Day 2: A favorite movie

I have three or four favorite movies, but the one I chose to talk about today is August Rush.  It is a beautifully made, impacting, and emotional film about a musical prodigy who goes on a journey to find his parents, two musicians he has never met.  I could watch this movie over and over again and never tire of it.  I adore music, so if music is something you have a passion for- or even enjoy- this a movie that you will find touching and beautiful.

The characters are lovely as well.  Freddie Highmore did a great job, and I will never tire of seeing Jonathan Rhys Meyers on the big screen. 

If you have never seen this movie, you've got to give it a watch.  It's beautiful.  Simply beautiful.

The soundtrack is amazing as well.  It is not a disappointment.  I listen to it all the time. 
 

Day 1: A favorite song

Jailhouse Rock isn't my favorite song of all times (I don't have one), but it definitely is up there amongst my favorites.  It's not the lyrics that \capture me, although I find them funny and clever.  I love the music of Jailhouse Rock.  I love the dance to Jailhouse Rock.  I love Elvis.  I love the movie Jailhouse Rock where the song came from.

Elvis Presley, in my opinion, is the best music artist of all times.  He created a new genre of music and a new style of dance.  He broke barriers and stretched limits.  He was generous and inspirational and a true artist.  His song Jailhouse Rock is one of my very favorites, along with Blue Suede Shoes, Return to Sender, In the Ghetto, Heartbreak Hotel, and Hound Dog. 

I definitely encourage you to go watch this movie and purchase this song off of iTunes.  Here's the video for Jailhouse Rock.  Check it out.  I'll go ahead and post the lyrics below.

Today was the first day of school.  I'll be a senior this year. (Hooray!) 

The weather this month has ranged around 90-100 degrees each day.  It's been hot and dry and lovely.  And then I woke up today... and this is what I saw.

Yeah.  It's like summer is saying, "As of the first day of school, I'm gone forever! Mwahahahaha!"

I had an idea for my blog that I loosely took from this site and this site, both really cool blogs that I recommend you check out.  There is a big stereotype when it comes to being modest and being cute.  Many people think, "I can't be modest and cute at the same time."  I would like to change that. 

Since I just bought a ton of new clothes for school, I'm going to take a picture of my outfit, give the price (if I can remember) and the store where I purchased each item of clothing.  And also, because comfort is a big deal to me, I'll be rating the comfort factor of each article of clothing out of a 1-10 ranking.  I want to help break that silly stereotype that modest Christian girls can't look cute.  I also want to show off my new school clothes. :)

So I'll be posting a new outfit of mine every day starting tomorrow.  Tomorrow I'll post a picture of today's outfit, so it will be one day off.  Am I making sense? 

Anyways, definitely check back here tomorrow.  :)

It's been a fun day so far.  We got up bright and early and went on a two hour horseback riding trail.  Everyone in our family got to ride a horse.  Dad got a funny-looking gray-speckled horse named Chief.  Mom got a pretty white horse named Silver.  I got a dark brown horse named Busta Move.  Amy got a chestnut horse named Tater Tot.  Luke got a dun-colored horse named... Elvis.  I know!  Elvis!  I was incredibly jealous at first, Elvis being my favorite person in the universe and all, but Elvis the horse turned out to be slow, grumpy, and old, so after seeing his temperament, I wasn't jealous after all.



I never knew that New Mexico was pretty, but it is.  We rode along canyons and the base of the mountain.  Everything was red and purple and blue, as if it was painted right onto a canvas.  It was beautiful.  The weather was perfect as well.  We plodded along and talked and laughed and enjoyed ourselves.

At one point, a paint horse in our group got spooked and bucked off its passenger, a sweet girl with cerebral palsy.  She was okay- she wasn't even really frightened- but I felt bad for her.  Who expects to go on a slow, safe trail ride and get bucked onto the rocky canyon floor?

For lunch, my family ate beside the pool again.  If you ever check out the Tamaya resort, the nachos with queso are very tasty.  Don't leave without trying them out.

All five of us swam.  Tamaya has three different pools, but the most popular one has a water slide.  It's enclosed, so when you slide down, everything is pitch black.  You lose your sense of direction completely.  You feel yourself veering to the left and to the right and up and down. It's a little frightening.  And then suddenly, you drop down and see a shimmer of light.  And then whoosh!  You fall smack into the salt water of the pool.

After going down the slide a hundred times and relaxing in one of the hot tubs, we moved to the funny-shaped kid pool.  It's long, thin, curved, and three feet deep.  Originally, we thought it was a lazy river.  It wasn't, but it's perfect for races and games.

We finally returned to our hotel room to rest.  Mom checked her phone- we have very little reception, but occasionally a message gets through- to discover with a shock that my Naana fell this morning and broke her knee cap in four places.  We're currently all waiting in the room while Mom maneuvers herself onto the edge of the balcony, trying desperately to keep enough signal to talk to her mom on the phone and make sure that everything is okay.  I can hear Mom's side of the conversation.  Things don't seem great.  Naana is going to have to have surgery.  My aunt Denise is on her way to Amarillo to take care of her until we go back.  Our family friends are being great and taking care of our grandparents while we're gone.

We may end up returning home early.  The disappointment of that fact is dimmed with worry.  I think we all just want to make sure that Naana is okay.  I'll write more later.

Immediately after waking up, Dad and Luke went to go golf, and Mom and Amy and I left for the spa.  I've never been to a spa before, so I didn't know what to expect.  The moment I arrived in the spa area, I was offered a glass of fruit water and ushered into an area where I could change into a robe and slippers.  There was a hot tub, steam room, and sauna available while I waited (clothing optional, so I skipped out), along with a peaceful room with fluffy couches and tables of fruit and cold water.

I was escorted into the pedicure room.  Of course I've had pedicures before, but this one was much more extravagant.  I won't go into all of the boring details, but this pedicure was filled with soap scrubs and massages and all sorts of lovely things. 

The nice lady who did it all told me about her youngest daughter, Desiree.  She adopted the four-year-old girl six years ago.  Desiree was malnourished and had a receding hairline from lack of nutrition.  She'd been neglected by her mother and left to cook her own meals with the few ingredients left in her house... at age four!  Her mother had burned her, left her alone for days, and treated her horribly.  Now, at age ten, Desiree was like a new girl, filled with laughter and joy.  The story warmed my heart and again reminded me of what my parents told me.  Even though I was spending money on myself, it is helping this family, and in the long run, it's helping Desiree.

After our morning at the spa, we went and lied out by the pool until Luke and Dad got back from golfing.  The Tamaya Resort is about half an hour away from Albuquerque, which is a relatively big city.  We went into town to have dinner at the Boston Market and go to a game center just to hang out as a family.  We raced Go-Karts.  I passed my sister- yes!- and was ABOUT to pass my dad when the race ended.  After the exciting race, we all went to play Lazer Tag.

I must say, I am the worst person to play Lazer Tag.  I'm a very big advocate of peace, and I'm not a fan of guns, at all, so I have trouble bringing myself to hold even a lazer gun.  And I always feel guilty about shooting people.  Despite all of that, I love to play Lazer Tag.  I love being in a dark room lit only by a black light, ducking behind all the obstacles with spy music playing in the background.  It's so much fun.  But I was creamed.  I shot two people and was shot about eighty times, so I ended up getting zero points.  Oh well.  It was still fun.

I will write more tomorrow.

I went to work this morning for a few hours since we weren't going to leave for New Mexico until the early afternoon.  That's right: it's time for the annual family vacation. :)  I work at an inner city ministry called City Church.  It was fun like always, although a little sad since everyone knew that this was the last day of VBS for the summer.

The biggest incident of the day was when a little girl climbed halfway up the wall, realized that she was afraid of heights, and got stuck.  This is not too unusual; occasionally, a child will refuse to come down the wall and we will have to send someone up after them.  This little girl was an extreme case.  She began to wail and cry, and if that wasn't bad enough, she actually worked herself up so much that she vomited while hanging onto the wall.  Another little girl that was climbing on the other side of the wall wouldn't come down for a good five minutes either, so we couldn't send anyone up after them.  We were all relieved when we got both girls down to safety.

I led worship like I have been doing all week, but the stereo system wasn't set up today, so I had to think up some good acappella songs to which I knew the hand motions.  I attempted to lead Big House, Lord's Army, and Father Abraham.  The kids actually seemed to have a better time laughing at me trying to sing loud enough for all 150 of them to hear me than they did doing actual worship earlier this week.

After City Church, I went home.  My family piled into our mini-van and began the four and a half hour drive to New Mexico.  My brother, Luke, had to pee every hour, so we made a lot of stops, but we eventually arrived at our destination. 

Our resort is called Tamaya, pronounced Tah-meh-YAH.  It's located in a beautiful setting, amongst desert and red rock.  It's positioned right beside a tall, blue mountain.  The skies around us are filled with clouds, so it isn't too hot.  The temperature is perfect.

On the way down from our hotel room to dinner, we stopped at the spa so Mom could make some appointments for her and Amy and me.  I've never been to anything like a spa before, so I was a little excited.  We were going to spend all of tomorrow morning relaxing and having treatments.  We were trying to figure out which treatments we all wanted, but when I saw the prices for each activity, I couldn't help it.  My mind flashed to images of kids in Africa dressed in rags, wondering when they would get their next meal.  And here I was, ready to spend a couple hundred dollars on a massage.  I started to cry a little.  I was ashamed of my uncommon display of tears, but I was even more ashamed of what I was about to do.

I felt sweet Luke's hand creep around my shoulder, rubbing my back in a comforting way.  He eventually wrapped his arms around me in an embrace.  "It'll be okay, Emily," he whispered.  He is so sweet.  Whose nearly eleven-year-old brother will give them a big hug in public?

During dinner, I talked to my parents some more about the guilt that I felt, and they explained that even though we would be relaxing and having a good time, we were still helping to pay someone's salary during a difficult recession.  I thought about that for a while.  I think I'll probably go to the spa for a little while tomorrow.

The beds here are tiny.  I have to share one with Amy, my sister, and she kicks!  I'm kind of dreading going to sleep, but I've had a long day.  I'll write more tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning at 8:45, I will be getting my wisdom teeth out.  I am nervous... actually, nervous doesn't even describe the level of worry and panic I feel right now.  In my life, I've only had two baby teeth pulled, I've never had surgery, I've never broken a bone, I've never gotten stitches... honestly, this is going to be the biggest 'operation' done on my body so far. 

Have you gotten your wisdom teeth out?

Do you have any suggestions?  Advice?  Encouragements?  Horror stories? (let's hope not!)

Overall, I'd definitely appreciate your prayers. 

If you have lost a friend or loved one to suicide, you've experienced the horrible feeling of your mind and heart twisting and pulling in so many different directions.  Why did she do this?  What made him make this decision?  Whose fault was it?  So many questions have entered your thoughts.  Questions that will always remain unanswered.

The truth is- and you've probably heard this before- but there is nothing you can do to change the past, so there is absolutely no use dwelling on the answers.  Suicide is such a shocking and hurtful thing, something that one can't understand unless they are put into that position.  You can't hope to be able to put yourself into the mind of your loved one before they made such a decision.  Most likely, you would regret knowing. 

When your loved one made the decision to end their own life, they were most likely in a place of great darkness and confusion.  Their death was inflicted by their own hand, which- as hard as it is to convince yourself- means that it ultimately was not your fault.  Even if other people's actions and harsh words played a part in bringing your loved one to their decision, they were still the one who made the decision to end their own life. 

In order to have healing and peace in your own life, you must accept that you can't change the past and that even though you can't understand, you can find peace in yourself and in Christ. 

Changing the Past
Obviously, this cannot be done.  While you can continuously look back and dwell on things that can't be changed, this will only keep you in a place of grief and mourning.  Instead of focusing on things that should have been changed- things that you should have noticed, seen, or done to prevent your loved one's death, try focusing on the good memories of the past.  Write down happy memories between you and your loved one, make a list of little things you loved about him or her, bring out the photos and cards... and when you're feeling angry and embittered, try to dwell on what is happy and peaceful rather than the painful memories.

Finding Peace
Peace is something often longed for after the death of a loved one, especially when the death is by suicide.  Romans 5:1 says that we have peace through our Lord Jesus Christ.  John 14:27 says, "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."  The death of a loved one is a painful and heartbreaking experience.  You may feel like your world has shattered to pieces all around you.  When you are hurting especially, do not be afraid to pray to God and ask Him for deliverance.  Even if you are feeling angry towards Him for allowing your loved one to die, He understands your weakness and your hurt and He wants to give you peace.

If a friend of yours is struggling through the suicide of a loved one, don't be afraid to reach out to them and show them your support.  Your friend needs you now more than ever.  Send an encouraging note every so often, acknowledging that you understand their struggle.  Offer a listening ear.  Call or text your friend ever so often, simply offering a gesture of love.

If you are considering ending your own life, then please understand the emotional damage this will do to your friends, family, and even those who played small parts in your life.  Those around you will struggle from guilt, pain, and bitterness- even those who you don't want to feel that way.  If you've been planning to end your own life, then please talk to a friend.  They want to help you.  They want to be there for you.  There is an alternative to suicide, and that is life. 
 

I intern at an inner city ministry that serves the needy in my community.  This week, I've helped with a VBS for some of the kids in one of the poorer areas of my city.  We have a climbing wall, a Slip 'n' Slide, bouncers, and more.  The kids have a blast, get a free lunch, and are able to learn about Jesus at the same time.

During the Bible lesson, some of the kids in the back of the group began to gasp and whisper.  The small commotion was distracting everyone away from the lesson, so I attempted to sneak over and see what the problem was.  A small bird had fallen from its nest above right onto the shoe of one of the girls.  The bird was tiny, weak, and helpless.   Its eyes were sealed shut, its fragile wings had not yet developed, and it had only a few tufts of feathers.  It looked as if it had just hatched from its egg.  It was pitiful. 

This incident obviously distracted the children.  They crowded around the tiny bird, moaning and murmuring until we managed to gather everyone back up to finish the lesson.  After the kids got their daily dose of Jesus, they returned to examine the pitiful bird.  It was so small, obviously unable to survive for very long without its mother.  The fact that the bird would die was frightening to the children.  They prayed over the bird.  They shaded the bird.  They temporarily abandoned their lunches on a picnic table to care for the bird... kids who need food because they don't have any at home abandoned their lunches to take care of this bird. 

A helper for the week saw the distress on the faces of these children and stepped up to the plate.  He propped a ladder against the ceiling of the lean-to where the little bird's nest was.  While everyone watched, this man climbed up the wobbly ladder, risked his safety and well-being, and gently placed the baby bird back into its nest, safe and sound.

The relief that spread across the tiny group of children was heartwarming.  Once everyone knew that the bird would (hopefully) be okay, they could return to their lunches without worry.

This story reminded me of Matthew 10:29.  "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care." 

The inner city kids in this group have been through a lot.  Many of them have faced hunger, abandonment, and abuse from their own families.  These kids are forgotten by everyone around them, left to fend for themselves in a harsh world.  And yet these kids who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders wanted nothing more than for a baby bird to be safe once again in its cozy nest.

In some ways, the inner city children can relate to that tiny bird.  They're neglected and forgotten... voiceless in a world that never seems to care.  Many are considered to be doomed from the start, left to die a spiritual death while living in poverty and hopelessness.  That will never be God's plan for them.   

The Lord took a part in this situation.  He was able to use the story of the baby bird- fallen to the ground, but carried back to safety- to teach these kids that He does care.  Many of the little girls knelt to pray for the bird, pleading with God for the little creature's life, and God showed these kids that He hears their prayers.  He cares about that tiny bird... and if God cares about a newly hatched bird, then He must care so much more for the kids who wanted to save it.  And so many of those kids believe they're unlovable. 

God loves those children more than words can express.  God has a specific purpose for each of them, no matter their circumstances at home.  And God showed them that today through the fate of one tiny bird.



 
Neither photo is credited to me... I used pictures from Photobucket that fit the story. :)

I grew up in a Christian home.  Some of my earliest memories are of Sunday School and AWANAS.  When I was younger, I thought that the faith of my parents could get me to heaven.  I didn't bother to believe for myself when my family could believe for me.  I accepted my parents' faith without question.

When I was eight years old, Twin Towers were attacked.  This tragedy shattered my young mind to pieces.  I was a little girl who did not understand why the same bad men who killed so many people in New York wouldn't come to my town in Texas and hurt me too.  I began to suffer from severe anxiety, depression, and panic attacks.  I wouldn't eat or drink without being forced.  I wouldn't go outside and play with my friends.  I couldn't bring myself to cross the street to get the mail in the good neighborhood where I lived.  I couldn't sleep at night.  My panic attacks would cause me to be nearly unable to breathe.  My heart would race in my chest, skipping like a rabbit.  One severe panic attack even sent me to the emergency room.  I was a little girl who suffered with big issues and my parents were at a loss of what to do.  My mom began getting up thirty minutes earlier than the rest of the family to pray that God would save me from my fears.

The day before my tenth birthday, I was reading a book called "Left Behind" by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins.  The book was about the rapture and everything involving that subject.  I began to think about what it would be like if Jesus came and took all of the Christians up to heaven and left everyone else behind.  I knew that I would be the only one out of most of my family and friends that would be left.  I would be alone.  This frightened me to the core.  I finally realized that I could not rely on my parents to believe in Jesus for me.  I had to shoulder my own faith and believe in the Lord because I knew it was true.

I got on my knees right where I was and told Jesus Christ that I was a sinner, I believed that He died on the cross for my sins, and I accepted Him as my Savior and as my God. 

Almost immediately, there was a change in my life.  I was transformed overnight.  The panic attacks went away.  I could sleep through the night without fear.  I was able to travel the world without my parents.  I could finally smile again.

I was around twelve years old when things began to change.  I've always felt a huge empathy for poverty and those in need.  I began to wonder, "If God really does love everyone, then why does He let so many kids starve to death every day?  He can't love us."  And I started to doubt.  Doubt, if not put in check, can easily spread like wildfire.  I soon began to dismiss God completely.  I openly denied to several of my friends that He even existed... and if He did, I thought that He surely must hate the world.

Depression and feelings of worthlessness hit me hard after I dismissed my faith.  I felt stupid, ugly, and unlovable.  I was more depressed than I had ever been before.  I began to cut myself... occasionally at first, but then it became a dangerous habit and an outlet for me to release my anger and sadness and pent up emotions that I would never let anyone else see.  I wanted to hurt.  I felt like I deserved the pain I caused myself. 

When I was thirteen, I attempted suicide and failed. 

My parents found out about my self injury and obviously panicked.  They were once again at a loss of what to do.  I was depressed, miserable, and I put a wall up against everyone around me. 

The summer before my freshman year of high school, I made a 'deal' with God.  I basically said,

"God, if You exist, then I want You to show me a sign.  Prove that You can work through me.  Prove that You exist.  If You don't, I'm going to kill myself (and make sure it works this time) before school starts in August.  If You give me reasonable proof that You can work in my life, then I'll give my life to You.  You can have it.  I can't control it any more." 

I thought that this was an easy way out of my problems... I could justify everything with God. 

That summer, my parents sent me to a nine day training program that teaches teens how to witness to kids.  I was mortified.  I didn't want to share my so-called faith in a God I hardly believed in.  I wasn't allowed to quit the program, so I simply shut down.  On the fourth day, they took me and some other teens out to the park to witness to random people.  I had to share my 'faith' with a nineteen year old girl.  I spoke in a fairly monotone voice, inwardly begging the girl to ignore my words.  The girl was quiet and shy but she accepted Christ that day, explaining that she had just graduated from high school and received a Bible for graduation.  She hadn't known what to do with it until I came along and explained to her what it all meant.

This crushed me.  I went home that night and cried because I realized that God had used me, even though I was fighting against Him with all of my might.  He still used me to further His kingdom. 

I went to Mexico City on a mission trip soon after.  I was able to see poverty, serve the needy, and witness to the lost through an interpreter.  I went to Angel Tree Camp and shared a cabin with several young girls whose parents were incarcerated.  Most of these girls had been abused and neglected throughout their lives and a few of them also accepted Christ.

By the end of the summer, I was able to lead more than thirty people to the Lord.  Me- a young, timid girl with wavering faith.  There was no denying that God had worked through me.  I had my end of the deal to keep.  My life was His.

I'm seventeen years old now, an upcoming senior in high school.  I have no doubt that God has worked in my life.  I'm still growing in Him every day.  There are still difficult times that I have to struggle through, but Jesus has held my hand through each trial.  Hard situations that would have broken my faith a few years ago now strengthen my relationship with the Lord.  I haven't cut in more than three years.  I'm not depressed.  I have a joy and a hope inside of me that is indescribable.  You can't know how it feels unless you have it for yourself. 

I want to allow Jesus to control my life now because He is so much wiser than I am.  Believe me, I've tried to run my life on my own.  It never works.  I am so glad I made the decision to stay alive.  I've been able to do and experience so many things that I never would have imagined three years ago.  I've gone to Africa, mentored young girls who have problems with self injury or depression, wrote music, made many friends, wrote a book, and I am now interning at an inner city mission that is focused on spreading the gospel (and giving food) to the needy in my community.

I've never been happier.  And it's not just happiness that I feel... it's joy. 

---

I put up a video where I share my testimony on my vlog channel on YouTube.  You can watch it here. 

What's your testimony?  How has God transformed your life?  Feel free to share your story in a comment below.  I'd love to hear it. 
 

Two years ago, I came home from a movie that I had been waiting to see for months.  I Am Legend.  I was fifteen years old and a freshman in high school.  As I burst through the door to my room, I turned on my computer, eager to discuss the movie with my friends.

As I pulled open my MySpace page, a public bulletin caught my eye.  It said, "Who knows about Gatlin?!?!?!  I need to know DETAILS!!!!!!!!!!"  Afraid that some false rumor had begun to spread like a wildfire, I messaged the kid back, asking what he was talking about, and ready to shut the rumor down immediately in defense of my friend.  Gatlin and I were good friends in middle school, and our friendship had continued into high school.  The kid's response to my message sent my heart crashing down to my feet.  "Well, if you haven't heard, he killed himself.  Sorry if you knew him!"

My heart pounded in my head.  My thoughts were spinning.  It couldn't be true.  I stumbled downstairs into my parents' bedroom.  I could hardly get the words out.  "Gatlin... killed himself."  And I collapsed onto their bed, crying with fear.  In a frenzy, my parents made a few calls and then sadly confirmed the news.  Gatlin had taken his own life a few hours before.

I spent that night in torment.  The only emotions I felt were horror, numbness, and shame.  I wasn't sure how, but I knew that this was somehow my fault.

---

You or someone you know may have gone through a similar situation.  The loss of a loved one to suicide is a difficult and painful experience.  When a friend or relative commits suicide, loved ones often search desperately for a cause behind the terrible action.  When no reason can be found, it is common to start searching out blame in yourself.

The act of suicide often seems incomprehensible... taking a life, albeit your own, is a horrifying thing. After Gatlin died, a million and one questions ran through my mind.  "Why did he finally give in?"  "What could have been bad enough to make him snap like that?"  "Why wasn't he thinking about the people who loved him?"  "Why wasn't I there for him when I was supposed to be his friend?"

One of the biggest questions in my heart filled me with torment.  As a Christian, I was afraid to ask this question... and afraid of the answer I might receive.  The question: "Where was God in this?"

My human mind could not understand how God would allow one of His children- a Christian- to pull a trigger and take his own life.  How was this God's will?  Where was His love?  How did this bring Him glory?  Anger and betrayal filled my heart, but I suppressed my feelings within myself, sure that I could never let God know how I truly felt.  

You may have lost a friend or relative to suicide or to an unfortunate tragedy.  You may be feeling similar emotions to the things that I felt as a grieving Christian.  Once a week for the next few weeks, I will be expanding on the issue of loss and how to heal from grief within your relationship with God.  

If you have a loved one who is suffering from the loss of a friend or family member, then this next blog series can help you know how to comfort them and find the right words to say.  Your friend needs you to be there for them and encourage them through this difficult time.

If you are considering suicide as an alternative for life, then I'm going to ask you to hold on for a few more weeks.  I'm pleading with you to hang on for just a little bit longer and listen to what I have to say.  I want to give you a glimpse into what it is like for the people who lose a loved one to suicide.  I want you to face how your action will affect those around you.  If you are contemplating suicide, then don't let yourself feel this way any longer.  There is hope.  Please search out help... find someone to talk to about what you are feeling.  Talk to someone you know and trust or go to www.suicidehotlines.com. 

If you have a personal story of healing (or helping a friend to heal) from the loss of a loved one, then comment below.

Okay, am I completely crazy, or does this look like a duck to you?

It's a water stain on my ceiling. 

Well?  What do you think?  :)

The One Who I Admire Most

Since I have been an infant cradled gently in your arms,
You've always taken care of me and kept me from all harm.
No matter who has come and gone in this life of mine,
You're the one who has been strong, a fortress by my side.
And eventually, I'll find that guy who captivates my heart,
But until then, you were made to play that vital part.
It's hard sometimes- I realize that- but you have been the best,
To help me through my hardest trials. I am just so blessed.
Of all of those that I admire, there are so very few,
But the one who I admire most is my only father: you.

March 2, 2010


I wrote this poem in honor of my dad, whose birthday is today.  I love him so much, and have been blessed by having him in my life.  He is a great example for me in so many ways, and I'm thankful that I have a father who is a part of my life and wants to spend time with me.

Today I was home alone.  My family had all gone to run errands in town, and I stayed home to relax.  It was the weekend, after all.  The sun was shining outside.  The air was warm.  The blaring television and blinking computer screen did not satisfy my restlessness.  As I stepped outside and breathed in the crisp winter air, I decided to go on a bike ride.  Only very recently have I learned how to ride a bike, and since then, I've found myself wobbling down the streets of my neighborhood until my legs are too tired to pedal any further. 

In some ways, it is an easy escape from the confinement of my home.  I am free to look around at the rolling countryside and listen to the whispering grass and feel the gentle rays of the sun brush against my arms and face until I feel secure and content. 

Even though I live in a relatively flat city, the small area of my neighborhood is adorned with hills and cliffs and little canyons.  Today, I decided to ride up a particularly steep hill, something exciting to my meager, new-bike-rider skills.  As I tried to force my way up the hill on my little bike, straining against the wind and squinting through the harsh sunlight, I soon wanted to give up and turn back around.  The muscles in my legs were burning and tired, and my breathing felt labored.  I didn't want to struggle.  I wanted to feel relaxed, confident.  I wanted to go back to the smaller hills that I could easily overcome.  I hadn't thought that this would be so hard. 

Sometimes it does seem easier to just give up.  Something hard may be going on in your life, and you just want to say, "Forget it!  It doesn't matter.  I give up."  Even in our faith with the Lord, if something doesn't go our way, it can seem so much easier to just say, "God isn't showing Himself.  He obviously isn't here for me."  But that isn't what God intended for us. 

Imagine if the apostles and the early church decided that Christ wasn't worth it.  What if they chose to give up and stop following Him?  Their lives would have become so much easier.  Their persecutors would have left them alone.  And we would not know the truth about Christ today.  However, they realized that God was worth the struggle.  He was worth the pain and the persecution and the heart break. 

When you are enduring something difficult in your life, do not let yourself give up.  God has a plan for you, and it may take some struggles to get there.  I heard from someone that the depth of your valleys indicate the height of your mountains later on, meaning that the harder times that you face will become greater triumphs in the end.  Do not allow yourself to give up. 

Philippians 3:14 says, "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  Press on.  Your goal could be to overcome a battle in your life or to be an example to someone who you know is struggling.  Your goal could be to survive just one more day.  Just know that you can do it.  God will not allow you to handle any more than you can bear.  Keep strong.  You do not have to be overcome. 

When I reached the top of the hill, a slow smile stretched across my face.  I made it.  I tried to do something difficult, I struggled, and I made it.  I made it to the top.

And do you know what?  After the long ride up the hill, it took me mere minutes to come back down.  I glided easily on my bike, feeling completely at ease as the breeze brushed my face, and I was finally able to relax once again.  I felt exhilarated, peaceful.  It was all made worthwhile in the end. 

I'd made it.

(In case you were wondering, the pictures are from the day when I first learned how to ride a bike, and not necessarily the experience that I wrote about in this entry.)
 

Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder how I'd change things if I could go back a few years.  I know it is useless to dwell on the past, but I often do wish that I could go back to when I was thirteen or fourteen years old.  I like to ponder how I'd be different, how I would change things if I knew what I know now.

Two years ago, a friend of mine named Gatlin committed suicide.  It feels weird to say that it's been two years.  It seems like a shorter amount of time that that.  Gatlin and I were friends for around three years before he died.  While we were friends, we would sometimes have casual conversations about suicide and death.  I was depressed.  He was depressed.  I thought that it was natural to talk about the the way you feel.  I never thought that he would actually fulfill his word- at least not before I did.  I never told a parent.  I never did anything about it.  When he actually died, we hadn't discussed things like that in months.  I was finally happy.

His death came as a horror and a shock to me.  I felt more guilt than I'd ever felt before in my life.  Why didn't I ever tell anyone?  Why didn't I question him more than I did?  Why did I naturally assume that if he didn't talk about wanting to die, then that meant he was happy too?  My thoughts plagued me more with each passing day. 

If I got the chance to go back three or four years, I would appreciate my friends so much more than I did back then.  I would treasure each moment with Gatlin, and I would also treasure moments with other friends that I lost: friends I lost because of silly fights and arguments that won't ever matter in the grand scheme of things. 

If I could go back, I wouldn't encourage the discussion of death and suicide.  I would talk about life and about Christ and about having a future. 

And most importantly, if I could go back, then I would tell somebody when Gatlin told me the things that he did.  I wouldn't let myself have a reason to blame myself for his death.  In fact, I would do everything I could possibly do to prevent it.  I don't know why I didn't act on his words.  I don't know why I didn't ask for help.  But I didn't, and it's too late to change that. 

If you have a friend that loosely mentions topics like suicide and depression, please don't trust that they're never going to act on their words, because they might.  They could do something that you will regret for the rest of your life.  Tell someone you can trust.  Go to www.suicidehotlines.com and ask someone there for counseling. 

And most of all, please treasure the relationships that you have.  Don't let yourself have reason for regrets.  Love your friends.  You may not have them with you forever.

If you could go back a few years, what would you change?  Would you change anything at all, or do you have no regrets? 
 

There are so many cool movies out right now.  "Dear John," "Avatar," "Sherlock Holmes"... but if you're looking for a movie that can change your perspective on things and make an impact on your life, then I definitely encourage you to see "To Save A Life." 

"To Save A Life" is the best Christian movie that I have ever seen- better than "Fireproof," better than "Facing the Giants," better than all of those in my opinion.  It deals with every issue a young person has to go through right now and more. 

Please support "To Save A Life," and tell your friends about it.  It's worth it.

Today, I woke up to find my yard and my driveway blanketed in a thick coating of white snow.  Much to my delight, I also found out that I will be having a snow day for the next two days, giving me a four day weekend.  These things can only brighten your day and make things better.

I am not a huge fan of snow.  In fact, I would like to go to college in a city where it never snows.  However, the snow has made it worthwhile when we have a four day weekend.  It is supposed to snow more than a foot before midnight tonight, which I can believe.  That may not seem like a lot, but where I live, it shuts people up in their houses for days.

We made snow ice cream, which in case you do not know what this is, I will provide the recipe below:

• 1 cup of snow
• 1 teaspoon full of vanilla
• pour in some milk and stir until the snow looks like a milk shake
• add sugar until sweet
  

And there you have it.  It tastes like some bizarre mixture between a snow cone and ice cream, but it always tastes good.  You can also add chocolate syrup or cinamon, but I have never personally tried these two things.

My new dog, Coco, has played in the tall piles of snow throughout the day.  It is her first real blizzard, and she is having a blast.  I live on a tall hill, and so my brother and sister have enjoyed rolling down the hill together while Coco prances behind them.  Coco has lived a short, but hard life, and I am happy to see that she is finally able to thrive in some positive attention and have a good, exciting day.

Periodically, Coco would come into the house, covered in ice and carrying a snow glove or some ski goggles, and she would stay inside for about five minutes until she warmed up, and then off she would go once again, searching frantically for my brother and sister.

This has been a fun day, and I'm glad to spend a day with my family.  

 

Today, my mom came home with the newest edition to our family.

Meet Coco. 

Coco, or "Coco-Bear" as I have started to call her because of her large size, is a ten month old labradoodle.  We rescued her because she was going to be put down for no reason except that her owners kept her outside and decided that they didn't have time for her.  She has the sweetest temperament, and I'm very excited to get to know my new puppy better. 

This was the first official week of the new City Church after-school program.  Everything is much more organized and polished, and I am very excited about what God is going to do with this program.  I am going to be teaching the nine and ten year old group of the Green team (aka the cool team).  We start out with a meal and then praise and worship time, and during this part of the evening, the leaders are basically in charge of everybody. 

There was one little girl named "Sarah" who was around four or five years old.  She wore a shirt that hung loosely on her short frame... clothes that were obviously too big for her.  She later told me that they were her sister's.  Her blond hair was tangled and greasy.  Pretty blue eyes shone beneath dirt that caked her rosy cheeks.  Sarah was covered in grime.  I don't even know what else to call it.  Every square inch of visible skin on that little girl's body was brown with grime.  I doubt that she has had a bath since the new year began.  

Sarah was an undeniably beautiful little girl... but she did not look like I did when I was her age.

Time to walk down memory lane.



See that picture?  I think I was around four or five years old there.  I was playing in a laundry basket with my younger sister.  Notice how my clothes fit... how I'm clean... how I'm smiling openly.  These are all ways that I was different from little Sarah.

Sarah used her brown fingers quite often when she ate her dinner, and I watched her with hidden dismay.  This child was so dirty... one of the dirtiest children I've seen in a long time, and so right before she went to the big sanctuary to have worship and orientation, I asked her to come into the bathroom with me.  She watched my every move with big eyes, obviously hesitant about whatever we were going to do.

"I'm a pretty messy eater," I said with a sheepish grin.  "Would you like to help me wash my hands?  We could do it together."

The uncomfortable look faded from Sarah's face and she nodded eagerly, obviously feeling important now that she had been given a mission.  I set the small girl on the bathroom counter so that she could reach the faucet, and then poured the foam soap into her hands.  They were so dirty.  We scrubbed and scrubbed each others' hands until they were both hidden from the soap suds, and then we rinsed them off in the sink until they were clean.  When we were finished, the white porcelain was stained brown.  Brown.  From a little girl's tiny fingers. 

After this, we washed our faces.  Even Sarah's little nose was smudged with the grime.  I wanted to turn away and cry by the time I was finished.  Actually, more than anything in the world, I wanted to give this little girl a bath and wash the rest of her until she was completely clean. 

While we were cleaning up, Sarah began to tell me in her babyish voice about how her sister didn't like her.  "That's crazy," I told her, "because I like you a lot."

"You do?"  She looked astonished.

I let an equally astonished expression spread over my face.  "Why, of course I do!  You're my friend!"

"I'm your friend?"  A small, nervous smile began to twitch at the corners of Sarah's mouth.

I pretended to be shocked.  "Of course you are.  I'm yours, aren't I?" 

"Yes.  You're my friend.  You're my friend," Sarah repeated over and over, as if she couldn't believe the possibility that someone like me would be friends with her. 

"And you're my friend.  You're my beautiful, beautiful friend," I declared.

"Your friend," Sarah whispered.  Awe shone in her blue eyes.  And then, without an ounce of hesitation, she gave me a huge smile and leaped into my arms, wrapping her own skinny arms around my neck and burying her face in my shoulder.  She was dirty, she was small, she didn't smell great, she probably had lice... she had a life harder than I could imagine.  Many people would have seen her walking down the sidewalk and felt repulsed...  They may have crossed to the other side of the street to avoid contact with this filthy little girl.

I could have done the same thing.  But Jesus opened my eyes, and I was able to look past the dirt and the grime and the neglect.  I saw a little girl who was beautiful from the inside-out.  I saw a child that God had made... I saw a child with a special purpose for her life.  I saw a child that Jesus cried over, that He cared about, that He died for...  I saw my friend. 

I knew that Jesus would have cradled this little girl in his lap and whispered words of love into her ear until she couldn't ever stop smiling. 

So I held her.   

So I had some chicken noodle soup.  I was very excited to pick out this particular can, because it was a special edition of Campbell's chicken noodle soup.  A very special edition.  Almost a royal edition, in fact.

Well, according the the back of the can, you were supposed to be able to recognize the profiles of each of these princesses in your noodles.  This is what I found instead.