I'm sure you know the old adage, "Say a lie long enough and eventually even you will believe it." Or, as we used to believe when we were kids, "Suggest a certain plan to your parents long enough and eventually even they will see the merit and allow us to do whatever we want."
The latter, is sadly untrue. The former, however, is true on many counts. I'm proof. Living, breathing, spending proof. "Lemme 'splain . . . no, there is too much . . . Lemme sum up."
As an accounting major, people expect and assume that I am undoubtedly good with all of my monetary possessions. For almost 3 years now, I've been hearing that as an wanna-be accountant, I'm good with money. And as every good little wanna-be accountant, I believed it. As I work hard at my three jobs and make money to pay off my school bill, I hear how good I am with money. Occasionally, I would think to myself, "Mareena, you're actually just like every other person on the planet. You get money and you spend money. Sometimes you spend it on things you need, sometimes on dumb things. Most times you give to your school bill, but every once in a while, you delude yourself into thinking a drink from Starbucks or a new pen from the store is a necessity." But then I remember that I'm an accounting major, so OF COURSE, I'm good with money and should never second guess that, thank you very much.
Then tonight, as I avoided studying for my philosophy final, I decided to look at my money matters. I looked back over the past month and I honestly reported to myself on my own finances . . . And now I'm writing this post about money management, which should give you a large hint as to my reaction to said report. *sigh* It wasn't good, I tell you. Not good at all. As I added columns and balanced transactions, it seemed as though "Irresponsibility" was written in huge red letters across the page. My belief in that lovely little lie was shattered.
Bottom line, my accounting classes do not teach me how to manage my money. That, my dear friends, is why God gave us common sense and Dave Ramsey. Therefore, I have decided to put my common sense to good use and immediately install a budget into my daily life. Seriously. A budget. I thought I would be 38 years of age before I had a budget. I'm budgeting beforehand, recording during, and evaluating after. It's going to be really really tough. But eventually, a truth will come out of what started as a lie.
No, not all accounting majors are good with money . . . but this one will be.
To budgeting, and beyond!
m(r)
On the Bright Side
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
About two weeks ago, I removed my laptop from the desk and placed it on my lap. Leverage for the keys you know. Plus it's easier to relax that way. In hindsight, it might not have been my smartest move because, well, I dropped it. My roommates gasped. I laughed. I drop things all the time, no biggie, right? As I picked it up and assured my roomies that my computer was "clearly fine", I noticed my charger didn't look so normal. And then I noticed my battery was charging at all. And then I realized that my beloved Toshiba with it's big, beautiful screen and numeric keypad that makes my life as an accounting major so blissful was not clearly fine at all. She was broken.
Long story short, I sent her home to my parents to try and fix under warranty, but the warranty doesn't cover physical damage. I resigned myself to not having a computer till Christmas. But I wanted to be cheerful about it because I know God is good and has reasons for everything that happens to us. Which is why on a Wednesday afternoon, I was holed up in a cubicle at the library doing accounting homework on paper and thinking of reasons why it was good to not have a computer.
Top Ten Reasons to Not Have a Computer
1. I never have to worry about it getting stolen.
2. I get more done without the lures of the internet.
3. My backpack is 50% lighter.
4. My back hurts 50% less.
5. My desk looks bigger without it. Big enough to hold a 12-cup coffee maker.
6. I don't have to sit near an outlet, because I never have to charge my brain.
7. It doesn't matter if the Wi-fi is free or not.
8. My handwriting has improved exponentially with all the practice I get.
9. People don't expect fast replies to emails.
10. Post-it notes have taken over my living area, and I love them.
11. The last ten reasons don't matter at all, because my fabulous father fixed my computer for a mere $13 and it is currently being shipped to me.
*fist pump*
*happy dance*
m(r)
Long story short, I sent her home to my parents to try and fix under warranty, but the warranty doesn't cover physical damage. I resigned myself to not having a computer till Christmas. But I wanted to be cheerful about it because I know God is good and has reasons for everything that happens to us. Which is why on a Wednesday afternoon, I was holed up in a cubicle at the library doing accounting homework on paper and thinking of reasons why it was good to not have a computer.
Top Ten Reasons to Not Have a Computer
1. I never have to worry about it getting stolen.
2. I get more done without the lures of the internet.
3. My backpack is 50% lighter.
4. My back hurts 50% less.
5. My desk looks bigger without it. Big enough to hold a 12-cup coffee maker.
6. I don't have to sit near an outlet, because I never have to charge my brain.
7. It doesn't matter if the Wi-fi is free or not.
8. My handwriting has improved exponentially with all the practice I get.
9. People don't expect fast replies to emails.
10. Post-it notes have taken over my living area, and I love them.
11. The last ten reasons don't matter at all, because my fabulous father fixed my computer for a mere $13 and it is currently being shipped to me.
*fist pump*
*happy dance*
m(r)
I've Got the World on a String
Monday, October 31, 2011
On several strings actually . . .
I am taking harp lessons this semester at school and I love it. Growing up, I always thought of the harp as an unattainable instrument. Mostly because it seemed rather big for so small a person as my 7-year-old self, but also because there was no one I knew who played harp. When I got to college and found out it was possible to rent a harp and take lessons, it immediately went on my list of 'things to do at college'. I mean, I'm tall enough now!
I have compiled a list of what I love about playing harp:
1. It has a gorgeous sound.
- I defy anyone who dares contradict me. My dad will defy you too, because he was the one who first bought a harp CD for me and also the one who would listen to his Christmas harp CD in August because he loves the sound.
2. It's relaxing.
- I've found that 20 minutes of harp at the end of a stressful day of classes works wonders on my stress level. Music is so soothing in so many ways. Plus . . .
3. It makes me feel creative.
- The fact that I had not touched a harp before this September means that it is still essentially a novelty in my life. I feel like I create brand new music and sound every time I play.
4. It's normal to take off your shoes while you play
- I don't know about you, but I would live barefoot if it wasn't so stinkin' socially unacceptable. You want me to practice the harp? Oh, I should kick off my shoes? YES.
5. It's a great conversation starter.
- My default nervous-tick has become to practice my hand positions for harp. Which tends to get weird stares and people asking me what-in-the-fat-world am I doing. To which I reply, "I'm practicing my harp positions." And said person will look at me inquisitively and say, "Did I know you played harp?" "I just started this semester!" Then I get to talk about all the things I now know about harp, and clearly I'm an EXPERT because I've been playing for oh, 7 whole weeks now! I love being the expert.
6. It's something new.
- When else in my life could I take harp? I'm at college, I can rent a harp, and its free to take lessons. I get to embark on a new adventure and also learn a new skill set.
7. It's challenging.
- It's hard to learn a new instrument! My fingers get all tangled and my back hurts and my eyes start going fuzzy from watching the strings vibrate. But the feeling I get when I finally master a finger position or learn a new line to a song? Priceless.
I think I'm going to get a t-shirt that proudly displays to the world "I Love Harp". And I'll get t-shirts for all my friends that say, "I'm With the Harpist -->" We'll be the coolest kids on the block.
So, now that you know all the great things about harp, I want you to go out and doing something new and adventurous! Lead on to greatness, my friends!
m(r)
I am taking harp lessons this semester at school and I love it. Growing up, I always thought of the harp as an unattainable instrument. Mostly because it seemed rather big for so small a person as my 7-year-old self, but also because there was no one I knew who played harp. When I got to college and found out it was possible to rent a harp and take lessons, it immediately went on my list of 'things to do at college'. I mean, I'm tall enough now!
I have compiled a list of what I love about playing harp:
1. It has a gorgeous sound.
- I defy anyone who dares contradict me. My dad will defy you too, because he was the one who first bought a harp CD for me and also the one who would listen to his Christmas harp CD in August because he loves the sound.
2. It's relaxing.
- I've found that 20 minutes of harp at the end of a stressful day of classes works wonders on my stress level. Music is so soothing in so many ways. Plus . . .
3. It makes me feel creative.
- The fact that I had not touched a harp before this September means that it is still essentially a novelty in my life. I feel like I create brand new music and sound every time I play.
4. It's normal to take off your shoes while you play
- I don't know about you, but I would live barefoot if it wasn't so stinkin' socially unacceptable. You want me to practice the harp? Oh, I should kick off my shoes? YES.
5. It's a great conversation starter.
- My default nervous-tick has become to practice my hand positions for harp. Which tends to get weird stares and people asking me what-in-the-fat-world am I doing. To which I reply, "I'm practicing my harp positions." And said person will look at me inquisitively and say, "Did I know you played harp?" "I just started this semester!" Then I get to talk about all the things I now know about harp, and clearly I'm an EXPERT because I've been playing for oh, 7 whole weeks now! I love being the expert.
6. It's something new.
- When else in my life could I take harp? I'm at college, I can rent a harp, and its free to take lessons. I get to embark on a new adventure and also learn a new skill set.
7. It's challenging.
- It's hard to learn a new instrument! My fingers get all tangled and my back hurts and my eyes start going fuzzy from watching the strings vibrate. But the feeling I get when I finally master a finger position or learn a new line to a song? Priceless.
I think I'm going to get a t-shirt that proudly displays to the world "I Love Harp". And I'll get t-shirts for all my friends that say, "I'm With the Harpist -->" We'll be the coolest kids on the block.
So, now that you know all the great things about harp, I want you to go out and doing something new and adventurous! Lead on to greatness, my friends!
m(r)
The Blessing of Halfway
Sunday, October 23, 2011
It feels as though I've done nothing but run this semester. Run through classes, run through work. Run to meetings, to interviews, to meals. Run through homework, run through sleep, run through fun. Run to get coffee, run to get exercise. I've been running, and I won't lie to you . . . running all the time is tiring. SO tiring.
But I've finished this part of my race.
No, I promise I did not drop out of school (although you do not know how many times that option seemed incredibly inviting). But I have, however, hit a point of relief in my semester. I'm breathing today, sleeping today, and that is a fabulous thing. Just thinking about how relaxed and happy I am now makes me want to cry in relief.
That isn't why I'm writing though. I'm here to rejoice, not that I'm through, but that the Lord allowed me to be so busy and to learn so much about Him through this half of the semester. He's been so faithful to me, while helping me realize daily how undeserving I am. I've failed many, many times. Many, many, many. Many. If this semester did nothing else, it showed me how humble I should be. God has taught me many things, too many to fit into one blog post, but here is one of them.
About three weeks ago, I was walking into Panera at around 8pm on a Tuesday night with a friend who is in Bible class with me. She turns to me and says, "What book did you do your outside reading report on?"
*silence*
*crickets chirping*
I stuttered, "Aaah, what reading report?"
She whipped back around. "Mareena! The one where we read a book relating to one of the ten doctrines and write a report about it. The one due TOMORROW at 8am!"
I just stared at her. For some reason, some awful reason, I did not even know what she was talking about at all. But it was true. I was supposed to get a book, read that book, and write a book report about it by 8am the next morning. I looked at the book list . . . I hadn't read any of them. So I posted on facebook asking if anyone had any of the books. Luckily a friend had one of them in her room and she dropped it off by my room. At 9:30pm on Tuesday night, I began to read Trusting God by Jerry Bridges.
No book has ever been so necessary in my life. The two hours I was able to spend reading that book shaped my outlook on the rest of the semester and really my outlook on the rest of my life. It had three *simple* ideas.
God is sovereign.
God is good.
We should trust Him.
In everything, I can always turn back to the fact that my God is always looking out for my best good. Not what I think is best, but He knows is best. When I didn't get an internship that I was hoping for, I couldn't even be too sad about it. I had a talk with God, and I told Him that because I knew He was sovereign and He was love, that I was not supposed to get the internship. When I have friends who are struggling and my piddly brain cannot think of what I should say, I can reassure them of God's goodness and sovereignty. I mean, anything and everything can always lead back to those two things! It's so wonderful to know that Someone knows my life and I don't have to worry about it.
This semester isn't over; I still have a lot of responsibilities left to complete. However, the second half will include more breathing room. Hopefully it will include just as many learning experiences though. And whatever happens, I'll be thankful.
Col 3:15 And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful.
But I've finished this part of my race.
No, I promise I did not drop out of school (although you do not know how many times that option seemed incredibly inviting). But I have, however, hit a point of relief in my semester. I'm breathing today, sleeping today, and that is a fabulous thing. Just thinking about how relaxed and happy I am now makes me want to cry in relief.
That isn't why I'm writing though. I'm here to rejoice, not that I'm through, but that the Lord allowed me to be so busy and to learn so much about Him through this half of the semester. He's been so faithful to me, while helping me realize daily how undeserving I am. I've failed many, many times. Many, many, many. Many. If this semester did nothing else, it showed me how humble I should be. God has taught me many things, too many to fit into one blog post, but here is one of them.
About three weeks ago, I was walking into Panera at around 8pm on a Tuesday night with a friend who is in Bible class with me. She turns to me and says, "What book did you do your outside reading report on?"
*silence*
*crickets chirping*
I stuttered, "Aaah, what reading report?"
She whipped back around. "Mareena! The one where we read a book relating to one of the ten doctrines and write a report about it. The one due TOMORROW at 8am!"
I just stared at her. For some reason, some awful reason, I did not even know what she was talking about at all. But it was true. I was supposed to get a book, read that book, and write a book report about it by 8am the next morning. I looked at the book list . . . I hadn't read any of them. So I posted on facebook asking if anyone had any of the books. Luckily a friend had one of them in her room and she dropped it off by my room. At 9:30pm on Tuesday night, I began to read Trusting God by Jerry Bridges.
No book has ever been so necessary in my life. The two hours I was able to spend reading that book shaped my outlook on the rest of the semester and really my outlook on the rest of my life. It had three *simple* ideas.
God is sovereign.
God is good.
We should trust Him.
In everything, I can always turn back to the fact that my God is always looking out for my best good. Not what I think is best, but He knows is best. When I didn't get an internship that I was hoping for, I couldn't even be too sad about it. I had a talk with God, and I told Him that because I knew He was sovereign and He was love, that I was not supposed to get the internship. When I have friends who are struggling and my piddly brain cannot think of what I should say, I can reassure them of God's goodness and sovereignty. I mean, anything and everything can always lead back to those two things! It's so wonderful to know that Someone knows my life and I don't have to worry about it.
This semester isn't over; I still have a lot of responsibilities left to complete. However, the second half will include more breathing room. Hopefully it will include just as many learning experiences though. And whatever happens, I'll be thankful.
Col 3:15 And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful.
Give Until There's Nothing Left
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
I’m headed back to Bob Jones today and there has been no small amount of . . . reluctance on my part. This summer has been amazing, even more so because I wasn’t able to come home last summer. Lots of work opportunities, wonderful friends, hilarious memories, and family colored every day of my summer. That’s why I don’t want to go back. I’ll miss all of this.
Well, that’s really only one reason. Something else adds to my reluctance, my resistance to jumping back into college. I don’t like to admit it to you . . . to me . . . to anyone.
*breathe*
I’m scared.
Yeah.
The queen of “I can do this!” is scared that I can’t do this.
My throat gets thick, my breath comes faster, my heart feels heavy, and I’m pretty sure my eyes dilate every time I start contemplating how much will rest on me this semester. It’s as close to a panic attack as I ever want to experience.
I have three jobs. I’m taking 17 credit hours. And that’s the easy-peasy lemon-squeezy part. I’m also president of my society, leader of 90 girls. I’m a room leader responsible for two freshmen and their well-being. I’m a volleyball coach. I have to impress recruiters from accounting firms who are coming to select interns and future employers. I have to actually think about my future. And I’m taking harp lessons!
See? STRESS. Usually I look at challenges like opportunities for awesomeness wrapped up in shiny, difficult packages, but not this time.
So, I’m scared to go back and have to be so responsible. Mostly, I’m scared that I won’t live up to the expectations that other people put on me, and that I put on myself. I want to be a president that encourages a society, not just because we have fun, but because we grow spiritually together. I want to lead my roommates and be a godly example that they would want to look up to. I want to have more of an influence as an employee, a student, a leader, a friend, a mentor, a daughter, and a coach.
I’m not panicking as much today as I have been the past few weeks though. I have this song that I’ve listened to a million times in the past week and its chorus says something like:
I’ll give until there’s nothing else. I’ll give my life until it all runs out. I’ll give and I’ll have no regrets. I’ll give until there’s nothing left.
You see, up until now, I’ve been focusing on me. How will this affect me? How does it make me feel? Will this work for me? But I’m realizing that it’s not about me at all, because God has given me so many opportunities for the semester and I would waste them all if I did them for me. My focus is turning from me and onto God and others. How can I impact my society for God? How can I serve Him best? What ways can I affect the lives of those around me? Who do I need to encourage? If there is a need, I want to meet it. All the things that take up my day shouldn’t be about me. And if I royally fail at everything, it’s okay. Really. Because I’ve given everything over to God and He knows what would glorify Him most. It is a dose of humility to my prideful spirit. I give it to Him because He can handle it when I can’t. He knows the outcome, now I just have to give until there’s nothing left of me.
It is a good place to be.
And I will very gladly spend and be spent for you -- II Corinthians 12:15a
Take Me Back
Saturday, August 20, 2011
My mom just pulled out a textbook from my senior year and asked if I had anything overly personal that I wanted to keep out of it. I shook my head and immediately said no, but then when she opened the garage door to throw it in the recycle bin I stopped her. Who knows, I could've kept something in there that I might need!
Well, here's what I did find.
I liked to doodle in class.
And yes, I have no earthly idea why on a talk about the good aspects of marriage, I have a heart and the word MONEY. Hmm. I think I'm probably as worried about me as you are.
*cough*
Aaaanyway . . .
The last pages in the books held my masterpieces.
I loved practicing my handwriting. There's a picture of me in my senior yearbook showing this exact doodle off. Seriously, I look so excited about it too. Is that a girl thing? None of the boys ever did that . . . they were usually too busy trying to make their handwriting so miniscule that it could not be read, and therefore not graded wrong. (they would never say that, but I knew that's why they did it)
I never thought I would be saving doodles from the recycle bin, but somehow, I really want to keep these. They're a connection to the 18-yr old me and I can't tell you how many times I've tried to remember what it was like to be 18. I know it was only two years ago, but those two years have changed so much about who I am, that's it's hard to remember not being . . .well, me. So, these doodles will be my ticket back to a place where my parents took care of me, my stress was nonexistent, and I had a room to myself . . .
I had a room to myself?!
I also had a star above my name.
Man, was I living in a dream world.
m(r)
Well, here's what I did find.
I liked to doodle in class.
A lot. Almost every page had some kind of word scribble or doodle on it.
And yes, I have no earthly idea why on a talk about the good aspects of marriage, I have a heart and the word MONEY. Hmm. I think I'm probably as worried about me as you are.
*cough*
Aaaanyway . . .
The last pages in the books held my masterpieces.
I loved practicing my handwriting. There's a picture of me in my senior yearbook showing this exact doodle off. Seriously, I look so excited about it too. Is that a girl thing? None of the boys ever did that . . . they were usually too busy trying to make their handwriting so miniscule that it could not be read, and therefore not graded wrong. (they would never say that, but I knew that's why they did it)
I never thought I would be saving doodles from the recycle bin, but somehow, I really want to keep these. They're a connection to the 18-yr old me and I can't tell you how many times I've tried to remember what it was like to be 18. I know it was only two years ago, but those two years have changed so much about who I am, that's it's hard to remember not being . . .well, me. So, these doodles will be my ticket back to a place where my parents took care of me, my stress was nonexistent, and I had a room to myself . . .
I had a room to myself?!
I also had a star above my name.
Man, was I living in a dream world.
m(r)
Goin' Retro on the Metro
Monday, July 25, 2011
Riding the bus has been one of the most interesting, challenging, hilarious, and eye-opening experiences ever. I’m fairly certain that I could have written a post a day about my Metro bus adventures, and they would still be interesting to you. But I don’t have time to write a post a day. I barely have time to brush my teeth. Okay, that’s a lie. I do brush regularly, I swear. But I definitely don’t have time to floss! My dentist is probably so ashamed of me right now.
Enough about my dental hygiene though; I came to talk about my bus ride today. It was totally radical, man. Like, the moment I stepped on the bus, I felt like I was, you know, back in the 70s! Far out, right?
The bus had wood paneling on the inside. WOOD PANELING. In the place of the normal captain seats were . . . bench seats. Not just normal benches with usual blue-ish patterned fabric either. These were benches with brown-y orange upholstering that reminded me of the shag carpet that used to be in our basement. When I sat down, I looked up to make sure my bus driver wasn’t holding a guitar and singing about love and peace.
I don’t know why we had a super cool bus today. But I wish they would have told us ahead of time. Then I could’ve been prepared! I mean, I looked normal today in my business casual attire. If I had known, I would have at least worn a long, flowy skirt and maybe bought a peasant shirt at the thrift store, and maybe gotten one of those funky headbands that you wear around your forehead, and some of those weird, rounded sunglasses! And I’m sure everyone else would’ve dressed up to, because most of the people on the bus were actually alive in that decade! Then I would’ve definitely brought my Polaroid camera and taken pictures in the retro metro so I could tell everyone that I time traveled, to which everyone would reply, “Why did you travel to the 70s??”, to which I would reply, “I didn’t plan it, but the machine got stuck there . . .” And then everyone would have been confused about how I got back, and I could have made a very creative story about my mind power and how I fixed the machine and transported myself back to the present!
Oh man, it would have been AWESOME. But no, they didn’t tell us. So I sat there in my bench, only halfway transported to that decade of hippies.
It was still fun though. And the benches were really comfy.
I love the bus. And peace. I love that too.
m®
Missing Hugs and Hamburgers
Monday, July 18, 2011
This is kind of early to write this post, because I still have several weeks before the next semester, but I got to see the Hartzlers yesterday . . so I'm writing it now. I’ve written about the Hartzlers before. They took me in when I had no family down at college, and they became my family. I feel most comfortable with them and if I have a choice, I always choose to spend time with them over just about anybody else besides my accounting book . . . and sometimes I forsake even that duty to go spend an evening with my adopted family. At the Hartzlers, I get my fill of hugs and kids and hamburgers. They even let me nap on their couch. Now that’s love.
The thing is, going back to Bob Jones is going to be whole lot harder this year. Not because of money or my schedule, although those will contribute, but because my adopted family moved. They actually moved closer to my hometown, but miles and miles away from Greenville. Their wonderful, colorful, lovely house is no longer filled with the family that welcomes me. It’s empty. I feel rather lost and lonely without a family or a couch down there.
But you know what? I will always remember the one year that I got to spend as part of their family. My sophomore year of college will be crystallized in my memory as one of the best years because of them.
Chris, I’m so happy that you have this amazing new job with great opportunities . . . I will miss your apple pie and coffee.
Sherri, you are so easy to talk to. I’m going to miss hanging around you while you clean the kitchen and watching the last 10 min of North & South with you. You know you still have a job looking at the Facebook pages of any boys that show interest in me; I need that pre-screening.
Caroline, I love YOU, random citizen! I love that you quote movies with me. Would you believe that I will miss seeing you in your basketball shorts and t-shirts? You find that hard to believe. Well, would you believe your ponytail? No. Hmm, would you believe I’ll miss your laugh? I will. You’re a great little sister.
Erica, my little dancer, you move with such grace. I will indeed miss our dance routines and even helping you with multiplication facts. I’m still upset that you’re so good at the hula-hoop though . . . But you remember, this contact represents you; my eye represents my eye; I’ve got my EYE on YOU, little miss, no matter how far away you are.
Juji girl, you are the third born girl just like me. I can hear your adorable little giggle in my head now. I’ll have to call occasionally so I can hear it when I’m feeling down and missing you.
Adam, you stole my heart the first time you told me I smelled yummy. I’m going to miss rubbing your head, although I’m sure you won’t miss that. Promise you’ll stay exactly the same until I come to visit you again . . . thanks. I’m going to miss the voluntary hugs that you gave so infrequently. It made them more special.
Yes, I’m going to miss them. But I am very happy for the new beginnings they have ahead of them. And I’m glad that our paths were able to cross so completely for one year. I’m talking as if I’ll never see them again, but I will! It just won’t be in their little house in Greenville. My trips home will probably also include an extra 3-hour drive to see the Hartzlers.
So, my Thursday evenings this year will be filled with homework and harp practice instead of Wipeout and Barbie movies, but I’ll make it. God has something new planned for me this semester and I’ll be ready for it.
m®
Dear Carl
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The first time I saw you on the bus, I couldn’t see past your crocodile leather baseball cap and enormous gold rings on each finger. It may not have shown, but I was laughing at you on the inside. Then you started talking in your very loud voice, and I laughed a little harder.
The next time I remember you distinctly was when you yelled at me. I had my laptop on my lap, and you let me know that that wasn’t safe. You couldn’t let it go either. I tried to pretend I didn’t hear you through my headphones. And I didn’t close my laptop till you left on purpose. It irked me that you were trying to tell me what to do, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.
You always yell out a date whenever someone leaves the bus. I couldn’t figure out why you did that; I thought you were just weird. And getting kind of old and senile.
I heard you talking (how could I not? You were so loud) and telling someone that you were just going to ride the bus downtown and back again since you didn’t have to be home till 7:30. Snide remarks wanted to come out, but then I started thinking about that. And I began to wonder about you a little.
Then, yesterday, someone stopped to talk to you while I was sitting right behind you. Someone came to you, not the other way around like usual. He sat down across the aisle from you and wanted to know how you were. You asked him about his son. What is his birthday, you said. Four, twenty-nine, ninety-three, he replied. It took you a second, but then you said, Thursday! He was a Thursday baby. Then you sat back, satisfied. No, you sat forward again. What’s your next son’s birthday, you ask. One, six, ninety-eight. Tuesday, you say after a moment. The man across from you must have seen my smile, because, well, I had just checked the calendar on my phone to make sure you were right. You were. According to your friend, you never miss. The man asked if I wanted to tell you my birthday. He used your name, Carl. That was the first time I had ever heard it. So I told you my birthday, and you told me that I was a Wednesday baby. Then a woman got up and left the bus, and you yelled out, Three, five, sixty-seven.
Then I knew. I knew that you weren’t crazy. Maybe a little autistic, but not crazy. You had found out the birthdays of all the regulars on the bus. You knew them by their birthdays and it was your way of identifying with them. You turned around and said to me, Oh good, you don’t have that laptop out. That’s dangerous. And then I knew something else. That you must have an amazing memory for people, for dates, for . . . everything! You knew my birthday now and you would probably never forget it and every time I see you on the bus, your head will think “12-26-90, Wednesday.” You know what, Carl? I almost cried right then, because while I had laughed at your wardrobe choices, your voice, and even your loneliness, you had been trying to connect with people. I had not bothered for one second to really even consider you, and now you knew more about me than I knew about you. You wanted to know my name and whether I was . . . right or left-handed. Carl, God used you to hit me upside the head with just how self-centered I am, and for just a few moments, I saw you through God’s eyes, to the person underneath all the stuff on the outside.
I used to roll my eyes every time I saw you on the bus, but now, I pray for you, Carl. I pray that more people like that man on the bus will give you a chance to shine. That someone is waiting for you at home, ready to take care of you. I pray that God will bless your bus ride. I pray that if I ever have the chance to talk to you again that I’ll be a blessing to you. I pray that God will give me humility to see through His eyes more often. I never thought that riding the bus to work would be such an experience. Thank you for being you, Carl. Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow morning on bus #142.
A different person after meeting you,
Mareena
Suits, Shorts, Jeans, and Brothers
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
I'm not really a creative person. Creativity is often outside my comfort zone and so I avoid it. But sometimes, on special occasions, like when I'm driving through Zona Rosa, I'll see something that sparks a creative thought. Not creative in a phenomenal way, just creative in a 'outside your normal thoughts as you see someone walking down the street' sort of way.
Today, as I was driving through Zona Rosa, I saw three guys walking. Normally, that's the amount of thought I would give to this situation. I would count the men, because well, I like accounting for things. Then I would think about the number 3 and how it is a prime number and not divisible by 2. Then I would think about how I have two very close friends, which makes us a group of 3, just like these men. That line of thinking would lead me to think about Jessiejane and Sammie and how even though there are 3 of us, we all get along together and we all get along separately with each counterpart of our group. Then I would wonder how these men got along with each other and if they were close or just business acquaintances and if they enjoy being around each other together and separately and if . . . well, I could go on for a while, because I'm a girl.
However, today when I saw that group of three men, I did NOT think about prime numbers or my friends from college. Because there was something interesting about these men. They were all dressed differently. Yes, I'm making assumptions about people based on dress, ok? Man #1 was wearing a sharp-looking gray business suit. Man #2 was wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt. Man #3 was wearing jeans and an untucked polo. Now you're wondering where I'm going with this, because we all know that everyone dresses differently. Well, the thing is, they were all walking together to the same restaurant. Normally, I would say that they all worked together and were just grabbing a bite to eat on their mutual lunch break. But how could they work together? Usually company dress policies aren't radical enough to include both a business suit and cargo shorts. And this is where my 'creative' brain pattern began to form.
I began to imagine them as brothers. Three brothers who grew up in the same house, but all found their fulfillment in separate careers. Brother #1 is moving up the corporate ladder after graduating with an accounting degree, of course (because it is the best degree out there). He normally eats with business associates or potential contacts, but Mondays are reserved. He was almost late to lunch because of a long meeting with a new client, but he wasn't too worried because he expects his younger and less responsible brothers to be late anyway. Brother #2 is a computer guy. He builds apps for iPads, working for himself, because as second-born, he doesn't like having someone bossing him around. It's his day off . . . day because he usually works best at night. Hence the shorts and t-shirts to meet up with his brothers. He does it on purpose, knowing the Brother #1 will be stuck in a suit. Brother #3 is a professor at the community college in town. He prefers to teach morning classes, which means his afternoons are free. His casual jeans and polo are actually what he wears to class, because why dress up when most kids show up in their pajamas? He loves teaching and most students love him as well because of his laid-back manner and clear teaching style.
Lunch is a usual affair. There's laughter. There's also the occasional dig between Brother #1 and Brother #2 with Brother #3 stepping into the melee if anything gets too personal. Today they're planning a combined family vacation for the summer, but they can't agree where to go. They'll argue, with Brother #1 eventually making the final decision. And eventually they'll walk out again, talking and walking, catching the eye of a random driver who will wonder about the three men in very different clothes.
I drove on past, not knowing if my ideas had any truth in them at all. I hope they had a good lunch though . . . and I hope they enjoy their vacation this summer.
m(r)
Today, as I was driving through Zona Rosa, I saw three guys walking. Normally, that's the amount of thought I would give to this situation. I would count the men, because well, I like accounting for things. Then I would think about the number 3 and how it is a prime number and not divisible by 2. Then I would think about how I have two very close friends, which makes us a group of 3, just like these men. That line of thinking would lead me to think about Jessiejane and Sammie and how even though there are 3 of us, we all get along together and we all get along separately with each counterpart of our group. Then I would wonder how these men got along with each other and if they were close or just business acquaintances and if they enjoy being around each other together and separately and if . . . well, I could go on for a while, because I'm a girl.
However, today when I saw that group of three men, I did NOT think about prime numbers or my friends from college. Because there was something interesting about these men. They were all dressed differently. Yes, I'm making assumptions about people based on dress, ok? Man #1 was wearing a sharp-looking gray business suit. Man #2 was wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt. Man #3 was wearing jeans and an untucked polo. Now you're wondering where I'm going with this, because we all know that everyone dresses differently. Well, the thing is, they were all walking together to the same restaurant. Normally, I would say that they all worked together and were just grabbing a bite to eat on their mutual lunch break. But how could they work together? Usually company dress policies aren't radical enough to include both a business suit and cargo shorts. And this is where my 'creative' brain pattern began to form.
I began to imagine them as brothers. Three brothers who grew up in the same house, but all found their fulfillment in separate careers. Brother #1 is moving up the corporate ladder after graduating with an accounting degree, of course (because it is the best degree out there). He normally eats with business associates or potential contacts, but Mondays are reserved. He was almost late to lunch because of a long meeting with a new client, but he wasn't too worried because he expects his younger and less responsible brothers to be late anyway. Brother #2 is a computer guy. He builds apps for iPads, working for himself, because as second-born, he doesn't like having someone bossing him around. It's his day off . . . day because he usually works best at night. Hence the shorts and t-shirts to meet up with his brothers. He does it on purpose, knowing the Brother #1 will be stuck in a suit. Brother #3 is a professor at the community college in town. He prefers to teach morning classes, which means his afternoons are free. His casual jeans and polo are actually what he wears to class, because why dress up when most kids show up in their pajamas? He loves teaching and most students love him as well because of his laid-back manner and clear teaching style.
Lunch is a usual affair. There's laughter. There's also the occasional dig between Brother #1 and Brother #2 with Brother #3 stepping into the melee if anything gets too personal. Today they're planning a combined family vacation for the summer, but they can't agree where to go. They'll argue, with Brother #1 eventually making the final decision. And eventually they'll walk out again, talking and walking, catching the eye of a random driver who will wonder about the three men in very different clothes.
I drove on past, not knowing if my ideas had any truth in them at all. I hope they had a good lunch though . . . and I hope they enjoy their vacation this summer.
m(r)
Wisdom by Half
Monday, May 16, 2011
I haven't written for a month, and for that I am very sorry. Not only because all of you have stopped reading, but also because I didn't document this last month and therefore will most likely forget almost all of it. But here I am, taking control of my memory again.
I am halfway done with college. I never really thought specifically about this moment, but it is a small sort of accomplishment I suppose. Now that I am a mature *cough* and responsible *cough* and all-knowing college student, I'd like to tell you some of what I've learned the past two years of college. Some of it may apply to anyone in any walk of life, some will apply only to college students, and some may only apply to me personally. They aren't in order of importance, only in order of my thoughts. I shall place a sign on this post exactly like the one I posted on the pile of junk outside my room before I left BJU...
"Please Take What You Can Use and Toss the Rest"
So please, peruse my pile of lessons, take away what you may be able to use, and pass over the rest.
Be Involved
If I could choose only one thing to tell 18-yr old me, it would be this. Being involved is more than just something to look good on a resume; it's the link that changes you from just one more college student into a unique person. Involvement makes friends. Involvement helps give you purpose. I saw it happen in my church in Greenville. Brand new to me just two years ago, Community Baptist is now my church because I got involved. I saw it happen in my society too. Two years ago, I didn't know if I liked my society. Now I'm the president. It's crucial, critical, essential that you get involved. Whenever you find yourself feeling uncomfortable or scared in a new situation, find a way to be involved. Good things can happen.
Home is a relative term
My house is in Kansas City, MO. I live a majority of my life in Greenville, SC. So is home in KC or SC? And the answer is of course, both. The corny cliche, "Home Is Where the Heart Is" actually applies. You all know how much I love BJ and the people here, but I also love being in MO with my family and my home church. It's a weird feeling, having two homes. I'm in a perpetual state of being happy where I am and yet being happy to go somewhere else. Some end up missing wherever they are not, but I've found it is much better to appreciate where you are at the moment. So I guess that the real lesson here is contentment. For I have learned that in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content. There is something to love about every place you go.
Learning is a continual process
Learning is something that will never stop, and you know what? You can actually get better at learning! I know because I've done it. My classes are getting harder, but my grades are getting better because I'm learning how to learn. One of the important things that college does for you. You will never see a class entitled, Learning 101, but it comes with experience and hard work. Go learn to learn! How, you ask? Just do something! Experience, hard work, and a lot of thought.
People are important
Weird, right? I never woulda thunk of this one before college. I was pretty confident in my ability to function all by myself. Maybe I could exist this way, but it would be a pretty miserable existence. I used to believe I was anti-social. I went to college and found out that I LOVE PEOPLE! However, being with people takes work. Selfishness is always wanting to creep in and snatch away the friendships and relationships you make. I had to learn to make time for people . . . roommates, friends, classmates, little kids, and families. These relationships required time and effort and sometimes shared heartache, but they were. so. worth. it. God made us social beings because we need that interaction. Ah, I'm having a wave of nostalgia and 'home' sickness just thinking of all my wonderful peoples in Greenville. People are important, so make them important to you.
You WILL make mistakes
Ok, ok. I hate to admit, but . . . I sometimes . . . sort of . . . .kind of . . . a little, ok, a LOT . . tend to mess things up. Yeah. I mess up quite frequently. It honestly didn't occur to me until college, but I am susceptible to failure. Shocking, right?? I was shocked. Which is why I'm warning you all now. Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. A trip down the front stairs is much better than a fall from a ten story window. If you realize now that failure is possible, you can take the elevator of awareness down to the ground level.
Variety is the Spice of Life
Living on a college campus has given me insight to a multitude of viewpoints and lifestyles that are very different from anything I've ever known. But it's good for me to hear and see what I'm not used to. I honestly did not realize that some people thought so differently from me. I'm learning to form my own beliefs, ideas, and opinions. It's not just about what I grew up with, even though I do still hold most of the beliefs that my parents hold to. But now it isn't just what my parents taught me, it's what I know for myself. Variety is good and definitely plentiful on campus.
Keep a record
It seems like an extra hassle at the time, but the payoff is like a 20% interest bearing note payable . . . Which means it's a big payoff. BIG. A journal, photos, a blog . . . with technology today, it's very easy to paste your ideas and memories somewhere. I don't know how many times I've looked back at something I've written over the past year and thought, 'oh yeah! I had forgotten about that. That was greeeeaat....." I can't write everything down, but the few memories I recorded mean that I will remember college as more than just studying and working. Please keep track of your life. You'll greatly appreciate it later.
Halfway through college. It's crazy. But I still have halfway to go, and I'm excited to see what I learn by following my own advice. I have a feeling that there are many discoveries still to be made . . .
m(r)
I am halfway done with college. I never really thought specifically about this moment, but it is a small sort of accomplishment I suppose. Now that I am a mature *cough* and responsible *cough* and all-knowing college student, I'd like to tell you some of what I've learned the past two years of college. Some of it may apply to anyone in any walk of life, some will apply only to college students, and some may only apply to me personally. They aren't in order of importance, only in order of my thoughts. I shall place a sign on this post exactly like the one I posted on the pile of junk outside my room before I left BJU...
"Please Take What You Can Use and Toss the Rest"
So please, peruse my pile of lessons, take away what you may be able to use, and pass over the rest.
Be Involved
If I could choose only one thing to tell 18-yr old me, it would be this. Being involved is more than just something to look good on a resume; it's the link that changes you from just one more college student into a unique person. Involvement makes friends. Involvement helps give you purpose. I saw it happen in my church in Greenville. Brand new to me just two years ago, Community Baptist is now my church because I got involved. I saw it happen in my society too. Two years ago, I didn't know if I liked my society. Now I'm the president. It's crucial, critical, essential that you get involved. Whenever you find yourself feeling uncomfortable or scared in a new situation, find a way to be involved. Good things can happen.
Home is a relative term
My house is in Kansas City, MO. I live a majority of my life in Greenville, SC. So is home in KC or SC? And the answer is of course, both. The corny cliche, "Home Is Where the Heart Is" actually applies. You all know how much I love BJ and the people here, but I also love being in MO with my family and my home church. It's a weird feeling, having two homes. I'm in a perpetual state of being happy where I am and yet being happy to go somewhere else. Some end up missing wherever they are not, but I've found it is much better to appreciate where you are at the moment. So I guess that the real lesson here is contentment. For I have learned that in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content. There is something to love about every place you go.
Learning is a continual process
Learning is something that will never stop, and you know what? You can actually get better at learning! I know because I've done it. My classes are getting harder, but my grades are getting better because I'm learning how to learn. One of the important things that college does for you. You will never see a class entitled, Learning 101, but it comes with experience and hard work. Go learn to learn! How, you ask? Just do something! Experience, hard work, and a lot of thought.
People are important
Weird, right? I never woulda thunk of this one before college. I was pretty confident in my ability to function all by myself. Maybe I could exist this way, but it would be a pretty miserable existence. I used to believe I was anti-social. I went to college and found out that I LOVE PEOPLE! However, being with people takes work. Selfishness is always wanting to creep in and snatch away the friendships and relationships you make. I had to learn to make time for people . . . roommates, friends, classmates, little kids, and families. These relationships required time and effort and sometimes shared heartache, but they were. so. worth. it. God made us social beings because we need that interaction. Ah, I'm having a wave of nostalgia and 'home' sickness just thinking of all my wonderful peoples in Greenville. People are important, so make them important to you.
You WILL make mistakes
Ok, ok. I hate to admit, but . . . I sometimes . . . sort of . . . .kind of . . . a little, ok, a LOT . . tend to mess things up. Yeah. I mess up quite frequently. It honestly didn't occur to me until college, but I am susceptible to failure. Shocking, right?? I was shocked. Which is why I'm warning you all now. Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. A trip down the front stairs is much better than a fall from a ten story window. If you realize now that failure is possible, you can take the elevator of awareness down to the ground level.
Variety is the Spice of Life
Living on a college campus has given me insight to a multitude of viewpoints and lifestyles that are very different from anything I've ever known. But it's good for me to hear and see what I'm not used to. I honestly did not realize that some people thought so differently from me. I'm learning to form my own beliefs, ideas, and opinions. It's not just about what I grew up with, even though I do still hold most of the beliefs that my parents hold to. But now it isn't just what my parents taught me, it's what I know for myself. Variety is good and definitely plentiful on campus.
Keep a record
It seems like an extra hassle at the time, but the payoff is like a 20% interest bearing note payable . . . Which means it's a big payoff. BIG. A journal, photos, a blog . . . with technology today, it's very easy to paste your ideas and memories somewhere. I don't know how many times I've looked back at something I've written over the past year and thought, 'oh yeah! I had forgotten about that. That was greeeeaat....." I can't write everything down, but the few memories I recorded mean that I will remember college as more than just studying and working. Please keep track of your life. You'll greatly appreciate it later.
Halfway through college. It's crazy. But I still have halfway to go, and I'm excited to see what I learn by following my own advice. I have a feeling that there are many discoveries still to be made . . .
m(r)
Familiar Faces
Thursday, April 14, 2011
As many of you know, I work in the Business Office. I'm quite a memorable worker, but only because of my name. But because I work the same afternoons consistently, there are also memorable customers. Why? Well, because as students we have schedules. If I have class all morning, but a break at 3 on Tuesdays, then naturally, I will get my 'errands' done during the 3 o'clock hour on Tuesdays. And if I frequently have to go the business office, then well, that worker with the ironic name is going to see me almost every Tuesday at 3.
Some people are embarrassed by it. They do the embarrassed laugh and kind of shake their heads and say, 'Do you work all the time? Because you are always the one to help me.' I laugh and assure them that it is indeed a common occurrence to see the same people over and over.
Some people things it's the best thing ever. "Mareena! I get to see you every time I come in here!" Most times I don't know these people outside of the BO (business office), which makes it even more great that they use my name and get so excited about seeing me. It's must be my natural charm and good looks!
Some people don't even notice. Or maybe they do, but they never say anything about it. I usually have a moment of indecision, deciding whether I should ask about some story or transaction that happened the last time I was working, butmortification at possibly being wrong propriety tends to win out. I mean, wouldn't you feel embarrassed if a teller asked about something that you didn't realize they knew . . . weird.No amount of natural charm can make up for that.
I enjoy building friendships with people and it's quite interesting to be able to do it while sitting behind a counter. Just one more of the great reasons to work on campus. I love my job!
Some people are embarrassed by it. They do the embarrassed laugh and kind of shake their heads and say, 'Do you work all the time? Because you are always the one to help me.' I laugh and assure them that it is indeed a common occurrence to see the same people over and over.
Some people things it's the best thing ever. "Mareena! I get to see you every time I come in here!" Most times I don't know these people outside of the BO (business office), which makes it even more great that they use my name and get so excited about seeing me. It's must be my natural charm and good looks!
Some people don't even notice. Or maybe they do, but they never say anything about it. I usually have a moment of indecision, deciding whether I should ask about some story or transaction that happened the last time I was working, but
I enjoy building friendships with people and it's quite interesting to be able to do it while sitting behind a counter. Just one more of the great reasons to work on campus. I love my job!
Got Flexibility?
Monday, April 11, 2011
Here's what I've always thought I am: flexible.
Here's what I found out yesterday that I am not: flexible.
Here's what happened:
I have been able to be pretty heavily involved in ministry at my church in Greenville. I help direct children's choir, I teach the 4&5 yr old children's church, and I help in the 2&3 yr old nursery. Or at least, I did . . . until yesterday. Because they want to increase what the kids are learning in choir, they decided to make it on Wednesday night and put the music pastor in charge. I'm no longer needed to help in children's choir. Because they want to help the parents get more involved with the younger kids, they moved me from the 4&5s up to the 1st & 2nd graders. I'm no longer needed to teach the 4&5s. I didn't even get to tell them I wasn't going to be back to teach them. Because they moved children's choir to Wednesday, they had to change their regular Wednesday night program to Sunday night. And, you guessed it, they didn't need me in the nursery because the 3 yr olds go in with the older kids and the 2 yr olds are manageable with less people. So they sent me around asking if anyone needed help until I finally found an older kids group that needed an extra body.
And here's what I looked like on the outside: happy to help
Here's what I really was on the inside: NOT HAPPY TO HELP AT ALL
I wanted my little kids back. Oh sure, older kids are fine, but they don't hug me like the 3 yr olds and they also have this complex where they don't think I'm very funny, which is clearly untrue because all the 2-5 yr olds think I'm hilarious! And the older kids don't need me to read Jack & the Beanstalk 15x and use the big GIANT voice for the giant and tickle them and make them laugh. They also don't want to sing fun songs with big hand motions because obviously, that just isn't cool. And to top that off, they don't get a snack time! Yeah, I was pretty much not okay with my circumstances.
Here's what God did: convicted me of my selfishness.
I was supposed to be serving. This was a ministry.. Like I said, I've always considered myself to be flexible, but last night I realized that I was only willing to be flexible to a certain point. I had grabbed on to my ministries and made them my own personal achievements and my sources of fulfillment. Maybe that's why God thought it necessary to pull them away from me. Or maybe He just simply needed me to be available to other ministries because there was a need. I don't know exactly why it all worked out the way it did, but I know I definitely can't be effective when I'm pouting in the back of the room.
I'm still very sad to be taken away from my little kiddos, but with the Lord's strength I'll learn some flexibility and be able to minister in a different arena. Maybe I'll actually mature a little since I'm with older kids . . . .
m(r)
Here's what I found out yesterday that I am not: flexible.
Here's what happened:
I have been able to be pretty heavily involved in ministry at my church in Greenville. I help direct children's choir, I teach the 4&5 yr old children's church, and I help in the 2&3 yr old nursery. Or at least, I did . . . until yesterday. Because they want to increase what the kids are learning in choir, they decided to make it on Wednesday night and put the music pastor in charge. I'm no longer needed to help in children's choir. Because they want to help the parents get more involved with the younger kids, they moved me from the 4&5s up to the 1st & 2nd graders. I'm no longer needed to teach the 4&5s. I didn't even get to tell them I wasn't going to be back to teach them. Because they moved children's choir to Wednesday, they had to change their regular Wednesday night program to Sunday night. And, you guessed it, they didn't need me in the nursery because the 3 yr olds go in with the older kids and the 2 yr olds are manageable with less people. So they sent me around asking if anyone needed help until I finally found an older kids group that needed an extra body.
And here's what I looked like on the outside: happy to help
Here's what I really was on the inside: NOT HAPPY TO HELP AT ALL
I wanted my little kids back. Oh sure, older kids are fine, but they don't hug me like the 3 yr olds and they also have this complex where they don't think I'm very funny, which is clearly untrue because all the 2-5 yr olds think I'm hilarious! And the older kids don't need me to read Jack & the Beanstalk 15x and use the big GIANT voice for the giant and tickle them and make them laugh. They also don't want to sing fun songs with big hand motions because obviously, that just isn't cool. And to top that off, they don't get a snack time! Yeah, I was pretty much not okay with my circumstances.
Here's what God did: convicted me of my selfishness.
I was supposed to be serving. This was a ministry.. Like I said, I've always considered myself to be flexible, but last night I realized that I was only willing to be flexible to a certain point. I had grabbed on to my ministries and made them my own personal achievements and my sources of fulfillment. Maybe that's why God thought it necessary to pull them away from me. Or maybe He just simply needed me to be available to other ministries because there was a need. I don't know exactly why it all worked out the way it did, but I know I definitely can't be effective when I'm pouting in the back of the room.
I'm still very sad to be taken away from my little kiddos, but with the Lord's strength I'll learn some flexibility and be able to minister in a different arena. Maybe I'll actually mature a little since I'm with older kids . . . .
m(r)
Gospel Worship
Sunday, April 10, 2011
I was privileged to attend the Life By the Book 2011 conference today. Every message was clearly centered around the Gospel and challenged me to really think about my view of God, the church, and the gospel. I'm still trying to sort out everything I heard today, because sometimes there is so much truth packed into one sermon that it seems almost impossible to comprehend it all in one sitting. So I'm going to mull it over and then go listen to the sermon audios from the conference, mull it over some more, and then perhaps listen again. It was excellent.
Lately, it seems as though I've been hearing a lot about Michal, King David's first wife. She was mentioned in Bible class, I read through a section about her in a commentary while doing a study on somebody completely different, I read a short fiction book that was based on her story, and she was mentioned in chapel. Kind of a strange conglomeration of things that just kept her story present in my mind.
Today at the conference, one of the speakers spoke on true fellowship - how it flows from our fellowship with God and into our fellowship with one another. There are certain issues that Christians differ on, but that doesn't mean we can't have fellowship. Good, solid stuff. We moved right into a song following the message. As we began to sing Beneath the Cross of Jesus, I started to see hands popping up over the congregation. Not many, but a few. Men and women raising their hands in worship to the Lord. I was a little taken aback because . . . well, honestly, it's just not how my church is. We don't move much during our song services at all. You won't find any lifted and outstretched hands in the congregation.
But then I stopped. And I thought about it. Did I have anything against this particular manifestation of worship? Not really. I had never done it, but that doesn't mean it's wrong, right? I mean, sometimes the words of a song will hit me and the next thing you know, I've got tears drippin' down my face as I try and sing with some semblance of dignity. Instead of crying, they lift their hands to God. I was still formulating this in my mind when I thought of Michal's experience with open, joyful worship.
And David danced before the LORD with all his might; and David was girded with a linen ephod. So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the LORD with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet. And as the ark of the LORD came into the city of David, Michal Saul's daughter looked through a window, and saw king David leaping and dancing before the LORD; and she despised him in her heart.
2 Samuel 6:14-16
Michal saw David openly praising the Lord without thought of what others were thinking, and she despised him in her heart. Obviously Saul wasn't the type to leap before the Lord with praise. How often have I looked at someone that worships differently than I do with a sort of disdain, feeling superior to them because of my conservative worship? How absolutely wrong of me. Who am I to judge the heart? Their actions weren't an act of pride, not a 'look-at-me' gesture, but just an openness before the Lord in worship. The second verse of the song says,
Beneath the cross of Jesus, his family is my own
Once strangers chasing selfish dreams, now one through grace alone
How could I now dishonor the ones that you have loved?
Beneath the cross of Jesus see the children called by God.
I only knew 3 or 4 people in that room, but singing that song made me realize that we are all a family in Christ. Our common bond is the gospel and our salvation through grace. Who am I? Nothing but a sinner saved by grace, just like everyone else in the room. Arms outstretched, arms to the sides, dry eyes, eyes full of tears, loud rejoicing, quiet praising . . . it didn't matter your position. As we sang to our Savior, I knew that I was among the children called by God. What a wonderful God He is.
m(r)
Lately, it seems as though I've been hearing a lot about Michal, King David's first wife. She was mentioned in Bible class, I read through a section about her in a commentary while doing a study on somebody completely different, I read a short fiction book that was based on her story, and she was mentioned in chapel. Kind of a strange conglomeration of things that just kept her story present in my mind.
Today at the conference, one of the speakers spoke on true fellowship - how it flows from our fellowship with God and into our fellowship with one another. There are certain issues that Christians differ on, but that doesn't mean we can't have fellowship. Good, solid stuff. We moved right into a song following the message. As we began to sing Beneath the Cross of Jesus, I started to see hands popping up over the congregation. Not many, but a few. Men and women raising their hands in worship to the Lord. I was a little taken aback because . . . well, honestly, it's just not how my church is. We don't move much during our song services at all. You won't find any lifted and outstretched hands in the congregation.
But then I stopped. And I thought about it. Did I have anything against this particular manifestation of worship? Not really. I had never done it, but that doesn't mean it's wrong, right? I mean, sometimes the words of a song will hit me and the next thing you know, I've got tears drippin' down my face as I try and sing with some semblance of dignity. Instead of crying, they lift their hands to God. I was still formulating this in my mind when I thought of Michal's experience with open, joyful worship.
And David danced before the LORD with all his might; and David was girded with a linen ephod. So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the LORD with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet. And as the ark of the LORD came into the city of David, Michal Saul's daughter looked through a window, and saw king David leaping and dancing before the LORD; and she despised him in her heart.
2 Samuel 6:14-16
Michal saw David openly praising the Lord without thought of what others were thinking, and she despised him in her heart. Obviously Saul wasn't the type to leap before the Lord with praise. How often have I looked at someone that worships differently than I do with a sort of disdain, feeling superior to them because of my conservative worship? How absolutely wrong of me. Who am I to judge the heart? Their actions weren't an act of pride, not a 'look-at-me' gesture, but just an openness before the Lord in worship. The second verse of the song says,
Beneath the cross of Jesus, his family is my own
Once strangers chasing selfish dreams, now one through grace alone
How could I now dishonor the ones that you have loved?
Beneath the cross of Jesus see the children called by God.
I only knew 3 or 4 people in that room, but singing that song made me realize that we are all a family in Christ. Our common bond is the gospel and our salvation through grace. Who am I? Nothing but a sinner saved by grace, just like everyone else in the room. Arms outstretched, arms to the sides, dry eyes, eyes full of tears, loud rejoicing, quiet praising . . . it didn't matter your position. As we sang to our Savior, I knew that I was among the children called by God. What a wonderful God He is.
m(r)
Signs and Wonders
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Day three of tour: It’s a new day and we went from New Jersey to New York. We had our best concert so far at the Open Door Church in New Woodstock, NY, but spending 6 ½ hours in a van to get there will do strange things to you.
Road signs fascinate me. Sometimes they don’t seem to make sense.
Pay
STOP
Toll
There is a toll for stopping? Oh, oh, oh, you have to STOP and pay toll? Then why don’t you just say
STOP
Pay
Toll
It would be much simpler. To keep the driver of our van entertained, I took to interpreting different road signs. The –Deer Crossing 3 Miles- signs are always fun. Then you hit a –Snowmobile Crossing- sign and it gets even better. Then you have the random billboards that don’t really say much of anything at all. –Three Bear Inn : Marathon- Why marathon? What does that even mean?? You’ll sleep like you just ran a marathon? Only marathon runners can stay here? Then about 50 miles later, we saw that there is a town called Marathon. Good to know.
We eventually made it to New Woodstock and had a wonderful meal and a great concert, followed by fellowship with members of the church. It was a good night. And to top it off, all 9 of the girls in my choir were able to stay in the church’s parsonage/mission home by ourselves for the night. It was like one giant slumber party. Another girl and I even got up the next morning to make us all pancakes!
Tour is wonderful, but I’m getting no homework done. But does that really matter? . . . Maybe. I’ll worry about that after I’m too worn out to think about trying to have fun.
m®
Family Kinection
Monday, March 28, 2011
Day 2 of handbell tour: I discover that I have a hidden talent while playing Xbox Kinect. I am really good at boxing. I contribute it to the fact that I was born on Boxing Day. I will someday try my hand at real boxing; it's a dream of mine.
We played a concert in Philadelphia this morning and then drove an hour and a half to NJ to play in another church. Both were full of wonderful people who were delighted to hear us play. It always makes it more fun when the audience enjoys the music. To be honest, we played horribly this morning, but did much better in the evening service. It's hard to switch from travel to bells . . . but we eventually made the transition.
On tour, we stay with families from the churches where we play. Tonight, we were taken to a family's house. First, it's HUGE. Second, I love this family. They have 3 children, all adopted. A girl from China, a girl from Korea, and then a boy who was abandoned by his teenage mom at birth. Their story is wonderful because of how long they prayed for their children. God works in wonderful ways; this family is solid evidence of that.
They were so much fun to be with and we talked and laughed and played Kinect. Their 11-year-old son was puttin out some friendly trash-talk about how he was going to beat me at boxing and though I'd never played on a Kinect before, I took his challenge. Growing up with 4 brothers causes that type of behavior. I won. 5 knockouts to 2. Oh yeeaaah! I did a small victory dance and trash-talked right back. He took it well and challenged me to another game. I beat him again. Hopefully I burned off all the calories that came with the ginormous piece of coffee cake his mom fed me. Hopefully.
These stays with church families is just one of the pleasures of tour. I love getting to know new people and hearing their stories. It is surprisingly easy to bond with families, usually over small things like the fact that they bought their Yorkie from my hometown, or that I knew who was playing in the basketball game today. Nothing huge, but small things tie us together and allow us to connect. Or kinect.
I'll be sad to leave in the morning, but the show must go on! New York, here we come!
We played a concert in Philadelphia this morning and then drove an hour and a half to NJ to play in another church. Both were full of wonderful people who were delighted to hear us play. It always makes it more fun when the audience enjoys the music. To be honest, we played horribly this morning, but did much better in the evening service. It's hard to switch from travel to bells . . . but we eventually made the transition.
On tour, we stay with families from the churches where we play. Tonight, we were taken to a family's house. First, it's HUGE. Second, I love this family. They have 3 children, all adopted. A girl from China, a girl from Korea, and then a boy who was abandoned by his teenage mom at birth. Their story is wonderful because of how long they prayed for their children. God works in wonderful ways; this family is solid evidence of that.
They were so much fun to be with and we talked and laughed and played Kinect. Their 11-year-old son was puttin out some friendly trash-talk about how he was going to beat me at boxing and though I'd never played on a Kinect before, I took his challenge. Growing up with 4 brothers causes that type of behavior. I won. 5 knockouts to 2. Oh yeeaaah! I did a small victory dance and trash-talked right back. He took it well and challenged me to another game. I beat him again. Hopefully I burned off all the calories that came with the ginormous piece of coffee cake his mom fed me. Hopefully.
These stays with church families is just one of the pleasures of tour. I love getting to know new people and hearing their stories. It is surprisingly easy to bond with families, usually over small things like the fact that they bought their Yorkie from my hometown, or that I knew who was playing in the basketball game today. Nothing huge, but small things tie us together and allow us to connect. Or kinect.
I'll be sad to leave in the morning, but the show must go on! New York, here we come!
My Country 'Tis of Thee
Sunday, March 27, 2011
I don’t think I was truly an American until today. Yes, I was born and raised here – never left actually, but it wasn’t until I finally traveled to Washington, D.C. that the true spirit of America flowed through my dormant veins of patriotism.
There is something that stirs deep within me as I stand beneath Abraham Lincoln’s solemn gaze as his famous words echo on the walls around me. To see the memorials to our soldiers and know that each star presents a boy whose life was whisked away by the terrors of war is very sobering, but also fills me with a deep gratitude for what our country represents and how much we are willing to protect that. It gives me hope for this country.
Day one of handbell tour: We visited the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. Awestruck. I had never even heard of the National Cathedral until my director mentioned it and I definitely never imagined anything so grand. It was also nice that I had just learned about the architecture of cathedrals in my art appreciation class. Inside the cathedral, I finally understood why stained glass windows are so beautiful. They cast rainbows across the enormous columns, lighting up the otherwise muted colors of the cathedral. But the best part was the bell tower, because we are, after all, a bell choir. We were able to travel up the windy staircase to see the 14,000 lb bells. We also got an exclusive tour with the bell ringers that pull ropes to produce the change ring on the smaller bells. It was fascinating . . . I kind of want to try it. The thing is, when you’re pulling on a rope that connects to a 600 lb bell, the bell is in charge and you can get seriously injured if you don’t know what you’re doing. That proves it, bell ringing is an extreme sport! Oh yeah, I am a beller.
Next, we traveled to the main monuments of D.C. I rode the metro for the first time!! Woo, woo! I was excited, oh yes, I was excited. It was like walking onto the set of National Treasure or Night at the Museum 2. I saw the Lincoln Memorial up close and personal, the Washington Monument, and the WWII Memorial. I held the Washington Monument in the palm of my hands. Once again, I was awestruck because of such an amazing tribute to our country and its rich history. Definitely more important than just being the set of a movie.
There is something that stirs deep within me as I stand beneath Abraham Lincoln’s solemn gaze as his famous words echo on the walls around me. To see the memorials to our soldiers and know that each star presents a boy whose life was whisked away by the terrors of war is very sobering, but also fills me with a deep gratitude for what our country represents and how much we are willing to protect that. It gives me hope for this country.
Farewell
Friday, March 25, 2011
Ima leavin' today.
Tonight.
In less than an hour.
After an incredibly busy week of Bible Conference, my handbell choir is headed out on tour to New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. We are also taking time to stop in Washington, D.C. and I'm going to Niagara Falls for the first time! I'm incredibly excited because I've been on tour with my high school choir and with a Rezound!, but I'm also extremely tired. Could y'all pray for me? I want to be able to minister this week, to the churches, the schools, and also my team members. Pray that I'm able to get a lot done . . . teachers still give homework to people on tour.
I'll be endeavoring to write at least once a day, so you know what it's like to be on handbell choir tour. It's definitely an experience and a half.
Thanks for your prayers!
m(r)
Tonight.
In less than an hour.
After an incredibly busy week of Bible Conference, my handbell choir is headed out on tour to New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. We are also taking time to stop in Washington, D.C. and I'm going to Niagara Falls for the first time! I'm incredibly excited because I've been on tour with my high school choir and with a Rezound!, but I'm also extremely tired. Could y'all pray for me? I want to be able to minister this week, to the churches, the schools, and also my team members. Pray that I'm able to get a lot done . . . teachers still give homework to people on tour.
I'll be endeavoring to write at least once a day, so you know what it's like to be on handbell choir tour. It's definitely an experience and a half.
Thanks for your prayers!
m(r)
From the Room of MG126
Monday, March 21, 2011
Tonight is roomie bonding night! In case you're wondering what that means, it means that we're AWESOME. Also, it means that we have pulled 3 mattresses onto the floor, cranked up the A/C (because I get hot), made a canopy out of sheets, blankets, safety pins, phone cords, clip-on lamps, and a ponytail holder, popped popcorn, turned on some lively music (aka 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' and 'It's a Hard Knock Life'), and sat in a circle for a pow-wow. To add to the ambiance, we hung up my leopard scarf. We like to feel like we're in the jungle, the mighty jungle, where the lion sleeps . . . I am the lion.
Abby is the elephant. She's a very cute elephant.
Sarah is a giraffe . . .. mostly because she is taller than all of us even though she is youngest.
Ruthanne is our resident hyena because she always laughs at all my jokes. Ok, maybe she doesn't. I just pretend that everyone always laughs at my jokes. Denial is bliss.
I ask my roommates, "If you could say anything on a blog about our room or about anything, what would you say?"
They answered. Jungle animals can speak!
Abby: "If you learn anything at school, you should learn Greek!!" (Elephants don't normally speak Greek, only the ones that get a higher education) "Our room is fantabulous and it just keeps getting fantabulouser!" (It made more sense in Greek . . . but I can't write Greek.)
Oh wait. Our wildlife ranger (hall leader) came in to tell us goodnight.
Sarah: (giraffe-like silence) . . . (choking on water) . . . I embarrassed her. She's laughing now, but there are no words coming out.
Ruthanne: "Hey, I'm Ruthanne!! I'm Mareena's roommate and it's nice to meet you all! Have a good night. But our night will be better than yours. Ok, see ya!"
I love my roommates. I love that we made a mad dash to Rita's ten minutes before they closed. I love that we're sleeping in a jungle. I love that we all sleep with stuffed animals. I love that Sarah laughs when I quote Brian Regan. I love that Abby and Ruthanne are always confused when I quote Brian Regan. I love that we can all sit and share what we learned during the first day of Bible Conference. I love that we're all together. I love that God put us all together. It's not a good room, it's a GREAT room. Yeah, you can be jealous.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle my roomies sleep tonight
In the jungle, the mighty jungle, my roomies sleep tonight
A-weeeeeee-uuuuu-eeee-uuuuu-eee-uuu-e um bum ba day
A-weeeeeee-uuuuu-eeee-uuuuu-eee-uuu-e um bum ba day
m(r)
Abby is the elephant. She's a very cute elephant.
Sarah is a giraffe . . .. mostly because she is taller than all of us even though she is youngest.
Ruthanne is our resident hyena because she always laughs at all my jokes. Ok, maybe she doesn't. I just pretend that everyone always laughs at my jokes. Denial is bliss.
I ask my roommates, "If you could say anything on a blog about our room or about anything, what would you say?"
They answered. Jungle animals can speak!
Abby: "If you learn anything at school, you should learn Greek!!" (Elephants don't normally speak Greek, only the ones that get a higher education) "Our room is fantabulous and it just keeps getting fantabulouser!" (It made more sense in Greek . . . but I can't write Greek.)
Oh wait. Our wildlife ranger (hall leader) came in to tell us goodnight.
Sarah: (giraffe-like silence) . . . (choking on water) . . . I embarrassed her. She's laughing now, but there are no words coming out.
Ruthanne: "Hey, I'm Ruthanne!! I'm Mareena's roommate and it's nice to meet you all! Have a good night. But our night will be better than yours. Ok, see ya!"
I love my roommates. I love that we made a mad dash to Rita's ten minutes before they closed. I love that we're sleeping in a jungle. I love that we all sleep with stuffed animals. I love that Sarah laughs when I quote Brian Regan. I love that Abby and Ruthanne are always confused when I quote Brian Regan. I love that we can all sit and share what we learned during the first day of Bible Conference. I love that we're all together. I love that God put us all together. It's not a good room, it's a GREAT room. Yeah, you can be jealous.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle my roomies sleep tonight
In the jungle, the mighty jungle, my roomies sleep tonight
A-weeeeeee-uuuuu-eeee-uuuuu-eee-uuu-e um bum ba day
A-weeeeeee-uuuuu-eeee-uuuuu-eee-uuu-e um bum ba day
m(r)
As a Patron(ess) of the Arts
Thursday, March 17, 2011
I commissioned my first work of art yesterday. I feel that even as a poor college student, I can help to nurture culture and art in others and better allow them to view the world through art. Who did I commission? Well, she's a senior in high school. The art piece?
A pair of tennis shoes.
But not just any tennis shoes! They're specially decorated to convey something about the person wearing them. They start out as just normal white, plain, and even a little bit like old-lady shoes, but then the artist decorates them with brilliant colors, words, and doodles. Then she puts super cute colored ribbon in instead of laces. The shoes are transformed! She came into work with a pair yesterday and when I complimented them, she said she would make me a pair. She offered to do it for free, but I paid her $5 because I am, after all, a patron of the arts.
I was getting excited until she turned to me and said,
"What are some words or important phrases that you really like saying? What are things that have impacted your life?"
Uhhhhhh...
I duuunnnnoooo.
Record stopping, movie cutting out, world shutting down. I had no idea. What are some things that have impacted my life? I was drawing about 20 blanks a minute as I searched my mind for things that really mattered to me. Why was it so hard? Meanwhile, my artist was throwing out suggestions and showing me what she had put on her own shoes. Her mini-missions trip to NY was commemorated by the New York skyline drawn onto the toe of her left shoe. She had 'secret' messages written on the tongue of her shoes because they were covered by a ribbon. I still couldn't think of what I wanted on my shoes. Brain overload!! This goes to show that I am not creative. Ay. I have not the brain power to dabble in the creative arts. Eventually, I asked if I could tell her later when I thought of something.
Then I sat. And I thought. And I thought and I thought. And no this is not going to turn into a Dr. Seuss poem. But I questioned to see what really was important to me, what I would actually write down that was important to me. My family, my friends, my Savior, a desire to do better . . . just to name a few. But how would I put that on shoes?
Eventually, I wrote down a phrase from my dad about working hard and striving to do better that will go on the tongues of my shoes. I wrote the title of one my favorite songs, His Robes for Mine. I asked for there to be a heart and key somewhere on the shoes to mirror the necklaces that my two friends and I wear. I want a dragon on there to show my society spirit. All the rest, I leave up to her artistic talent and license.
I can't wait to get my shoes, and I know that every time I look at them or wear them, I'll be reminded of what I find important. Pretty cool for shoes, huh?
Definitely a good introduction into the arts.
m(r)
A pair of tennis shoes.
But not just any tennis shoes! They're specially decorated to convey something about the person wearing them. They start out as just normal white, plain, and even a little bit like old-lady shoes, but then the artist decorates them with brilliant colors, words, and doodles. Then she puts super cute colored ribbon in instead of laces. The shoes are transformed! She came into work with a pair yesterday and when I complimented them, she said she would make me a pair. She offered to do it for free, but I paid her $5 because I am, after all, a patron of the arts.
I was getting excited until she turned to me and said,
"What are some words or important phrases that you really like saying? What are things that have impacted your life?"
Uhhhhhh...
I duuunnnnoooo.
Record stopping, movie cutting out, world shutting down. I had no idea. What are some things that have impacted my life? I was drawing about 20 blanks a minute as I searched my mind for things that really mattered to me. Why was it so hard? Meanwhile, my artist was throwing out suggestions and showing me what she had put on her own shoes. Her mini-missions trip to NY was commemorated by the New York skyline drawn onto the toe of her left shoe. She had 'secret' messages written on the tongue of her shoes because they were covered by a ribbon. I still couldn't think of what I wanted on my shoes. Brain overload!! This goes to show that I am not creative. Ay. I have not the brain power to dabble in the creative arts. Eventually, I asked if I could tell her later when I thought of something.
Then I sat. And I thought. And I thought and I thought. And no this is not going to turn into a Dr. Seuss poem. But I questioned to see what really was important to me, what I would actually write down that was important to me. My family, my friends, my Savior, a desire to do better . . . just to name a few. But how would I put that on shoes?
Eventually, I wrote down a phrase from my dad about working hard and striving to do better that will go on the tongues of my shoes. I wrote the title of one my favorite songs, His Robes for Mine. I asked for there to be a heart and key somewhere on the shoes to mirror the necklaces that my two friends and I wear. I want a dragon on there to show my society spirit. All the rest, I leave up to her artistic talent and license.
I can't wait to get my shoes, and I know that every time I look at them or wear them, I'll be reminded of what I find important. Pretty cool for shoes, huh?
Definitely a good introduction into the arts.
m(r)
A Student's Best Friend
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
My mechanical pencil is my helpful friend. She gives me just what I need, right when I need it.
My RSVP pen is my special friend. I love him and his fine point.
My laptop is my brainy friend. Always has the answers and is a great notetaker. (a little slow at times, but I don't mention it. He's sensitive about it)
My ID card is the friend I couldn't live without. Literally. Without her I can't eat.
BUT.
My backpack is my best friend. She helps me bear all my burdens.
Freshman year, I remember trying to shove all my books into my big purse because I thought that backpacks were dorky and not sophisticated enough for an college student. My accounting book is the size of a small horse though, which made carrying it off of one shoulder somewhat difficult. Add in the Literature book (over 1000 pages) and my laptop and I made one funny picture walking around campus tilted so heavily to one side that I looked like a speed skater trying to get around a turn. Plus my poor purse couldn't handle the pressure; the handle started fraying. I suffered adverse side-effects too. One shoulder was permanently lower than the other (this deformity may be the reason I'm not dating yet . . . ) And the handles of the purse were starting to form a divet in my skin. Needless to say, it was not a pleasant experience.
One day I was so sick of having an aching back and wounded shoulder that I pulled out my pink and black Nike backpack from high school. I let out a few sighs while I packed it up, dreading how dorky I would look with my backpack. When I zipped it up, everything fit nicely. Huh.What a change. But still dorky, right? Then I put it on my back and discovered the magic of even weight distribution. I walked around with it all day and when I got back to my room, I didn't feel the need to ice my body to rid myself of pain. I felt good! From that moment on I didn't care how dorky it looked, because my backpack was AWESOME.
Remember what I thought about backpacks? Well, the more I wore it, the more backpacks I noticed around campus. Dorky? No. Practical and nifty? You bet your britches. I don't know what I would do without my backpack. The other day, I was afraid it would break and my heart almost stopped at the thought. My backpack is clearly my best friend.
I look back at myself as a freshman, and I remember thinking that I had everything figured out. *snort* Yeah right. I was mostly stupid. I'm so glad I'm a sophomore now and know everything there is to know about college life.
Because sophomores have it all figured out . . . right?
m(r)
My RSVP pen is my special friend. I love him and his fine point.
My laptop is my brainy friend. Always has the answers and is a great notetaker. (a little slow at times, but I don't mention it. He's sensitive about it)
My ID card is the friend I couldn't live without. Literally. Without her I can't eat.
BUT.
My backpack is my best friend. She helps me bear all my burdens.
Freshman year, I remember trying to shove all my books into my big purse because I thought that backpacks were dorky and not sophisticated enough for an college student. My accounting book is the size of a small horse though, which made carrying it off of one shoulder somewhat difficult. Add in the Literature book (over 1000 pages) and my laptop and I made one funny picture walking around campus tilted so heavily to one side that I looked like a speed skater trying to get around a turn. Plus my poor purse couldn't handle the pressure; the handle started fraying. I suffered adverse side-effects too. One shoulder was permanently lower than the other (this deformity may be the reason I'm not dating yet . . . ) And the handles of the purse were starting to form a divet in my skin. Needless to say, it was not a pleasant experience.
One day I was so sick of having an aching back and wounded shoulder that I pulled out my pink and black Nike backpack from high school. I let out a few sighs while I packed it up, dreading how dorky I would look with my backpack. When I zipped it up, everything fit nicely. Huh.What a change. But still dorky, right? Then I put it on my back and discovered the magic of even weight distribution. I walked around with it all day and when I got back to my room, I didn't feel the need to ice my body to rid myself of pain. I felt good! From that moment on I didn't care how dorky it looked, because my backpack was AWESOME.
Remember what I thought about backpacks? Well, the more I wore it, the more backpacks I noticed around campus. Dorky? No. Practical and nifty? You bet your britches. I don't know what I would do without my backpack. The other day, I was afraid it would break and my heart almost stopped at the thought. My backpack is clearly my best friend.
I look back at myself as a freshman, and I remember thinking that I had everything figured out. *snort* Yeah right. I was mostly stupid. I'm so glad I'm a sophomore now and know everything there is to know about college life.
Because sophomores have it all figured out . . . right?
m(r)
The First Shall Be Last
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Heard an excellent sermon yesterday. It was over Romans 6:18 and Matthew 19:30.
Being then made free from sin, ye became the servants of righteousness.
Romans 6:18
But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first.
Matthew 19:30
The preacher (a college student actually) spoke on how we as Christians can struggle with the sin of superiority. Huh. Have I ever looked down on someone who wasn't as good as I thought they should be, or someone that had messed up their life, or chose to turn away from God? Sadly, I have to say . . . Yes. I have done that. Many times. But what does Matthew 19:30 have to do with that?
I used and heard that verse used many many times in elementary school. Of course we used it in the most theological context possible . . . in line.
"Christina, you can be line leader on the way to recess." announces our teacher.
Hanna pouts and whispers to me, "I wanted to be line leader."
As Christina takes her place in the front of the line with a flounce and a little smile, someone decides to speak up.
"The last shall be first and the first shall be last!"
Tim, in the back of the line, pumps his fist, "Ha! That means I'll be first in heaven!!"
Funny how our position in heaven always changed every time we had new line leaders. But hey, our 2nd grade minds hadn't really wrapped themselves around the concept of heaven and judgment yet.
But I hope that you all understand that Matt. 19:30 is not talking about our position in line. Not at all. I honestly hadn't thought about that verse in a while, but yesterday, I understood it. It's not talking about position, it's talking about equality. It's not about first and last, but about how there won't be a first or a last at all. When God looks at me, He doesn't see me at all. Thankfully, He sees Christ and His atoning blood. Christ covers my sin and makes me pure before Christ. That's how it is for every single Christian. How can there be a first or a last, when we are all in the same position under the blood of Christ?
The sin of superiority. Am I better than another Christian? No way! I'm just a sinner saved by grace alone.
The sin of inferiority. I feel like a terrible Christian sometimes. I fail all the stinkin' time. But guess what? I'm still just a sinner saved by grace! How awesome is that! Think of Paul and all the work he did and the souls he won to Christ. I'm on the same level with him, under Christ!
Because of Christ's sacrifice, no one finishes last in heaven.
Being then made free from sin, ye became the servants of righteousness.
Romans 6:18
But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first.
Matthew 19:30
The preacher (a college student actually) spoke on how we as Christians can struggle with the sin of superiority. Huh. Have I ever looked down on someone who wasn't as good as I thought they should be, or someone that had messed up their life, or chose to turn away from God? Sadly, I have to say . . . Yes. I have done that. Many times. But what does Matthew 19:30 have to do with that?
I used and heard that verse used many many times in elementary school. Of course we used it in the most theological context possible . . . in line.
"Christina, you can be line leader on the way to recess." announces our teacher.
Hanna pouts and whispers to me, "I wanted to be line leader."
As Christina takes her place in the front of the line with a flounce and a little smile, someone decides to speak up.
"The last shall be first and the first shall be last!"
Tim, in the back of the line, pumps his fist, "Ha! That means I'll be first in heaven!!"
Funny how our position in heaven always changed every time we had new line leaders. But hey, our 2nd grade minds hadn't really wrapped themselves around the concept of heaven and judgment yet.
But I hope that you all understand that Matt. 19:30 is not talking about our position in line. Not at all. I honestly hadn't thought about that verse in a while, but yesterday, I understood it. It's not talking about position, it's talking about equality. It's not about first and last, but about how there won't be a first or a last at all. When God looks at me, He doesn't see me at all. Thankfully, He sees Christ and His atoning blood. Christ covers my sin and makes me pure before Christ. That's how it is for every single Christian. How can there be a first or a last, when we are all in the same position under the blood of Christ?
The sin of superiority. Am I better than another Christian? No way! I'm just a sinner saved by grace alone.
The sin of inferiority. I feel like a terrible Christian sometimes. I fail all the stinkin' time. But guess what? I'm still just a sinner saved by grace! How awesome is that! Think of Paul and all the work he did and the souls he won to Christ. I'm on the same level with him, under Christ!
Because of Christ's sacrifice, no one finishes last in heaven.
My Comfy Place
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Imagine you're in a session with a therapist. He's speaking in a soft, lilting tone, trying to get you to relax. He tells you to close your eyes and lean back. You feel the muscles in your shoulders relax; you breathe out slowly, releasing the stress of the day. He tells you to direct your mind to a happy scene, a place where you feel comfortable. You feel yourself drift a little farther out of reality as you head to that spot of complete contentment . . .
Where did you go? You may have gone to a far off land, a place from your childhood, maybe a fictitious somewhere from a book or movie. You know where I went?
A couch.
That's silly, you tell me. Because if you're at a therapist, you're already on a couch. I know. But it's not the same. I'll tell you why.
You see, this isn't just any couch. For one, it's blue. For two, it's comfy. For three, there are usually four little kids sprawled out on it. For four, it's at the Hartzler's house. I sit on that couch, and I immediately feel at home. Usually, I fall asleep on it too. (It's really comfy and I'm usually tired). It's my comfy place.
But it's not the couch alone. If that couch were sitting in the middle of my dorm room, it would still be comfortable, but it wouldn't be my comfy place. You know why? Because then it's not a real couch.
A real couch is in a house, where you can sit surrounded by the people you love being around the most, where you can relax at the end of a hard day. It's a place to smile, laugh, sleep, watch movies, have discussions, and even turn into a mini Wipeout obstacle, if the need arises. I like that couch because it has magical abilities to put me to sleep, but I love that couch because I love that family. They invited me into their house, let me relax on their couch, and made me feel like part of the family. And for a college kid who's miles from home, that's pretty special.
I wish I were writing this from the couch, but technically my residence is still at BJU so I can't go become a squatter in the Hartzler's living room. That would be fun though. I wonder what it would be like to have a squatter in your living room . . .
So what makes your special place so special? I'd like to know.
Where did you go? You may have gone to a far off land, a place from your childhood, maybe a fictitious somewhere from a book or movie. You know where I went?
A couch.
That's silly, you tell me. Because if you're at a therapist, you're already on a couch. I know. But it's not the same. I'll tell you why.
You see, this isn't just any couch. For one, it's blue. For two, it's comfy. For three, there are usually four little kids sprawled out on it. For four, it's at the Hartzler's house. I sit on that couch, and I immediately feel at home. Usually, I fall asleep on it too. (It's really comfy and I'm usually tired). It's my comfy place.
But it's not the couch alone. If that couch were sitting in the middle of my dorm room, it would still be comfortable, but it wouldn't be my comfy place. You know why? Because then it's not a real couch.
A real couch is in a house, where you can sit surrounded by the people you love being around the most, where you can relax at the end of a hard day. It's a place to smile, laugh, sleep, watch movies, have discussions, and even turn into a mini Wipeout obstacle, if the need arises. I like that couch because it has magical abilities to put me to sleep, but I love that couch because I love that family. They invited me into their house, let me relax on their couch, and made me feel like part of the family. And for a college kid who's miles from home, that's pretty special.
I wish I were writing this from the couch, but technically my residence is still at BJU so I can't go become a squatter in the Hartzler's living room. That would be fun though. I wonder what it would be like to have a squatter in your living room . . .
So what makes your special place so special? I'd like to know.
Syndication
Monday, February 21, 2011
'O Holy Night' is the 100th hymn in my church's hymnal
9 is the 100th digit of pi
Genesis 4:20 is the 100th verse in the Bible
"At the dining common?" is the 100th text message in my inbox
This is the 100th post in my blog.
If this were a tv show, I'd be qualified for syndication by now. But I don't exactly know what syndication really is. Also, I didn't have to rely on approval ratings to get to this point. But, you know, that is the single most wonderful and terrible reality of this blog. I don't have to have any readers to actually write, but what a sad existence I would lead if none of you ever read what I wrote! I'm so thankful for all y'all that read, because otherwise I would just be a strange child blabbering . . . to nobody. Reminds me of that line in 'Just Like Heaven' where Reese Witherspoon is trying to help Mark Ruffalo face reality
"You have two realities to choose from here. Either a girl has, in a very unconventional way, come here needing your help, OR, you are a crazy person sitting here on a bench talking to yourself."
You all ensure that I am not a crazy person sitting at a computer talking to myself. Basically, you are performing a public service! So, here on my 100th post, I'd like to say a big THANK YOU to all my friends and family that take time to hear about my life. Thank you x 100!
Love ya,
m(r)
P.S. Mom, you still aren't allowed to read this out loud at the dinner table...
9 is the 100th digit of pi
Genesis 4:20 is the 100th verse in the Bible
"At the dining common?" is the 100th text message in my inbox
This is the 100th post in my blog.
If this were a tv show, I'd be qualified for syndication by now. But I don't exactly know what syndication really is. Also, I didn't have to rely on approval ratings to get to this point. But, you know, that is the single most wonderful and terrible reality of this blog. I don't have to have any readers to actually write, but what a sad existence I would lead if none of you ever read what I wrote! I'm so thankful for all y'all that read, because otherwise I would just be a strange child blabbering . . . to nobody. Reminds me of that line in 'Just Like Heaven' where Reese Witherspoon is trying to help Mark Ruffalo face reality
"You have two realities to choose from here. Either a girl has, in a very unconventional way, come here needing your help, OR, you are a crazy person sitting here on a bench talking to yourself."
You all ensure that I am not a crazy person sitting at a computer talking to myself. Basically, you are performing a public service! So, here on my 100th post, I'd like to say a big THANK YOU to all my friends and family that take time to hear about my life. Thank you x 100!
Love ya,
m(r)
P.S. Mom, you still aren't allowed to read this out loud at the dinner table...
Gravity
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Lately, I've been having trouble holding onto things. They drop, flip, sag, slide, and jump out my hands. Papers scatter, phones crack onto the pavement, and I even broke a glass today . . . just by picking it up! Someone suggested that my lack of dexterity is related to a lack of sleep, but I'm not sure how scientific that is. But here's what is scientific.
Yep. That's it.
Gravity is just exceptionally strong around me. Nothin' I can do about that . . . I'll just hold off from picking up anything glass for a while.
m(r)
Yep. That's it.
Gravity is just exceptionally strong around me. Nothin' I can do about that . . . I'll just hold off from picking up anything glass for a while.
m(r)
Perspective
Monday, February 14, 2011
I don't have a lot of time to write because technically, I'm supposed to be studying for an accounting test. But I would like to mention my thoughts on Valentine's Day before it's over, because it happens to have been my best Valentine's Day yet.
Remember elementary? We all wanted to send out fun valentines and candy to our friends, but we if we wanted to give to one, we were required to give to all. This meant that girls had to give valentines to boys. And the boys had to give valentines to the girls. How inhumane. For me, this simply meant that I didn't give out valentines. I could never be bothered with it. And that thought carried over to high school. Valentine's Day became a holiday to be overlooked. I spent that day trying to make it like every other day, disdaining the people that went all out. Wear pink and red? Definitely not.The only valentine I cared about was the one from my mom. She made great valentine bags.
Well, yesterday someone in my church mentioned how Valentine's Day wasn't just a day for couples, it's really a day to celebrate our love for God and for others. Huh. Never thought of that before. Then a 4 yr-old girl from my Sunday School class came up to me, gave me a hug and then handed me a little bag with Hershey Kisses and a beaded heart necklace she had made for me. Her cute little smile and second hug made it a wonderful valentine. Then I got back to my room to discover that a couple from my church had bought me one of Dr. Jim Berg's books that I had been wanting to read.
I woke up this morning with the realization that today was a day to celebrate love. I had breakfast with a friend and listened as she studied for a pharmacy/drug/nursing test. I walked to class thinking of the wonderful gift God gave us when He allowed us to feel love. I made extra time to talk to two girls in my class that I hadn't connected with before. I called my mom - I love her a lot. I went out to dinner to Olive Garden with my friend. She makes me smile. The weather was beautiful, I wore red, and it really was the best Valentine's Day.
So here's what I learned finally after 20 years of ignoring Valentine's Day. It's not about having someone to love, although that is a lovely thing to have and I'm happy for all those that have a significant other. Valentine's Day is about love, and love isn't something to take -- it's something to give.
Remember elementary? We all wanted to send out fun valentines and candy to our friends, but we if we wanted to give to one, we were required to give to all. This meant that girls had to give valentines to boys. And the boys had to give valentines to the girls. How inhumane. For me, this simply meant that I didn't give out valentines. I could never be bothered with it. And that thought carried over to high school. Valentine's Day became a holiday to be overlooked. I spent that day trying to make it like every other day, disdaining the people that went all out. Wear pink and red? Definitely not.The only valentine I cared about was the one from my mom. She made great valentine bags.
Well, yesterday someone in my church mentioned how Valentine's Day wasn't just a day for couples, it's really a day to celebrate our love for God and for others. Huh. Never thought of that before. Then a 4 yr-old girl from my Sunday School class came up to me, gave me a hug and then handed me a little bag with Hershey Kisses and a beaded heart necklace she had made for me. Her cute little smile and second hug made it a wonderful valentine. Then I got back to my room to discover that a couple from my church had bought me one of Dr. Jim Berg's books that I had been wanting to read.
I woke up this morning with the realization that today was a day to celebrate love. I had breakfast with a friend and listened as she studied for a pharmacy/drug/nursing test. I walked to class thinking of the wonderful gift God gave us when He allowed us to feel love. I made extra time to talk to two girls in my class that I hadn't connected with before. I called my mom - I love her a lot. I went out to dinner to Olive Garden with my friend. She makes me smile. The weather was beautiful, I wore red, and it really was the best Valentine's Day.
So here's what I learned finally after 20 years of ignoring Valentine's Day. It's not about having someone to love, although that is a lovely thing to have and I'm happy for all those that have a significant other. Valentine's Day is about love, and love isn't something to take -- it's something to give.
Co-inky-dink
Saturday, February 12, 2011
You know that time management seminar I went to yesterday? Well, Ron Hamilton's (aka Patch the Pirate's) daughter was there too. She's super nice . . . of course. Anyway, we had to be in a group for a quick exercise and we stood around afterward listening to the seminar facilitator talk about how wise it was to read.
pause
I love Patch the Pirate. I grew up listening to Patch tapes all day long. You can even hear Mount Zion Marathon playing in the background of some of our old home videos. If you don't know who Patch the Pirate is, click here because you and your present/future children are missing out. Stories, songs, and lots of fun. I remember falling asleep to 'A Good Knight's Sleep' from the Starry Knight tape and singing 'On Eagle's Wings' in church. The Sneaky Sheik and Giant Killer were two of my favorites, but my mom's favorite was Kidnapped on I-Land. She just loved to sing the 'Me-First' song whenever any of us were being selfish. She took strange delight in singing that one very loudly. But she always made her point. Camp Kookawacka Woods had some classic songs on it that still come to mind when I eat something that looks a little fishy in the Dining Common.
On Patch the Pirate Afraidika Fever they have a certain song called 'Readers are Leaders' . . .
play
I'm standing beside Megan Hamilton listening to someone talk about the importance of reading and I start singing under my breath
Readers are leaders
They really are succeeders
Succeeders, yes, indeeders for the Lord
Megan leaned her head in my direction and chuckled. Then it hit me and I wanted to slap my forehead. I was singing a Patch the Pirate song . . . to his daughter.
I'm a dork.
m(r)
pause
I love Patch the Pirate. I grew up listening to Patch tapes all day long. You can even hear Mount Zion Marathon playing in the background of some of our old home videos. If you don't know who Patch the Pirate is, click here because you and your present/future children are missing out. Stories, songs, and lots of fun. I remember falling asleep to 'A Good Knight's Sleep' from the Starry Knight tape and singing 'On Eagle's Wings' in church. The Sneaky Sheik and Giant Killer were two of my favorites, but my mom's favorite was Kidnapped on I-Land. She just loved to sing the 'Me-First' song whenever any of us were being selfish. She took strange delight in singing that one very loudly. But she always made her point. Camp Kookawacka Woods had some classic songs on it that still come to mind when I eat something that looks a little fishy in the Dining Common.
On Patch the Pirate Afraidika Fever they have a certain song called 'Readers are Leaders' . . .
play
I'm standing beside Megan Hamilton listening to someone talk about the importance of reading and I start singing under my breath
Readers are leaders
They really are succeeders
Succeeders, yes, indeeders for the Lord
Megan leaned her head in my direction and chuckled. Then it hit me and I wanted to slap my forehead. I was singing a Patch the Pirate song . . . to his daughter.
I'm a dork.
m(r)
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