond of Christ!

The Ankle

2007-06-22T00:23:00.001-07:00

Ok, so it has been a pretty long time since I last posted anything on this; I was waiting for something interesting to write about. So Wednesday night something happened that has inspired me.

I wonder if any of you have ever experienced a moment where it feels as if you are a character in a movie? Wednesday night I went to go play baseball with a group of people from church. I was very excited to have another chance to play some ball when I haven't played for such a long time, so I went out there ready to play my socks off. The game began and I was a part of the "visiting" team, so we were up to bat first. I was the first batter and I got on first base. The next batter hit a solid double and as I rounded second I was having hopes of being our first score. I didn't think I would have to slide in order to be safe on third so I came in ready to stand up on the base. The bases were our own, temporary bases, so they weren't attached to the ground. As I ran for the base, slightly slowing before I came to it, I stepped on the bag and it slid away and my foot rolled. As I started to fall down I thought to myself, great, now I'm going to look stupid and fall in front of everyone, the usual clutz. But as I heard the pop right before I hit the ground I realized I was in for something a little worse. My hands immediately went for my ankle where the pop had come from. I grabbed my foot with one hand and the lower back of my shin with the other hand, this is when I realized that my hands were at an angle, which meant my foot was no longer lined up properly with the rest of my leg. I looked at my third base coach, who was looking quite concerned at this point, and I muttered, "This is not right." My friend Caitie confirmed this saying, "It looks bent, I don't think it should look like that." Two guys from my Bible study then came over to me and assisted me to the bleachers, as they lifted me off the ground and my feet were dangling I heard the awful popping sound again, I think at this point it had straightened out.

Whenever I have broken a bone in the past, and there have been more broken bones than I care to admit to, I have immediately felt light headed and woozy. I have talked to some people about this and they say it is a mixture of the shock and the pain; my friend Michelle says I feel faint because I stop breathing in preventing myself from crying. Whichever the cause may be, I definitely felt faint that night. As the boys sat me down on the bleachers I asked for some water, hoping that might revive me somewhat. Someone brought some water over to me and I started to drink some, but the wooziness did not go away, so I leaned back on Michelle, thinking that fully lying down would help me. The next thing I knew I was looking up into Michelle's face, who looked very worried, urging me to drink more water, my friend Tabby was mopping my face with ice water, and my friend Cat was stroking my hand. Michelle acted like something was wrong and I was like, what's up, I'm fine. She then told me that I had passed out for about 30 seconds. Woops! Then I heard something that did not make me happy, someone said, "the ambulance should be here soon." Ambulance, ambulance! I turned to Michelle again, "tell me they didn't call me an ambulance." She replied, "you really freaked everybody out when you fainted." I did not want an ambulance, this evening had already been embarrasing enough as it was. I looked over at Tabby and she was like, "Emily, you will probably have some really cute peremedic guys." Cute peremedic guys are all well and good, but not when I'm lying on a metal bleacher with ice water all over my shirt, messed up hair, and probably a very white face. But when the sirens came, and about seven men came out of the fire engine and peremedic vehicle, I was surprised, they really were all good looking, I thought that was just a stereotype.

One of them took my blood pressure, another asked me all of the usual questions, like what's your name, address, age... and so on. A few of the others delt with my ankle, this is where most of my attention was focused. Before these men had arrived, my friend Patrick had been genlty icing it with a concerned expression, I didn't mind that. But these guys were all business, and I was afraid of the pain that could be caused in removing my shoe and sock, thankfully they know what they are doing and it didn't really hurt. They looked at it and one of them said that it looked like a sprain. I had a mixture of feelings when I heard this, I didn't want to be laid up with a broken ankle for a long time, but at the same time, I didn't want to have caused all this hulla balloo and only have a sprained ankle. They packed this bright orance stuff around my leg and then lifted me onto the stretcher. They then wheeled me away to the ambulance. This was the part that truly felt like it was out of a movie, as I waved stupidly to all of the people that had been watching the whole ordeal take place. They loaded me on the ambulance and as I looked up around I started smiling. God, you are really funny sometimes. My initial plan for that day was to go to a lady's house from my Bible study and watch Dreamgirls, but no this is what God had for me instead.

As I now sit here on my couch, with my ankle elevated and crutches by my side, awaiting my first ever surgery on Monday; I wonder why exactly God chose for me to break my ankle in three places, but I do know there is a reason and it is what He has planned for me from the beginning, so it is ok. He already has shown His grace in allowing me to still be able to go to my missions trip to South Africa in two weeks. Who knows, maybe my broken ankle will be a conversation starter and a ready way to share the gospel while I am there; that would make it all worth it to me.

And I got my sister to give me really funky, fun, toenail polish.

The Surprise

2007-05-24T09:10:00.000-07:00

My birthday started out just as any normal birthday would start. I got out of bed at 7am a little bit more alert and happy than usual. I walked out my door and saw that my roommate had decorated the outside of it with streamers and a little sign. This is something we do in the dorms that she brought to use in our home, it was very sweet. I then went to work, ready to face my 8 hours of servitude and then have some celebration fun with my family. When I got to work my boss was in the process of putting up the "happy bipthday" sign, and no this is not a spelling error on my part, the banner that she bought actually spells out bipthday. She then took me out to Starbucks which was very nice of her, I of course got a caramel machiato, my favorite hot drink. The rest of the day was pretty normal, accept for the fact that my friend Michelle took me out to lunch at Stonefire, yummm. I say all this is normal, not to take away from the specialness of what these people did, but none of it was unexpected on this day. She gave me a present and then I went back to work. Another co-worker had left a special birthday burrito in front of my computer, with a little pink candle stuck in the middle. I laughed and laughed and then stuck it in the fridge to save for the next day. I promised I would eat it. Of course I didn't and he still hasn't truly forgiven me.

So that was the work side of my birthday. Right after work, me and my wonderful roommate raced over to the nail forum where my sister was waiting for us. Our appointment was at 5:15 and we got there just in time. Getting my nails done is always an interesting experience because I have pretty rough looking feet. The last time I got a pedicure I had this big scab on the top of my foot because of a dodge ball injury. I was playing barefoot and a boy threw the ball so hard that is burned the top layer of my skin off. I remember the look on the little Asian lady's face as she did her best not to touch the area and didn't hide her look of disgust. Thankfully my feet weren't quite as bad this time and the lady was much sweeter. Amanda had gotten money from my mom to get our nails done and she was going to use some of her money so she decided we should get our hands and feet done. Amanda then told me that we might even have enough money to get a special hand moisture procedure. As they brought over a weird contraption and stuck her hand in hot wax, she decided we most likely did not have enough money to afford such masochistic treatments. It was hard for her to deal with the little Vietnamese ladies, she couldn't understand what they were saying most of the time and felt guilty telling them we couldn't afford the wax treatment. The lady looked a little miffed when she violently pulled the hot wax that had just formed to my sister's burnt hand. We wound up only being able to give them a 7 dollar tip, which I blame totally on Amanda.

After this long process we came out with good looking nails, despite our poor tip and we made our way to TGI Fridays where we met up with our parents to have dinner and drinks. (Make of this what you will.) It was fun and amusing in many ways which I will not go into because this post is already far too long for anyone to have a good time reading it. Amanda decided that it would be fun to rent some movies. So Amanda and Dany and I went to Blockbuster while my mom and dad went home. We got "Stranger than Fiction" and "Freedom Writers" both movies I had been wanting to see. We went up to rent them and Amanda abruptly said that she would just leave now. She was driving her own car. This was funny because the Blockbuster people thought they had done something to offend her. After Dany and I chuckled and set them straight, we got back in my car and drove home. I walked up to my door looking forward to my mom's ice cream cake, opening my presents, and watching "Stranger than Fiction". I opened the door, "SURPRISE!"

This being my first surprise party, I was utterly taken aback with surprise and confusion. At first I didn't even know what was going on. I saw blurs on my front stairs and then I saw a red balloon and Nathan Hardy. Why is Nathan Hardy at my house? I thought to myself. Then I looked around the rest of my house and realized that a lot of people I love were filling up my house. Weird, is all I can say. I stood in front of my open door awkwardly for awhile not knowing what to do until my friend Michelle came and gave me a hug. Good i know what to do with a hug. I got into my house after hugging many friends and they had set up the "queen" chair for me. My face was already flushed and red, but when I had to sit in the chair and watch a pieced together film of "Emily: the young years" I could tell the heat of my face was giving me a tomato glow. It was a very funny video and my family was so cute to put it together. After this being the center of attention didn't stop. I had to read a lot of little papers people had used to write little remembrances with me, or made up remembrances of me (Jonathan and Nathan). I had to guess which story went with which person; it was pretty funny. Then we just talked and ate really hard ice cream cake and it was amazing.

Having someone throw you a party is a humbling experience. I feel so unworthy of all the wonderful friends I have and my wonderful family and yet God gave them all to me and I am writing this mainly so I won't forget this great day and all the great people who were a part of it.

The Puritans know their stuff

2007-05-01T11:55:00.000-07:00

Resting on God
"O God, most high, most glorious, the thought of Thine infinite serenity cheers me, for I am toiling and moiling, troubled and distressed, but Thou art for ever at perfect peace. Thy designs cause thee no fear or care of unfulfilment, they stand fast as the eternal hills. Thy power knows no bond, Thy goodness no stint. Thou bringest order out of confusion, and my defeats are Thy victories: The Lord God omnipotent reigneth.
I come to Thee as a sinner with cares and sorrows, to leave every concern entirely to Thee, every sin calling for Christ's precious blood; revive deep spirituality in my heart; let me live near to the great Shepherd, hear His voice, know its tones, follow its calls. Keep me from deception by causing me to abide in the truth, from harm by helping me to walk in the power of the Spirit. Give me intenser faith in the eternal verities, burning into me by experience the things I know; Let me never be ashamed of the truth of the gospel, that I may bear its reproach, vindicate it, see Jesus as its essence, know in it the power of the Spirit.
Lord, help me, for I am often lukewarm and chill; unbelief mars my confidence, sin makes me forget Thee. Let the weeds that grow in my soul be cut at their roots; grant me to know that I truly live only when I live to Thee, that all else is trifling. Thy presence alone can make me holy, devout, strong and happy. Abide in me, gracious God. "

There is pretty much nothing else I can say to that accept, amen and amen!

Workshops

2007-04-27T11:43:00.001-07:00

Alright, so imagine a room full or your peers, a somewhat intimidating professor, and your work of art on the table before them. For a half an hour, your paper and your very livelyhood is in their hands. This is what a workshop in one of the print media courses at my school is like. For three years now I have undergone this stressful situation willingly, even though it is entirely against every fiber of my personality. I love to write and to write creatively, but having smarter and more capable people read and critique your amateurish work is horrifying.

Today is my second workshop day of the semester, which also means the last one of the semester, thank goodness! Everytime I have a workshop, inexplicably, my stomach gets queasy. The first time this happened I thought it was just a normal stomach ache and nothing more. But the sec0nd time I had a workshop and had a stomach ache all day, until my workshop was over I knew that their were darker forces at work, inflicting this pain. It is rather embarrasing to admit how greatly I am controlled by the opinions of others. On my own I can be perfectly happy with my writing or unhappy with it, but it will not cause me to physically shut down. But even being faced with the possibility of the shame and humiliation that might come upon me I totally lose it.

This is how a typical workshop will go. I will come into class with my friend Michelle, who has usually written her workshop paper for the same day. Without fail our teacher, Dr. Simons, will make a comment about us being the "bobsy twins" and how we are going to be the death of him. He will usually make a comment about one or both of the papers before class officially begins. Usually you can gain some sort of revelation of what your fate will be from his opening reaction. If he looks at you and shakes his head and says, "fatal flaw", you might as well pack your bags and leave, because it is all over for you. If he jokes about some part of your paper, and he seems to think something is really funny, you will most likely be good to go. Then comes the guessing game. Whose paper will he read first, and does that have any implication of how he liked your story versus the other one? If he chooses my paper first, does that mean he wants to get it over with first because he hated it so much; or does he want to read it first because he wants to make sure he will have enough time to focus on the many poignant issues raised in your paper? He seems to usually choose mine to read first, so hopefully it is the latter. Sometimes the workshop will begin with him reading directly from your paper, again this could either be bad or good. He might read from it because he likes it so much and he thinks the writing speaks for itself, or he might read it because he can think of nothing positive to say and he wants to put off the bad news for as long as he can. Hopefully the former. Dr. Simons will then say something like, "tick-tock" meaning he wants the students to say some things before the time runs out. Dr. Simons gives participation points in his class, and the only time he really counts them is on Fridays during workshop. So those that are nervous or concerned about their grades are quick to speak up. The critiques will usually start out nice, "I thought she had good descriptions" or "The topic of her story was very universal." In attending a Christian school I appreciate the "encourage one another" mentality. But after the firt few encouraging comments the real stuff starts up. And if Dr. Simons starts asking the students to tell him what the "fatal flaw" was you are really dead. If he straight up tells you what the fatal flaw is the embarrasment is not quite as bad, but when he asks the class, you recieve a wide range of ideas of why my paper is so crappy. After he tells a number of people, "Well yes that is true, but not what I was looking for." He will come out with it and then the pain is over and he hands you your paper back and he says, "It was pretty good." Again the kind Christian response, that does not really hold any value to the one who has just been ripped apart.

After one of these sessions I seriously begin to wonder why I am a communications major and have a desire to have a job in some sort of writing profession. I have gone back and forth in thinking realistically about my future and what I could possibly be good enough to succeed in, and I begin to panic, because nothing much seems possible to me. I was talking to a friend about this and she reminded me that I do not have to be great at anything on this earth, at least in the professional world. I can live the life I was meant to live if I live it fully for the glory of God. Even if I wind up being a secretary or a salesperson or a waitress I will still have my salvation and I know that my ultimate job on this earth is to bring glory to God by making disciples. Obviously there is a lot to think about in this and I am still overwhelmed by questions about my future. But my future in eternity is settled and that is so much more important, and it gives me hope for my present future on this earth.

The Laughing Game

2007-04-08T22:29:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anyone does this, or if it is something my crazy family has made up. But the laughing game has been a way to deal with many moments of boredom for my sister, my cousin, and myself. When we were younger many things would bore us, sitting in the car for long periods of time, waiting at the doctor's office, or just running out of things to do some random day of hanging out. Then someone would come up with the brilliant plan of playing the laughing game. The rules are quite simple for this genius diversion. One person does every crazy thing imaginable to try and get the other person in the game to laugh, while that person tries to sit stoically and uninterested for as long as possible without bursting out in laughter. On some of our off days when we would have a harder time getting the person to laugh, we would count any smiles in addition to laughter as losing the game. What is so great about this game, is that the person does not even have to be funny. Once your job is to not laugh, the one thing you want to do and have to do is laugh. We would take forever to catch our breath in between game rounds because we would make each other laugh with our laughter about nothing. All my cousin, Jeremy has to do is point to his nostril and say "boogah" in a funny voice and with a funny face and it is all over for me. Anyone watching, not understanding the game would think we were a bunch of crazy people. My sister and I have gotten into such laugh attacks in awkward public places it is not even funny. So, if you are ever bored and have a funny friend, or any friend around, play the laughing game. If you're the right kind of person you won't be dissappointed.

The Lemonade Diet

2007-03-01T23:25:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's true, for six days now I have been under the influence of crazy health nuts, doing the lemonade diet. For those of you who do not know this diet is supposed to be a detox diet, meaning a diet to clean out your insides from all of the toxins, supposedly. The diet nuts all swear by it, but most normal people scoff at the whole idea. I was once one of those scoffers. One of my friends told me that she was doing and described what it include. I was horrified. She told me that every morning she would drink 32 ounces of salt water, yuck; throughout the day she would drink a mixture of water, lemon juice, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper 6 to 12 8 ounce glasses a day; and then drink a laxitave tea at night. I looked at my very normal friend and wondered how it was possible for a sensible person to think that this could possibly be done. But here I am, about two weeks after I swore I would never do that crazy of a diet thing, at the end of the diet. I only have one more day and then the first day off the diet I get to drink nothing but orange juice. Coming off the diet needs to be a slow process to avoid certain unpleasantries. Why, you may wonder would I have ever given into something I was so against in the first place? Let me attempt to explain. I enjoy food, probably way too much, and thus I have a little more padding than I would desire. So I have to admit that the idea of losing 10 pounds in about seven days helped quite a bit for me to get into this diet. But don't think I am that naive, I do realize that most of the weight loss is water weight, so there were other motives as well. I wonder if any of you have ever tried to cut back on your food intake, diet if you will. Well I have tried many times, and let me tell you I am not a dieter. I hate to cut out any food because I love it all, but it is good for your health and for the sake of self-control and discipline. I happen to be a very competitive person, so I have to comply that a major reason for me starting this diet and continuing with it until the end, is because I like the challenge. I wanted to do something that nobody else, including myself, thought I could do. So there you have it, mostly for prideful reasons have I done this diet.

Looking back now, as tomorrow will be my last day on the diet, I can say that there have been some valuable lessons I have taken away from this diet. I have lost some weight which is cool, but I don't doubt that it will shortly return to me; I feel healthy, but I don't normally feel unhealthy. The main things that have actually changed, and that I hope will be a lasting change is my attitude towards certain things. It has been so good to practice self-control, it is so hard for me to say no to good foods, especially sweets. But this week I have said no to everything, and it is possible. So often I lose the battle to my desires. My eyes and my tongue say yum, so I go for it. It has been really cool to see that it is possible to say no and that I can have more self-control if I really try. Another thing I have learned is to not take food for granted. The Lord in His great kindness and love for us blesses us with so many things that He has created for our enjoyment. He has also created things purely because we need them. But food is a category that comes under both of those things. Not only does He sustain us with food, but He has given us variety and tasty treats to enjoy. So often I think about enjoying my food, but I forget who has given it to me to enjoy. What a great God we have that is so involved with every detail of our lives, that He even cares about whether or not we enjoy the source of energy that keeps us alive. He could have seen fit to provide us with pills that would give us every nutrient and vitamin we would need to get us through the day, but instead he created a huge menu of foods for us that we can enjoy. I just think that is so cool. And being without food for so long really makes you think about it; and I think it is ok to enjoy food, obviously it needs to be enjoyed in moderation, but if I eat food and I can give thanks and glory to God then that is awesome. "In everything give thanks." "Whether you eat or drink do all to the glory of God."

The Haircut

2007-02-09T22:23:00.000-08:00

If you know me, you know that getting a haircut is a big deal because it rarely takes place. What takes place even less is me getting a salon type haircut, in fact it has only happened once and that was today. I have to admit that I told a lot of people beforehand which is kind of weird I know, but when I get nervous and excited about something I have to tell people about it. I think it is one of the funniest things that you go to a place where you want a simple but sophisticated haircut and the people that cut your hair have the strangest kind of hair that you could possibly imagine. I came into the salon and the woman at the desk had rainbow hair. At that moment I was thinking, I am going to let someone with that kind of style sense do my hair. in all honesty I envy their bravery in doing those things, I would never have the guts. As I was getting my hair cut, one of the hair dressers had decided to cut her own hair and color it. It was really short hair and dark black, but there was this one little section in the front on one side that was a bright, vibrant orange, and she had decided that it would be a good idea to shave off little sections of the orange part. It looked like someone had taken a bite out of her head or something. And then, my very nice and lovely hair dresser asked her to show me the hair. I was suddenly caught by, what in the world was I going to say. I was a little terror stricken by the haircut, and I was a little scared of the person who had decided to do that to herself. I cannot remember the wording I used anymore, but it was something like, Wow, I would never have the guts to do that. She probably took this as a compliment looking at a little goodie goodie like me, only getting layers and no color whatsoever.

It was cool, the girl doing my hair actually had gone to high school with me and we both recognized each other. We weren't friends or anything, the school was too big to be friends with everyone, but it was nice to have a connection with her. She was really nice and friendly and she did a great job on my hair. Before I had gone I was so excited about the process of getting pampered and everything, but I wound up thinking about how I could witness to this girl. I had not prepared for it and I was stuck with my fear of man and feelings of inadequacy. It was so frustrating. Here the Lord had given me this girl that I already had a connection with and I could think of no way to comfortably bring up the subject of the gospel. The problem with me is that I try to wait until it's comfortable instead of just going for it no matter how awkward it is. Now, looking back on it all I can do is hope I get another opportunity to get her as my hairdresser and press on and hope that the Lord will grant me boldness and selflessness. Oh that my heart would be set on Him and on the cross. If it was I would not hesitate to share Him with everyone around me, I would shout it from the rooftops.

So that was my experience with my haircut. It turned out to be a disappointment, not because my hair turned out wrong, I love the hair, but because I was unfaithful with my calling as a believer and a lover of Christ. I hope this will be encouraging to the reader, that you would not hesitate like me at these same opportunities. And make sure you are praying for opportunities and boldness. I need to trust that if I truly desire to obey Him and please Him and have a burden for the lost He will give me the strength to get past my self.

The Book

2006-11-02T23:08:00.000-08:00

Alright, so I have this class that I love, my English novel class, where we read English novels and discuss them, go figure. So this week I have had the large of task of reading a book called Middlemarch which just happens to be 840 pages. Granted, I should have started to read this book a lot earlier, but I have honestly not had any time. So I went into this week knowing that there would be many late nights, me and my friend even pulled an almost all nighter (we slept for two hours). I am at the point in my college life where I cannot cope with late nights, my body will not let me stay up past 2 am, there is an invisible brick wall that I hit and I can't concentrate on anything, this is not good at all when I needed to read numerous (meaning hundreds) pages of this book every night. So I have tried my best to make it to 2 am every night this week. We were supposed to have the book done by Wednesday at midnight, but in my class on Tuesday she extended it until Thursday at midnight. This was a wonderful thing, this way I could break up 300 pages more of reading into two days of 150 pages. On Wednesday I killed myself to get the 150 pages done because I didn't want to be stuck with 200 or more for Thursday and then not make the deadline. So I stayed up until 3:45 am. Ridiculous, I have been a walking zombie all week. But hey, I got my 150 pages done so it was all worthwhile, or so I thought. In my class today, Thursday, my teacher extends the date yet again, not just till Friday, but she extends it to the 7th! Most of the class was overjoyed with this news, whereas I felt bitter and cheated. A week of my life and sleep had just passed me by and for no purpose. So that is my sadness of the day, and now I am probably going to be stupid and put off my 150 pages of reading for the 7th instead of getting a little bit done at a time. I make my life difficult.

An Amazing Week

2006-10-20T01:37:00.000-07:00

I had the immense pleasure to be able to be a part of the stm team that helped out with the Missionary Conference this year. It was so fun to get to meet a lot of neat missionary families and to be able to spend time with their kids. Part of the job for the stm team was to prepare far in advance for this conference, we wanted to make sure everything was as great as it could be for the kids. Within this preparation all of the team members find out what age group they are going to be working with so that they can prepare their different Bible lessons, crafts, etc. I got put with the 3 and 4 year olds. My only experience with this age group on a mass level is the few times I have done nursery duty at church. These times have included being bit, clawed, drooled on, and more of that sort. So when I first found out this was going to be my job for a full week I got a little nervous. But being a good stmer I was going to do whatever I was given with a happy heart, at least in theory. And my heart was changed by these group of kids. I loved them all so much. Even though there was some drooling and runny noses, these kids were so sweet and cute. I couldn't get enough of them sitting in my lap and them wanting me to hold them. There was no way I could say no to their sweet little outstretched arms. One of my favorite little girls, Lydia Borisuk, was attached to me constantly, and by the end of the week had my name down, Emily Taylow she would call me. It is so cute when they can't pronounce their r's. Then there was Amy Biedebach, oh my goodness, she had the coolest South African accent and she was just so funny. Whenever she spoke I wanted her just to keep going. If I could mimic her in writing I would, but it wouldn't do her justice. Anyway, that is just a small taste of the joy of being with those kids.

A huge part of the blessing of being at the conference was being able to observe the missionaries. Watching them speak to one another and be encouraged by one another, watching them interact with their kids, listening to them talk about their ministries, it was so amazing. To know that these are regular people chosen by God to sacrifice their lives and their comfort to spread the gospel is so encouraging and so humbling. It makes me look at my life and evaluate what I'm doing that is of real value. They were such an amazing testimony and encouragement to me, how refreshing to remeber the clearness of our purpose on this Earth, to make disciples.

I will put a picture on here when I figure out how to turn my camera back on.

To the Void

2006-07-14T09:02:00.000-07:00

So even though I am realizing that there is not one solitary person who is reading this blog I am still going to write in it. Pathetic I know, but what else can I do. One of my rituals when going on to the computer is to check my blog to get a laugh, I look at the little 0 next the word comments and I realize the true patheticness of my so called blog. But oh well, I keep trying.

So I thought I might give a little update about the vacation my family and I went on not too long ago. Me, my sister, my mom and dad, and my grandma all went on a family trip together. This combination always forms an interesting dynamic. Things started out well. We left at the desired time from our house, miracle of miracles. We got to the flyaway, made it in time for our desired departure on the bus, and got to LAX 2 hours before our plane was leaving. Everything was smooth and perfect. Isn't that the best time to lower the boom on someone? And the boom was lowered on us. The line for United was never ending. We started out the line, not even techniquely in the line. You know the snake thing, we were well outside of it. But whatever, we didn't care, we were there 2 hours early so everything would be fine. When we had been in the line for and hour and fifteen minutes things weren't so funny any more, panic settled in. My dad, my mom, and my grandma were freaking out, while Amanda and I tried to maintain anonimity in the situation. Then the talk started, you know when there are many people annoyed by the same bad situation and one person starts talking about it and then everyone winds up getting more frustrated at the situation and everyone complains at once, well that is what happened. We finally got pulled out of line and put in a shorter line, but everyone that was in front of us in the shorter line were people like us, people that were going to miss their flight and were being put on other flights, so that took a long time. Anyway, we got up to the front of the line with fifteen minutes to spare, and what with security and other such things there was not possible way we would make our flight. We then found out that the next flight to Chicago was only an hour after our first flight, so everyone was happy again.

This happiness continued throughout another, not so pleasant situation because we were just so happy to be getting on our flight. We were going through security, taking off our shoes, taking off our jackets, ready to go through the metal detectors, when all of a sudden I found myself being ushered into a kind of plastic box. As I was looking out of my clear prison I saw my dad being frisked by one of the security people. I was baffled, why in the world was my family, the short Taylor's being frisked? They let me out of my cage, they took me to the spot where my feet were to go over footprints on a big mat and I spread um. That was awkward, but not too bad, it was rather comical to me, it just seemed like this day couldn't get any more weird.

After we all had a good laugh about our criminal like search we waited for our next flight to depart. Being a family that has never missed a flight before we were unaware of the pattern of events that followed. Apparently when you miss a flight you are put on a stand by list, meaning if after the airline has been filled with all of the booked passengers there are still seats open, they fill it in with the stand by's. Being a family of five we did forsee the problem of getting a plane that would have five stand by seats available, so we missed that flight as well. At this point, my at times, very pessimistic family began to believe we would not get on a flight at all that day, at this point it was only 9:00am, but we did not rule out the possibility of having to go back home and cutting our vacation short. Well all that planning for going home and coming back the next day went out the window. We wound up getting on the very next flight at 10:30 ish, all five of us, praise the Lord.

So we are all relieved and relaxing on the plane, ready for take off, and ready for a vacations to start, when the captain's voice comes on the loudspeaker. "Well folks we're going to have to wait a bit, it seems that one of the secondary lights is malfunctioning so they need to check it out. But because it is a secondary light it will probably be defferable and we will be leaving very shortly." I didn't really have all that clear an idea of what defferable meant, but I did understand "we will be leaving shortly". So we were chillin in the plane, Amanda and I were keeping ourselved well entertained as usual when another announcement came over the loud speaker. "We still aren't sure about the light, it's still be checked out, but I'm sure it will be defferable, I'm almost positive we will be leaving any time now." Ok, it's all good, is what we were thinking, we could wait another 10 minutes. After that 10 minutes yet another announcement, "Well, the news I have is bad, it turns out that the light is not defferable." There's that dumb word again. "So it will take a little longer before we are able to get off, maybe an hour or more." At this point I didn't find this bad or sad it was just funny and I will tell you why. We finally wound up getting to Chicago, a little later than expected, but there just the same.

If you have been reading through this entire long winded, probably boring blog, congratulations you have made it to the better part, I hope. I was so struck by the fact that all the way through that almost comical chain of very irritating events, God was there in every single one and He was noting how each one of my family members reacted to it. It brings such a peace to know that God is in control of all things, He knew that we would make it to our destination but He decided to make it a bumpy trip. It is also humbling to look back and note that through a time of testing you failed. My family and I failed big time, our grumbling and complaining was a hindrance to our sancification and it was a bad testimony to everyone around us in line. I am so grateful that we have a forgiving God and that Christ has covered my sin, because my sin is great. When we finally arrived at our hotel I was reading Colossians 1:10-14 and it struck me and convicted me. What excuse do I have as a saved sinner to complain or be impatient or not show joy, I have no excuse at all. I am redeemed, what greater knowlege is there that brings such joy. I know it is a daily struggle, but if ever there is a trial or hardship in life, this brief life, think about your eternal life and your wonderful Savior who bought you with His blood, and then maybe the complaining will wain.

The New Job

2006-05-19T11:28:00.000-07:00

So, this is my fifth day of my first real job. Yes I know, how is it that I am twenty and have never had a real job before? I have done the usual babysitting, the curse of being a teenage girl in my personal opinion, and I have also worked for my dad. This work was done at my home anytime I wanted. Now for the first time in my life I have a job that stretches from 8:30 in the morning to 5:00 at night. I am grateful for it, truth be told. No longer am I sitting at home on my couch wondering about the insignificance of my existance. Now I work all day and feel much less like a sloth. This is what I hoped would be the case, I wanted to escape from the laziness and boredom of being at home along all day, and I desired to enter in to the exciting life of a working woman. I went into my first day excited and enthusiastic and I remained so until the third day of working. This is the day where my boss left me alone in the office with only two days of experience. Granted, she does not expect me to know how to do everything, but it is rather stressful dealing with people who do expect you to know how to do everything. Anyhow, today is Friday and thank goodness for that. Today I have run out of the normal office work that my boss had left for me, so the day has been dealing with a few people and answering a few phone calls, but the day has mostly revolved around playing spider solitaire and checking my email. Now I am aware of the reality of life in the workplace, at least the life of a lowly work study intern. All in all it is a pretty cool new experience, but who knows how I'll feel next week and the weeks to come.

Last Days of School

2006-05-11T09:57:00.000-07:00

So today is my last day of being at school. In the past, when I was in high school this was always a day of much rejoicing, but life at The Master's College is just a bit harder to say goodbye to. It is always a bitter sweet thing to leave school because of the friends that are going back home. You get used to the people you spend everyday with and it is weird to be separated from them for months at a time. The saddest part of all this is that many seniors that I know and am close friends with are graduating. Last year was different, I was not very close to anyone that was graduating, but this time it is my sister's class and I am good friends with a lot of her friends. But what can you do? It is just a good time to practice my emailing and telephoning skills which a highly lacking. As that as a preface to the pain of moving out I am now going to come to the physical pain of moving out. Every time May rolls around is another time I face the great move, trips and trips of heavy boxes and baskets to my car down a very awkward hill. Last year I nearly killed myself. I think that near death experience has scarred me, now the thought of going down that hill with boxes gives me the shivers. But I have to get out of here, I have no choice, and I have to bring all of my stuff with me. I wonder about the check out time, I realize that we need to leave this campus by a certain time, but why can't they say, you must leave by Friday and just leave it to us do that. Instead we have to think ahead and sign up for a specific sign out time. When I walk up to the sign out sheet on my RA's door I feel as if I am signing my life away. I am basically saying, ok, if I am not out by 5:30 on Thursday night I'm dead. If the room is not perfectly scrubbed, perfectly vacuumed, and all of my stuff not out of the dorm than I have to pay up. It is very stressful let me tell you. So I am thinking that I best get started. I only have 7 and a half hours left. Hopefully I will not fall in the concrete ditch again like last year.

Joy of English Literature

2006-05-10T09:53:00.000-07:00

Who knew that an English Literature class would completely rearrange my thinking, and not just thoughts about English Literature. Prof. Horner, one of the best professors to walk onto a college campus, opened my eyes to many wise truths. I wanted to share them with whoever will wind up reading this blog, because they have been so important in my life this semester. Many of you know of the "extra-Christian" types. Those that walk around in the proper attire, the proper manner, and with the proper speech, in other words, those that find their spirituality in adherance to the law. I find legalism in my own life and see it in the lives of so many other fellow believers and it is such a hindrance to our own walks and the influence we have on other people. "Likewise, my brothers, you also have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to Him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God. For while we were living in the flesh, our sinful passions, aroused by the law, were at work in our members to bear fruit for death. But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve not under the old written code but in the new life of the Spirit." (Rom. 7:4-6) The Christian life cannot be about staying away from all things "sinful", not that we should use this as an excuse to be of the world. The sin does not come from exterior things, but from within ourselves. So often we think that we just need to stay away from that temptation, to not even go near it, but that solves nothing, only the outward display of that sin. But does it fix the deeper issue? "Woe to the world for temptations to sin. For it is necessary that temptations came, but woe to the one by whom the temptation comes." (Mat. 18:7) Sin resides in the hearts of all men, trying to protect the innocence we don't have will only hinder our walk. "And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience--among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature chidren of wrath, like the rest of mankind." (Eph. 2:1-3) Christians are refined by trial and tribulations and by resisting temptations, not from hiding from them. Life is a race, a fight to grow and obey God in all things and to be lights of His glory and grace, this cannot be done in hiding. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings to closely, and let us run with enduracnce the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." (Heb. 12:1-2) The light shines in the darkness. "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined." (Is. 9:2) So be lights and resist temptation for the glory of the Lord.