Outside... the longing

Have you ever wanted to take flight? See the world? Leave it all behind?

I guess it's the adventurous spirit within me that yearns for such a "who knows where I could go" experience every once in a while. How I'd love to leave this all behind for a little while with no regrets and "see the world". Backpacking... biking... hiking.... camping out in the remotest parts of nowhereville. See the ocean crashing along the great shoreline. Walk through deep forests (with much bug spray) and up high mountainsides. Feel the exhaustion of accomplishment.

And then the reality of laundry, dinner to make, bills to pay, a job to get, and a cat to feed suck the adventure right out of this wanderer.

Oh well, looks like the only adventure I'll be having for now is this cough and headache.

Truthful Reflection

Ever looked in the mirror and saw you were running a fever?

-coughs and tries to use the left nostril to breathe.-

A Fight

Discipline is "my way" leaving the body. Discipline is "I can't" leaving the body. Discipline is rebellion leaving the body.

And true discipline requires a sacrifice. And true discipline may yield pain of some variety.

Yet the rewards for true discipline usually take some patient waiting, but will be far greater than anything you could ever imagine.

Reality

It's a Tuesday night.. I'm at college. ...

nothing but junkmail in my career path.

boo.... hiss.....

-angry eyes-

Announcing...

They're in

and Chris did awesome.

Never Know

Today I woke up with this thought and it followed me to the shower and to the car and to Wright State. This is the first time this thought ever occurred to me.

My children will never know my grandparents.

I got a phone call last night from my Dad. Grandpa is dying. They don't expect him to make it through the week. Dad and Mom are flying out tonight. Matt and I will be going to get their car from the airport and sending them onto the plane with hugs this evening. As one who processes the extent of loss after the fact, I don't expect to cry any time soon. It's not that my grandpa doesn't mean something to me, but it's that focusing on the facts is always my default in coping.

But the thoughts this morning brought up this new realm of reality. My children will never know my grandparents. And Matt may never know them either.

You know, a lot of people are blessed with supportive, loving families. They have big family reunions and the grandchildren get the opportunity to see their cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and even great grandparents.

I remember my great grandma Ruth briefly. Really once my memory kicked in great grandma Ruth was not doing so well health-wise. But Grandma would take us up to see her quite frequently. Jes and I would play with the few toys that great grandma had as grandma would take care of her mom. Great grandma Ruth didn't say much, as a result of a stroke. But we loved her because grandma loved her and grandma took the time to take care of her. (You know how kids are, they love people and things because important people in their lives love people or things.) One day we stopped visiting great grandma. And that was all I knew. I received a tea cup and saucer in the mail sometime afterward. Great grandma had left it for us. The orange set have traveled with me to UT and WSU and now reside in the China Nook. And the doll that great grandma made for me took on new meaning.

Grandparents are wonderful, especially mine. I could shower you readers with stories of working in the woodshop with Grandpa as he made wood come alive and I will never forget asking him to make me a rubber duck from wood before I left for Ohio. He kept telling me that he could make me a wood duck, but I told him I wanted a rubber duck of wood. (Stupid kid!) Or there's the "Little House on the Prairie" that would welcome us to grandma time. Jes and I would watch... grandma would sometimes nap.

And I wish I could tell you of stories with my Mom's parents, but they were never grandma and grandpa to me. Mom's dad died many years ago and Mom's mom never really enjoyed my family's company. So it's just weird to think that here shortly I will no longer have grandparents. At all.

No one so close to me has died yet and it's quite foreign to think about.




It's becoming more hard to think about as it sits with me...

Absent Blood

do you ever wish you could save someone?
it's not that you want to be their hero.
you just don't want them to have to face what is before them.
their decision is naive and will cause them more pain than they know.
very soon.
you just want to change their mind.
wrestle their pride to the ground.
break their inhibitions.
shatter their stubbornness.

oh if they could see the light they are missing!
if they only knew the beauty in surrender.
the overwhelming, overpowering flood of purpose and love.
surely they would run, hobble, crawl ...

choice is so hard to watch.
i can't imagine how You do it.
and it is through those moments of utter yearning
that i agree with Your life-giving compassion.
do you ever wish you could save someone?

only You can.


-how my heart hurts for you.-

speechless

---

---

-my grandpa in CA-

Today's Employment

It's 12:39pm on a Friday. Here I sit at the very school I have attempted to leave so many times before. This time graduated, which apparently means wearing black heels and dress clothes to the library. The career services interview a past success, despite a four-lane blocking accident delaying me fifteen minutes of my half hour window of "fix this on your resume" and "quickly, here's our computer system" time. The Other Place interview now lost into the world of "I need full-time, not part-time". Waiting on the Montgomery County machine to slowly get itself going. Whispers from rebellious platinum blond fashion queens echo copy machine cries and coughs. This place reeks of carelessness, acting and unemployment. My stomach complains. Laundry waits at the apartment. A hospital visit of a friend's sister looms. Productive, one could call it. Hard-working. Or also just plain lost. This job hunt. But this freight train fails to find fuel. "None Available" burns into my eyes with site after site. But Hope still remains. The trees wave through glass. The wind active again. And with ideas long gone, discovery hangs... yearning... waiting. Alas, these black heels find pavement beyond the library doors. Across the street. Within her past hatred they wait. Until at last they find their home on the wood floor... empty. A morning gone, with red feet and wasted paper it's products. Laundry calls. Visits persist. And then alas... rest.

Thus goes the story of today's employment.

Open Letters:

To the unemployed,
Sucks to be unemployed.
I feel ya.

Hoping to use this "wonderful" education,
me



To my husband,
I love you.
I'll try to geta job here soon.
But refer to the above letter.

Hoping your education doesn't proove as "bountiful",
me

To the zit that just popped on my face,
Nasty.
Resentingly,
me

To Understand the Shame.

But when the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then He will sit on His glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before Him; and He will separate them from one another, as the shepherd separates the sheep from the goats; and He will put the sheep on His right, and the goats on His left.

Then the King will say to those on His right, 'Come you who are blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.'

Then the righteous will answer Him, 'Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?'

The King will answer and say to them, 'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.'

-Matthew 25: 31-40

I think it's hard for the clothed to understand the shame of nakedness or for the free to comprehend the confinements of prison. In this passage, Christ makes the point that serving another brother is serving Him. But how can we serve another if we fail to see their desperation? This point has been made repetitively in the Social Work department. A social worker must empathize with the pains, stigmas, and griefs of a client's life circumstances. But here, Christ goes beyond acknowledging mere bench-warming empathy, but emphasizes again and again the actions of the righteous in meeting a brother's need. It's the actions and serving that recognizes the brother's worth, no matter what their life conditions and trials. Therefore, one does not need to become naked to understand nakedness, but merely value another enough to give them clothing.

But who ever said the clothing was ours to hoard in the first place?


Everything is the Lord's.

-Everything!-

To Maintain Comfort.

It's amazing to me how easily we can live in our heads. If I don't like what you're saying, I retreat to my own thoughts. You can't change those. You can't touch those. We can live in this state of, "you think you know me... but you don't." We can live in this, "I can reason through it. I can fix it."

I've just been thinking about old friends as I clear through more of the clutter that easily classifies me as a "junk keeper". I've just been thinking about some of the conversations we had. And been wondering about where some of them are in their lives right now. Who are their friend's now? What are their new hobbies?

But the real fascination I have as I flip through old chapters of my life is, when the lights go down at the end of the day and it's just them and their thoughts, who are they? I'm just curious. Are they who they want to be? Am I who I want to be?

...


It's so easy to stay in the comfortable. It's so easy to remain outside of conflict, outside of stressors, outside of life. It's so easy to sit behind a computer or a palm pilot and become just another fish in the sea. I'm not trying to imply that being on the computer or on the web or having the finances to be able to afford a palm pilot makes anyone a bad person. I'm just saying that face to face contact and actually going through the daily work of keeping a friendship or a relationship healthy is hard enough for anyone to desire to run away. But it's in those moments of retreat that I wonder who my previous friends have become? Whom have I become?

... I was just thinking today...

In the air and eyes bulging

Have you ever been afraid of something and later discovered it wasn’t that bad?

I was sitting on the couch, towel on head, enjoying “On Fire” by Switchfoot. The shower was good and hot. A stack of books lay on the floor beside my laptop on the coffee table, evidence of a final paper finished Monday. Boots walked by, as usual. Only this time Boots caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. I still have no idea what he thought he saw, but he took off tearing in the other direction. He poked his head back around the corner, wide eyed and timid. Thinking it amusing, I moved my foot and made a noise. He jumped a foot in the air and backed up, eyes bulging. He returned an additional seven or eight times in which he jumped a bit and rigidly rocked toward and away from the books. I just let him work it out for himself. He hesitated and sneaked around the coffee table for a while. Then he built up the courage to sniffed the books.

Ten minutes later, I picked up the cat as he walked by normally. I cradled him like I usually do and he tolerated it for a few minutes. Then, he caught glimpse of the stack of books and lost all control. Four puffy scratches later and I can tell you with hands down that irrational fear is not fun!

I too am as foolish when it comes to irrational fear. Lately I have done nothing but horrify myself with marriage fears. I have replayed them over and over again in my head, thinking about them in the most exhausted moments of late hours. I, like Job, have said things in the midst of my fear and hurts that are not reflecting of God’s character. And I have built up this irrational wall of fear that has kept me from enjoying the blessing that God has provided.

Its odd how books and four puffy scratches can remind me of a lifestyle better lived in light of God’s character. But the scratches still hurt.

Only When Ready...

When you're ready to move:

• you get so excited about packing that you can't go back to sleep at 7AM

• you see a tornado-hit room as a land of opportunity and joy

• your cat becomes all purry and friendly because he fears you are going to leave him

• pizza rolls look like a perfectly reasonable breakfast because it gives you more time to focus on filling boxes
• August 25th is 10 days away!
  

From Hiding

I decided to blog from my hiding spot here at Robin and my apartment. This past weekend has been wonderful with Andi's rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, and then wedding, as well as my LSW exam (I passed). But that was a lot of people interaction and exhaustion so today I am in hiding. I should be typing my paper, but I just flat out hate that paper with a vengeance and it's really hard to motivate myself to do so. (It's a long story, but I got a really frustrating and depressing draft back that absolutely insulted my intelligence and ate away at two weeks worth of work, grading it with a bitter "D". ... so needless to say.. I need to motivate myself to read my proff's commentaries as I re-edit the paper.)

Well, there's 13 days in closing until I become a Stauffer. A lot is swirling through my head and I can't wait to let it all go. I am beginning to finalize a wedding day schedule and work out the most tiny of details for the ceremony flow. And it's all coming into fruition quite rapidly.

I can't wait to finish college on Monday night. I am a bit stressed about job hunting this week. This week also marks my last week of work with my Kindergartners. And then that's that filthy messy room of mine that is waiting to be organized, weeded through, boxed up, and moved to the new address. I have decided that next week will be focused solely on finishing moving, helping Robin pack, setting up Matt and my apartment, and emotionally letting go of my anxiety about leaving the world of singleness. It's weird but after living your whole life as a single, it's hard to conceptualize and work through no longer being a single. It's kinda like the other day at work... "who will I be?" But anyway... along with next week's plans, I just wanted to spend a lot of time praying, reading the Word, and singing to the Lord. I know He will calm me in the midst of emotional stresses and last minutes. And I just want to be still... and know Him.

So, yeah... that's life thus far. From my hiding spot to yours... have a great Sunday!

Anonymous Me

"I'm going to marry Ms. Monica!" the petite, five-year-old announced to my Speed partners as he threw himself around my neck in the middle of our Kids Gym Kindergarten card game.
"I'm already getting married, Hayden" I explained as I tickled the little boy.
"Yes!" He stood up and pumped his arms.
"Oh, no, no, Hayden... to someone else."
"Oh," His face dropped it's expression.
"And I get to change my name!" I poked at him playfully.

A moment of silence passed.

I could see him thinking.

"But who will you be then?"

-15 Days!-

Distant Missionary

So I've been reading a few missionaries web pages lately. They are quite interesting regarding their experiences and their daily abnormal-to-the-rest-of-the-worlds. And I am amazed by the devotion of a missionary yet again. They carry this focus of our purpose [to make disciples] and they appear not to be lost in the materials of this world. Oh, don't get me wrong, in no way is a missionary perfect, but they'd also be the first to tell you that with utter humbleness.

A quote hangs on my fridge: "I want to remind the committee that within six months they will probably hear that some one of us is dead. Yes, is it likely that eight Englishmen should start for Central Africa and still be alive six months after? Some of us at least-and it may be I-will surely fall before that. When the news comes, do not be cast down, but send someone else immediately to take the vacant place" - Alexander McKay.

It floors me the selflessness and the humbleness of those missionaries whose eyes are fully affixed on Christ. They have such purpose, such drive in their lives.

And then I am reminded that we, followers of Christ, are all called to be making disciples in our home towns [in scripture: "Jerusalem"], our outer communities ["Judea"], the places we'd least like to go ["Samaria"] and to the ends of the world.

These thoughts come to my mind because I have been quite selfish with my time lately. In my selfishness and laziness I have failed to accomplish critical tasks and even missed a field trip with my work kids. And the question arises in my mind, "Are you making disciples?" You know, for one who calls herself a Christ-follower, I don't feel like too much of a missionary this week.

Time for a change of thoughts.

-Thank You, Lord, for Your grace and power over the grave that I could even feel these convictions and even think about changing. Thank You for Your mercy. I love You, Lord.-

Keeping the Battle in Mind

A lot has been going through my mind lately. Between moving and sorting through old things I have been reminded of from where God has brought me. With missing our field trip departure yesterday, God gave me extra time to serve Matt, even though he's at Kid's Camp. And last night, God gave me some time to release a lot of the built up stress from this past Senior Year of College. God has brought a lot to my attention. There's thoughts of what was "too much" this past year for the way He has created me. There's been thoughts of thankfulness for the friends and family that have supported me in the distance of an overbooked schedule. And there has also been thoughts of who I am now, after this past year, and where God will take me. So, needless to say, there has been a lot going through my head lately.

"Here I raise mine Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I'm come."

The familiar words of Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing pop into my head this morning as I type words. The thought of raising an Ebenezer is not a scrooge reference, but instead is referring to an altar built unto the Lord. It's neat because this altar was traditionally built when God's people would come to a new place or a new land. This altar stood as an acknowledgement of how far God had brought His people. Similar thoughts have filled my mind as I pack away old journals and move old books.

And the thought of my future is spurred from how far God has brought me in my past. And I wonder... and I hope... that when this short life in complete, I may be so blessed to hear the words from my Father, "well done, good and faithful servant." But it has become all the more clear to me that while anyone can look upon another's life and sum up their interactions as "good" or "bad", it is in the small details of one's life that they create the overall "good" or "bad". It makes me ponder what exactly a faithful walk truly is. I mean, I could only hope (along with Matt) to have an much boldness as Paul to be able to say at the end of my ministry, "I have run the race, I have fought the good fight" or even to say for others to be imitators of me for I am such an imitator of Christ. No, Paul didn't speak in arrogance, but in utter devotion and with such conviction of God's power and ability that since He conquered the grave nothing would keep Him from holding Paul to Himself. Not death, nor life, nor angels, nor demons...

I was talking with Robin last night as we circled what used to be "my campus". I released my desired "dune-ness" with schooling and Robin communicated her faithful friendship with few words and much listening. And the topic of growth in the Lord rose to our thoughts. Why are we satisfied with so little of God? came my thoughts, outpoured in many more words. (Why say what you have to say in a sentence when you could explain it in a paragraph, right Matt?) Perhaps we have been taught to be less satisfied, came a train of thoughts. Or maybe we have failed to see other examples and therefore failed to be an example ourselves. Oh, but maybe the real battle lies not in examples or seen things, but in the battle between flesh and spirit. And then, have we let our flesh win?

I read this morning...

So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes. His wife said to him, "Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!" He [Job] replied, "You are talking like a foolish woman, Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" -Job 2:7-10

Sometimes I feel I let my flesh win. This is too hard. I give up. I want my comfort, not my growth. The sores seem too much to bear. Why me? And other selfish thoughts flood my mind.

But dare I see, yet again, through the Holy Spirit's eyes...?
Or do I fear that sores and loss may be good for me?
Pain? Be good?
And if I acknowledge pain as growth, have I placed a target on my head?
But what makes me think that just because I hide away that God doesn't see me all along?
And if I run from God's standard surely it doesn't make God's standard any less of Truth.

Much to think about this morning... much to think about.

Licensure and 22

For those of you who have been waiting in anticipation, the final moment has arrived. Drum roll please... I have received my Social Work Board letter in the mail and today, my dear friends and family, I am actually able to contact the Board to schedule my licensure exam. Oh, yes! Oh, yes! The three week process is finally coming to an end. And very soon indeed, my dear supporters, I will be able to sit for 4 hours and pass the licensure exam that will enable me to begin job hunting. As you all know, this licensure process has taken far longer that I would have desired, but it is one step closer to me getting a job, which is one step closer to me getting a paycheck, which is one step closer to me paying rent and my loan payments. Yes, friends, try desperately to contain your excitement as I am. And this Monday I will also learn as to whether or not I need to revise my final paper or if I am as good as graduated. I shall keep you all updated as more information becomes available... oh yes, and 22 days as of today. Isn't that wild? Like we're hitting the 20 day countdown on Sunday. Like SUNDAY, folks! Wowzers!

The Art of Letting Go

This past Sunday was my last house church meeting. Since God has called me to marry my dearest Matthew, He has also called me to "go and make disciples" outside of the Apex community. I accepted His path for my life on October 22, 2006 and it came with a beautifully shiny ring too. =) But I have had many moments of reaccepting God's way in my life since then. Hard times like thinking of possibly giving up Cheddar, the threat of what could be seen as worldly financial failure, and many more hurdles have come over the past ten months of engagement.

One of the biggest struggles was that of leaving a part of the Body of Christ that is so firmly desiring the Lord. The roots of Apex is built on a true desire to exalt our Lord in all His beauty. And it's not just an exalting of God's love and forgiveness, but also an exalting of God's wrath and the parts of His character that we'd prefer to sweep under the rug of Christianity because we do not understand His mystery. As my dear friend Rob once made the illusion, God's character is like a cup. It's a cup of wrath, a cup of love, a cup of forgiveness. And His entire character is all in one cup. You either take it or leave it.

Last weekend I stepped into 5200 Far Hills Ave. to talk to my roommate. I passed by familiar faces in the hallway. I climbed the stairs, listening to Abi and Crystal's outpour of dedication blaring through the speakers. I remember when... filled my thoughts. And it occurred to me that there would be one day that I would walk into 5200 and come to the realization that I no longer knew anyone there. I no longer knew what songs they were singing. And the few familiar faces that I knew would fade into the sea of unfamiliar ones. There was just this distance... this indescribable distance...


I was gone for two weeks. I felt bad about not being able to attend house church, but I had to support Matt. And the best way I can say I love you sometimes is just to be standing there. He was nervous. It was his first mission trip to organize. Miamisburg people mean a lot to him and he didn't want to disappoint. He needed reassurance. I can't promise to offer him the right words at the right time. But I hope he felt my support. And when I came back I didn't have much time to think through the end of house church. Wise words once reaffirmed the grieving process of saying goodbye. But the words of goodbye carry more of a sting than I am willing to acknowledge sometimes.

I am not a finished product. Therefore, there are still peaks and valley ahead. There are still trials and joys. And it would be naive of me to solely focus on the joys without acknowledging the trials. Call me a pessimist at times, but I just call me real and God calls me "beloved" and "beautiful".

I was thinking last night, as I usually do before bed, and I realised that I could very easily see me as a wife of Matt. You may think, "well it's a good thing since you are marrying him", but I often think that many girls get so wrapped up in the romanticised "wife" that the daily unromances of life disappoints them after the honeymoon phase is complete. And let me remind you that it is such a mindset of romanticism that has my generation and the one before us in over a 50% divorce rate. But it was last night as I was getting all cozy before bed that my mind dusted through our newly furnished apartment and began to think of it as a home.

Home to me has never been defined by furniture, but by people and pets. Cheddar visited the apartment last night. He did much better than his initial visit and followed Robin and I around the apartment, sprawling out on the floor beside us. It put me at ease to see his comfort. And with Paris in the kitchen, Kenya in the living room, and a few displacements, the unfamiliar began to become familiar. And I began to tell Robin of the 'I like it's of the apartment.

So, this rambling of thought was placed into the nothingness of the blogging world just to say that change is hard but as I begin to see the big puzzle pieces fall into place, home has begun to look like Matt and my apartment and a small church of 200 or so. So, Matt... it's progress. One step at a time...... the art of letting go.