am i making a difference in my world?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm really making a difference in this world.
Today those wonders were confirmed.


This is a posting from my friend Bethany's blog:

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

i have two thoughts today

1) some days i feel all my life consists of is making garbage, and then cleaning up the garbage that i made

2) since most of my blog friends have gone on hiatus and i feel like sometimes using energy for blogging prevents me from putting energy into emailing/journaling, i am contemplating a hiatus myself. i'll keep all 3 of you who read this anymore posted on my decision.

After reading I was quite sad!!! I responded with a desperate plea that she keep the blogging faith, even when it seems like no one else cares...BECAUSE I CARE!!!

.........................to which Bethany responded:

Friday, June 30, 2006

April reads my blog, damn it! that's all i needed - confirmation that a few people are reading this and feeling like it helps us keep in touch. perhaps i seem overly concerned with whether people are commenting and reading my xanga, but honestly, while i find it entertaining to write, if nobody is reading it, then why bother posting it on the internet? i might as well just be journalling. so you all can thank april and lewis for my decision to continue xanga-ing.

The moral of today's story is:

"Keep writing, or be written off!" (just kidding)

A second optional moral for this story:

You should check out my friend Bethany's blog!! www.xanga.com/bethaneebee

i'm attached

Dear Diary,
Sometimes I feel like my life is inevitably attached to a string. No matter which direction I dance, I am always held within a reasonable distance and clear direction of the center, the other end of the string. I'm not sure if I like this, but I feel like I have to get used to it.
What is at the other end? WHO is at the other end?
Maybe the other end of my string represents my home, or my youth. No matter where I go, or what new places become my home, maybe I will always have a clear shot's return to where I was born.
What about destiny? Where is destiny fabricated? Maybe that is what hangs on to the other end. Maybe I have a deep root that won't let go of me so as to keep me pursuing the right dreams.
Maybe it's fear. Is it fear that keeps me bound? Is the string a bad thing? Is the string more like a chain? Is it fear of not knowing what to do?
Is it love? Am I held by love? Who's love?
Is the other end where God stands? I hope not. I don't want God to be there, I need him to be closer.
Whatever it is, I feel like I can only go so far until I have to stop and refigure myself. I feel harnessed, but I feel safe. So the string has to be a good thing. Maybe.
I feel a great freedom which seems strange.
I feel like the possibilities are endless for pursuing dreams, but yet I feel connected.
My string becomes my story. My string is that piece of myself that describes me, that makes me individual. Are we all connected to strings?
I wonder.
If so, then I have a story, and you have a story, and that person over there has a story...and as we continue on in this musical drama called LIFE...and as we swerve this way, and that way, and up, and down...still connected to our strings....then aren't we creating a beautifully woven tapestry of intricate detail?
Please don't let go of your string.

happy anniversary

Happy Anniversary!!!

27 years is an amazing commitment.

Your children love you.

today in a word

The word of the day:

pensive

pen.sive adj. wistfully or dreamily thoughtful

I am feeling very pensive today.

"With eyes up-raised, as one inspired,

Pale Melancholy sate retired.

And from her wild sequestered seat,

In notes by distance made more sweet,

Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul."

--william collins

i have cool parents

Today I'm thinking about my parents. Today I'm very thankful for them.
This weekend I had a great time with my dad. Father's Day this year was just the two of us. We really created some memories, and I'm thankful for that. My favorite memory of the weekend? Definately cruising on the Harley. It was my first ride and I loved it! Well, it wasn't exactly "cruising" at first. I think my imagination was creating every picture possible of us falling off and getting crushed. I had my hands so gripped and my back so stiff that I was starting to ache. But I calmed down and found the groove.
My mom is away on vacation. It's been a whole week! You never realize how much you love and miss someone...or how much you appreciate that person until they are gone. I have so many conversations stored in my head, organized in a special order, waiting for mom to come home so I can make some more space, and make some sense out of everything I've been thinking. How do mother's do it? Mom doesn't only have to take care of her own life, but then she listens (and at least acts like she cares) about all the stuff of my life...and then my siblings. Gee wiz, am I really ready to grow up and be a mother?
The truth is, I have amazing parents and I love them alot. I'd be lost, lonely, and a wreck without them. When they don't understand me, at least they laugh at me...or with me. I guess it's important for me to remember that even when I'm frustrated and angry with their "parent-like" words....I am a very fortunate to have a mother who will sit and listen to me, and love me, and let me come home with piles of laundry to wash, and a mother who will cook for me, or come clean my house. And I'm pretty blessed to have a dad who will support me, encourage me, help me out, fix everything that's broken, and take me for joy-rides on his motorcycle...and give me money when I'm desperate. My parents very actively believe in me.
I have the best mom and dad in the world!

we work really hard

Gosh Bobbie!!! You always make that face, and then I make a face and then you start laughing and I start snorting....and one of these days we are going to get in big trouble!!!

You have been a wonderful friend to me since I've moved here. I'm really sad that you're leaving me but I'm exciting for your continuing adventure!

friends are the best influence!

"I never set out to be weird. It was always other people who called me weird."

How does that old saying go?...Oh yah, "Show me your friends
and I'll show you your future." Whatever!!!

"That's it! You people have stood in my way long enough,
I'm going to Clown College!"--Homer Simpson

Woah!!



"We're all worms, but I believe I'm a glowworm." --Robin Williams

mind the gap

Sometimes I think my feelings can stand so undefined that it's as if my soul is speaking a foreign language. This inevitably pushes me into a culture shock clashing my identity with a huge question mark. It's not a hopeless situation, but for me there's no telling what it is that will fix me. Sometimes I'm made right when I'm immersed in the miracle of creation. Sometimes I feel myself healing through community and relationship. Sometimes I read a book and tears fill my eyes and I feel like the author has read my soul for me. Frederich Buechner often does that for me, he has the gifted ability of translating the language of my life and making sense out of it. John Steinbeck did it with his book East of Eden.
Lately I'm finding myself in that curious place again. I can't quite put a finger on what I'm feeling. Am I lost? Am I lonely? Am I upset?....no these words don't seem to fit. Am I anxious? Am I tired? Am I excited? Am I depressed? Gosh, words are so limiting! So what happens when I can't define myself or my feelings? Who am I then?
2 nights ago I watched a fantastic film called "Mind the Gap". I recommend it! I won't spoil the movie for you, but I think it brought a bit of definition to my life right now.
The basic premise is that most of us have dreams that we are living towards. These dreams are vital, but it is important not to overlook the small things along the way. How will we ever achieve our big dreams in life if we can't find hope to celebrate in the little things. "Mind the Gap" is a phrase that is written on trains in the London rail system. It is meant to caution people to watch their step between the platform and the train. It's important to take notice of the gap.
I'm in a gap right now. I'm living in a huge gap. But this time is no less important than finishing college, moving to Switzerland, traveling Italy, or finding a grad program. This time right now is filled with meaning. There are answers in the gap. There are experiences in the gap. There are puzzle pieces in the gap. Sometimes it's heartbreak, or confusion, or demise...it's not to be overlooked. I really really believe that it's important to cherish all moments even when I'd rather through them into a pig pen.
I can't help but wonder how big the gap is. I can't help but feel like my step will never reach across to make the connection. But maybe...maybe that is what my soul is saying in that strange foreign language..."You may not understand, but pay attention!". Mind the gap.
Watch the movie....it's great!

in the toilet paper isle???

Last night I went to exercise at Bally's. INTENSE!!! Physical pain!!
Afterwards, I went over to the grocery store.
Now remember...I had just spent the previous hour sweating and smelling, I was wearing my flattering spandex pants, no make-up, and my hair in a knot.
When I got to the toilet paper isle I was comparing a few prices and this guy came over and started comparing the same stuff with me. When we finally agreed on the best value for toilet paper, he totally asked me out!!!!!! In the middle of the toilet paper isle!!!!

the 3 day commitment

This summer, September 8-10, I am walking 60 miles in the support of breast cancer research. I have been so blessed and supported in every area of my life. This is one small way that I can give back to my world in a meaningful way.

I really believe that it is important to stand up and support the important things in life. Sometimes I find myself so entwined in my next dream or goal that I forget how we are all connected, and most importantly I forget about my responsibility to serve people who are in need.

Breast cancer is the second leading cause of cancer death for all women, and the leading cause of death in women between the ages of 40 and 55. Both its cause and the means for its cure remain undiscovered. Currently, one million women in the U.S. have the disease and probably won't know about their potentially fatal illness for another five to eight years. Breast cancer has challenged 2 million survivors in the United States.
I am walking this September in the honor of my loved ones who have fought and who are fighting through breast cancer. You may know someone who has been affected by breast cancer, and I would be proud to walk in their honor as well.

I don't know what it's like to struggle with cancer. I don't know what it's like to be hopeful through something so terrifying. But I feel responsible to support research towards a cure. My responsibility this summer, September 8, 9, and 10th, is to WALK and WALK and WALK to bring awareness and support to this disease and to all of the people who it has affected.

My other responsibility, which sometimes seems impossible, is to raise $2,200. That is a lot of money. All the money that is raised will be donated to the Susan G. Komen Breast Care Foundation, and to the National Philanthropic Trust Breast Cancer Fund. On one hand, I am excited to think that I could be able to donate such a great gift to these foundations. But I also know that asking for money is probably one of the hardest things to do.

So I'm just going to ask. Would you please donate to my fund? This is something that is so important to me and I would feel so honored to know that I am supported.

You can donate online at my web page

www.the3day.org/Chicago06/aprilcardinal

Or if you'd like to send me a check, please email me and I will give you my address, or just add a comment on my post.

Please, and Thank you for believing in me, and for your support and sacrifice.

Love, April

america's least wanted

In a recent article (June 9th) of the Cincinnati Post, I was pleased to find that my favorite car is safe on the streets of Milwaukee. Below, I have posted the article which is quite humorous. People may laugh at me and my "style" but they won't be laughing as hard when I'm the one car-pooling with the used-to-be Escalade drivers.
Look at this darling car! Who wouldn't think it was lovely?

AMERICA'S LEAST WANTED
Not surprisingly, thieves tend to steal the cars most people covet, which is why the Cadillac Escalade, the official ride of super-jocks, hip-hop artists, assorted other celebs and Tony Soprano, is the most stolen. (The smart thief, however, would probably be wise to avoid Mr. Soprano's vehicle.)

Other vehicles popular with the "Gone in 60 Seconds" crowd are the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution 4WD, the big Dodge and Ford crew cab pickups and the Chrysler Sebring, either because they're really cool rides or they have really cool parts, such as rims, Xenon headlights, spoilers and entertainment systems.
This is according to the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (www.iihs.org).

But how does that make the owners of the least-stolen vehicle - that reliable but humble mainstay of suburbia, the Ford Taurus station wagon - feel?

Even lowlifes don't want that car. A thief who arrived back at the chop shop with a Taurus wagon would be laughed at by the other car thieves.

Saying that if you squint real hard at the roof rack it sort of looks like a spoiler doesn't help.

A market-savvy motor company would make Taurus' theft aversion a selling point: "You can park this baby anywhere, and nobody's going to touch it."
That's the ticket. The whole car is an anti-theft device. Moreover, it's easy to park in the space where the Escalade used to be.

finding l'abri

Sometimes I get caught up in the wind and I close my eyes and dream of being back at L'Abri. I dream of tea-break on the patio, formal meals at Richard's house, Thursday's off, and even raking leaves up the steepest hills on the property. The other day I had one of these "moments". And then I caught myself wondering, "What is it that I truly miss about L'abri?" If I could go back....would I?
I think I would go back, OF COURSE I WOULD! But there's something more to L'Abri. There is something woven within its framework that continues to work the miracles in the hearts of the people who journey there. There is a reason why "L'Abri" means "Shelter". And as I ponder, I'm believing that this framework is what I am really craving.
At L'Abri there is a safety in existing, in just "being". I think the walls of Chalet Bellevue are insulated with the prayers of the people who have been there and lived it's experience. These prayers, I really believe, have created a safety net for the students who need to disarm. No where else in this world have I felt more able to scream at God. No where else have I felt more need to shed off layers. No where else have I felt safe enough to explore the core of my doubting. I think anyone who has been there would agree, that L'Abri is not defined by its schedule, it's lectures, by work crews, nor by formal meals. L'Abri is defined by the freedom that happens underneath our skin.
I once received an email by a fellow student at L'Abri. He had left to return to his home in Germany. He said, "I have changed my second room into a spare bedroom. I put a sign on the door and designated it as Little L'Abri". When I read the email I laughed to myself. Now as I think back, I understand. I think we are all craving to find "L'Abri" in this normal world...which is far from normal. I know that I, am searching and sometime crawling in desperation for a place where I can disarm again and let go of myself.
Where shall we find this shelter? Who's prayers are insulating the walls of our lives here? this all makes me want to pray unceasingly for those who are coming after me. It makes me want to seek out those who I know are praying for me so that I can find the release to let go.
May you find your "L'Abri" too, wherever you are.

wimp

Who's the sucker now? I thought exercising would make me stronger. I can't even put the phone to my ear without moaning. Last night was my first session with my personal trainer Brooke. We did something called a Dynamic Work-out. My whole body was quivering. My legs were like noodles. My noodles failed me while walking down the stairs and I almost flopped onto my face. When we were all finished, Brooke said, "If you'd like, we can do this again next week?!" "Sure!" I said, with a grin that printed a LOSER banner on my forehead. "How do you feel?", she asked, "On a scale from 1-10....1, you're watching TV...............10, you're gonna fall over". Well, I don't think I ever gave her an answer to that question. I think I was too busy grinning. :)

hidden advantages of baton twirling

On Saturday night after church, Amy and I decided to play "Baton".
It's amazing how much we can still do. Our favorite partner tricks are still shining, even after...how many years? We're still Razzle Dazzling!
It's crazy when I reflect on how much of my youth was dedicated to twirling. 10 full, great years, and sometimes...only sometimes do I miss it.

My trusty baton companion is still by my side however, even though my competition days are expired. My baton is now my safeguard, my weapon, my sword!
Every night, I sleep with my baton beneath my pillow.
You think that's funny?
I'll have you know that NOTHING can mess with me without first being wopped in the face with my baton. So to all of you who have kindly worried for me....I'm not REALLY alone in my apartment, I've got my baton!

fitness

I joined Bally's Total Fitness!!!
Anyone want to arm wrestle?

sorry, there's no room. you're too big!

Last summer when I was crawling through a personal life crisis, I remember talking to my mom about feelings of hopelessness. I'll probably never erase her sympathetic response—"I guess the more life you live, the more cynical you naturally become."
She's right isn't she? Not only can my mother restore left-over's into a royal feast…but she's a great person to talk to when you just need someone to listen and understand.
But life does get complicated doesn't it? You don't have to live very long on this planet before you figure out that justice isn’t always served, truth isn't always upheld, and peace isn't the norm. Whether we speak of global issues or the intricate details of our own identities, it seems as if age and experiences deafen hope.
I remember being young and creating magical moments by making mud-pies, diving for coins in the bottom of the swimming pool, or squeezing lightning bug guts on my t-shirt.
I have to work a lot harder now for magical moments. They are harder to grasp. I think they are harder to create. Instead of capturing fireflies in a jar, I end up keeping worries, doubts, and hurts in a jar that I carry around my neck like Bill Murray's fish Gill in "What About Bob?". And just like a little kid who finds revenge satisfied in sticking out their tongue and crossing their eyes at the enemy…I do the same thing to God, but it just doesn't seem to be harsh enough punishment.
As a good Christian girl I should find the solution to my doubting in the personhood of Jesus Christ. –whatever that means. God's claim to ultimate authority SHOULD push me into the fan-club where I dance with my pom-pom's and cheer loudly for the ever-victorious champion! I SHOULD be encouraged. I SHOULD be confident. Instead, I'm confused by the bigness of God, the greatness of God, and the glory of God. If God is soooo BIG!!! then why are so many people left in unfortunate situations…situations far beyond their own control. If God is sooooo GOOD!!! then what is there to say about all the anti-goodness that we experience? This little "blog" is not at all intended to pose the wearisome question of the problem of evil…I'm not caffeinated enough for that.
I just can't seem to dodge the conflict of my two worlds—God, and "Life". I swing back and forth, back and forth….today I feel encouraged, tomorrow I'm pissed off. And I'll admit I feel a bit guilty sometimes when I'm caught up in the beauty of God because I feel so separated from the places and people that need God. God's beauty is easy to rest in when you're waking up to a sunrise behind snow-capped mountains…but that beauty doesn't make much sense when I'm sorting through the broken ends of life. Heartbreak is a real thing…and for some reason, the bigness of God….well, it's just too big! It doesn't fit, there's no room.
Try this perspective. How hard would it be to convince a group of college students that Santa Clause really DID exist? What would it take to prove that there really IS this Jolly Ol' Fellow who knows whether your "naughty or nice"? At best, you may find a few students (like myself) slightly hoping…dreaming that he was real….but not believing. However, if you strip away the flying reindeer, "the list", the north pole, and the red fireproof/thermal suit….you are left with the historical account of St. Nicholas. Now that…is believable. He really was a man, he lived, did nice things, brought presents for people…I can believe that.
Sometimes, believing in God is a lot like trying to believe in Santa Clause. It's hard. It just doesn't work. Little children can believe, just like they can believe that Santa is watching them. But as you get older and you learn more about your world, God isn't so believable. He's too big. The historical Jesus…I can accept. The Creator God…I can accept. The God who knows all my needs, answers prayers, intervenes in worldly affairs, overcomes evil, intimately interacts in my own life, provides, protects, prepares…that's not so easy. That's quite a big claim to fame isn't it?
My writing doesn't end here. This isn't my conclusion.
I happen to believe…deep down inside my soul…that God truly is a BIG God. I happen to know that somehow, even when I'm not understanding…He IS touching my life and protecting me and preparing me for tomorrow. I will NOT accept that God is inactive and abstracted from this world. But sometimes…."deep down" is the only place that really believes.

reminiscing of l'abri packed lunches

Today I made a tuna sandwich with apples and cinnamon and it made me think of my friend Kenton Gribble:)

burn

The flame dances
in the breath of my whisper.
"Live, Live on!" I whisper.
My soul, your soul, we burn together.
We cast shadows on the wall
that narrate the story of truth.
Humbly,
sincerely,
burn with me.

I need you.

my prayer

Where does my voice go when I need it to fly?

Where does it run when it needs to be heard?

What have I done to end up so lost?

How can I save myself?
..............................save myself from slipping down
.........................................................................down
..............................................................................under?
Who will save me?

My voice, where is it? I can't hear it.
Speak damn it! SPEAK!

But what is there to say?

What words can change this life, this dread?

Words that are filled with desire, aching with hope....the slightest prayer...

What more are they than the whisper of weakness,

indeed,

the inability to speak any words at all.

Words words words, my futile human attempt at making sense out of nothing.

And so, can I really pray?

In this moment of pain will something save me, will someone stretch the gap between my shame and my salvation? Will something fix this heartbreak?

My words are not enough.