Surrender

Church last night was exactly what God wanted me to hear. So much so that it scared me. I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I knew it was without a doubt the Lord speaking to my heart. Sometimes our roots have to be broken for us so we can be used in bigger and better ways.

Surrender:
1 a : to yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand
b : to give up completely or agree to forgo especially in favor of another
2 a : to give (oneself) up into the power of another especially as a prisoner
b : to give (oneself) over to something (as an influence)
intransitive verb : to give oneself up into the power of another : YIELD


Second Mile Message from last night:
http://www.secondmi.org/living-out-our-c

ESPN can have my babies...

I can't tell you how much I LOVE March Madness!!! I'm crossing my fingers that my bracket holds up in the office pool. So far so good!!

Roof conversations

As I sat on the roof talking with my dear friend, I thought to myself, "I'm really going to miss this place." My heart was heavy for a brief moment. I would miss this city. It has been so good to me. Like a warm blanket on a cold night or a mothers hug after you fall and scrap your knee. It had comforted me, shielded me, and stolen my heart.

I finally took my own advice. I leaped. I told Laura once that God can't move a stalled car. He can, however, direct it once it's in motion. It's in motion. Now what?

Never...

I've never been asked out on a date. I'm 25, and I've never been asked out on an official I'll pick you up at 7, wear something nice, it's a surprise where we're going kind of date. How have I lived this long and settled for anything less? When did relationships get so complicated? When did the term "hanging out" suddenly become code for "we're interested"? I "hang out" with people all the time, but that doesn't mean I want to kiss them...most of the time anyway.

Now, I know asking a girl out is scary sometimes, but how else are we supposed to know you like us? Are we to suppose that every nice thing you do indicates interest? Are we really going to take a trip down memory lane and expect you to pull hair and throw rocks at us like the snot nosed, plaid shorts clad 10-year-old kid in my 4th grade class? Here's a revelation, it didn't work then and it doesn't work now. Try something new. Grow some jo-jo's. Just because you ask a girl on a date does not mean you're going to get married and have 10 kids. You'd be surprised how ladies will respond if you act your age and just ask her out already.

In between

I enjoy my life so much that sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure it's really happening. For a brief moment I had forgotten how great it was-'lost perspective' is the term I'm using to describe this brief moment in history. I had forgotten how precious those little moments were in my life. The ones that you usually forget because they're wedged in between weddings, funerals, break-ups, hook-ups, and any other event deemed emotionally taxing. They are the long talks over cubanos and brownies, random dance parties, aweful karaoke singing, saki bombers with no shot glasses as 2am, sleeping in, dancing to Brand New in your underwear in the middle of the day, mike-n-ikes at the movies, and searching for that one great pillow in the pile of otherwise hideous ones (seriously people...some of you have horrible taste).

These moments are the ones that remind me how sweet life is. When everything in the world seems big and overwhelming, I remember these moments. They're the ones that make life count. They're the ones that make my heart sing.

Excuse me mister...would you sign my...

I want to go in all directions symultaniously. I have no idea what to do with myself. I feel like I'm holding my breath, waiting for something to happen. The world is still spinning and I'm not sure if I like it or not. I think I like the expectation of it all. The girl in my longs for the firsts. I haven't longed in quite some time. I think I like it.

We should just hire paparazzi

This is Maddi and I enjoying the ups and downs of UA Basketball. This is what we're refering to as the "You call that a foul ref?!!" shot. We should just hire paparazzi.

Win makes widgets cool!

Get this widget!

Come hang out with us!!!!

mewithoutyou

I need pop-punk and I need it now. I need a stiff drink. I need the beach, my bike, and the smell of the sea to fill my lungs and whip through my hair. I need a 4 hour nap and a late night picnic. I need something uncomplicated.

Firsts

I miss firsts. The first glance. The first time your eyes meet and you feel your heart jump into your throat like popcorn on a stove. You want to hold the glance forever, but it only lasts a moment. The first time you kiss and you can feel it in your toes. Your heart races and you can't help but wonder what you'll see if you open your eyes. The first time you see him from across the room and realize you feel safe.

I miss those firsts.

What happened to romance? What happened to persuit? Women deserve to be woed. We deserve to be cherished, loved and taken care of. We deserve to be fought for. We are prizes to be won. And, here is a novel concept men, we will respect you, love you, and respond to you when this happens. God designed it that way. He made us to be counterparts, like puzzle pieces. We are delicate and vulnerable...and by that I mean crazy, sometimes overly emotional, hyper-sensative beings. Men, please understand. We need you to be non-crazy for us. We need you to take care of us sometimes (feminists I don't want to hear it...deep down you know it's true). Sometimes we need you to fight the battles for us, to take charge and make things happen. Sometimes we need someone to pick up the slack. In a world where women can do anything a man can do, which is a total crock by the way, it comes down to this-we need you to rescue us...is there really harm in admitting it?

And for that matter, where have all the men gone. I say down with the metro-sexual. Men should have beards, and drink beer with the guys while watching basketball, and fix their cars on Saturday afternoon (unless they are otherwise woeing aformentioned women). Now I am NOT, I repeat not advocating men who do nothing but watch sports and drink. There is balance in all things fellas. What I am saying is when was it NOT ok for a guy to be a guy? Since when do they need to spend more time on their hair than us ladies do? Who decided that was attractive? I can understand and appreciate a man who is well-groomed and well-dressed. Every now and again a black dress shirt with a red tie is just necessary to the common good...and easy on the eyes (not gonna lie). Sometimes there is need for a great haircut and a shower. But there is something to be said about a man with grease on his shirt and a little sweat on the brow. When there is rescuing to be done, men may need to work up a bit of a sweat.

This was my argument at lunch today...being that I'm the only single one left in the office. I can still hope, dream, and romanticize about what's to come...more firsts, lots of seconds, and God-willing a TON of thirds:)

Waiting with expectation...

Heros and such

Ben Andersen you are my hero! You have saved my ears from bordom. The Brand New Brand New is so delicious I think I might marry it and have it's babies. I'm having trouble getting over it...it's that good. The end.

The blinking...

light on my voicemail screams 'check me...paaalease', yet I do not. I refuse actually. It is 10:46am on Friday, and I will be leaving in 14 minutes. What awaits me is laundry, packing for camp, and shopping for tights.

I realized some things in the last few days. I shall recall them now and make a list of said realizations.

1. Joe Atkinson is the Mini-golf master.
2. Mary needs to move back to Tucson. Food for the Hungry can't have her.
3. I adore gmail chat.
4. I'm excited for thanksgiving for a number of reasons

subreasons:
1.) Who doesn't want to hang out with the Atkinsons and the Grahams for turkey lovin' fun?
2.) Turkey Bowl!
3.) UA football.
4.) I get to see James attempt to stuff a turkey with a roast beef sandwich.
5.) It's a holiday celebrating how thankful we are to have food. FOOD!
6.) Stacey's coming home from Portland...she'll inevitably make me want to move there more than I already do.
7.) No work Friday. Woot!
8.) The fact that Friday will most likely be spent at the movies with Jessica.
9.) Catherine's Mom's stuffing...hello can you say delic.
10.) Being able to sleep ALL weekend.

5. 'Scootering for better health' needs to be made into a shirt.
6. I'm sooo excited about what God is doing in my life. I can't wait to see what happens in the next few months. It fills me heart with glee. Details to follow.

the end...for now.

[...] kind of day

Today is a Mewithoutyou kind of day. Yesterday was a Postal Service kind of day. That's just how it works out I guess.

My nose was cold this morning, which indicated the first signs of winter. I got excited at first, until I remembered that I dislike it greatly when my nose gets cold. It happens quite frequently in the winter as I have my fathers nose, which means it's not what you would call tiny. It's not huge, yet not petite, so it sticks out farther and gets cold more easily. I've come to accept and appreciate my nose.

Bullet to Binary is playing in the background. I'm bittersweet about it because I love watching Aaron Wiese sing, but know that I can't go to the show on Monday because number 1, it's in Phoenix, and number 2, I have Younglife. Jesus brings a ray of sunshine to my life, so I can't complain about having other more important things to do with my time on Monday. I just wish the show weren't on Monday...in Phoenix. My violin in playing I know...

I cannot get over Vedera. They soothe my soul. I can't explain it. I just keep listening to them over and over and over again.

I've come to realize I don't spend enough quality time with my friends, and I miss them. A half hour for coffee every other week just isn't cutting it for me. I need relationship. I need conversation. I need roadtrips and midnight picnics. I need contagious laughter and twinkies. I need pizza and beer. I need cheesy kareoke songs and 2am burrito runs. Now replace need with want. I'm too busy. This must change...sooner rather than later.

This is my day

It's now 5:52pm and I just realized that I've lost my keys somewhere at work...oh wait, they're in a grocery bag in the freezer, which is also filled with 20lbs of hash browns. Welcome to my life.

Fried meat is amazing

Mary is that girl that inspires you to do things. Not by her words, but by her actions. She's this incredibly humble, smart, quarky, beautiful vision of what people should be. I've never met someone who has such a heart for missions and for little African babies. She and I have been in conversation about little African babies for some time now.

We want to go to Africa. Think about coming with us. Pray about it friends.

http://fh.org/build_a_team

Sparkle in your eye

Change is in the air. I can feel it.

Ode to the City of Angels

LAX. The mecca for yuppie businessmen and girls with fake boobs, among other things. Oh LAX, where there is a Starbucks at almost every terminal and beer flows plentifully like water. Everything is overpriced and overrated.

Earlier that day (before the LAX situation) I had driven down to San Clemente to hit up the Rainbow Sandles store, which, by the way, is not open on Sundays. On a side-note, the CA-73 toll road is a JIP!! It cost me $3.75 to drive 18 miles from the 405 to the 5. Supposedly it's faster, but I beg to differ. It's not worth my 3 bucks to drive through the mountains instead of around them. I'm convinced it's a giant conspiracy by the state of California to rob people blind. My suspicions were only enhanced by an article I read later in the OC Weekly about a group raising money to stop California from building toll roads through state parks. HA! I knew it. Here's the article. (http://www.ocweekly.com/news/toll-road-rage/toll-road-rage/25673/)

So, San Clemente is gorgious...FYI. I parked my rental, a brand spankin' new Chevy HHV, dark blue, with only 6 miles on it, in the free downtown parking, the free part being a major bonus. I meandered though the quaint downtown area, passing small family businesses, law offices, realty places, and mom and pop diners and ice cream shops. I strolled along the pier, watching the surfers as they swam out to meet the waves. It had a rhythmic sense to it. Swim out. Catch a wave. Ride it for as long as possible. Repeat until exhausted. There were fathers teaching their sons how to fish over the pier. The sons had smiles on their faces as they gazed longingly at their fathers who, I can imagine, were like heros in that moment. The sun felt like a soft kiss on the cheek, and the wind smelled of fish bait and and salt. I found a bench and settled in to watch the waves crest over and foam just before rushing into the beach, met by squeeling teenagers skim boarding across the water.

I pulled out my Bible and started to read from Ephesians. Paul knew how to stick it to them didn't he. I felt a sense of conviction as I read about being one in love, and how we should cast off any backbiting or mean talk. I'm a woman. I thought that was a prerecquesite for wearing a bra. I looked out at the surfers again. 'I'm not very good at this one', I thought. Darn it.

I nestled my Bible back in my gray messanger bag and began to walk back along the pier toward the beach. I retraced my steps up the hills through town, stopping at a coffee shop for a bagel and italian soda. Bagel plain, toasted with cream cheese-Raspberry Soda topped with delicious whipped cream. I found a spot along the sidewalk at one of the cafes outside patio tables and enjoyed my bagel while reading the OC Weekly. Almost every page was filled with plastic surgery ads and personal chat line ads. Gross. I've never felt so inadequite. I did read that article about tool roads though, illuminating to say the least. I also read about this guy who bought an ice cream truck and travels around to concerts to give out free ice cream. He breaks even by getting corporate sponsorship from ice cream companies. How cool is that! (http://www.ocweekly.com/food/food/we-all-scream-for-ice-cream/25677/)

I'm out like a light.

So what

Sometimes I get lonely. It's odd really, that this would occur in my life, but it's true. It has taken me 25 years to admit to the fact that, on ocassion, I get that feeling in my stomach. The one that feels like I just jumped out a plane and am falling 10,000 feet to my death. Not to be dramatic or anything.

I'm flying home in a few days for my Mom's 50th birthday. Going home reminds me of how weird my family is. Trust me. They take the cake. But I realized something this week that has changed my life. They're mine-no one elses. My family. I have the privilage of having a very...off-kilter family. So what if my Mom rented trailers for her friends and family to stay on while they're in town for the party. So what if my stepdad works at the swap meet on his free time. So what if my grandparents will get a little too excited about the open bar, will then proceed to get tipsy an hour into the party and begin spilling family secrets to us all as loudly as possible. So what. They're my family, and I love them. I love them for every weird thing they do. I wouldn't trade them for any other family. They keep my life interesting.

Can you...

Can you miss someone you never really knew? Can you mourn for someone you only met once? His life was filled with joy, laughter, friendship. He was to be married on Saturday. Now he is seated at the right hand of the Father. I don't know God's plan for this, but I know that my heart hurts for the loved ones he has left behind.

They were both so young. I'm forced to realize how fragile and precious life is-how much we take for granted. We run away from things, hide from the truth, deceive ourselves into thinking we will never get old, die, cease to be, but in the end it happens anyway.

My heart is burdened for the loss. The answer is yes.

Knots

It started in the pit of my stomach. I know I shouldn't have looked. Somehow I knew the feeling would return to me if I looked, but looked I did non-the-less. It's that feeling that you've lost something-something so important-and you can't get it back. It's right there in front of you like a fresh Saturday morning, but you can't reach it.

My heart sinks everytime. I don't want to look, but somehow I'm compelled to. I hate it. I hate that I can't not look. I hate that I even want to look. I hate that my heart sinks. I hate this feeling. I want to punch it in the face like a biker on steroids.