Sunday, September 12, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
I've become quiet...
I'm not sure when this happened.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
I don't even know where to begin...
So I might as well start from the beginning.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Fast forward 3 years to May 7th 2010.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Fast forward 3 years to May 7th 2010.
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.
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.
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.
Monday, March 29, 2010
I'm getting better at this whole listening thing....I think
My 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.
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.
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?
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."
F. She's right. I hate that.
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?! ;)
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.
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.
"Life, and the perception we have of it, changes quickly."
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.
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?
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."
F. She's right. I hate that.
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?! ;)
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.
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.
"Life, and the perception we have of it, changes quickly."
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Yep. 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:
Yes. Those are chuck Norris posters. Don't hate me cuz I'm awesome. ;)
The desk area (that never gets used).
Where all The Office watching goes down. ;)
And the amazing nightstand.
Well, there you have it. My room. Very blue. With a lot of converse.
Now I'm off to go wash all the dust that's giving me a headache down the drain.
Yes. Those are chuck Norris posters. Don't hate me cuz I'm awesome. ;)
The desk area (that never gets used).
Where all The Office watching goes down. ;)
And the amazing nightstand.
Well, there you have it. My room. Very blue. With a lot of converse.
Now I'm off to go wash all the dust that's giving me a headache down the drain.
Friday, January 1, 2010
growing up
Life. 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.
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..."
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.
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!
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..."
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.
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!
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