tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30943857568022530492024-03-12T16:48:13.689-07:00stories about meAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-87388929651997067122016-12-07T13:26:00.001-08:002016-12-07T13:26:07.855-08:00It Is Well <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's been a year. Well, more than a year, but you get the idea. <br />
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It's amazing how much can change in a year. Or a day, really. </div>
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September 1st, 2015 changed a lot of things for my husband and I. It was our first day back to work after our two weeks off for our wedding and honeymoon. After having a great two weeks off, we expected the first day back to be a little stressful and difficult, but I don't think either of us expected it to be what it was. The first half hour revealed that we were the recipients of some very unwelcomed and unexpected manipulation and cruelty at the hand of someone we'd once called a friend. While this person failed to get my husband fired, they did succeed in getting his entire department dissolved while we were gone, and painted some very untrue pictures of my husbands character in the process. </div>
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In the weeks and months that followed, as we watched the effects of this cruelty play out, my job was undergoing some serious changes as well. Through a series of events, what was once a department of 3 people, was now just me. </div>
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I remember waking up in the middle of the night feeling sick, and then being terrified about not being able to go into work if I was sick. "Oh my God....who will do my job if I'm not there?" No one else knew how to do payroll, or a lot of the different parts of my job for that matter. Hell, I was still stumbling along learning how to do payroll myself. I'd never been so stressed in my life. </div>
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And then I started not feeling well. A lot. Every day I felt sick to my stomach, and exhausted, and emotional. I'd been feeling sick for years off and on, but this consistency was new. At first I thought maybe it was all the stress, but as my new 3 person job became the norm, I wasn't so stressed out about it anymore, but I still felt terrible. So after a while I figured it was my birth control. I saw a doctor to see if there was anything I could do to help it. It became very obvious within the first few minutes that while I was describing how sick I'd been feeling, all my doctor was focusing on was the small piece of information I'd offered about life the last few months. </div>
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Before I knew it, I was being told that I needed to take an anti-depressant. <br />
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If I hadn't been stressed before, now I was thru the roof. As I read the long list of side effects for the particular pill she wanted me to take, my panic grew. All of the likely side effects of this medication were the very symptoms I had gone to see the doctor for in the first place. And now I need to take a pill that could very likely make all of this things worse? </div>
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The thing that panicked me even more was the idea of having to take an anti-depressant in the first place. I grew up going to the pharmacy with my mom to pick up her prescriptions for years. Seeing her have to take a whole host of pills everyday just to manage her illness (s). The thought of ending up like my mom in that way scared me beyond belief. "I'm only 23....how can this be happening..."</div>
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I'd never had a panic attack before, but I was about to have several of them. You know the sad character in the movies that has an emotional breakdown in the shower? Sobbing under the water, asking God why, begging for help. Yeah. I've been that person more times in the last year than I care to admit. I tried the pills for a few days, and sure enough, they made me sicker. I finally told my doctor I didn't want my IUD anymore, and despite the many warnings I got, I had it removed. Within hours I felt better in a multitude of ways. I thought I was in the clear. </div>
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Fast-forward to now. A little over a year since my first visit in a long line of doctors and medical bills. I've gotten sicker. I've had lots of tests done. Some embarrassing, some scary, and some just expensive. I've been told more times than I care to remember that "even though you seem very calm and collected, you probably just have an anxiety disorder", (as if an anxiety disorder is so insignificant) and in so many words, "Its all in your head." </div>
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I've been angry. I've been depressed. I've been apathetic. I've lived in a false sense of acceptance, only to get even angrier once I realized how fake my acceptance of my circumstances had been. I've tried just about everything to be healthy again, only to find myself no better off, and in lots of ways, even worse. I've wanted to punch people in the throat for telling me to persevere. Have faith, God is in control, look at the bright side, and a whole host of other clichés and useless platitudes. My constant response has been, "Yeah. I know God's in control. I know He <i>can </i>heal me. That's precisely why I'm pissed at him. Because I've been begging him to for years now, and I've only gotten worse, so the only conclusion is that <i>He won't. </i>And not just that he won't, but that it seems like <i>he's actively involved in making everything worse</i>!<i>" </i><br />
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Few knew how to respond to so much pain and hurt, masked in the intense anger and bitterness I chose, because somehow that felt safer than admitting how broken hearted and scared I felt. <br />
Those who did know how to respond though, responded well. Often times it was as simple as "I know it sucks, and I'm so sorry." from a friend who would cry alongside me, that would help to get me through. <br />
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And then one night not too long ago I picked up a copy of C.S. Lewis' The Problem of Pain. I stumbled through the first few chapters, trying to absorb the meaning of his words, but getting frustrated because his writing is so hard to understand sometimes. And then I read this: <br />
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<b>“We are, not metaphorically but in very truth, a Divine work of art, something that God is making, and therefore something with which He will not be satisfied until it has a certain character. Here again we come up against what I have called the “intolerable compliment.” Over a sketch made idly to amuse a child, an artist may not take much trouble: he may be content to let it go even though it is not exactly as he meant it to be. But over the great picture of his life—the work which he loves, though in a different fashion, as intensely as a man loves a woman or a mother a child—he will take endless trouble—and would doubtless, thereby give endless trouble to the picture if it were sentient. One can imagine a sentient picture, after being rubbed and scraped and re-commenced for the tenth time, wishing that it were only a thumb-nail sketch whose making was over in a minute. In the same way, it is natural for us to wish that God had designed for us a less glorious and less arduous destiny; but then we are wishing not for more love but for less.”</b> <br />
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An intolerable compliment. That's what this season has been. An intolerable, gut wrenching, painful compliment. And by asking God to take it all away, and make everything better, I've been asking not for more love from him, but for less. Much less. By asking God to remove all of my pain and sickness and hurt, and then being so angry with him when he wouldn't, I've been missing all of the grace and kindness he's given me in the midst of it. My incredible husband, who has been by my side doing everything under the sun to help me. My family, who has consistently gone out of their way to help me feel less alone and isolated with get-togethers by having food that I can eat. <br />
My friends, who've been so faithful and good to me. The common grace of ginger and other remedies for nausea and stomach pain. <br />
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I don't think I've been completely oblivious to these things, I think I just appreciated them less because I couldn't reconcile them to a God who seemed so cruel and unfeeling. And I'll admit, I still don't know how to focus on the good when you feel immense sickness, but I'm learning how to be thankful for the storm in the moments after it's passed; when I can think again.<br />
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For a while now my plea to God has been to give me hope beyond hope, because mine has been so broken for so long now. To help me to get my eyes up off of me, and onto his glory and grace. And honestly? I can say that I have a hope now that I haven't had in a long time. And it's not just an eternal hope that one day He'll return and everything will be perfect again (although that is no small hope either), but a hope that He will answer my cries for health and healing one day, and that maybe, just maybe, that day is sooner than I dare to hope yet.<br />
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But even if he doesn't....<br />
It is well. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-47950851299691406402015-05-27T13:19:00.001-07:002015-05-27T13:19:20.320-07:00Am I old enough for this? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">I remember
riding in the back seat of the family car when my brother was learning to drive.
He’s 7 years older than me, so I’ve watched him go through lots of life’s
different stages a few years before myself, all the while making lots of mental
notes if those same events ever happened in my life.</span><span style="line-height: 107%;">I didn’t
think I’d ever be old enough to drive. I don’t think that’s because I thought I
wouldn’t live that long, but for some reason I’ve always had a difficult time
imagining myself doing things that I perceive to be “adult activities.” However,
as I got closer to being old enough for my permit, it seemed more and more
imaginable to me that soon, I’d be transported into this magical adult world
where driving was not only something I <i>could</i>
do, but something I would <i>need</i> to do,
that would transport me even further into this new world.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">After that it
was my first <i>real job</i> that made me
feel like I was actually starting to grow up. I had a checking account, a car,
roommates, and a cellphone. When did all this happen? “I’m not old enough for
this.”</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br />Then this
real job turned into something I both loved and hated simultaneously. My car
was breaking down, my roommates were irritating, and my cell phone was
expensive. When did this happen? </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">Wasn't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> I just a little kid the other day,
feeling alone and nervous that I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">wasn't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> old enough for any of these
responsibilities? And now I’m searching for </span><i style="line-height: 107%;">another
job?</i> <span style="line-height: 107%;"> Another car? Other roommates? Unfortunately </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> in a stupid contract for this phone.... “I’m definitely not old enough for this.”</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">“His name is
Mike, here’s his card. He’s looking to hire someone for an administrative
position at his company, and I told him about you. You should call him this
week.” We were car shopping for a new car for my mom when my dad told me about
his friend Mike, who was a manager at a local software company. “I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">don't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> know
the first thing about office work…did you tell him that?” “Yes, and he’d like
to hear from you.”</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br />A day or so
later I stepped outside of my </span><i style="line-height: 107%;">not so real
job</i><span style="line-height: 107%;"> making salsa, to call this Mike person. He said a lot of things I didn’t
understand, and I told him I could do them all. I asked him if he’d like to see
my very unimpressive resume, and he said yes, so I made plans to drive out to “the
gray unmarked hanger at the Bend </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">Airport</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> with the red truck parked out front.”</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br />“There’s no
way. </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> not qualified in any way for this job. </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> a homeschool </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">dropout</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> who
failed my GED and makes salsa and works at </span><i style="line-height: 107%;">Shopko.
</i><span style="line-height: 107%;">Who even knew it was possible to be a homeschool drop out anyway? I bet you </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> the first.” I was talking to my best friend who had a job interview for
another company in town the same day that I would be dropping my resume off. I
fully expected to drop it off and never hear a word. I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">wasn't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> qualified, and </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">he'd</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> see that clearly on my resume, so I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> see the point in being too nervous
about it. I had nothing to lose.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">“As you can
see, I have absolutely no experience in any of the areas </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">you're</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> looking for.” I
handed him my resume and sat down as his desk in this unmarked gray hanger at
the Bend Airport. He </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> have an office, he was surrounded by other desks
and people on computers and phones. I could feel their stares as I timidly
walked in and sat down, all of them wondering who I was and if he’d be hiring
me. “That’s okay, he said, </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> not looking for someone with experience, </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> looking for someone who’s willing to learn what I want to teach them.”</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">And just like
that, I immediately realized I had a shot at getting this job, and I was terrified.
I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">hadn't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> prepared for this. Did I look okay? I covered my tattoo, right? Okay
good. Oh crap…now it matters what I say. What if I say the wrong thing? I told
him I was capable of doing all those things he explained to me that I still </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">don't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> understand…oh hell. </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> screwed. I have something to lose now...</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">don't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> remember anything else he said to me. He got up from his desk and walked me
around this very odd makeshift office building, introducing me to people as we
passed by.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 107%;">“Here’s where
your desk will be, next to David. He’s the head of our training department.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br />…Did he just
say, “Where my desk </span><i style="line-height: 107%;">will be?” </i><span style="line-height: 107%;">Have I
not ruined this yet? Am I getting this job? This Dave guy looks nice, I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">don't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> think </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'd</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> be too nervous around him...I’m
feeling calmer already. Oh thank God, he has tattoos. I’m not alone! Oh crap,
he’s talking to me..</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">Mike
introduced me to a few other people and then told me to put in my two weeks’
notice at Shopko, because I had a new job working for him.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">“Am I old
enough for this?”</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">That was 3
years ago.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br />It turns out
that I really could do all those things he explained to me that I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> understand, and more. It turns out I could be a lot more than I thought I could
at this job in the odd hanger at the Bend Airport. And now, 3 years later, in a
real office building, sitting at my real desk, I can see how God was working through
all of those events and lots more, and </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> humbled and amazed.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">Turns out,
that David guy was really nice. In fact, he’s the nicest man </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I've</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> ever met. More
selfless than anyone </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I've</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> ever known, patient, gracious, funny, kind, handsome,
generous. The list goes on and on.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">3 years ago I
had no idea that God was not only leading me to this new job that I needed so
badly, but more importantly, to the man </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'd</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> want to spend the rest of my life with. The man who
is without doubt, </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">God's</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> greatest gift to me outside of my salvation.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 107%;">3 Years ago,
I had no idea that God was drawing this man to me, but most importantly, to
Himself.</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">Going back to
those “Adult things”, </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> now 80 days away from marrying my best friend. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">And
let me tell you, </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'm</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> definitely not old enough for this, but I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">couldn't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> be more
excited. I never thought </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'd</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> get married. I hoped I would, but I never
really thought much about it, or imagined it would actually happen. But here I
sit, waiting very impatiently for August 15</span><sup style="line-height: 107%;">th</sup><span style="line-height: 107%;">, when </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">I'll</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> get to promise to spend the rest of my life with this incredible man that I </span><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;">don't</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> even
come close to deserving.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SxSMBjhyL4o/VWYmr0ZXDdI/AAAAAAAAAZA/aQJGuGbAYT0/s1600/David%2526Beckah-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SxSMBjhyL4o/VWYmr0ZXDdI/AAAAAAAAAZA/aQJGuGbAYT0/s320/David%2526Beckah-32.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-59413500578812450512014-02-11T15:30:00.000-08:002014-02-11T15:30:08.812-08:00My dear friend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't know where we went wrong. I don't know how we got off on the wrong foot again. In retrospect it seems like we hadn't been on the <i>right foot</i>, in such a long time, that maybe we were just carefully balancing on the edge of the wrong one, and thinking that we were doing okay. I found some old papers the other night. Papers detailing for my past intern supervisor what I filled my time with during that most difficult and unhappy chapter of my life. To my amazement, my schedule was more filled with your name than I thought it had been. Because in my memory it seems like I never saw you. In my memory it seems like that time was the beginning of the end. Which leads me to a terrible conclusion:<br />
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That I wasn't fully there with you in those times. That I was so wrapped up in my own struggles, and my new friends, that I wasn't really <i>your friend</i>, anymore. That I was too afraid of losing you during your struggles, that I didn't love you very well.<br />
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And I'm so sorry. <br />
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To be quite honest I have no idea what I expected when I wrote to you the last time. I can't say that I expected things to get better. But I also can't say that I expected it to be the end either. Your reply of "I don't know what to tell you", was all the answer I needed. In not knowing what to tell me, you told me everything I thought I needed to know. In not knowing what to say to me, I didn't know what else to say to you. There was nothing left that could be said it seemed. But maybe I was wrong. The funny thing about time and separation, is that the two always seem to come hand in hand with doubt and uncertainty.<br />
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I read an interesting definition of the word "Ego" today. A man wrote his son a letter, and in it he describes what an ego is to him. He says, "Your ego is the part of you that protects your heart." He then goes on to say that over time your ego grows stronger because of the hurt that other people around you inflict upon your heart. "..You're mind begins to build a wall around your heart - it keeps us safe from invaders who might want to get in and attack it...At first, we only use the ego-wall to keep people out. But eventually, as we grow up, we get tired of hiding fearfully and we decide the best defense is a good offense. We put cannons on our ego-wall and we start firing. For some people that looks like anger. For other people, it looks like gossip and judgment and divisiveness. One of my favorite ego-cannons is to pretend everyone on the outside of my wall is wrong. It makes me feel right and righteous, but really it just keeps me safe inside of my ideas." *<br />
<br />
I used to drive by your parents house on my way to work every morning. At first when I drove by I'd try not to think about everything that happened between us. Then after a while I would scoff, and try to convince myself that I had been right and you were wrong. That I was the one who had the right to be angry with you, not the other way around. And then I began to feel compelled to drive by there. But this time I didn't try to hide behind my "Ego Wall", or scoff and be angry. No, this time I began to pray that I hadn't hurt you too deeply (But this is assuming I had way more of an effect on your life than I probably actually did). That you were doing good. That you were living well, and that hopefully you were getting some of the questions concerning God that we'd spoken about, answered.<br />
<br />
I don't drive by there much anymore. Not because I choose not to, just because I don't have much need to go that direction these days. But the interesting thing is, now that I don't drive by very much, I have dreams all the time where we end up seeing each other in random places, and sorting out our past and kind of picking up right where we left off so long ago.<br />
<br />
I wish we could finally go get that beer we always talked about when we were 17 year old kids who could hardly afford to buy $5 dollar pizzas. I wish we could sit at the pub and I could tell you all about this last year. About it's ups and downs. About how much it taught me. How much it hurt. How it brought so many of the flaws that were deep inside of me, right to the surface for so many to see. I think you would get a really good laugh out of some of it honestly.<br />
I wish I could have the privilege of hearing about your life once again. About how you're doing. Where you're at with God, with your boyfriend, with your family.<br />
I wish I could get to know you again, and you me.<br />
<br />
My old friend (if you'll let me still call you that), I'm deeply sorry that I didn't love you well. If love really does do everything Paul said it does, then indeed I failed to really show you genuine love. I've come to understand that love doesn't hide behind the fear of "what if they get mad at me", it confronts, and lays it's pride down for those whom it has deep affection for. It takes the risk, because they're worth it. I should have taken that risk a lot sooner than I did. But instead I was scared, and I hid behind my fear. I let things get to a point between us that I never should have. I hope you'll be able to forgive me for this, even if that doesn't look like everything being all bright and sunshiny between us in the end. <br />
<br />
I won't be that preachy advice giving person (since I really don't have any room to talk, this is an apology letter after all). I'll simply say that I really do hope that you're doing well. I think of you often, and miss being able to spend time with you.<br />
<br />
Please know that I still love you to death.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*Taken from this <a href="http://drkellyflanagan.com/2014/01/29/a-dads-letter-to-his-son-about-the-only-good-reason-to-get-married/">blog post.</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-15127146002035459752013-04-22T13:58:00.001-07:002013-04-22T14:31:34.400-07:00Fade and Then Return Do you ever feel like sometimes an emotion can be so deep inside of you that words can’t fully describe how you feel? That sounds terribly dramatic, but it’s just a thought. <br />
I’m about to be 21, and while I’m really excited for it, I’m also reminded of how much things change with time. How some friends turn into acquaintances, while others fall off the map completely. And others still remain your best friends, but from a long distance. And I can’t decide which is harder to deal with honestly. <br />
<br />
You know that saying, “He who ceases to be a friend never was one”? I don’t like, or agree with that statement. I think when you cease to be friends with someone, it’s because one of you is different than you were at first. It doesn’t matter if you or they changed for better or worse, all that matters is that someone is different. Maybe you’re both different people now than you were then. The thing that’s hard about this one is that it seems to hurt for a long time, but usually comes to a head and then the worst is over and you can move on. Sure, the pain can fluctuate until the time when you deal with it once and for all, but ultimately, this one has more of an expiration date. The friend who becomes an acquaintance? Well, that’s a different story. And I’m not sure if it can be summed up as easily, or if the acquaintance and the “fall off the map” friend aren’t actually one in the same. <br />
<br />
I personally however, feel that the people who continue to try to be in your life, but ultimately can only be involved in the once a week phone calls, are the more painful of the three. Because in this situation you’re continually fighting to stay as close as possible, but the harder you try the more you realize just how limited your role in their life is, and how limited their role is in yours. And with every phone call you forget all the things that you would normally tell them, because you don’t know if you have 5 minutes, or 15, and you need to get the important things out of the way while you have time to do so. When every missed phone call feels like a missed opportunity and every inside joke is forgotten over time, while you each go on with your lives making new memories and inside jokes with other people. It’s a constant reminder of how much life changes, and how unprepared you are to deal with it. <br />
<br />
I guess I’m just being stupid because tomorrow is arguably the biggest birthday I’ll ever have, and all I want is for my best friend to be here for it, and I know that that’s not possible. And while I have so many other amazing people in my life to spend my time with, your best friends aren't replaceable, no matter how much I sometimes wish they were. <br />
<br />
“I think the reason people hold onto memories so tight is because memories are the only things that don't change when everything and everyone else does.” <br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-1190706784448128632013-03-13T10:39:00.000-07:002013-03-13T12:40:21.556-07:00So this is 2013So much has changed since I last posted anything on here. I was going through some of my old posts last night and then some of the things I've written but never posted. I'm blown away by how much different my life is now than it ever has been before. Time has a funny way of doing that. As a result of these things, this post is probably going to be ridiculously long (yes, that's what she said), just btdubs.<br />
<br />
This time last year I was miserable. I hated my life. I was getting up for work at 2:45 in the morning, working till noon and then trying to get what little sleep I could before going back to work at midnight. Never before had I felt so used and undervalued. Being run into the ground for minimum wage and then working another job on top of it because I still didn't have enough money to pay rent. Getting sick all the time and feeling more alone than I ever had before. Towards the end of 2011 I had said goodbye to 3 of my closest friends. Two of them moving across the country, and one leaving it entirely for a 3 month trip to New Zealand. It was during that time that I wrote this:<br />
<br />
This week I said goodbye to two of my closest friends. Tuesday I went to PDX with my friend LeeAnne, her boyfriend Trevor, and her parents. We went to the airport and said, see you in three months; hugged, said more see you later's and hugged some more, and then I stood by her parents as they watched their only daughter board a plane to New Zealand....Well, LAX, but then New Zealand...whatever, same thing. <br />
<br />
Yesterday I drove to Redmond to say goodbye to my friend Anna, who left today for South Carolina because her husband got a job at a university there. I kind of had a feeling that they would be moving, but I didn't know it would be so soon. They found out last week that they were going and began the crazy busy process of packing and selling everything they own and so I only got about an hour to see her yesterday before we had to say goodbye. <br />
<br />
And just a few months ago I said goodbye to my best friend who moved to New York... <br />
<br />
Call me whatever you want, disagree with me even, but I've always prided myself on the fact that I'm not an overly emotional person. That more often than not, I try not to let too many things get to me, and when they do, I tend to get over them quickly and not be a weepy emotional pile. <br />
But in all honesty, all I've really been doing is priding myself on the fact that I don't cry or get depressed very often. That I don't tend to get very sad over too many things, and when I do, I deal with it and move on. And some of that's true, I don't cry or become depressed very often...<br />
I just get angry. Sometimes I don't even know who I'm angry with, or why. I just am. Some days I wake up that way. The thing though, is that if I have a choice between being angry or being sad, I'll always choose anger. Anger and I aren't new to each other. Anger doesn't scare me the way sadness does, because I know how to deal with anger better than most other things. Anger goes away quicker than most other emotions. In fact, I think the only emotion that flees quicker than anger, is happiness. <br />
<br />
But lately....I seem to go back and forth between both almost everyday. <br />
<br />
I miss my friends. It's not true that over time missing people gets easier. It's just that over time you get more used to it than you were at first, and the times where you miss them so much it hurts, grow further and farther between. But in those moments when all you want is to sit and talk with them and you can't, it still hurts just as much as it did at first. <br />
<br />
For a while after they left I didn't want to do anything, or really be anyone. I didn't know what I wanted, I just knew it wasn't this. I realize that sounds very dramatic and Good Charlotte-esque, but so be it, it's how I felt. Don't judge me. <br />
One minute I'd be all sad and lonely, and the next I'd be happy and content with where I was, and then back to being depressed and lonely 15 minutes later. <br />
For some reason whenever I go to work I'm reminded of just how alone I am most of the time. It's not that I don't spend time with the few friends that are here, it's that even when I do, I don't feel like talking about anything, and I don't know if it's because I feel like they don't want to hear anything I have to say, or if it's because I don't."<br />
<br />
Now it's three months into 2013, and 2011 seems like it was so long ago. Even most of 2012 seems like forever ago. I feel so differently about so many things now than I did then. Do I still miss my friends? Absolutely. Desperately at times even. But I've found some of the most amazing people to cheer me up and become some of my new best friends. I've gotten a new job that doesn't run me into the ground and make me feel like I'm nothing to them. I work wonderful hours with amazing people and feel so blessed and humbled by God's grace on my life. I spend most of my time with my new friends who encourage me and make me feel confident in myself. We spend hours and hours playing halo, taking our dogs for walks, playing music and sitting at O'Kanes smoking cigars and eating good food. Late dinners and movies, and early morning breakfasts. And we have great conversations no matter what we end up doing. I do most of the talking, but that seems to suite them just fine. <br />
<br />
As I look back over the last few years, I'm amazed with what I see. I went from being Ben's little sister and the salsa girl, to my own person. In some ways I feel like I haven't changed a bit, but in most respects I can feel how different I am now than I used to be. Some of these changes have been amazing and beneficial, while others have been costly and arguably not for the best, but I think that's just a part of growing up. <br />
<br />
See, it wasn’t until a few years ago that I really started to question not only the things I’d been raised to believe, but the God I’d grown up believing was real. My questions, much like many others, grew out of a dark and deepening bitterness towards the church. Sure, I’d had my heart broken by the church before, but it wasn’t until I did an internship with the church that had for so many years been my home, that I grew to really resent Christians and the God they claimed to serve. I grew tired of everyone pretending that everything was okay even though it clearly wasn’t. Of people pretending to be happy and acting as if nothing was wrong when you could see right through the forced smile and fake words. Mostly though, I grew weary of being used and uncared about by those around me who I thought would be there to encourage and help me through the rough time I was about to go through. It’s funny looking back actually. I've never felt more confused or abandoned by God and the church than while I was serving in one. I began wondering if God was even real. Actually, it would be closer to the truth to say I still believed there was a God, I just started wondering how much he really cared anymore…Or if He ever had. <br />
<br />
I won't go into anymore than that on here, at least not today. But I will say that I think it was one of the most amazing, painful, and most necessary times in my life so far. <br />
I’m realizing now how much God’s been working in my life even while I’ve been wondering where He’s been and what on earth He’s been doing<br />
<br />
It’s easy to look back on different, seemingly separate events in our lives and feel like they weren’t connected. But now that I’m starting to reflect on things, I’m realizing how interconnected and woven together these events have been, in only a way that an all knowing God could possibly be big enough to do. It seems to me that only someone who is big enough to see the whole picture from beginning to end would be able to weave such an intricate pattern. After all, isn’t it only the writer who knows how the story ends, while the characters who can’t see the whole picture, wonder what their role is in the story and when and how it will end? I don’t know. Perhaps that’s not the case and I’m mistaken. It makes sense in my head though.<br />
<br />
<br />
All of this to say, life is very different than I ever thought it would be. I'm not who I thought I was, but I think I'm exactly who I need to be for right now. And while some of the changes in my life make me sad, the rest give me hope for the future that God has in store for my life, and an expectant joy for what lies ahead. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-64479971900343115392012-01-16T21:53:00.001-08:002012-05-28T22:28:07.462-07:00I get angry with my mom a lot. I have for a long time now. It doesn't take much...the same question asked too many times, not having enough money for things, losing the dog every three weeks, the list goes on. That sounds bad....like I'm trying to cast her in an unfair light that makes her look irresponsible or incapable. That's not my intention. I have no intention or desire to cast her in any light other than the bright, loving, beautiful one she deserves to be seen in. <br />
It's myself that I intend to cast such a dim light over. <br />
Because I'm the one at fault. I'm the selfish immature child who throws a fit when something I don't like is said or done. <br />
I get angry with her over simple, stupid things that she doesn't deserve to have me get angry with her about. I don't talk to her about things because I don't want to hear what she'll have to say about them. I don't invite her places with me because I never know what kind of state she'll be in because of her pain and the medication she has to take for it. I get angry and say things like, "Why do you have a phone if you never answer it!?" when she's lost her phone, or simply didn't hear it ring. I get annoyed when she asks for help with her computer, phone, facebook, ect. I'm impatient with her, even when I know she's trying so hard to understand the things I'm feeling, or trying to tell her. And she doesn't deserve that. <br />
<br />
The problem is, I don't know how to change those things.<br />
<br />
Because it's not my mom that I'm so angry with...<br />
<br />
It's her fibromyalgia. <br />
<br />
Her rheumatoid arthritis. <br />
<br />
The medicine she has to take that replaces the real her, with the only half there, foggy version of herself that's left. <br />
It's the medicine that eats away at her heart, kidneys, and every other vital organ needed for survival. <br />
It's the 16 pills a day that she has to take in order to not be in crippling, unbearable pain 24 hours a day.<br />
It's the medicine that takes her from one misery, to a completely different, more frightening one. Sometimes I think that if they could talk they would say something like, "Here, I'll trade you...pain for a heart attack. Or liver or kidney failure. Cancer. You're going to be miserable either way, so why not delay it for as long as possible?" <br />
<br />
I know she's never going to be okay. I know it's only a matter of time until things get worse. I'm reminded of it every time she asks me the same question four times in one conversation, or can't come see me because she can't get out of bed. Or when my dad forgets to pick up her pills and her body starts going into withdrawal. But mostly I'm reminded of it when she spends time doing the things she loves most, like playing with my nephews and nieces, or scrapbooking the weekend away, and then her fibromyalgia flares up and she can't do anything but pray for sleep until it passes a day or two later. <br />
<br />
I hate her disease. I hate the medicine. I hate them both for what they're doing to her. For what they've always done to her. I hate them for slowly killing her. I hate them for taking so much of her away from me before I was even old enough to get to know her for who she really was. Who she used to be. And I hate them for taking her away from me still. For slowly, day by day, sucking the life out of her. Leaving behind a small frail version of herself that tries to hard to be strong. To be what her kids needed her to be. To be what her grandkids need her to be. To be the employee her bosses need her to be. <br />
<br />
That's why I get so angry. So impatient. So shut down. Because it's easier to shut her out and distance myself from her than it is to admit how scared I am of losing her. To come to grips with the fact that she might not get to be at my wedding someday. Or even get to meet the poor guy and embarrass me with whatever it is that Mom's always seem to embarrass their daughters with upon meeting their boyfriends. <br />
<br />
My mom was 42 when I was born. She calls me her gift from God because she found out she was pregnant with me a few months after my Grandma died of lung cancer. It's been 20 years since my Grandma died. My mom's 61 now, and still talks about how much she misses her mom and then begins to cry. And then she tells me the same story about how my Grandma accepted Christ before she died, and then she smiles and changes the subject. <br />
<br />
I don't want my mom to be sick. I never have. When I was little I used to think that if I prayed hard enough she would get better. That if I was good enough than I would never lose her. That maybe, just maybe God would spare me that pain. <br />
<br />
But now I'm not so sure. Of course now I know that my mom's sickness isn't dependent on my good behavior. But I also know that she's not getting any better. That she's not going to. she knows it. she knows how upset it makes me when she talks about it too, so she doesn't do that very often. But she did it tonight when she took me out for coffee. She said her plan is to try to make it to 67 so she can retire, and then hopefully, if she's really lucky, live to be 70. <br />
<br />
When my mom is 70, I'll only be 28. <br />
<br />
A few months ago I came across this quote from C.S. Lewis that I loved so much I wrote it on a piece of paper I ripped out of a surfing magazine and taped it to the wall next to my bed. <br />
Now I wish I had never seen it. Much less put it on my wall where it hangs, staring a hole into the side of my head. Because it's true. He's absolutely right. I should just accept it and move on. After all, can I lessen the pain I'm bound to feel by telling myself that it's not true? That I'll be the exception to the rule? That I'll be the one who goes unscathed and without the pain death brings to all who live this life? No...I don't think I can. I think to convince myself of such a thing would only make it that much more painful when my delusion of safety were to come crashing down. <br />
<br />
"I had yet to learn that all human relationships end in pain-it is the price that our imperfection has allowed Satan to exact from us for the privilege to love." <br />
-C.S. LewisAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-62830614105495685472011-09-08T09:06:00.000-07:002011-09-22T20:43:10.958-07:00Dear diary;)I always wanted to go to New York. I remember seeing it in all the movies and listening to people talk about it and how busy it is there, and thinking it sounded like such a great place. It was always one of those places that I hoped I would get to see someday, but figured that I probably never would. I just always figured that I would never have the money to go, or anyone to go with.<br /><br />Last year one of my best friends got an acceptance letter from New York University. The first thing she said to me was, "You have to come see New York and help me move all my crap there!" <br />And just like that, I decided I was going to New York. I got a second job and started saving for a plane ticket, and before I knew it, the end of August was here and it was time to move my friend across the country...<br /><br />As with all defining life moments, it turned out that getting to New York hadn't been the hard part after all, it was coming home. It was getting on the plane alone and looking out the window and watching the city disappear. <br />And with it, my best friend. <br /><br />I can't explain why it hurt so much. Perhaps that's just the way it feels when someone you care about moves far away. Knowing that you can't call them up and hangout with them anymore, or receive texts saying "What are you doing RIGHT NOW?" or "That's okay! Wal-Mart's open til 11! I need you to take me there:)" And the worst part, knowing that in those moments when you miss them the most, there's almost 3,000 miles in-between your home, and theirs.<br /><br />I don't remember when I realized it. Maybe it was when I found out that my two best friends were leaving Bend all within the same 2 months. One moving to the other side of the country, and one leaving it all together. Maybe I realized it when I actually started pursuing my relationship with God again. Or maybe I knew it all along, but was never able to grasp it until recently. This thing I realized: There's a time for everything. I know that's not a deeply moving or profound thought. And yes, I know that that's one of the main points of Ecclesiastes and if you've grown up in church you've heard it a thousand times. But hearing something over and over and over again, and then finally realizing it's true, are two different things. <br /><br />It's funny how at different times in our lives we'll either hate change and beg God to let things stay the way they are, or hate where we are and beg God to change something. Anything. Just as long as when you wake up tomorrow, it's not to the same exact thing you woke up to yesterday. <br /><br />This thing I realized about everything having a season, was that my time to grow up was coming...and it was coming fast. My adventure isn't going to be the same as my friends though. I don't know exactly what it's going to be, but I think that God has something a little bit different in-store for me. <br />It's easy to get discouraged and feel like you're not worth very much when almost everywhere you go people are asking you what you're doing with your life and you don't have an answer for them. I was at work the other day and got lectured by a customer for 20 minutes about how I need to get back in school and be like his daughter who is making a crap-ton of money and getting ten thousand dollar raises every year. He went on to tell me that his daughter is happy because she loves her job, and the reason she loves her job is because she went to school for it. That's fair. I can totally understand that. I can even be happy for his daughter. That's awesome. But then he said this, "Unless you get your ass back in school and get a good career, you won't be happy. People who work at meaningless jobs like this, are never happy." Those weren't his exact words, but he got his point across loud and clear. For 20 minutes. No joke. <br /><br />Have you ever been to New Zealand? I haven't, but one of my best friends is leaving in October to go there until the beginning of next year, at which point who knows how long she'll be back here before she either goes back to New Zealand, or goes somewhere else. She's wanted to go there as long as I've known her, and a long time before that too. I've always seen it as one of those passions God puts in someone from a super early age. Now that I really think about it, I'm not sure if there's ever been a time when we've hung out and haven't talked about New Zealand in one way or another...We've been friends for 6 years...We've talked about it a lot,<br />so earlier this year when she told me she was going there, I was really happy for her. <br /><br />This year has seen me go through a lot of mood swings. I never thought I was the moody type, but I'm beginning to think I might be...but then again, I feel like I've been sitting around waiting for my life to start, and now I realize that that has a way of making a person a little emotionally unstable. ;) <br />You know how some years seem to go by really fast, while others just drag on by? Or those years that seem to do both? Yeah, this year falls into that last category for me. On the one hand, I didn't want September to come, because that meant going to New York and saying goodbye to one of my best friends. <br />But on the other hand, I had this strange certainty that life was going to start when I got home. While I wasn't exactly thrilled to do so, I could hear that still small voice telling me to take heart, because God was about to do something new...<br /><br />It's funny how God works sometimes. How He'll lead us to places in our lives where we feel like there's no way we can make it. Where we're so consumed by our needs for tomorrow, that we can't see today. My personal favorite is when He leads you to the places you've been asking for, but as soon as he does, it's like the world starts the agonizingly slow process of caving in around you. The funny thing about caving in, is that the ground always seems to collapse everywhere except for where you're standing first, so that you can be terrified as you watch it coming for you. <br /><br />There was this one night a few weeks ago in New York, I was sitting in my friends dorm room thinking about the night before we left. I had come home from work that night to find my dad waiting for me outside. That's never a good sign. He picked a fight with me as soon as I got out of the car. The conversation ended with me saying that maybe if he was really lucky, I would die in a plane crash on my way home and he would never have to deal with me again. To which he responded, "Ha, yeah if I'm lucky." I hadn't been expecting that. Though now that I think about it, I don't know why. <br /><br />I had known he was going to be yelling at me when I got home that night. My mom had called to let me know pretty early on. When I was getting ready to leave work my boss said this to me, "Don't worry to much, he can't break you anymore than he already has." <br />I wish that was true. But even when you've stopped loving someone, they still find ways to break your heart into smaller pieces than the last time. Even when you think you've given up all hope that things could ever be different, they seem to find a way of shattering the hope you didn't know you had. <br /><br />I never realized until this trip why I love playing the piano so much. Why when I go a long time without playing it, I feel like a piece of me is drying up, and I long to play it, in the hope that I can preserve that piece of me and stop it from leaving. See, it's not just that I like the piano. It's not just that it sounds incredibly beautiful with played the right way. It's that when I sit down at the piano, I can express exactly what I'm feeling without saying a word. I never realized until this trip just how much playing the piano is a form of prayer for me. A way of pouring my heart out to God when I can't find the words to say how broken and messed up I feel, and just how much I need him. <br /><br />That night in New York when I was thinking about my dad, and coming home, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was going to be okay. That God has a plan for my life and will be with me every step of the way, no matter what. It's been two weeks now, and I still can't shake it. The thing that convinces me that it's God, and that its not all in my head, is that even on bad days, days when I feel like everything is impossible, I <span style="font-style:italic;">know </span> that it's not. I know that God has a plan, and that plan doesn't include abandoning me and leaving me to figure life out on my own. <br /><br />One of my favorite things about God: He's bigger than my problems. He has a way of making everything work together for good, even when everything seems impossible. <br /><br />The thing I love about his promises: They're not dependent upon my emotions. They're faithful whether I am or not, and they're there even when I can't understand why. <br /><br />I feel like I've learned more in the last month than I have all year. It's funny how that happens sometimes. <br /><br />I don't know what exactly God's going to be doing in my life, and I don't know how he's going to do it, but I know he's going to. <br /><br />And for now, that's all I need. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vmgu2l29fxc/Tng_FE6PzwI/AAAAAAAAAP4/eKO1_XuXN54/s1600/becks%2Bpics%2B038.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vmgu2l29fxc/Tng_FE6PzwI/AAAAAAAAAP4/eKO1_XuXN54/s320/becks%2Bpics%2B038.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654338688613601026" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-24794834407235169612010-11-23T19:40:00.000-08:002011-01-14T22:47:40.954-08:00This is why you're hot. part two. Victims: The Chabot-BelandsIt's hard to put into words just how much some people mean to you. To put into words just how much love you have for them and how much they've changed your life. But I'm going to try. <br /><br />Lets start with Harmony. <3 <br /><br /><br /><br />Harmony<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TSK_RzOZoCI/AAAAAAAAANg/xKoUxrtwxQM/s1600/Harmony.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TSK_RzOZoCI/AAAAAAAAANg/xKoUxrtwxQM/s320/Harmony.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558215202657902626" /></a><br /><br />aka: The little sister I never had. <3 This little girl is one of Gods most precious creations. She has the sweetest smile and is perhaps the kindest little human you'll ever meet. She comes up to me and says things like, "Beckah, you're beautiful. Beckah, I love you so much. Beckah, I wish you could live with us. Beckah, remember when we had a sleepover by the Christmas tree? That was so fun, can we do that again?" She's the only 6 year old I can talk on the phone with for like 5 minutes (I realize that doesn't sound that impressive, but when you hate the phone as much as I do sometimes, talking to anyone for that long truly is an accomplishment). She's easily the sweetest little girl the world has ever known. But she's also wise beyond her years and very very perceptive. Have you ever heard a six year old say "We need to spend time with the Lord!" No? Than you haven't met Harmony, and that sucks for you. <br /><br />Jude <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TSLDhcYHmdI/AAAAAAAAANo/8ua0oNQ9-_Q/s1600/Jude.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TSLDhcYHmdI/AAAAAAAAANo/8ua0oNQ9-_Q/s320/Jude.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558219869449066962" /></a><br /><br />aka: Judebug; Baby brother. <br />This little boy has a very special place in my heart. He is the sweetest little guy ever, not to mention unbelievably adorable. One of my favorite things in the world is when he comes up and gives me a hug and than goes back to playing with his cars. Or when I'm leaving and he runs up and tells me to be careful driving in the snow, hugs me and says "Love you" and then yells "Bye Beckah!!" Love it. I can't wait to see what he becomes as he grows up...although at the same time thinking about him growing up makes me want to weep openly...hmm..<br /><br /><br />Eli<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TSLH2KogXLI/AAAAAAAAANw/tBWf2vyqS1U/s1600/Eli.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TSLH2KogXLI/AAAAAAAAANw/tBWf2vyqS1U/s320/Eli.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558224623509724338" /></a><br /><br />aka: Little bro<br />This kid is amazing. He reads more than any other person I've ever met (Note to all of you freaks who read the entire freaking Twilight series in one week, this kids got you beat. He reads books that are far better, and bigger, in like an hour. So beat that). He loves Starwars almost as much as my six year old nephew, and could completely OWN at a spelling bee. ;) There are times where I've had to ask him how to spell things. ha. <br />He's always eager to try a science experiment and always believes the best in people, even when they might not deserve it. He's quick to say thank you and apologize when he's wrong. And he's more considerate and generous than most adults out there. He has his moments when he terrorizes his little brother and sister, but when it comes down to it, you couldn't ask for a better older brother. Or in my case, little brother. :) <br /><br />Chris and Annie<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TTEXqrJCYGI/AAAAAAAAAOA/GgJ_c1ZZiV0/s1600/ChrisandAnnie.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TTEXqrJCYGI/AAAAAAAAAOA/GgJ_c1ZZiV0/s320/ChrisandAnnie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562253036681846882" /></a><br /><br />aka: Adopted Mom and Pops. ;) <br />We'll start with Pops.<br />Chris is in Gods top ten creations. I'm sure of it. He is easily one of the most talented and genuinely kind people living today. Not to mention really funny. <br />But the biggest thing that has always stood out to me about him isn't that he's an amazing musician or even an extremely anointed worship leader, it's the love he has for Christ and for his family. I grew up constantly being yelled at and ordered around by my dad. He instilled in me that nothing I ever did was going to be good enough and was never going to live up to his standards. It wasn't until I was eleven or twelve, and my mom wanted to divorce him that he even started telling me that he loved me. So to see a father who wrote songs for his kids and was kind and gentle towards them even when they weren't being perfect angles, was mind blowing to me. It still is honestly. Oh yeah, and did I mention that he's famous?! Yeah thats right. In the newspaper AND on t.v. AND his Dad happens to be John Beland. Ever heard of him? It's okay if you haven't, I hadn't either until a few months ago... ;) <br /><br />Now for Annie. <br />To quote a very incredible person,<br />"There are some people who come into your life, and you know they were such an unexpected gift that you totally didn't deserve at all, and you know you can never let them exit your life, or even your every day." <br /><br />A few months ago when Annie told me that they would be moving to California I kind of threw a fit.<br /><br />Like a really big one.<br /><br />I got super angry and depressed and wouldn't talk about the subject with her for weeks. Every time the name of that place even came up I'd get all pissy and act like a spoiled 16 year old who just found out for the first time that the world doesn't actually revolve around them. It was during that time that I really started to think about why these people were so important to me. I tried sitting down and writing about it in my journal, but all I could write was "I hate California. I hate it so much. Screw California. Uhg." <br /><br />Ahh...SO intelligent. <br /><br />Anyways.<br /><br />I felt like God was being a big fat jerk and seriously questioned his so-called "Perfect will". How could he bring such amazing people into my life and then take them away from me just like that? Didn't he have any idea what this was going to do to me? What it already was doing to me? And if he did, why didn't he care? <br />anyways, thats a whole different story..But the point is, this family had come to mean more to me than I ever could have imagined, and the thought of being without them was (without being too dramatic) gut wrenchingly HORRIBLE. <br /><br />So, now is the part of the story where I tell you why. <br /><br />Never before have I had a friend who has cared more about, and for me. Never have I had a friend who encourages me more and always reminds me how special I am. Never before have I had a friend who can read me so well. And never have I had such an insanely open invitation for breakfast, lunch and dinner, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. If it wasn't for Annie I don't know where, or who I would be right now. I know without a doubt that if it wasn't for her I wouldn't have the relationship that I do with Christ. And for that, more than anything else, I owe her a great deal of love, respect, and gratitude. I've never felt so unconditionally loved by anyone else in this world. I can't even put into words how insanely blessed I am to have someone in my life who is older and much wiser than me, that I can talk to and ask questions and share my fears and doubts with who always prays for me and points me back to Christ and his love and grace. To have someone who genuinely believes that God has an incredible plan for my life and constantly encourages me to seek and trust in him. Not everyone has that. To say that I feel extremely blessed, is an understatement. <br /><br />Chabot-Belands, I love you all more than words can say. Thank you for making room for me in your lives, I really can't tell you how honored I feel. <3Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-3883507250575731292010-11-18T09:33:00.000-08:002010-11-19T10:36:30.957-08:00The things you don't want to hearI was asked the other day to look back over this last year and find something that I learned and share it with a group of people that, in all honesty I don't really know that well. At first I thought I might be able to make something up. Maybe try and come up with something deep and profound that would sound really good to everyone. But when I actually started to look at what I'd learned this year, it wasn't what I'd hoped I'd find. It wasn't deep and profound. It wasn't encouraging by any means. Instead, what I found was that more than anything else, I had learn a lot about myself this year.<br /><br />And I can't say that I like what I saw. <br /><br />As I thought about this last year and what I've filled it with, I realized something:<br />I'm terrified of being a disappointment.<br />I spend so much of my time trying to be perfect for those around me, and what the hell for? <br /><br />I think for a while I had subconsciously convinced myself that if I was the best possible version of myself that I could be, than I would have left an unforgettable impression in the lives of those around me. And that if I succeeded in being that amazing person one hundred percent of the time, then maybe people wouldn't see my faults and insecurities. <br /><br />Funny huh? I'm not really sure how or when I managed to convince myself of such an absurd impossibility...all I know is that it's one of the more foolish things I've done so far in my life. <br /><br />But what I've learned from it is this: <br />I don't think there is anything wrong with wanting to be the best you can be, because I do want to strive to be worthy of Gods call on my life. But if I'm striving to be perfect for other people, it's all in vain. What matters is the heart behind our actions. If our motives are clouded, then won't our actions be clouded as well? I don'know. All I'm sure of is that I'm already good enough in Gods eyes. He loves me just the way I am, so I don't Need to strive for him to be happy with me. I don't need to strive so that he won't forget me.<br /> <br />While it's because of this great love and acceptance that I continually do strive to be what God has called me to be, it's never because I feel like he's going to be disappointed in me if I make a mistake. It's never because I fear that he's going to wake up one day and realize that I'm not good enough for him to love after all. It's because I know that my salvation has already been paid for. That theres absolutely nothing I can do to be better then how He already sees me. <br /><br />Because I can't beat perfect. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TObDf8BL97I/AAAAAAAAANU/aiLnDhk7Kac/s1600/rainbow.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TObDf8BL97I/AAAAAAAAANU/aiLnDhk7Kac/s320/rainbow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541331344980441010" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-85681603255318411212010-11-07T15:07:00.000-08:002010-11-07T16:29:52.848-08:00This is why you're hot...Soo...this is the first installment in a series I'm calling "This is why you're hot" <br />Over the next few weeks (or months), I'm going to be writing a few posts about some of the people who have impacted my life, and what I love about them.<br /><br />So here goes...<br /><br />LeeAnne<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TNcysjkzrqI/AAAAAAAAANM/e23zrYDFD3k/s1600/LeeAnne.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TNcysjkzrqI/AAAAAAAAANM/e23zrYDFD3k/s320/LeeAnne.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536950007920570018" /></a><br /><br />I don't think I laugh more with any other person. You've shown me that it's good to be passionate about the things that interest you, whether other people are supportive of those passions or not. And that it's okay to have fun doing random and occasionally really dumb things. Even if my brother thinks its stupid. ;) I can always count on you for an adventure. Whether it's walking the butte and finding random middle schoolers getting it on in the bathrooms, or saving the world from zombies and then looking out the window to find the swat-team in your front yard, we always have a good time. You're the only person I'll let take my picture because you're the only one I trust not to post the ones I don't like on facebook. ;) <br /><br />I love how we can talk about how stupid we think women are while listening to Demon Hunter and playing xbox and then turn around and talk about Twilight and how beautiful Robert Pattinson is. ;D <br /><br />But I think the thing I love most is this: That we don't have to spend every minute of everyday talking about how much we love each other in order to know that we do. <br />That even if we end up on opposite ends of the earth someday, that I know without a doubt that you won't forget about me. That someday 20 or 30 years from now, when I introduce you to someone I can say, "We've been friends since highschool." <br />That might sound really weird, but I'm excited for that day because you were the one who showed me that people actually can stay good friends for more then just a year or two. <br /><br />But...there's one more thing that I love..maybe even more then those things above.<br />I love that because we have a relationship that mostly consists of 'giggle fits' and sarcasm, when we take the time to have real conversations about life and find out how we're each doing, the things that come out of those times mean a lot more to me then most, and I usually end up learning things about myself that I didn't know before. <br /><br />Even though we're both growing and changing into the people we're going to be, I know that we'll come out on the other side still the same goods friends that we are today. Still laughing about stupid inappropriate things that only 14 year old boys laugh at, and still not being what most people would consider your normal girl. ;) <br /><br />I'm glad we're friends dude. I really really am. <br />Oh, and one more thing. Thanks for sticking with me the last few months. I know we haven't gotten to see each other and hangout as much as usual, so thank you for not acting like a stupid hoe and being all emotional and thinking that I've replaced you.<br /><br />So yeah, this is why you're hot. ;)<br /><br />I love you to death. <3Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-30886794645410381722010-10-25T20:21:00.000-07:002010-10-25T21:46:51.617-07:00SnowI think there are certain things in every person’s life that instantly make them feel hopeless when thought about or seen. For me, one of those things is snow. Every time I look out the window and see it gathering in its clean white blanket of death, I feel utterly hopeless. <br />I’ve never been very fond of the snow to begin with, but driving in it really freaks me out, especially now that the tires on my car are completely bald.<br />It wasn’t safe for me to be driving on them at this time last year, and now it’s (in the least dramatic way possible,) a death trap. Towards the end of summer I wasn’t even sure if I would be able to get new tires at all, but my amazing mother made my dad buy some for me. Now all I have to do is find a way to get thru this next week without driving my car until my mom makes my dad put the tires on my car…We’ll see if I survive. <br /><br />It is interesting to me though, that my mom had to make my dad buy me new tires. And that she will have to make him put them on for me. I know that my dad loves me…in some way…but I’ve never understood his way of showing it. <br />To him, it should have been obvious that he loved us because he went to work every day. “I go to work in the dark and come home in the dark!” is what he always used to yell at us. I never remember hearing that and thinking that my dad loved me. He always made it sound like, “If it wasn’t for you my life would be so much better.”<br /><br /> Looking back, I’ve never known without a doubt that my dad loves me, or would do anything for me. I can’t say that my dad would do everything within his power to make sure that I was safe, or that he would even lift a finger to help me for that matter. If it made him look good in front of other people, he might consider it…but bottom line, I’m not worth it to him, I never have been, and honestly, I might never be. And that’s okay with me....I think. <br /><br />What bothers me the most is this: People thinking that because they’ve done something kind for the people around them that that proves their undying love for them and no continued action or affection is necessary. <br />To me love is a commitment that requires more of you than is comfortable to give at times. It requires dropping more of your pride then you would like. It requires some form of continued action other than going to work every day. I don’t know, I could totally be wrong…It just seems like my dad would be going to work every day even if I didn’t exist…so for him to say that’s his way of showing love toward me just doesn’t seem….I don’t know…real enough…<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TMZdA1gMHwI/AAAAAAAAANE/AlWRgbukDGo/s1600/SnowDay.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TMZdA1gMHwI/AAAAAAAAANE/AlWRgbukDGo/s320/SnowDay.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532211461214707458" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-4226552958875434742010-09-27T08:45:00.000-07:002010-09-27T09:30:45.391-07:00Just so we're all clear...Becoming an intern will most definitely show you things about yourself that you do not want to see. It will show you the pride, arrogance, and malice that are lurking in your own heart. In a way, it will show you who you really are...Or at least who you would be without Christ. I think we all have this idea that other people perceive us the same way we perceive ourselves. I think most of us would say that we are pretty nice or at least somewhat decent people. That we’re patient, loving, kind, generous, ect. ect. I think we would like to say that we are those things…at least to some extent. But what would those who are closest to you say? Because you see, I could give you a long list of things I’d like to be, but an even longer list of things that I would love not to be, but am. And I think if someone were to ask the people who see me the most to look at these two lists and check all the things that apply, more of the things on that longer list would be circled then would be on the shorter one. Now don’t get me wrong here, I’m not feeling badly about myself in this post, I’m just trying to be honest in my evaluation of myself. We all have things we need to work on, and for me those things seem to be everything. And to be honest, I’m excited to be working on them. While it’s nowhere near close to being an enjoyable experience, I’m looking forward to the day when something unbelievably frustrating happens, and I don’t get really pissed. ha.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TKDGcyc68cI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DWySp86HHYM/s1600/hahahaha.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/TKDGcyc68cI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DWySp86HHYM/s320/hahahaha.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521631341037941186" /></a><br /><br />Sorry...I couldn't help myself. I searched "inspiring pictures" and this is what came up....hahahaAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-66554303419969888792010-09-12T21:11:00.000-07:002010-09-12T21:12:15.429-07:00.....Stupid freaking California.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-77031135273620277892010-09-06T14:23:00.001-07:002010-09-06T15:04:00.033-07:00I've become quiet...I'm not sure when this happened. <br /><br />I realized the other night though, that I don't talk very much anymore. It used to be that whenever something interesting happened to me I couldn't wait to tell my friends and family. But now there are a lot of things that go unsaid simply because I've lost the desire to share them. It's not that I don't talk to anyone ( I think I still do a great deal of talking if I'm around someone long enough.), I just feel like I don't have anything interesting to say anymore. Not that I really ever did come to think of it...I just don't really have much to say to anyone anymore it feels like. Even people I don't get to talk to very often. I see them or talk to them on the phone and I find myself not knowing what to say. It's as if I've convinced myself that no one cares about the little things I have to say. Either that or I just don't care to tell them. And it's not because I don't want them to know whats going on in my life, its simply because I feel like I don't have the energy to tell them. I realized this the other night when my mom was talking to me. She would pause and wait for me to say something, but I never had anything to offer the conversation. I feel like my brain just shuts itself off. It's as if it gets tired of thinking and formulating sentences so it just stops whenever it feels like it and I'm left with a completely blank and useless brain. It might as well not even be up there if that's how it's going to act.<br />But seriously, how sad is that? I can't even have a normal conversation with my own mother because I can't think of a single thing to say. I'm over it. I'm ready to be able to form somewhat intelligent thoughts. It's either that or act like a 4 year old and start repeating other people when I don't know what to say to them.....I can't wait to see which one I choose.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-60612301374365191602010-05-08T20:45:00.000-07:002010-05-08T23:31:17.188-07:00I don't even know where to begin...So I might as well start from the beginning. <br /><br />5 and a half years ago, my brother and I went to a church called Oasis for the first time. On the way there I remember both of us saying that for the first time in our lives we were actually excited to be going to church. I remember listening to the pastor thinking "where did this guy come from? I've never heard this stuff before." For the first time in my life, I felt something inside of me stir, and the two and a half years that followed, I felt my spirit come to life. I realized what it meant to follow Christ. That he wasn't just some guy that died on a cross for his friends 2,000 years ago; He's God, He's my Father, He loves me more then anyone else ever has and ever will, and He is to be Honored. I could go on and on telling you all the things I learned sitting in that church for the two, very short, and precious years that I did, but that would make for a ridiculously long blog. <br /><br />Fast forward to Sunday March 4th 2007. That Sunday was different. For the fist time in two and a half years I didn't feel challenged or convicted. I sat there wondering if it was something I was doing wrong. Was I not listening? Was I off in another world somewhere? But when church was drawing to an end, the pastor praying and the worship team quietly playing in the background, I saw something I'd never seen before. I saw my pastor fall to his knees, and felt something in me become tense. I realized later that that tension was like a buzzer sounding off to warn me that something terribly wrong was about to happen. <br />Two day's later I was told what is possibly the hardest news I've ever heard. I was told that my pastor had confessed to his wife that he had been unfaithful to her. <br /><br />I hardly spoke for two days. I went right to my room and put on one of the sermons he had taught, and I prayed it wasn't true. I begged God to tell me it wasn't true. For the first time in my life I can say I was truly heartbroken. I felt like something inside of me had been ripped out. Ripped out with so much force, that I didn't know how I would be able to go on.<br />The next night I went to my youth group in the hopes of being able to cry with and lean on the rest of my church family, who would no doubt be just as heartbroken as me. But I couldn't find one person who looked even the slightest bit shaken. I was so confused. Didn't they care? Hadn't they heard? Were the leaders going to tell us that night? What was going to happen? I sat in small group very quietly. Just waiting for some sign that I wasn't the only broken person sitting there. It wasn't until we did prayer requests that I found someone who shared in my pain. When my small group leader was asked what her prayer request was, she answered: "I'm heartbroken. My whole world has been turned upside down this week." My feelings exactly. When I got home that night, I went to the salsa kitchen to be alone. I fell against the door and slid to the floor and wept. All I could do was ask God why. I must have asked a hundred times. When I was finally able to wipe the tears from my eyes and look up, I was given the answer to my question. I looked up to find the name of the company that made the 100 gallon bowl that we used for making salsa welded to the side of the bowl that I was facing. The name of the company is Groen. <br /> <br />Growing. That was the answer I was given. The pain and heartache was so I could grow. It was so God could bring me closer to himself. And with that, I was okay...more or less. It wasn't that the hole that had been ripped through me was any smaller; it wasn't that my heart was any less broken. It was that I knew God was still there. It was that I knew he hadn't abandoned me. <br /><br />When I walked into church that Sunday I looked for my pastor...but I never found him. I wanted so badly to find him and tell him how sorry I was. To tell him that I had forgiven him the very instant I'd heard what happened. To give him a hug and tell him how much I loved him. But he was nowhere to be found. I was never given the chance to say those things to him. Due to the way him and his family were pushed out of town and not aloud to come speak with all of us, I didn't get to say goodbye. That hurt. And for three years I've hated going to church. I've sat and listened, and never been told anything new. Never been challenged. For three years I've felt homeless. And more then anything else, I've missed my church and my pastor so desperately. <br /><br />Fast forward 3 years to May 7th 2010. <br />I finally got to see my pastor and his family again. I got to hug them and tell them how much I've missed them. How much I love them. I got to tell my old pastor that I forgave him, that I had never been angry with him for even a second. I can't express how awesome and yet heart wrenching it was to look across the room and see him and his Amazing wife standing there. It was awesome because I was seeing and talking with them for the first time in such a long time, and heart wrenching because all I wanted to do was find some way to go back in time. All I wanted was to find some way to bring them back, to have him be my pastor again, to have Oasis back. And knowing that I can't....is almost to much to bare. <br /><br />To be honest, I didn't know how much it was going to hurt to see them again. I didn't realize that it was going to force me to realize how much I've missed them. Not that I'd forgotten, but I'd developed a nice shell of numbness. I'd gotten pretty good at pushing the pain of missing them, as far away from me as I could. I'd gotten pretty good at ignoring the heartache that is still very much alive and well. And now it's as if the scab has been ripped off. <br /><br />But even though it hurt to have that scab ripped away, I got to see my pastor again. And words cannot express how much joy that gives me. I can't even believe how blessed I am to have been able to spend some time last night and some of today with him and his family. I was shocked to find out that they actually remembered me. ME of all people. I can't explain what a blessing this weekend has been. They even gave me and LeeAnne their address and phone numbers and sincerely invited us to come visit them at anytime. I wish I could explain how truly amazing they are. I wish I could explain how much I love them. But I don't think I could do it justice.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-44795465611652597302010-03-29T22:41:00.000-07:002010-09-10T10:21:16.348-07:00I'm getting better at this whole listening thing....I thinkMy sister in-law told me something today that really made me kind of upset. Not because she said anything wrong, but because what she said was exactly right, and I didn't want to hear it. I didn't throw a fit or anything immature, ;) but when our conversation ended, I knew she had told me something about myself that was true, and that I'm going to have to change. And that wasn't exactly.....fun.<br /><br />We were talking about the relationship I have with my dad, and I told her that it's not my responsibility to show my dad what it looks like to be respectful. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that it's not my responsibility to respect my dad. I'm saying that it was his job to treat his family and those around him with respect, so that in return, we (his children) would know what it looked like to respect others, and in doing so, he would not only earn our respect, but show us what it looked like to respect him. Does that make sense? When you're a six year old little girl being screamed and cussed at by your father about how you don't respect him enough, call me crazy, but that doesn't naturally evoke in me, a desire to respect him. Nor does it show me how to. All that does is show me how undeserving that person is of anyone's respect. Maybe that's harsh...And maybe it's not true, but either way, that's how I've always felt. <br />Anyways, back to our conversation. I told her how I felt about the matter of respecting him, and about my "six years old being screamed at by my father experience", and you know what she told me? <br /><br />She told me, "That might fly when your six, but you're almost 18 now, and God has shown you what it looks like to respect others. Now it's your job to do so, weather or not your dad ever taught you. It's your job to be who God has called you to be, and that means showing your dad respect, whether or not he does the same for you in return." <br /><br />F. She's right. I hate that. <br /><br />But in all honesty, I'm so glad she had the guts to tell me that. After thinking about all of this today I came to the realization of just how blessed I am to have a few people in my life that aren't afraid to give me constructive criticism. Turns out it can be a good thing. Who knew, right?! ;) <br /><br />Don't get me wrong though--There's definitely a BIG difference between constructive criticism, and just trying to get your own selfish point across during those moments where you think you know everything. And I'm definitely guilty of the second one. <br /><br />I read something today that I thought was really cool. It was said in a very different context then how I read it, but I think it's true non the less. <br /><br />"Life, and the perception we have of it, changes quickly."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-24248957001081523882010-01-07T21:28:00.001-08:002010-01-07T21:41:21.498-08:00Yep. Good day.I actually got my room clean today. I'm not gonna lie, I think it's been a few months since it was last clean.....how embarrassing. And here is the finished product:<br /><br />Yes. Those are chuck Norris posters. Don't hate me cuz I'm awesome. ;) <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0bDJcqzqCI/AAAAAAAAAMU/7-0e1cmwzDo/s1600-h/DSCN0734.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0bDJcqzqCI/AAAAAAAAAMU/7-0e1cmwzDo/s320/DSCN0734.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424237368296319010" /></a><br /><br />The desk area (that never gets used).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0bDkJqUbjI/AAAAAAAAAMc/wD8pymGdoUI/s1600-h/DSCN0728.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0bDkJqUbjI/AAAAAAAAAMc/wD8pymGdoUI/s320/DSCN0728.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424237827050466866" /></a><br /><br />Where all The Office watching goes down. ;) <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0bEHAowfKI/AAAAAAAAAMk/t6IqJTx3zZU/s1600-h/DSCN0731.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0bEHAowfKI/AAAAAAAAAMk/t6IqJTx3zZU/s320/DSCN0731.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424238425923419298" /></a><br /><br /><br />And the amazing nightstand. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0bElQyNZpI/AAAAAAAAAMs/PvXLEqKH9CE/s1600-h/DSCN0738.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0bElQyNZpI/AAAAAAAAAMs/PvXLEqKH9CE/s320/DSCN0738.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424238945654105746" /></a><br /><br />Well, there you have it. My room. Very blue. With a lot of converse. <br />Now I'm off to go wash all the dust that's giving me a headache down the drain.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-2498881963015687832010-01-07T10:21:00.000-08:002010-01-07T10:27:46.694-08:00todayI plan on cleaning my room. Or at the very least being able to see my floor. <br /><br />We'll see.....<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0Ynke-d7yI/AAAAAAAAAMM/KzrQXayzi38/s1600-h/spring+cleaning+jpeg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/S0Ynke-d7yI/AAAAAAAAAMM/KzrQXayzi38/s320/spring+cleaning+jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424066308958187298" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-64617809743460866242010-01-01T22:18:00.000-08:002010-01-02T10:05:27.187-08:00growing upLife. It can be tiresome. Painful; wonderful; and terrifying all at the same time. I've been thinking the last few days, I'm getting close to my 18th birthday, and I feel like instead of actually growing in maturity this last year, that I've digressed. I don't feel like I'm ready to be an "adult". If that's what you would call an 18 year old. I feel more like a kid then I have in a long time. Not in a fun exciting way either. In a "I feel lost and don't think I'm ready for anymore responsibility" kind of way. I feel very immature for not wanting to find a job; for not wanting to study to retake my math test; just all around not wanting to do anything I don't really want to do. But at the same time, I really do want to do these things. I want a good job; I want to know how to do at the very least, some basic math; and I really want to study for a job in the medical field. I'm just ridiculously lazy. And scared of failure. But more then any of that, more then any of my fears, I want to be taken seriously. I want to feel like I'm moving forward. I really really want to feel, and BE responsible. <br /><br />I saw some friends of mine last night who I haven't seen in a year or so because they've been away at college. I found myself feeling very small and unaccomplished as they were asked what they were doing with themselves and they actually had an answer. And then there was me: "Um...well I just graduated a little while ago (not mentioning that I FAILED the math on the GED and will have to take it again soon), and now I'm looking for a job...oh, no I'm not going up to the college just yet..."<br />I couldn't help but feel somewhat pathetic standing next to this girl who's 20 and almost done with 4 years of college in Portland. <br /><br />Now, this is the part where I reassure you that I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm not depressed by these things, and I know that I'm only 17 and this is all a normal part of life. :) I just wanted to write some of this down and kind of get my thoughts together. And Annie requested a new blog post. ;) Happy New Year guys! <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/Sz75fSt0K7I/AAAAAAAAAME/i8P9isLDmwI/s1600-h/open+road.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/Sz75fSt0K7I/AAAAAAAAAME/i8P9isLDmwI/s320/open+road.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422045317395917746" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-59965483807891943222009-12-25T20:33:00.000-08:002009-12-25T21:50:54.716-08:00Loudness. Vodka. More loudness. And then more Vodka.Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a 6"5 overweight sleazeball, that nobody in the family likes, downing a half a bottle of vodka almost all by himself. I'm not going anywhere with this, I just thought it would be an intriguing opening. ;) <br /><br />Well, this Christmas has been....okay. The drive down was uneventful. I managed to go an average speed of 65 the whole way. Till we got to Idaho that is. I could have been going 80, but of course mom had to be....well, mom, and I was ordered to keep it at 65 due to the studded tires (not that I obeyed that order though....heh..). Last night and most of today has been somewhat depressing. Both have been filled with trying not to think about this being the first of what I'm sure will be many Christmas's spent without my brother. And then there's the periodic moan from mom about missing him, and asking every time my phone goes off "Is that Ben??". Overall though, once the annoying loud family left, the rest of the day has been rather pleasant. My constant companions being my ipod; phone; and...a book I started reading last night. I've never read so much in my life. Of course, I haven't had this much time on my hands in a long time. <br /><br />I've always liked the idea of reading. Getting wrapped up in some other reality and for a few moments, forgetting about your own. I think I've read 150 pages or so in the last 24 hours. Most of that being in the last 10 hours. Needless to say, its been ridiculously boring so far. But I'm determined to not be a pain in the a** and ruin my mom's stay with a bad attitude. But, oddly enough, it hasn't been that hard to be in at least, a somewhat good mood. Not cheery, but not really unhappy either. I must be maturing. Either that, or too apathetic to be unhappy about anything. I'm not sure which. I have a feeling its a mix though. <br /><br />Tomorrow the women (which apparently includes me) are going shopping in Boise for my cousins birthday on Sunday. Oi. I forgot about Sunday. Another party with the loud vodka drinker and his impossible wife and son. At least that's still two days away.<br /><br />Well, time to go. It's after 10 now here in I da ho. Which means its after 9 in bend. Which means I now have free minutes on my cell phone. Merry Christmas Blog. You've been good to me this year.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-42511634888829681922009-12-17T22:12:00.000-08:002009-12-17T22:39:39.775-08:00on to happier thingsA few nights ago I stayed the night at my friend Annas house. In the morning I got up about 45 minutes before she did and I laid awake thinking about some of the people in my life. I know a lot of good people. Sweet, kind, generous people. As I thought about them, I expressed my desire to be more like them, to God. I thought, "I'd like to be a sweet person. I don't think that would be a word anyone would use to describe me...other good things possibly, but not sweet. (now don't get me wrong, I don't mean sweet in a "Oh she's just the sweetest thing" kind of way. Just in the way that I'd like my demeanor and immediate reactions to things to be more kind and loving. I'd like to be more approachable I guess would be a good way of putting it. I didn't have to explain all this to God of course. He knew what I meant. That's one of the reasons why I like him so much. ;) After I expressed these things, the verse that says "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks" so gracefully and lovingly came to mind. It was as if He was saying, "If you want to be better at these things, fill your heart with me. I'd love to help you." <br /><br />Needless to say, the rest of that day was great. :) It was the second time in my life where I felt, and could clearly identify the presence of Christ' joy in my little heart....hahaha! I don't think I could have made that ANY cheesier. Mission accomplished! ;) <br /><br /><br />Oh, and in case you were wondering, the first time I ever really felt that joy, had a little something to do with these people. :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/Sysc76Rkr5I/AAAAAAAAAL8/a4Fnfzgs0lw/s1600-h/DSC_0114.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/Sysc76Rkr5I/AAAAAAAAAL8/a4Fnfzgs0lw/s320/DSC_0114.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416454792423976850" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-24826412619551063652009-12-12T00:38:00.000-08:002009-12-12T00:58:02.512-08:00I really shouldn't blog this late...I'm selfish. I spend a great deal more time thinking about myself then I should. Now I know that thinking about myself, and never putting others before me, are two completely different things, but I still feel like a very selfish human being.<br />I don't want things to change. I don't want people to leave. I don't want my relationships to change (some of them that is). I don't want to loose the comfort and closeness I have with some. The selfish part of me doesn't really want what's best for my friends and family if it doesn't include me in it. Sometimes I think its rather cruel that people have their own lives and I'm not always going to be in them. haha. Pathetic huh? Of course, your not going to agree with me. Or at least your not going to say it if you do. <br /><br />I feel like I'm wandering. Not really doing anything that will last. I don't have school, or a job. And to be honest, I really have lost all motivation to have either one. I guess it's true...I'm lazy. Not something I want to be. Somehow it just happened and I'm not sure how or why. I feel like I'm letting a few people in my life down by being this way. And I know their probably disappointed in me. I just don't know how to fix it. Almost everything I've learned in my life I had to teach myself. When I've asked for help I've been told no...one way or another. And when I get a yes, not much ever comes from it. It was like that with school, it's like that with looking for a job. If I don't do good enough I get treated like I've just failed at life and I should have known better. <br /><br />So I guess what I'm saying is, I don't know how to fix my lack of motivation. I'm not happy with life at the moment....I mean, most of it is great. It's just that amount that seemed so small at first, has gotten a lot bigger then I hoped it would..and I don't see it getting smaller any time soon. I know the answer to all this is to give it over to Christ...I just don't want to. I'm tired of asking for help and never seeing any good come of it. Which proves to me, that I am indeed blind. <br /><br />Of course, all of this could just be because it's almost 1 in the morning.....I really can't be sure. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/SyNa3ZCD-fI/AAAAAAAAAL0/iitrcdw4dUo/s1600-h/mindset.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/SyNa3ZCD-fI/AAAAAAAAAL0/iitrcdw4dUo/s320/mindset.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414271084688308722" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-72195213781434205482009-11-30T21:48:00.000-08:002009-11-30T22:23:31.926-08:00my big broI love my big brother. He's the only person who's always been there for me. He's always taken care of me, been my shoulder to cry on, given me advice, and always told me that everything will be okay. He's also one of the only people I know who doesn't talk unless he has something useful to say. I'm not one of those people. Working on it though. ha. ;) I look up to him more then anyone else. If there's one thing I'm grateful for in the midst of all the craziness in my family, its the relationship its given me with my brother. <br /><br />And who knows, maybe after he gets married and all, I'll get to see him sometimes. ;) <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/SxSuhaDqSlI/AAAAAAAAALs/c5xLG-C7j-Y/s1600/DSC_0117.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RiDK8UdQSxc/SxSuhaDqSlI/AAAAAAAAALs/c5xLG-C7j-Y/s320/DSC_0117.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410140941332400722" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-73387142017944850042009-11-26T00:45:00.000-08:002009-11-26T00:47:18.147-08:00waaaay back in the day<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8-srjbcL59s&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8-srjbcL59s&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3094385756802253049.post-12583221857783442202009-11-26T00:42:00.000-08:002009-11-26T00:43:57.432-08:00I miss this<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YtBZLRHv0SQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YtBZLRHv0SQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16953226675867679955noreply@blogger.com0