Christmas and the time spent with my family and friends was grand, but I'm so happy to be home! We got back last night and the drive wasn't so bad despite the weather and the numerous times we stopped along the way. For me, the drive's not usually bad. I've made the 7 hour trip so many times, it's not really a big deal. But every once in a while it seems harsher than normal. Thankfully this one was not, although there was every indication that the contrary would be true.
Like I said, I had a grand time. I always love this time of year. Mostly because I get to hang out with my family. It's one of the only times that I really get to see everybody. I love my family more and more all the time.
As unimportant as it is in the grand scheme of things, one can't talk about Christmas and withhold information about gifts. To be quite honest, this year was more lacking in the gift department than it has been in the past. My parents didn't buy me, nor my brothers, anything at all. There just wasn't enough money. I didn't buy anything for them either. We did as a family buy some gifts for other members of our family. We bought ten total to be exact. All very inexpensive, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to do even that. So all of the gifts I received were from members of my extended family and I got one from a friend. But times are tough for more than just me and my family. So what I did get wasn't anything spectacular or grandiose. But I'm not usually thrilled by spectacular or grandiose things, so that's a-okay. I ended up getting a total of five books, all ones that I have already read and one that I already own. So I don't have anything new to read, but I love all of them and was thrilled to receive them. I don't think I've ever gotten so many books for Christmas before. Which is odd, because everyone knows I like to read, so every time they seem to be having trouble deciding what to get me, they should just buy a book instead of worrying about it. Anyway, that was the biggest highlight out of the gifts. In the past, I've gotten a good amount of money, but not this year. Like I said, times are tough.
I really hope that didn't sound like I was complaining. I wasn't at all. I don't need gifts to have Christmas. The only things that made me sad in the whole situation were 1.) I wasn't able to buy anything for anybody and 2.) I know my parents didn't like the fact that they couldn't buy their children anything. It's not like were putting pressure on them to get us anything (none of us felt bad about it at all), but as a parent I'm sure that was disappointing.
I really wanted to be able to make gifts for people this year because that is much more economical and much more meaningful in my opinion, but with school that just wasn't going to happen. Maybe if I start planning earlier this year, and work at it over the course of the whole year and not wait to cram everything in all at once, I will actually be able to do that. It's a lofty ideal, that may not be so lofty if I actually put my mind to it.
That's about it as far as Christmasy things go. Next I feel compelled to give you a follow-up on my last two posts. While I was away, God helped me to understand some of what was going on and revealed some things to me. But I will put that in another post. I have a feeling it will be rather lengthy. Said post to come soon. How soon, I'm not sure. But you can be on the lookout.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
And so it continues...
So...it happened again last night. Only this time I was mostly just sobbing. The majority of the erratic behavior I previously mentioned was absent.
This has all left me in a state of puzzlement. Why is this happening? Crying is not foreign, but crying this much, this violently, two nights in a row, is. That normally indicates that something is wrong.
So I'm trying to figure out what's wrong. If there even is something wrong. I'm praying that God will show me. Because I just don't know.
This has all left me in a state of puzzlement. Why is this happening? Crying is not foreign, but crying this much, this violently, two nights in a row, is. That normally indicates that something is wrong.
So I'm trying to figure out what's wrong. If there even is something wrong. I'm praying that God will show me. Because I just don't know.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Downhere bad for your health?
It may not be for you, but I wonder sometimes if it isn't for me.
This night has turned out to be very different than I anticipated that it would be. At about 10:00 I came up to my room and got ready for bed. Then I got out my Bible and read like I do every night. At probably about 10:15, 10:20, I was just about to get in bed for the night and then my brother walked in, carrying his laptop. I had asked him earlier if he would mind me borrowing it in the middle of the night if I couldn't go to sleep and wanted something to do. So instead of making me go downstairs and get it in the middle of the night, he just brought it up here to save me the trouble. So then, we got started talking. We tend to get chatty when we're together. Especially at night, for some reason. Thus, about an hour later, we finally said all our good nights and he left the room. So much for me trying to go to bed before 10:30.
So, I was pretty hyped up at that point. Our conversation had gotten my brain turned back on. We talked about everything from Pirates of the Caribbean to Harry Potter, Winnie-the-Pooh, the Bible, German, downhere, and Lord of the Rings. Therefore I decided to go ahead and pull out his laptop. I surfed around for a while and messed around on iTunes a little bit and at about 1:30 I decided to do some writing. I have a notebook that I am trying to fill up with songs. Songs that mean a lot to me. I have three in there so far and what I do is write down the lyrics and then write down everything that I can find to say about it. Which thus far has been pages upon pages. I've been so busy that it's been a while since I've done one. So I pulled out my list that I have of songs to put in there and went to pick one. I figured that I probably wouldn't get much written in the way of my thoughts (it does take me quite a while to write those pages and pages) but I at least wanted to get the lyrics down to something. And I did that. I picked All At War, by none other than downhere.
When I write these things down, I listen to the song as I'm doing it. It's been a while since I really listened to downhere. So after I got the lyrics down and put my pen and paper aside, I had a real hankering to listen to the whole album. And that's what I decided to do. It was about 2:00 at this point. I turned on Ending Is Beginning, shut the laptop beside me on the bed, and lied down.
I really don't know what came over me. Maybe I was emotional from listening to All At War. I did start crying when I was listening to it. Maybe it had been so long since I had really listened to them that it hit me harder than normal. Maybe I've just been so busy that I needed to listen to my favorite band. Maybe God was trying to get my attention or trying to tell me something. Maybe it was a combination of all of those things.
Whatever it was, I lost it as soon as the first song started. And I will try my best to explain what I mean by that statement, but I'm sure I won't explain it well enough. I was sobbing. I was having trouble breathing, and therefore gasping for air. I was shaking. I was mouthing every word, unable to actually sing because of my tears and lack of breath. I was covering my face. I was running my hands through my hair. I was pulling my hair. I was holding my head. I was dancing. I was shaking my head, like a little kid displaying obvious dislike for something. I was groaning. I was protesting. I was lying immobile.
The first four things were the only things I really did consistently. All the rest I was cycling through. I'm sure I looked like I was in a lot of pain. Possibly like I was being tortured. And I may have even looked like I was possessed because everything I was doing was so schizophrenic. Is she dancing? Wait, her face is contorted. She can't be dancing. And there, she's beating her fists. But it looks like she's dancing again. And was that a grief smile that graced her mouth? She looks like she's trying to sing, but whatever it is must be pretty awful to make her do this. What's wrong with her?
I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't normally do this kind of thing. I don't normally display a lot of emotion, to the point that I often hide a lot of personality because of that. I'm not the type to go insane. Not usually. The only other times I have done this have been when I was listening to particulary incredible music, such as Ending Is Beginning and when I have had profound encounters with God. And I must say, that the two are most often coinciding.
For anyone who has heard this album, you know how phenomenal it is. And perhaps you too can relate to some of what I have shared.
I tried to describe what I was doing and what I looked like, but there is no describing how I felt. I'm sure I looked like I was in pain, because I was overwhelmed. And I was overwhelmed by how amazing everything was. How amazing the music was. How amazing the lyrics were. How amazing God is.
Hope Is Rising has always been the one song on that album that has made my cry the most. The vast majority of times I have listened to it, I have cried. And I thought that I had cried pretty hard a few times. But never before have I cried when listening to that song as much and as hard as I did tonight. That was the one that had me lying immobile, except for the convulsions of me sobbing so much and gasping for air. I tried to lift my arms up and few times and I never did make it very far, so I eventually gave up.
I mentioned protesting in that bizarre list up there. Here's what I meant by that. In My Last Amen, toward the end there is a part where Marc is oohing, Jason jumps in and says "a little closer" and they do a half chorus and finish out the song...well, when Jason says that line, "a little closer," in all of his low, beautiful, amazingness, it gets me every time I hear it. That is my favorite part. Well, I knew it was coming and I knew it was going to get to me more than usual and add to the sobbing and gasping, so right before he said it, I actually said (in between sobs), "Jason, don't do that." And then later, during Beggar Who Gives Alms, Marc was oohing again, only in this song it's so pretty, and he's up so high, and it really gets to me, too, so I said, "Don't do it, Marc." That's just two examples. I had other statements of protest mixed in here and there. And as I'm saying this, I know how ridiculous it sounds. I actually feel compelled to laugh at myself. But there was nothing particularly funny in any of those moments. Just beauty that was so striking it was painful.
As much as I have talked about them, if you haven't listened to downhere yet, you should. Their new album, Ending Is Beginning, is a good place to start. Any album is a good place to start, really. If you're not enamored from the first listen, just give it time. They may never appeal to or affect you as much as they do me, but you will like them at least. I'm pretty certain that I can guarantee that.
And despite how awake I was earlier, I am very tired now. I spent nearly an hour consistently sobbing, every muscle contracting with each gasp for breath. Not to mention all of the insane moving that I did. On top of that, it is now 5:00 AM. I need to go to sleep. Therefore forgive me if this post does not make a lot of sense. The subject matter is strange anyway and it doesn't help that my brain is shutting down.
So, downhere may not be bad for year health, but maybe you can see why I might wonder about mine. At the very least, I do know that it is time consuming.
This night has turned out to be very different than I anticipated that it would be. At about 10:00 I came up to my room and got ready for bed. Then I got out my Bible and read like I do every night. At probably about 10:15, 10:20, I was just about to get in bed for the night and then my brother walked in, carrying his laptop. I had asked him earlier if he would mind me borrowing it in the middle of the night if I couldn't go to sleep and wanted something to do. So instead of making me go downstairs and get it in the middle of the night, he just brought it up here to save me the trouble. So then, we got started talking. We tend to get chatty when we're together. Especially at night, for some reason. Thus, about an hour later, we finally said all our good nights and he left the room. So much for me trying to go to bed before 10:30.
So, I was pretty hyped up at that point. Our conversation had gotten my brain turned back on. We talked about everything from Pirates of the Caribbean to Harry Potter, Winnie-the-Pooh, the Bible, German, downhere, and Lord of the Rings. Therefore I decided to go ahead and pull out his laptop. I surfed around for a while and messed around on iTunes a little bit and at about 1:30 I decided to do some writing. I have a notebook that I am trying to fill up with songs. Songs that mean a lot to me. I have three in there so far and what I do is write down the lyrics and then write down everything that I can find to say about it. Which thus far has been pages upon pages. I've been so busy that it's been a while since I've done one. So I pulled out my list that I have of songs to put in there and went to pick one. I figured that I probably wouldn't get much written in the way of my thoughts (it does take me quite a while to write those pages and pages) but I at least wanted to get the lyrics down to something. And I did that. I picked All At War, by none other than downhere.
When I write these things down, I listen to the song as I'm doing it. It's been a while since I really listened to downhere. So after I got the lyrics down and put my pen and paper aside, I had a real hankering to listen to the whole album. And that's what I decided to do. It was about 2:00 at this point. I turned on Ending Is Beginning, shut the laptop beside me on the bed, and lied down.
I really don't know what came over me. Maybe I was emotional from listening to All At War. I did start crying when I was listening to it. Maybe it had been so long since I had really listened to them that it hit me harder than normal. Maybe I've just been so busy that I needed to listen to my favorite band. Maybe God was trying to get my attention or trying to tell me something. Maybe it was a combination of all of those things.
Whatever it was, I lost it as soon as the first song started. And I will try my best to explain what I mean by that statement, but I'm sure I won't explain it well enough. I was sobbing. I was having trouble breathing, and therefore gasping for air. I was shaking. I was mouthing every word, unable to actually sing because of my tears and lack of breath. I was covering my face. I was running my hands through my hair. I was pulling my hair. I was holding my head. I was dancing. I was shaking my head, like a little kid displaying obvious dislike for something. I was groaning. I was protesting. I was lying immobile.
The first four things were the only things I really did consistently. All the rest I was cycling through. I'm sure I looked like I was in a lot of pain. Possibly like I was being tortured. And I may have even looked like I was possessed because everything I was doing was so schizophrenic. Is she dancing? Wait, her face is contorted. She can't be dancing. And there, she's beating her fists. But it looks like she's dancing again. And was that a grief smile that graced her mouth? She looks like she's trying to sing, but whatever it is must be pretty awful to make her do this. What's wrong with her?
I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't normally do this kind of thing. I don't normally display a lot of emotion, to the point that I often hide a lot of personality because of that. I'm not the type to go insane. Not usually. The only other times I have done this have been when I was listening to particulary incredible music, such as Ending Is Beginning and when I have had profound encounters with God. And I must say, that the two are most often coinciding.
For anyone who has heard this album, you know how phenomenal it is. And perhaps you too can relate to some of what I have shared.
I tried to describe what I was doing and what I looked like, but there is no describing how I felt. I'm sure I looked like I was in pain, because I was overwhelmed. And I was overwhelmed by how amazing everything was. How amazing the music was. How amazing the lyrics were. How amazing God is.
Hope Is Rising has always been the one song on that album that has made my cry the most. The vast majority of times I have listened to it, I have cried. And I thought that I had cried pretty hard a few times. But never before have I cried when listening to that song as much and as hard as I did tonight. That was the one that had me lying immobile, except for the convulsions of me sobbing so much and gasping for air. I tried to lift my arms up and few times and I never did make it very far, so I eventually gave up.
I mentioned protesting in that bizarre list up there. Here's what I meant by that. In My Last Amen, toward the end there is a part where Marc is oohing, Jason jumps in and says "a little closer" and they do a half chorus and finish out the song...well, when Jason says that line, "a little closer," in all of his low, beautiful, amazingness, it gets me every time I hear it. That is my favorite part. Well, I knew it was coming and I knew it was going to get to me more than usual and add to the sobbing and gasping, so right before he said it, I actually said (in between sobs), "Jason, don't do that." And then later, during Beggar Who Gives Alms, Marc was oohing again, only in this song it's so pretty, and he's up so high, and it really gets to me, too, so I said, "Don't do it, Marc." That's just two examples. I had other statements of protest mixed in here and there. And as I'm saying this, I know how ridiculous it sounds. I actually feel compelled to laugh at myself. But there was nothing particularly funny in any of those moments. Just beauty that was so striking it was painful.
As much as I have talked about them, if you haven't listened to downhere yet, you should. Their new album, Ending Is Beginning, is a good place to start. Any album is a good place to start, really. If you're not enamored from the first listen, just give it time. They may never appeal to or affect you as much as they do me, but you will like them at least. I'm pretty certain that I can guarantee that.
And despite how awake I was earlier, I am very tired now. I spent nearly an hour consistently sobbing, every muscle contracting with each gasp for breath. Not to mention all of the insane moving that I did. On top of that, it is now 5:00 AM. I need to go to sleep. Therefore forgive me if this post does not make a lot of sense. The subject matter is strange anyway and it doesn't help that my brain is shutting down.
So, downhere may not be bad for year health, but maybe you can see why I might wonder about mine. At the very least, I do know that it is time consuming.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Catching up.
It's been well over a week since I blogged...and for me that's a long time. So I'm here to give an update on my life. Fascinating as it is.
Today was my last day of finals! The semester is over, and my elation is overflowing! I'm one of those weird people who loves school, but even with that being the case I like it when breaks come along. Especially after the crunch of finals. It's a good thing.
My computer is down for the count. I don't know what happened, but I can't plug it in. So that means I can't use it because the battery will only last for so long. Thankfully, I am done with school for now so I don't really need it so much. Not in that sense of "need" anyway. Aside from school, I am very attached to my computer. I do sleep with it, in the bed, right by my head, every night. Oy.
I'm going back to the doctor in the morning and he's going to check out my foot and ankle. Hopefully he'll give me a good report. I am able to walk fairly normally now, so I assume he will. Not limping so much is enough to make me giddy. But I can't get too giddy or I might end up doing something to damage it more. I do still have to be careful. It's not completely healed yet.
Since school is no longer looming over me and my computer is out of commission I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands. But never fear, I have plenty of things to do. The first thing I did today was clean my room. It needed it. Looking at it, you would never be able to tell that I used to be an uptight, borderline neat freak. Never in my life has my room been that dirty. And I really mean dirty. It wasn't just messy. The carpet was covered in hair and trash and dirt and I don't know what all. It was pretty nasty.
I'm glad I'm not uptight anymore or I think I would have had a meltdown. I just couldn't clean it for the longest time. School kept me busy. And I wasn't functioning at full capacity with my injured ankle, so when I had free time cleaning just wasn't gonna work. Not to mention that fact that I wanted to relax whenever I could. So I just let it go and said I would get to it later.
Later was today, needless to say. I finally had the time, I was in an excellent mood and I could walk. Kind of. So I turned on the music and I'm amazed at what I accomplished. I even caught myself dancing a little bit. Not the smartest thing for me to do just yet, but what can I say.
I'm going to be heading to Arkansas next weekend to spend some time with some people before Christmas. I'm excited about that. There are a bunch of people whom I haven't seen in a long time and I'm hoping to meet up with them. And I will of course be spending time with family. My parents are going to be heading that way on Christmas Eve and my brothers and I would just go with them, but we want more time to spend with people so that's what we're going to do. Like my grandma, for instance. She made me laugh today. She knew this was the last day of my finals, so she called to find out how soon we were coming to see her. Today would have suited her. It was hilarious. I think she wants someone, or someones, to bake with. Not just yet Grandma. But I will be coming to see you soon.
Between now and then, I will be keeping myself busy doing all the things I've wanted to do for the past three months but haven't had the chance to. So it may be more than well over a week before I blog again. May not be until January. But maybe not. It's hard to keep me away from the internet, as evidenced by the fact that I'm finding time to blog and my computer is messed up. I really have a problem.
So before this gets too rambly, that's all for now. I know this was the most enthralling thing you've read in a long time. I'll try to make it less exciting next time around. Wouldn't want anyone to have a heart attack.
Today was my last day of finals! The semester is over, and my elation is overflowing! I'm one of those weird people who loves school, but even with that being the case I like it when breaks come along. Especially after the crunch of finals. It's a good thing.
My computer is down for the count. I don't know what happened, but I can't plug it in. So that means I can't use it because the battery will only last for so long. Thankfully, I am done with school for now so I don't really need it so much. Not in that sense of "need" anyway. Aside from school, I am very attached to my computer. I do sleep with it, in the bed, right by my head, every night. Oy.
I'm going back to the doctor in the morning and he's going to check out my foot and ankle. Hopefully he'll give me a good report. I am able to walk fairly normally now, so I assume he will. Not limping so much is enough to make me giddy. But I can't get too giddy or I might end up doing something to damage it more. I do still have to be careful. It's not completely healed yet.
Since school is no longer looming over me and my computer is out of commission I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands. But never fear, I have plenty of things to do. The first thing I did today was clean my room. It needed it. Looking at it, you would never be able to tell that I used to be an uptight, borderline neat freak. Never in my life has my room been that dirty. And I really mean dirty. It wasn't just messy. The carpet was covered in hair and trash and dirt and I don't know what all. It was pretty nasty.
I'm glad I'm not uptight anymore or I think I would have had a meltdown. I just couldn't clean it for the longest time. School kept me busy. And I wasn't functioning at full capacity with my injured ankle, so when I had free time cleaning just wasn't gonna work. Not to mention that fact that I wanted to relax whenever I could. So I just let it go and said I would get to it later.
Later was today, needless to say. I finally had the time, I was in an excellent mood and I could walk. Kind of. So I turned on the music and I'm amazed at what I accomplished. I even caught myself dancing a little bit. Not the smartest thing for me to do just yet, but what can I say.
I'm going to be heading to Arkansas next weekend to spend some time with some people before Christmas. I'm excited about that. There are a bunch of people whom I haven't seen in a long time and I'm hoping to meet up with them. And I will of course be spending time with family. My parents are going to be heading that way on Christmas Eve and my brothers and I would just go with them, but we want more time to spend with people so that's what we're going to do. Like my grandma, for instance. She made me laugh today. She knew this was the last day of my finals, so she called to find out how soon we were coming to see her. Today would have suited her. It was hilarious. I think she wants someone, or someones, to bake with. Not just yet Grandma. But I will be coming to see you soon.
Between now and then, I will be keeping myself busy doing all the things I've wanted to do for the past three months but haven't had the chance to. So it may be more than well over a week before I blog again. May not be until January. But maybe not. It's hard to keep me away from the internet, as evidenced by the fact that I'm finding time to blog and my computer is messed up. I really have a problem.
So before this gets too rambly, that's all for now. I know this was the most enthralling thing you've read in a long time. I'll try to make it less exciting next time around. Wouldn't want anyone to have a heart attack.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Did I get up on the wrong side of the bed?
Today was a really off day. Really off. Even considering my low standards, it was an off day. And when I say "low standards" what I mean is that I'm a really laid back person, so stuff happens all the time that might be considered "less than ideal" but I don't really notice and at the end of the day, I think that my day has been fantastic despite all the bumps in the road.
To quote Julie Andrews, "Let's start at the beginning, a very good place to start." I overslept this morning. My alarm went off. I opened my eyes. I turned my alarm off. I closed my eyes. And next thing I know, nearly 40 minutes has passed, and it's time for me to be leaving. So I was late to my first class. And when I get there, I find that my teacher wasn't there. Her husband was in the hospital, so she told us just to take the class time to work on our group projects. She wanted everyone to sign in so that she would know who was there. But someone (another teacher, I'm guessing) had already come and taken the sign-in sheet away because I suppose he figured everyone who was coming was already there. So I won't get credit for going to class. No big deal, but it would be nice. Once in class, only one member of my group was there. We had already arranged to meet later in the library, so since our whole group wasn't there, we didn't talk about much and just decided to leave the discussion to later. So I show up late to a class I'm not getting credit for, and am only there for about 10 minutes. What a way to start a day!
My next class was pretty run of the mill. Nothing too special happened. Except for the fact that we did teacher evaluations, but that's not too unexpected with it being the end of the semester.
My brother came and picked me up after that. Since I injured myself, he's been escorting me from class to class so I don't have to walk so much. I thank him often. Anyway, I get in the car, he takes off, and then makes a turn in the opposite direction of where I'm supposed to be going and before I get the chance to say, "Where the heck are you going?" he says, "Wait. Where am I taking you?" So we go the long way around and I'm late for my next class. Again. Excellent. I walk in the door of my classroom and my teacher hands me a quiz. I forgot we were having a quiz in that class today. And since I'm late, I have about a minute to do it. Thankfully, it was easy so the minute was fine. After the quiz, it was time for review. We have a test on Wednesday and then our final. So we went over stuff. The class was good. But since we were reviewing, we got out early. Again. So I call my brother to come get me again, earlier than expected. He was parked not far away, so I walked over to the car.
My brother then takes me to the library, where I was supposed to be meeting that group I mentioned in my first class so we could talk about our projects. Again, my brother is distracted and takes the long way around. Again, I am late. Not very late. But late. I walk in the library, and I see not a one of them anywhere. I walk around to see if I can find them. No such luck. So I sit down in the front to wait, in a very visible area so it wouldn't be hard for them to spot me should they walk by. 20 minutes. I see no one. So I call my brother again. We go home so I can get something to eat before my next class.
I wasn't late to my next class. But my next class was cut short. Again. All we did were teacher evaluations, so when that was over we were free to leave. Despite me being painfully slow at doing those things, I was still out about 40 minutes before I had to be anywhere else. The next thing I was supposed to be doing was meeting with my advisor. So I walked over to the building in which his office is located and decided to hang out there and try to do some work while I was waiting. I did that. Then I walked to his office when I told him I would be there. So I was there and was not late. But he wasn't there.
So I go sit back down in the hallway to see if there's anything else I can do before my last class starts. But I really didn't have much to do. I had already done about as much as I could do with the books and stuff I had with me. So I contemplated asking my brother to come and get me earlier than he expected again. And I actually did call him. But unlike the previous times, he wasn't hanging out on campus, so he would have had to drive from home and then take me home, and then take me back to school and it would have been insane and a waste of gas. So I just told him what was going on and that I would wait around. For about another hour. I eventually got out my Bible and read a while in Isaiah. About eight chapters, I think.
Some passage of time later, it's finally time for my last class to start. I warned my brother that I would probably be calling him earlier than usual because I had a feeling it was going to be a short class. I was right. Basically, all we did was get back the last papers we wrote. My teacher is known for grading pretty harshly, and she's consistent. I got an F. My reaction when I saw that F scribbled on the back was laughter. Not audible laughter, but I'm pretty sure my diaphragm contracted and air was expelled out of my lungs through my open, smiling mouth. For all those who made a D or an F, she told us we could revise, but we needed to make an appointment to talk with her about our papers. I'm pretty sure every single one of us made an appointment with her before we left.
I'll stop there. I still have a little more of my day left, and I'm hoping it's not as awkward as the rest.
There you have it. I was late multiple times over, the people I was supposed to meet didn't show up, and I made my first ever F on a paper. Oh, and I forgot to mention that it's been showing all day, so that made all this awkwardness seem even more surreal. Because snow doesn't happen on awkward days. At least, not in my mind.
In all of this, I'm not complaining. Like I said, I'm really laid back. In fact, as I sit here and think back on my day, I can't help but chuckle. I really don't know why I laugh, or why I laughed when I saw that F. I guess I just have a tendency to laugh at problems rather than get upset, whether they be funny or not.
And now it's almost time for me to go get ready for my last choir concert of the semester. I'm going to laugh really hard if something goes wrong there. And you can be sure I will share it with you all if something does happen.
To quote Julie Andrews, "Let's start at the beginning, a very good place to start." I overslept this morning. My alarm went off. I opened my eyes. I turned my alarm off. I closed my eyes. And next thing I know, nearly 40 minutes has passed, and it's time for me to be leaving. So I was late to my first class. And when I get there, I find that my teacher wasn't there. Her husband was in the hospital, so she told us just to take the class time to work on our group projects. She wanted everyone to sign in so that she would know who was there. But someone (another teacher, I'm guessing) had already come and taken the sign-in sheet away because I suppose he figured everyone who was coming was already there. So I won't get credit for going to class. No big deal, but it would be nice. Once in class, only one member of my group was there. We had already arranged to meet later in the library, so since our whole group wasn't there, we didn't talk about much and just decided to leave the discussion to later. So I show up late to a class I'm not getting credit for, and am only there for about 10 minutes. What a way to start a day!
My next class was pretty run of the mill. Nothing too special happened. Except for the fact that we did teacher evaluations, but that's not too unexpected with it being the end of the semester.
My brother came and picked me up after that. Since I injured myself, he's been escorting me from class to class so I don't have to walk so much. I thank him often. Anyway, I get in the car, he takes off, and then makes a turn in the opposite direction of where I'm supposed to be going and before I get the chance to say, "Where the heck are you going?" he says, "Wait. Where am I taking you?" So we go the long way around and I'm late for my next class. Again. Excellent. I walk in the door of my classroom and my teacher hands me a quiz. I forgot we were having a quiz in that class today. And since I'm late, I have about a minute to do it. Thankfully, it was easy so the minute was fine. After the quiz, it was time for review. We have a test on Wednesday and then our final. So we went over stuff. The class was good. But since we were reviewing, we got out early. Again. So I call my brother to come get me again, earlier than expected. He was parked not far away, so I walked over to the car.
My brother then takes me to the library, where I was supposed to be meeting that group I mentioned in my first class so we could talk about our projects. Again, my brother is distracted and takes the long way around. Again, I am late. Not very late. But late. I walk in the library, and I see not a one of them anywhere. I walk around to see if I can find them. No such luck. So I sit down in the front to wait, in a very visible area so it wouldn't be hard for them to spot me should they walk by. 20 minutes. I see no one. So I call my brother again. We go home so I can get something to eat before my next class.
I wasn't late to my next class. But my next class was cut short. Again. All we did were teacher evaluations, so when that was over we were free to leave. Despite me being painfully slow at doing those things, I was still out about 40 minutes before I had to be anywhere else. The next thing I was supposed to be doing was meeting with my advisor. So I walked over to the building in which his office is located and decided to hang out there and try to do some work while I was waiting. I did that. Then I walked to his office when I told him I would be there. So I was there and was not late. But he wasn't there.
So I go sit back down in the hallway to see if there's anything else I can do before my last class starts. But I really didn't have much to do. I had already done about as much as I could do with the books and stuff I had with me. So I contemplated asking my brother to come and get me earlier than he expected again. And I actually did call him. But unlike the previous times, he wasn't hanging out on campus, so he would have had to drive from home and then take me home, and then take me back to school and it would have been insane and a waste of gas. So I just told him what was going on and that I would wait around. For about another hour. I eventually got out my Bible and read a while in Isaiah. About eight chapters, I think.
Some passage of time later, it's finally time for my last class to start. I warned my brother that I would probably be calling him earlier than usual because I had a feeling it was going to be a short class. I was right. Basically, all we did was get back the last papers we wrote. My teacher is known for grading pretty harshly, and she's consistent. I got an F. My reaction when I saw that F scribbled on the back was laughter. Not audible laughter, but I'm pretty sure my diaphragm contracted and air was expelled out of my lungs through my open, smiling mouth. For all those who made a D or an F, she told us we could revise, but we needed to make an appointment to talk with her about our papers. I'm pretty sure every single one of us made an appointment with her before we left.
I'll stop there. I still have a little more of my day left, and I'm hoping it's not as awkward as the rest.
There you have it. I was late multiple times over, the people I was supposed to meet didn't show up, and I made my first ever F on a paper. Oh, and I forgot to mention that it's been showing all day, so that made all this awkwardness seem even more surreal. Because snow doesn't happen on awkward days. At least, not in my mind.
In all of this, I'm not complaining. Like I said, I'm really laid back. In fact, as I sit here and think back on my day, I can't help but chuckle. I really don't know why I laugh, or why I laughed when I saw that F. I guess I just have a tendency to laugh at problems rather than get upset, whether they be funny or not.
And now it's almost time for me to go get ready for my last choir concert of the semester. I'm going to laugh really hard if something goes wrong there. And you can be sure I will share it with you all if something does happen.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Emily's Little House on the Prairie
I just found out that my school is increasing my and my fellow students' tuition by 25% starting next semester.
I also found out that they're going to be laying off 10% of their staff.
And if that's not enough, they're going to be cutting about 10 degree programs. Which ones, we don't know. But we do know that when they cut them out, it's going to be immediate. Meaning that not only will new students not be able to start in that major, existing students will have to either change their major or change schools.
Thankfully, I'm an English major, and I don't see them cutting out their English program. It's one of the biggest at the school. But the first thing I mentioned, the raise in tuition, could quite possibly mess things up for me. I'm not really worried about next semester, because I already have enough financial aid promised to me to cover my tuition even with the increase. The only thing that would mess up next semester would be if I didn't get the money promised to me.
I swear, with all the economic craziness that's going on, I almost feel like I want to move into a dugout in the side of a hill just like Laura Ingalls and her family, and grow my own food and make my own clothes and wash them by hand and churn my own butter, hand-crank my ice cream, and make my own whipped cream the old-fashioned way. (For those who aren't familiar with the old-fashioned method of whipping cream, it involves shaking a jar for a very, very long time. I've done it before. Only it was a very small amount in a baby food jar and didn't really take all that long.)
I did say "almost," right? Okay. Because I don't think I'm ready to give up all of my modern conveniences. But as simply as I already live, I think it's quite possible for me to live more simply and it's looking like it may be necessary. And this is not just me freaking out over a tuition increase at school. I've been thinking about this for a while. And it seems like as more time passes, the stronger these feelings have gotten.
I've been wanting a bike since I started back to school this semester. Because I live close enough to school to bike there. And that would be that much less gas I would have to use. Therefore that much less money I would have to spend. And it would be beneficial to my overall health as well. So I'm praying for a bike.
I've also been thinking about Christmas coming up. Making gifts is an excellent idea. The only question is, do I have enough time? Last Christmas, my family and I made a few gifts that we barely finished, and I wasn't in school then, nor did I have a job. I'm not going to be done with school this semester until the 10th, which gives me a little less than two weeks to work on gifts. Not likely. I suppose my family and I could come up with something, because we're pretty creative. But I don't know how thoughtful or interesting it would be. I don't know. It's something to think about, at least.
I've also been thinking about the cost of my eating. I already eat pretty cheaply, simply because I have cheap tastes. Seriously. If you're looking to take someone to a fancy restaurant and you want that person to be excited about it, don't take me. I will ruin your fun. Because I won't like anything on the menu, and if I do find something I might like to eat, chances are it's going to be the cheapest thing on the menu and the most boring. There is a very small number of foods in this world that I like to eat, and most of the time they are very simple and very inexpensive. I liken my pallate to that of a small child. Small children tend to be pretty picky eaters and they only want macaroni and cheese and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. That's my kind of food. That and cereal. Cereal keeps me alive. I will eat it for any meal.
The last time I went grocery shoppping with my mom, I examined closely what we were buying and the comparitive cost of everything. If I had been shopping just for myself, I could have bought much more for the same price. But most people aren't content with what I like to eat. I noticed that what we likely spent the most money on was meat. Again, if I had been shopping for myself, we wouldn't have bought all the meat. I'm not a vegetarian, and I don't ever see myself being a vegetarian, but I often go a short while without eating any kind of meat. And when I do eat meat, it's most likely chicken. Or turkey. The not-so-meaty meats. I can eat a lot of chicken and turkey. But I can live without everything else. Meat just doesn't thrill me.
We'll see what happens. I'm really not worried. To be honest, I sometimes get a small thrill of excitement and anticipation when I think about how drastically things may change in the recent future. I don't know for sure that things are going to change drastically, but I have a strong feeling that they are. And I think with my current mentality, I might be one of the ones that is better prepared when things do change. But then again, maybe I won't.
The only thing I do know for sure is that God is in control. And I think that is the reason that I get excited. God's plans make me excited. So if the world is turned upside down, literally or figuratively, I know he's got something in mind and I'm excited to see what it is.
I also found out that they're going to be laying off 10% of their staff.
And if that's not enough, they're going to be cutting about 10 degree programs. Which ones, we don't know. But we do know that when they cut them out, it's going to be immediate. Meaning that not only will new students not be able to start in that major, existing students will have to either change their major or change schools.
Thankfully, I'm an English major, and I don't see them cutting out their English program. It's one of the biggest at the school. But the first thing I mentioned, the raise in tuition, could quite possibly mess things up for me. I'm not really worried about next semester, because I already have enough financial aid promised to me to cover my tuition even with the increase. The only thing that would mess up next semester would be if I didn't get the money promised to me.
I swear, with all the economic craziness that's going on, I almost feel like I want to move into a dugout in the side of a hill just like Laura Ingalls and her family, and grow my own food and make my own clothes and wash them by hand and churn my own butter, hand-crank my ice cream, and make my own whipped cream the old-fashioned way. (For those who aren't familiar with the old-fashioned method of whipping cream, it involves shaking a jar for a very, very long time. I've done it before. Only it was a very small amount in a baby food jar and didn't really take all that long.)
I did say "almost," right? Okay. Because I don't think I'm ready to give up all of my modern conveniences. But as simply as I already live, I think it's quite possible for me to live more simply and it's looking like it may be necessary. And this is not just me freaking out over a tuition increase at school. I've been thinking about this for a while. And it seems like as more time passes, the stronger these feelings have gotten.
I've been wanting a bike since I started back to school this semester. Because I live close enough to school to bike there. And that would be that much less gas I would have to use. Therefore that much less money I would have to spend. And it would be beneficial to my overall health as well. So I'm praying for a bike.
I've also been thinking about Christmas coming up. Making gifts is an excellent idea. The only question is, do I have enough time? Last Christmas, my family and I made a few gifts that we barely finished, and I wasn't in school then, nor did I have a job. I'm not going to be done with school this semester until the 10th, which gives me a little less than two weeks to work on gifts. Not likely. I suppose my family and I could come up with something, because we're pretty creative. But I don't know how thoughtful or interesting it would be. I don't know. It's something to think about, at least.
I've also been thinking about the cost of my eating. I already eat pretty cheaply, simply because I have cheap tastes. Seriously. If you're looking to take someone to a fancy restaurant and you want that person to be excited about it, don't take me. I will ruin your fun. Because I won't like anything on the menu, and if I do find something I might like to eat, chances are it's going to be the cheapest thing on the menu and the most boring. There is a very small number of foods in this world that I like to eat, and most of the time they are very simple and very inexpensive. I liken my pallate to that of a small child. Small children tend to be pretty picky eaters and they only want macaroni and cheese and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. That's my kind of food. That and cereal. Cereal keeps me alive. I will eat it for any meal.
The last time I went grocery shoppping with my mom, I examined closely what we were buying and the comparitive cost of everything. If I had been shopping just for myself, I could have bought much more for the same price. But most people aren't content with what I like to eat. I noticed that what we likely spent the most money on was meat. Again, if I had been shopping for myself, we wouldn't have bought all the meat. I'm not a vegetarian, and I don't ever see myself being a vegetarian, but I often go a short while without eating any kind of meat. And when I do eat meat, it's most likely chicken. Or turkey. The not-so-meaty meats. I can eat a lot of chicken and turkey. But I can live without everything else. Meat just doesn't thrill me.
We'll see what happens. I'm really not worried. To be honest, I sometimes get a small thrill of excitement and anticipation when I think about how drastically things may change in the recent future. I don't know for sure that things are going to change drastically, but I have a strong feeling that they are. And I think with my current mentality, I might be one of the ones that is better prepared when things do change. But then again, maybe I won't.
The only thing I do know for sure is that God is in control. And I think that is the reason that I get excited. God's plans make me excited. So if the world is turned upside down, literally or figuratively, I know he's got something in mind and I'm excited to see what it is.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Christ-Centered Psychological Therapy
In browsing through my psychology textbook today, I came across the words "client-centered therapy." In my skimming, my mind read those words as "Christ-centered therapy." I think that shows where my mind has been whilst reading my psychology textbook and listening to my professor in class.
I've already blogged about this class I've been taking on Tuesday nights. It's been changing the way I think about problems and the treatment of them. In my psychology class, during the last two class periods, the topic of the lectures has been treatment of psychological disorders. Some of the ideas seem to be a little out there. Some of them seem entirely pointless. But most of them seem to make sense. But even in ones that make sense, there still seems to be something missing, a key component that makes all the difference.
This class that I've already mentioned focuses on the belief system. What it teaches, and with what I completely agree, is that a person's beliefs always determine how they think, and the way that person thinks then determines how they behave. Therefore, a person's belief system is of utmost importance in their life. And the reason why so many people have messed up belief systems is because they are either not in Christ or they are in Christ and they just don't see themselves how God sees them.
So in all this talk about psychological therapy, through all of the various methods brought up, I keep thinking, "That sounds really good. But it's never going to truly make a difference without Christ." So I think that explains why I saw the words "client-centered therapy" and thought "Christ-centered therapy." "Client" and "Christ" are similar looking words.
I've had these thoughts most when behavior-modifying methods of treatment were brought up. If beliefs determine mindset, and mindset determines behavior, then behavior modification will never really work. The behavior might change for a little while, but eventually old habits will manifest themselves again because the belief system hasn't changed.
Now, I know that psychological disorders come in all shapes and sizes and vary in severity. And I'm not trying to say that if someone with severe bipolar disorder would just see themselves like God sees them, then their problems would disappear. Who knows. Maybe they would. Miraculous things can happen when one is in Christ and knows who they are in Christ. All I'm trying to say is that I believe there are a lot of people seeking psychotherapy for things like severe depression, who have become severely depressed as a result of great adversity in their lives, and whose lives could be turned completely around if Christ was the center of everything in their lives.
But I don't expect to see this ideology represented this explicitly in a general psychology textbook any time soon. Sadly.
I've already blogged about this class I've been taking on Tuesday nights. It's been changing the way I think about problems and the treatment of them. In my psychology class, during the last two class periods, the topic of the lectures has been treatment of psychological disorders. Some of the ideas seem to be a little out there. Some of them seem entirely pointless. But most of them seem to make sense. But even in ones that make sense, there still seems to be something missing, a key component that makes all the difference.
This class that I've already mentioned focuses on the belief system. What it teaches, and with what I completely agree, is that a person's beliefs always determine how they think, and the way that person thinks then determines how they behave. Therefore, a person's belief system is of utmost importance in their life. And the reason why so many people have messed up belief systems is because they are either not in Christ or they are in Christ and they just don't see themselves how God sees them.
So in all this talk about psychological therapy, through all of the various methods brought up, I keep thinking, "That sounds really good. But it's never going to truly make a difference without Christ." So I think that explains why I saw the words "client-centered therapy" and thought "Christ-centered therapy." "Client" and "Christ" are similar looking words.
I've had these thoughts most when behavior-modifying methods of treatment were brought up. If beliefs determine mindset, and mindset determines behavior, then behavior modification will never really work. The behavior might change for a little while, but eventually old habits will manifest themselves again because the belief system hasn't changed.
Now, I know that psychological disorders come in all shapes and sizes and vary in severity. And I'm not trying to say that if someone with severe bipolar disorder would just see themselves like God sees them, then their problems would disappear. Who knows. Maybe they would. Miraculous things can happen when one is in Christ and knows who they are in Christ. All I'm trying to say is that I believe there are a lot of people seeking psychotherapy for things like severe depression, who have become severely depressed as a result of great adversity in their lives, and whose lives could be turned completely around if Christ was the center of everything in their lives.
But I don't expect to see this ideology represented this explicitly in a general psychology textbook any time soon. Sadly.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
From pristine to obscene
I have changed much over the years. Especially during the past few years. What prompted this observation is the current state of my bedroom. It's a train wreck. Well...maybe not quite a train wreck, but considering how organized I have been known to keep my things in the past, it seems like a train wreck.
Anytime my room ever got this messy in the past, it would have driven me crazy, and I would have made it a high priority to change it. But now, I'm not worried about it. Sure, I'd like for it to be cleaner and more organized. But that's not feasible right now. 1) With my injured foot and ankle, I can't do a whole lot in the way of cleaning. 2) I've been busy with things that I need to do. 3) When I do have free time that could be used to clean, there are always other things that I want to do and I have put a higher priority on them.
I think this is evidence of how uptight I used to be, and how that quality in me has diminished. This is something for which I am grateful.
Anytime my room ever got this messy in the past, it would have driven me crazy, and I would have made it a high priority to change it. But now, I'm not worried about it. Sure, I'd like for it to be cleaner and more organized. But that's not feasible right now. 1) With my injured foot and ankle, I can't do a whole lot in the way of cleaning. 2) I've been busy with things that I need to do. 3) When I do have free time that could be used to clean, there are always other things that I want to do and I have put a higher priority on them.
I think this is evidence of how uptight I used to be, and how that quality in me has diminished. This is something for which I am grateful.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Focus, Emily, focus.
One of the things in life that I usually think I do pretty well is shift my focus back to God. Any time I get sidetracked, I normally turn my attention back around pretty quickly. But although I claim that to be something I do well, I'm fallible. And I mess up. Even at something I do well.
That happened over the past several days. Life jumped up in my face like it has the tendency to do, and I got wrapped up in it: I fell down and quite seriously injured myself; spent two days at the doctor; schoolwork started coming in larger droves, and it got piled up because I missed school due to my injuries; I went to see my favorite band for the first time; not only that, I spent time making a card for the birthday of one of the members before I even went. And that's just to mention a few things.
As all this stuff jumped up at me, I got lost in all of it. I didn't read the Bible for a few days, which is something I haven't done in a really long time. I didn't spend quiet time with God. Didn't really pray. And I started to feel overwhelmed. There were several days in a row that I felt like I was on the verge of crying, but I couldn't cry. I kept expecting that I would, but I didn't. I always cry, so whenever I feel like crying and can't, it concerns me. I felt like I was falling apart and going insane, and I wondered what on God's rainbow earth was going on.
And then I realized to what I had been giving my attention. And what needed my attention, but wasn't getting it. I finally cried at that point. And apologized to God. And felt very small for about the millionth time in my life.
I carry a Bible around in my purse, so in keeping with the goal of redirecting my focus, while I was at school today I pulled it out and decided to read during a break between classes. I read both 1st and 2nd Peter. I didn't have any kind of time of intense study, I was just reading. But even in my somewhat passive intake of information, there was still one point where something hit me hard enough that I started crying right there on campus. Not any obvious weeping. Just a few tears stung my eyes and then disappeared as quickly as they came. I don't even remember now what it was that I read that caused that emotion in me. It was in 2 Peter 1, I'm pretty sure. I'll have to look later and refresh my memory.
But anyway, the point is I had a nice quiet time with God at school today. I read. And then just sat there and soaked in his presence and all the fullness of everything around me that he made. It was wonderful. And greatly needed. And I feel much better. My circumstances haven't changed - I'm still limping around, I still have a mountain of work to do, I'm still tired - but I'm okay. And life is good. Because God is good. And I will be fine. Even if I lost my ability to walk, or failed school. I do hope that never happens, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. And even if it was, the world isn't all there is, so that wouldn't be so bad.
I pray that I don't lose my focus so easily again. But if I do - which is highly likely, if not guaranteed - God will still be there. That's a comforting thought.
That happened over the past several days. Life jumped up in my face like it has the tendency to do, and I got wrapped up in it: I fell down and quite seriously injured myself; spent two days at the doctor; schoolwork started coming in larger droves, and it got piled up because I missed school due to my injuries; I went to see my favorite band for the first time; not only that, I spent time making a card for the birthday of one of the members before I even went. And that's just to mention a few things.
As all this stuff jumped up at me, I got lost in all of it. I didn't read the Bible for a few days, which is something I haven't done in a really long time. I didn't spend quiet time with God. Didn't really pray. And I started to feel overwhelmed. There were several days in a row that I felt like I was on the verge of crying, but I couldn't cry. I kept expecting that I would, but I didn't. I always cry, so whenever I feel like crying and can't, it concerns me. I felt like I was falling apart and going insane, and I wondered what on God's rainbow earth was going on.
And then I realized to what I had been giving my attention. And what needed my attention, but wasn't getting it. I finally cried at that point. And apologized to God. And felt very small for about the millionth time in my life.
I carry a Bible around in my purse, so in keeping with the goal of redirecting my focus, while I was at school today I pulled it out and decided to read during a break between classes. I read both 1st and 2nd Peter. I didn't have any kind of time of intense study, I was just reading. But even in my somewhat passive intake of information, there was still one point where something hit me hard enough that I started crying right there on campus. Not any obvious weeping. Just a few tears stung my eyes and then disappeared as quickly as they came. I don't even remember now what it was that I read that caused that emotion in me. It was in 2 Peter 1, I'm pretty sure. I'll have to look later and refresh my memory.
But anyway, the point is I had a nice quiet time with God at school today. I read. And then just sat there and soaked in his presence and all the fullness of everything around me that he made. It was wonderful. And greatly needed. And I feel much better. My circumstances haven't changed - I'm still limping around, I still have a mountain of work to do, I'm still tired - but I'm okay. And life is good. Because God is good. And I will be fine. Even if I lost my ability to walk, or failed school. I do hope that never happens, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. And even if it was, the world isn't all there is, so that wouldn't be so bad.
I pray that I don't lose my focus so easily again. But if I do - which is highly likely, if not guaranteed - God will still be there. That's a comforting thought.
Monday, November 17, 2008
downhere
Life is full of great moments. Highlights. At least, that's been my experience. Last night was one of the highlights of my life; I saw downhere in concert for the first time.
Before I continue further, I apologize for any part of this that screams 'fangirl.' I can't help it. Trust me, I've tried. In most situations, this one being the obvious exception, I'm not the fangirl type at all. So I fought it really hard. But I have given up my fight. I'm a fangirl. And that's just the way it is. Last night cemented my fangirl status, which you will come to realize as you read further.
My story began yesterday afternoon when my brother and I were getting ready to leave the house and head to Lee University where the show took place. I scrambled around trying to make sure I had everything that I was taking to Marc for his birthday. (It was Marc Martel's - one of the lead singers- birthday yesterday and I delivered some gifts to him. More on that later.) We left the house and went by Wal-Mart to get gas. We got $20 worth of $1.73-a-gallon gas!!! The tank was almost full! That made me happy. We hit the road after that, downhere blasting through the speakers. We made it through the indie album, the self-titled and about half of Ending Is Beginning on the way there.
We made it fine until we got to Cleveland. We either had faulty directions, or we missed a turn, or something, because we kinda got lost. We turned around about a million and a half times. Yes, a million and a half. Then my brother stopped at a gas station and asked how to get to Lee University from there. A kind person told him, and we eventually made it. Thankfully, we left home early enough that the delay was not a problem. We still made it there with plenty of time to spare. So we found a place to park, and I hobbled to the door while my brother slowly walked beside me. He's been very kind during my time of diminshed functioning. He does things for me (he drove me from class to class this morning), and sticks close by when I'm walking to help if I have a problem, making fun of me and laughing all the while. What a great brother. ;)
We walked in to the foyer and wandered for about a minute, and then I needed to sit down. I suppose it was nerves, but I was really shaky. I was anxious and excited and that combined with me putting the majority of my weight on one leg was making it hard to stand. So we sat down for a few minutes and then they opened the doors, so we went and found a seat. And we got perfect seats. Right up front, so I was right next to the action and there was never anybody standing in front of me, blocking my view. There was still about 20 minutes until the show started, so my brother and I were taking in the atmosphere and chatting. And when I say 'we' were chatting, I mostly mean 'me.' I was talking about a mile a minute. Which is so unusual. I do talk to my brother a lot more than I do other people, but this was even beyond my normal heightened rate of speech when I'm talking to him. My excitement was obvious. And this was when my fangirl moments of the night really started. I was quite giddy. I remember seeing Jeremy and Glenn (the drummer and bass player for downhere, respectively) walk out on stage a few times and my excitement meter jumped.
Then someone who I assume was representing the school walked out on stage and welcomed everyone and led us in a prayer to get things started. I liked that. A lot of the concerts I've been to have been rather large and in arenas and places of that nature, rather than Christian colleges, so I don't think I've ever been to a concert that started with a prayer. It was nice. Then Glenn came out and had this hilarious routine to get the night started. He had these signs that said things like 'applause' and 'cheer' and 'hum' among other things. And we as the audience did what the signs said when he held them up. He divided the room in half and used us to tell a story. The story was that he had a melody in his head, and was in his studio trying to record it, but a fly was buzzing around, annoying him. The half of the room that I was not on was the fly; when he held up his hand, they buzzed. He changed the signs around for my side, having us hum and whistle as if trying to get out this melody and then stop whenever the fly started buzzing. Then finally after the fly had buzzed one too many times, we clapped and that was the end of the fly. ;) It was funny. We then watched a video about World Vision and after that Glenn talked to us a little about it. They talked about World Vision a lot at various points in the show, and although I didn't sign up to sponsor a child last night, I've been thinking about it for a while now. Even before the show. I don't know what my hesitation is. I guess I just feel like I don't have enough money. Because I am jobless and my basic needs are still being mostly covered by my parents. But I'm praying about it.
The Michael Gungor band came on stage after that. They were really great. A friend of mine told me that he liked them, but I didn't really know what to expect having not heard them much. I was pleased with what I heard. And I actually knew some of what they sang. I had forgotten that I knew some of their songs. Being able to sing along added to the experience.
After their set was done, there was a brief set change. All the guys were on the stage at the point, changing out instruments and all that good stuff. My excitement meter jumped again. And I think I may have squealed at least once, possibly more. I know for sure that I squealed more than once later in the night. I kept finding myself staring at them walking around up there and I made myself look away and talk to my brother. I have a habit of staring sometimes at everyone in general, not just people who happen to be in my favorite band. So if I stare at 'normal' people, you can imagine how much I might stare at people who actually do happen to be members of my favorite band. Especially since I was that close to them. Anyway, at five minutes 'til time to start they started a countdown video. It was hilarious. It was them actually standing there flipping these cards with numbers on them counting down the seconds. Very clever, in my opinion. I quite enjoyed it.
The countdown ended and the music started. They had barely gotten a sound out and I turned to my brother and said, "It's Cathedral!" and I kind of choked on my words as I said them. I did that several times during the night. I'd recognize what was coming and turn to my brother to say something and it always came out as either a squeal, a choke or something else of that nature. I started singing along with Marc as soon as opened his mouth to sing the opening lines of Cathedral Made of People and I was singing at the top of my lungs through the whole show. I hope that the people sitting closest to me didn't mind. And I hope that I didn't hit too many wrong notes. I couldn't hear myself well enough most of the time to tell if what I was singing was correct and my voice was already not at its strongest so when I went for some of the big notes, I don't know exactly how well it came out.
My brother and I were two of the few who knew every song. Most of the time, you couldn't hear anyone singing. A Better Way was the biggest exception. You could hear the crowd singing throughout that whole song. And I could hear a few people on The More. But the sweetest thing was during Here I Am. There was a mother and her 5-year-old daughter sitting next to me on my left, and during Here I Am that little girl was singing every word as loudly as she could. It was so precious. That was one of the many tear-jerking moments of the night. I never actually cried (surprise of the century), but I threatened to on several occasions.
The guys were great from beginning to end. (Ha! No pun intended, but it worked out well. All you downhere fans will get that.) Even when things didn't go according to plan, they just rolled with the punches. For example, during Rockstars Need Money they had taken their pause and were coming back in for the bridge and they messed up. It was hilarious. I think Jeremy was the one who actually who messed up. They stared in on their 'wooo's' and it fell apart. Jason turned around and said, "What was that?" Jeremy shrugged and said, "Brain fart." They tried again and it worked on the second take. My brother later said he thought they did it on purpose, which I briefly thought might be the case, but if they did do it on purpose, then they're really good actors. Which I suppose is entirely possible. Also, during the last song of the night, Bleed For This Love, when Jason was switching from keys to his guitar, he had a little problem with his strap and wasn't able to get it on in time to start playing. So he held it way out in front of himself for a moment and I could tell he was thinking, "This isn't going to work" so he held it close to himself and kind of tucked it under his arm and kept playing. Marc noticed what was going on and was standing there singing with the biggest grin on his face. It looked like he was about to laugh out loud. He kept looking over at Jason every few seconds. But it all went well. They made it through the song and ended the show spectacularly.
The end of the show brought a slight disappointment. The crowd wouldn't cheer for every long and as soon as the guys walked off of the stage people started leaving. That meant no encore! Therefore no Audience, a song that I was hoping to hear. That made me sad. Another disappointment was the fact that I was sitting during the whole show. But if you ever looked at me, you would have been able to tell that I was having a good time: singing along to every word, dancing around in my seat, bouncing my leg (the one with the uninjured ankle), raising my hands in the air, bobbing my head, and all that jazz.
So the show was over, and we headed out to the foyer where everyone was milling around and we waitied for the guys to come out. They did after a few minutes and of course, everyone swarmed. I'm not one to shove my way in front of people, especially when I have a gimpy ankle, so my brother and I were kind of standing to the side for a while, waiting until people cleared out. We talked to Jeremy first. When I told him my name and what my name on the boards was, he knew me. So that was exciting. I told him that I felt really square being in the front fow and sitting the entire time, and the second I said 'square' he started laughing. I'm sure he doesn't hear that word used in the context very often, but I'm cool like that. I say things like 'square' and 'groovy.' He then said that was alright, as long as I was having a good time. He had nothing to worry about there.
Next we talked to Jason. Kind of the same routine with him. Introduced ourselves, where we're from, etc. And my brother told him how much he appreciated his songs and how much God has used them in his life to teach him and bless him. Jason was genuinely grateful to hear that. My brother also asked him about when they're going to be at OpryMills and we told him that we might be there.
We then talked to Marc. As amazing as every other moment of the night was, this was the highlight of my whole night. First, I could tell just how deep his introversion ran. I'm sure there are those who don't recognize his introversion for what it is, but I can relate so I recognize it in other people whenever I see it. I have a soft spot in my heart for Marc Martel and I guess it's because I relate so well. We went through the introduction routine again and then my brother pointed at me and said, "She has something for you." And Marc said, "Oh?" I said, "Yes, I do. I came prepared. I knew it was your birthday so I have gifts." Marc then said, "Uh oh. Gifts?" And I said, "Yes, gifts. Plural. First...," and then I turned to my brother to make sure he was ready and we started to sing. Happy Birthday, is what we sang. Everybody needs someone to sing to them on their birthday, especially if they're giving gifts. I think it went well. I was kinda hoarse, so my voice was not up to par but that's quite alright. I was mostly looking at my brother while we were singing, but I looked over at Marc a few times and he seemed pleased. I was singing the melody and my brother harmonized with me and when my brother jumped in Marc said, "Ah. Harmony." After we finished he told us that we were the first ones to sing that to him that day. And I said, "Good." Then I pulled out the next of the gifts, a bundle of chocolate chip cookies that I made. About a dozen, I think. He said that cookies were always good. And I told him that he could eat them all himself or share them. He said he would share them. They weren't the best cookies I've ever made, but they weren't terrible. I hope he and whoever else enjoyed them. And next came the best of the gifts, the downhomie card (downhomie, for all those who don't know, being the name given to the fans). I gave it to him, told him whom it was from, and he started flipping through the pages. He kept saying "Woah!" as he scanned over each page. He was not expecting it in the least and was genuinely grateful. I could tell. He said "Thank you" several times over and told me to pass along his thanks to everyone else. I wish you could have seen the look on his face during all of this. It was so precious. And I know 'precious' is not typically a word you would use to describe a rock star such as Marc Martel, but that was the only word for it. It made my night. And I felt very privileged to be the one to deliver gifts to him on his birthday. I love doing stuff for people, and I was particularly happy that Marc was the one to whom I got to give birthday goodness.
After that, we talked to Glenn. Went through the introduction game again. But Glenn recognized me. He asked if we had met, and I told him we hadn't and then I told him who I was and he said, "Oh. That's you." That made me feel good. First Jeremy knew me and then Glenn. You can tell which two of the guys visit the boards more. ;) We had a good little conversation with him about Canada. Told him we wanted to visit there someday. He liked that idea, of course. ;) At that point, most everybody was gone and the rest of the guys had already headed back to start loading everything up, so we said "Bye," he went to go load up and we headed out to the car to go home.
I had been standing for a very long time at that point, so it was nice to sit myself down in the car. We had a much easier time navigating our way back to the highway than we had getting from the highway to the school. Our soundtrack on the way back was more downhere mixed with a little dcTalk and Kevin Max. We were both very hungry, so we stopped at a Sonic somewhere along the way home and shared a Brown Bag Special. We made it home a little after 11. Sometime from 11:15 to 11:30, so it wasn't very late at all. The downhere guys headed back home last night, too. They had a little bit more of a drive than we did, so considering that fact along with the time it took them to load up, I'm hoping they got home at least by 1. That's not too terribly late. I could tell they were all tired, so they needed to go home and get some rest.
I shall end my story there. The night was one that I will never forget. The guys were every bit as great as I expected them to be, if not even more. Not only their performance, but them as people. You know, I've met a lot of Christian musicians over the course of my lifetime, but the guys of downhere are the only ones I've seen in concert that I have ever intentionally wanted to make sure that I met. And I'm so glad that I did. Those guys are so down-to-earth, and sincere, and full of integrity, and they love what they do....and they really reflect Jesus in everything they do. And I think that's what I like most about them. I can't wait until I get to see them again.
I may not have to wait long. I mentioned earlier about them playing a show at OpryMills. It's this Saturday. My brother and I may be going. If we do, that will be two shows in one week. How exciting is that? Pretty exciting, I think.
And that's my story. In all its glorious, gushing detail. I hope my fangirlishness didn't deter you from reading. I'm sure it didn't phase all you downhere fans or fangirls of anything else. I find it to be slightly ironic that it took me until I was 20 to become a fangirl. I thought that people started slowly growing out of that around my age. If that's the case, I guess I'm the exception. I'm the exception to a lot of other things, so that's not surprising. I'm just glad that I was calm, cool and collected when I was talking to the guys. But that's how I roll. I'm pretty calm most of the time, so even when I'm as excited as I was last night, it's not hard for me to keep things toned down. Hopefully I will see them again on Saturday and get to say "Hi" once more.
Before I continue further, I apologize for any part of this that screams 'fangirl.' I can't help it. Trust me, I've tried. In most situations, this one being the obvious exception, I'm not the fangirl type at all. So I fought it really hard. But I have given up my fight. I'm a fangirl. And that's just the way it is. Last night cemented my fangirl status, which you will come to realize as you read further.
My story began yesterday afternoon when my brother and I were getting ready to leave the house and head to Lee University where the show took place. I scrambled around trying to make sure I had everything that I was taking to Marc for his birthday. (It was Marc Martel's - one of the lead singers- birthday yesterday and I delivered some gifts to him. More on that later.) We left the house and went by Wal-Mart to get gas. We got $20 worth of $1.73-a-gallon gas!!! The tank was almost full! That made me happy. We hit the road after that, downhere blasting through the speakers. We made it through the indie album, the self-titled and about half of Ending Is Beginning on the way there.
We made it fine until we got to Cleveland. We either had faulty directions, or we missed a turn, or something, because we kinda got lost. We turned around about a million and a half times. Yes, a million and a half. Then my brother stopped at a gas station and asked how to get to Lee University from there. A kind person told him, and we eventually made it. Thankfully, we left home early enough that the delay was not a problem. We still made it there with plenty of time to spare. So we found a place to park, and I hobbled to the door while my brother slowly walked beside me. He's been very kind during my time of diminshed functioning. He does things for me (he drove me from class to class this morning), and sticks close by when I'm walking to help if I have a problem, making fun of me and laughing all the while. What a great brother. ;)
We walked in to the foyer and wandered for about a minute, and then I needed to sit down. I suppose it was nerves, but I was really shaky. I was anxious and excited and that combined with me putting the majority of my weight on one leg was making it hard to stand. So we sat down for a few minutes and then they opened the doors, so we went and found a seat. And we got perfect seats. Right up front, so I was right next to the action and there was never anybody standing in front of me, blocking my view. There was still about 20 minutes until the show started, so my brother and I were taking in the atmosphere and chatting. And when I say 'we' were chatting, I mostly mean 'me.' I was talking about a mile a minute. Which is so unusual. I do talk to my brother a lot more than I do other people, but this was even beyond my normal heightened rate of speech when I'm talking to him. My excitement was obvious. And this was when my fangirl moments of the night really started. I was quite giddy. I remember seeing Jeremy and Glenn (the drummer and bass player for downhere, respectively) walk out on stage a few times and my excitement meter jumped.
Then someone who I assume was representing the school walked out on stage and welcomed everyone and led us in a prayer to get things started. I liked that. A lot of the concerts I've been to have been rather large and in arenas and places of that nature, rather than Christian colleges, so I don't think I've ever been to a concert that started with a prayer. It was nice. Then Glenn came out and had this hilarious routine to get the night started. He had these signs that said things like 'applause' and 'cheer' and 'hum' among other things. And we as the audience did what the signs said when he held them up. He divided the room in half and used us to tell a story. The story was that he had a melody in his head, and was in his studio trying to record it, but a fly was buzzing around, annoying him. The half of the room that I was not on was the fly; when he held up his hand, they buzzed. He changed the signs around for my side, having us hum and whistle as if trying to get out this melody and then stop whenever the fly started buzzing. Then finally after the fly had buzzed one too many times, we clapped and that was the end of the fly. ;) It was funny. We then watched a video about World Vision and after that Glenn talked to us a little about it. They talked about World Vision a lot at various points in the show, and although I didn't sign up to sponsor a child last night, I've been thinking about it for a while now. Even before the show. I don't know what my hesitation is. I guess I just feel like I don't have enough money. Because I am jobless and my basic needs are still being mostly covered by my parents. But I'm praying about it.
The Michael Gungor band came on stage after that. They were really great. A friend of mine told me that he liked them, but I didn't really know what to expect having not heard them much. I was pleased with what I heard. And I actually knew some of what they sang. I had forgotten that I knew some of their songs. Being able to sing along added to the experience.
After their set was done, there was a brief set change. All the guys were on the stage at the point, changing out instruments and all that good stuff. My excitement meter jumped again. And I think I may have squealed at least once, possibly more. I know for sure that I squealed more than once later in the night. I kept finding myself staring at them walking around up there and I made myself look away and talk to my brother. I have a habit of staring sometimes at everyone in general, not just people who happen to be in my favorite band. So if I stare at 'normal' people, you can imagine how much I might stare at people who actually do happen to be members of my favorite band. Especially since I was that close to them. Anyway, at five minutes 'til time to start they started a countdown video. It was hilarious. It was them actually standing there flipping these cards with numbers on them counting down the seconds. Very clever, in my opinion. I quite enjoyed it.
The countdown ended and the music started. They had barely gotten a sound out and I turned to my brother and said, "It's Cathedral!" and I kind of choked on my words as I said them. I did that several times during the night. I'd recognize what was coming and turn to my brother to say something and it always came out as either a squeal, a choke or something else of that nature. I started singing along with Marc as soon as opened his mouth to sing the opening lines of Cathedral Made of People and I was singing at the top of my lungs through the whole show. I hope that the people sitting closest to me didn't mind. And I hope that I didn't hit too many wrong notes. I couldn't hear myself well enough most of the time to tell if what I was singing was correct and my voice was already not at its strongest so when I went for some of the big notes, I don't know exactly how well it came out.
My brother and I were two of the few who knew every song. Most of the time, you couldn't hear anyone singing. A Better Way was the biggest exception. You could hear the crowd singing throughout that whole song. And I could hear a few people on The More. But the sweetest thing was during Here I Am. There was a mother and her 5-year-old daughter sitting next to me on my left, and during Here I Am that little girl was singing every word as loudly as she could. It was so precious. That was one of the many tear-jerking moments of the night. I never actually cried (surprise of the century), but I threatened to on several occasions.
The guys were great from beginning to end. (Ha! No pun intended, but it worked out well. All you downhere fans will get that.) Even when things didn't go according to plan, they just rolled with the punches. For example, during Rockstars Need Money they had taken their pause and were coming back in for the bridge and they messed up. It was hilarious. I think Jeremy was the one who actually who messed up. They stared in on their 'wooo's' and it fell apart. Jason turned around and said, "What was that?" Jeremy shrugged and said, "Brain fart." They tried again and it worked on the second take. My brother later said he thought they did it on purpose, which I briefly thought might be the case, but if they did do it on purpose, then they're really good actors. Which I suppose is entirely possible. Also, during the last song of the night, Bleed For This Love, when Jason was switching from keys to his guitar, he had a little problem with his strap and wasn't able to get it on in time to start playing. So he held it way out in front of himself for a moment and I could tell he was thinking, "This isn't going to work" so he held it close to himself and kind of tucked it under his arm and kept playing. Marc noticed what was going on and was standing there singing with the biggest grin on his face. It looked like he was about to laugh out loud. He kept looking over at Jason every few seconds. But it all went well. They made it through the song and ended the show spectacularly.
The end of the show brought a slight disappointment. The crowd wouldn't cheer for every long and as soon as the guys walked off of the stage people started leaving. That meant no encore! Therefore no Audience, a song that I was hoping to hear. That made me sad. Another disappointment was the fact that I was sitting during the whole show. But if you ever looked at me, you would have been able to tell that I was having a good time: singing along to every word, dancing around in my seat, bouncing my leg (the one with the uninjured ankle), raising my hands in the air, bobbing my head, and all that jazz.
So the show was over, and we headed out to the foyer where everyone was milling around and we waitied for the guys to come out. They did after a few minutes and of course, everyone swarmed. I'm not one to shove my way in front of people, especially when I have a gimpy ankle, so my brother and I were kind of standing to the side for a while, waiting until people cleared out. We talked to Jeremy first. When I told him my name and what my name on the boards was, he knew me. So that was exciting. I told him that I felt really square being in the front fow and sitting the entire time, and the second I said 'square' he started laughing. I'm sure he doesn't hear that word used in the context very often, but I'm cool like that. I say things like 'square' and 'groovy.' He then said that was alright, as long as I was having a good time. He had nothing to worry about there.
Next we talked to Jason. Kind of the same routine with him. Introduced ourselves, where we're from, etc. And my brother told him how much he appreciated his songs and how much God has used them in his life to teach him and bless him. Jason was genuinely grateful to hear that. My brother also asked him about when they're going to be at OpryMills and we told him that we might be there.
We then talked to Marc. As amazing as every other moment of the night was, this was the highlight of my whole night. First, I could tell just how deep his introversion ran. I'm sure there are those who don't recognize his introversion for what it is, but I can relate so I recognize it in other people whenever I see it. I have a soft spot in my heart for Marc Martel and I guess it's because I relate so well. We went through the introduction routine again and then my brother pointed at me and said, "She has something for you." And Marc said, "Oh?" I said, "Yes, I do. I came prepared. I knew it was your birthday so I have gifts." Marc then said, "Uh oh. Gifts?" And I said, "Yes, gifts. Plural. First...," and then I turned to my brother to make sure he was ready and we started to sing. Happy Birthday, is what we sang. Everybody needs someone to sing to them on their birthday, especially if they're giving gifts. I think it went well. I was kinda hoarse, so my voice was not up to par but that's quite alright. I was mostly looking at my brother while we were singing, but I looked over at Marc a few times and he seemed pleased. I was singing the melody and my brother harmonized with me and when my brother jumped in Marc said, "Ah. Harmony." After we finished he told us that we were the first ones to sing that to him that day. And I said, "Good." Then I pulled out the next of the gifts, a bundle of chocolate chip cookies that I made. About a dozen, I think. He said that cookies were always good. And I told him that he could eat them all himself or share them. He said he would share them. They weren't the best cookies I've ever made, but they weren't terrible. I hope he and whoever else enjoyed them. And next came the best of the gifts, the downhomie card (downhomie, for all those who don't know, being the name given to the fans). I gave it to him, told him whom it was from, and he started flipping through the pages. He kept saying "Woah!" as he scanned over each page. He was not expecting it in the least and was genuinely grateful. I could tell. He said "Thank you" several times over and told me to pass along his thanks to everyone else. I wish you could have seen the look on his face during all of this. It was so precious. And I know 'precious' is not typically a word you would use to describe a rock star such as Marc Martel, but that was the only word for it. It made my night. And I felt very privileged to be the one to deliver gifts to him on his birthday. I love doing stuff for people, and I was particularly happy that Marc was the one to whom I got to give birthday goodness.
After that, we talked to Glenn. Went through the introduction game again. But Glenn recognized me. He asked if we had met, and I told him we hadn't and then I told him who I was and he said, "Oh. That's you." That made me feel good. First Jeremy knew me and then Glenn. You can tell which two of the guys visit the boards more. ;) We had a good little conversation with him about Canada. Told him we wanted to visit there someday. He liked that idea, of course. ;) At that point, most everybody was gone and the rest of the guys had already headed back to start loading everything up, so we said "Bye," he went to go load up and we headed out to the car to go home.
I had been standing for a very long time at that point, so it was nice to sit myself down in the car. We had a much easier time navigating our way back to the highway than we had getting from the highway to the school. Our soundtrack on the way back was more downhere mixed with a little dcTalk and Kevin Max. We were both very hungry, so we stopped at a Sonic somewhere along the way home and shared a Brown Bag Special. We made it home a little after 11. Sometime from 11:15 to 11:30, so it wasn't very late at all. The downhere guys headed back home last night, too. They had a little bit more of a drive than we did, so considering that fact along with the time it took them to load up, I'm hoping they got home at least by 1. That's not too terribly late. I could tell they were all tired, so they needed to go home and get some rest.
I shall end my story there. The night was one that I will never forget. The guys were every bit as great as I expected them to be, if not even more. Not only their performance, but them as people. You know, I've met a lot of Christian musicians over the course of my lifetime, but the guys of downhere are the only ones I've seen in concert that I have ever intentionally wanted to make sure that I met. And I'm so glad that I did. Those guys are so down-to-earth, and sincere, and full of integrity, and they love what they do....and they really reflect Jesus in everything they do. And I think that's what I like most about them. I can't wait until I get to see them again.
I may not have to wait long. I mentioned earlier about them playing a show at OpryMills. It's this Saturday. My brother and I may be going. If we do, that will be two shows in one week. How exciting is that? Pretty exciting, I think.
And that's my story. In all its glorious, gushing detail. I hope my fangirlishness didn't deter you from reading. I'm sure it didn't phase all you downhere fans or fangirls of anything else. I find it to be slightly ironic that it took me until I was 20 to become a fangirl. I thought that people started slowly growing out of that around my age. If that's the case, I guess I'm the exception. I'm the exception to a lot of other things, so that's not surprising. I'm just glad that I was calm, cool and collected when I was talking to the guys. But that's how I roll. I'm pretty calm most of the time, so even when I'm as excited as I was last night, it's not hard for me to keep things toned down. Hopefully I will see them again on Saturday and get to say "Hi" once more.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Cry baby.
I've often wondered why I cry as much as I do. Crying, especially excessive crying, is usually associated with things that have a negative connotation. Like sadness. Depression. Crying out of happiness is not a foreign concept, but usually after one gets over the initial rush of being happy, the crying ends, and good feelings won't make them cry again until those good feelings are lost and recovered once more. But I don't think myself sad or depressed. I have my moments, yes. But my general disposition at this time of my life resembles nothing of the sort.
So we've ruled out sadness. Let's look at another factor. Most of the time, I would say that God makes me cry. Not always, but most commonly. What I mean by that is I hear truth about God, truth from God, things that he does, things that other people have learned from God, etc. And when I hear those deep truths, they make me weep. It doesn't matter how many times I've heard them, they still leave me teary-eyed. So if those things aren't making me sad why am I crying? Well, they're powerful. But wouldn't I get used to them after a while?
Therein lies the key. God's truth, absolute truth, is one of the most powerful things one can ever encounter. And rather than weakening in meaning, it actually gets stronger. The first time you encounter truth, it can knock you to the floor. And as life goes on and your understanding deepens, the next time you encounter that truth it penetrates deeper, to a whole new level. So it never gets old. There's no chance for you to get used to it. And if you do, which I would say I have before, then you need to step back and really examine that truth again. And I think you will soon see again just how powerful that truth is.
No wonder I cry so much. Especially since I seem to have such a predisposition to crying in so many other areas. And with that in mind, I'm okay with all my crying. My concern vanishes with that understanding. You'll just have to bear with me if I seem to be blubbering for no reason. Just know that there is always a reason, and while you may be wired to do any number of various things as a reaction to deeply affecting things, I am wired to cry. To cry and to sing. Not always in conjunction, because the former makes it hard to do the latter, but sometimes I do indeed do both at the same time. Just overlook how I sound. Unless you like the sound of my cracking voice. Which is entirely possible. The raw emotion may touch you. I know it does me when I hear other people sing. But now I am beginning to ramble, so I believe I am done for now. I've been a very busy blogger in a very short period of time and I think it's time for me to take a break. I will now go bask in the glory of downhere music and soak up some truth and cry some more.
So we've ruled out sadness. Let's look at another factor. Most of the time, I would say that God makes me cry. Not always, but most commonly. What I mean by that is I hear truth about God, truth from God, things that he does, things that other people have learned from God, etc. And when I hear those deep truths, they make me weep. It doesn't matter how many times I've heard them, they still leave me teary-eyed. So if those things aren't making me sad why am I crying? Well, they're powerful. But wouldn't I get used to them after a while?
Therein lies the key. God's truth, absolute truth, is one of the most powerful things one can ever encounter. And rather than weakening in meaning, it actually gets stronger. The first time you encounter truth, it can knock you to the floor. And as life goes on and your understanding deepens, the next time you encounter that truth it penetrates deeper, to a whole new level. So it never gets old. There's no chance for you to get used to it. And if you do, which I would say I have before, then you need to step back and really examine that truth again. And I think you will soon see again just how powerful that truth is.
No wonder I cry so much. Especially since I seem to have such a predisposition to crying in so many other areas. And with that in mind, I'm okay with all my crying. My concern vanishes with that understanding. You'll just have to bear with me if I seem to be blubbering for no reason. Just know that there is always a reason, and while you may be wired to do any number of various things as a reaction to deeply affecting things, I am wired to cry. To cry and to sing. Not always in conjunction, because the former makes it hard to do the latter, but sometimes I do indeed do both at the same time. Just overlook how I sound. Unless you like the sound of my cracking voice. Which is entirely possible. The raw emotion may touch you. I know it does me when I hear other people sing. But now I am beginning to ramble, so I believe I am done for now. I've been a very busy blogger in a very short period of time and I think it's time for me to take a break. I will now go bask in the glory of downhere music and soak up some truth and cry some more.
Painfully good.
I can't sleep. That's not uncommon. I couldn't go to sleep because my mind has been racing. That's not uncommon either. So I decided to blog about just one of the very many things that have been running through my mind.
Considering what time it is and my current location in my house, I'm expecting my dad to walk in here at any moment. He goes to work around 3:00 every morning. It is now about 2:50. He's probably going to wonder what I'm doing and I'll have to explain that I couldn't sleep and then he'll get all worried, because that's what he does. I am his one and only "little girl" after all and he's continually overly concerned about me.
Anyway, that's not what I came to write.
When I can't sleep, I often listen to music. I often listen to music in general, but times of no sleep when sleep should be found often seem like good times to listen to music. And I don't just listen to any music in general. I have to listen to music that means something to me. Music that I know well. Good music.
Good music is very relative. Ask a room of people to give examples of music they think is good, and you will get a variety of answers. I'm such a fan of music, that I rarely find anything I don't like, let alone think is bad. But even with my largely indiscriminate senses, there is music out there that I think is a step above the rest. That is what I call 'good music.'
But even when I find music that I think is 'good,' it's still hard for me to determine why I think it's good. But in laying here just a short while ago, listening to some 'good music' I think I figured it out. 'Good music,' for me, is music that confuses my feelings and leaves me not knowing how to react. And you can see it in my outward expression were you to watch me when I'm really allowing myself to try to process and express everything that's going on inside me while I listen to this 'good music.' It makes me want to laugh, to sing, to weep, to dance, to cover my face, to smile, to jump, to curl up in a tiny ball, to shout, to scream, to sit calmly and attempt to absorb the fullness of everything it has to offer, to bask in its glory, to pound my fists, to beat my chest, to get excited, to collapse, to fall apart because I don't know what to do.
So I do a combination of those things. I sing, or attempt to, but I can't quite get it out clearly because I'm crying too hard and laughing. I smile, but at the same time I have a pained expression on my face. But chances are you wouldn't see it because I have my hands in front of my face. I dance, but I want so much to curl up into that tiny ball that I look more like I've been injured. I imagine that it would seem like I was in actual, physical pain were someone to watch me. But really, that makes sense, because it's like I'm in pain. One of the reasons we look like that when we're in pain, is because the pain is overwhelming us and we can't take it. Good music, when I fully realize it for what it's worth, overwhelms me, and I can't take it. Thus I usually do this alone. Most often in the middle of the night. When I'm not distracted by the goings-on of day-to-day life and I'm more open to thinking about deeper things and emotions are more readily felt. I think that's why most of the more poignant times in my life occur at night, when I am alone. Well, alone except for God. He's also able to get through to me more at night, due to the lack of distraction. God obviously made me a night owl for a reason.
That is what I've been doing this night. Oh, and should you be wondering what music has been making me feel this way tonight, you shouldn't have to guess much. Downhere. I promise, I do listen to other music.
Considering what time it is and my current location in my house, I'm expecting my dad to walk in here at any moment. He goes to work around 3:00 every morning. It is now about 2:50. He's probably going to wonder what I'm doing and I'll have to explain that I couldn't sleep and then he'll get all worried, because that's what he does. I am his one and only "little girl" after all and he's continually overly concerned about me.
Anyway, that's not what I came to write.
When I can't sleep, I often listen to music. I often listen to music in general, but times of no sleep when sleep should be found often seem like good times to listen to music. And I don't just listen to any music in general. I have to listen to music that means something to me. Music that I know well. Good music.
Good music is very relative. Ask a room of people to give examples of music they think is good, and you will get a variety of answers. I'm such a fan of music, that I rarely find anything I don't like, let alone think is bad. But even with my largely indiscriminate senses, there is music out there that I think is a step above the rest. That is what I call 'good music.'
But even when I find music that I think is 'good,' it's still hard for me to determine why I think it's good. But in laying here just a short while ago, listening to some 'good music' I think I figured it out. 'Good music,' for me, is music that confuses my feelings and leaves me not knowing how to react. And you can see it in my outward expression were you to watch me when I'm really allowing myself to try to process and express everything that's going on inside me while I listen to this 'good music.' It makes me want to laugh, to sing, to weep, to dance, to cover my face, to smile, to jump, to curl up in a tiny ball, to shout, to scream, to sit calmly and attempt to absorb the fullness of everything it has to offer, to bask in its glory, to pound my fists, to beat my chest, to get excited, to collapse, to fall apart because I don't know what to do.
So I do a combination of those things. I sing, or attempt to, but I can't quite get it out clearly because I'm crying too hard and laughing. I smile, but at the same time I have a pained expression on my face. But chances are you wouldn't see it because I have my hands in front of my face. I dance, but I want so much to curl up into that tiny ball that I look more like I've been injured. I imagine that it would seem like I was in actual, physical pain were someone to watch me. But really, that makes sense, because it's like I'm in pain. One of the reasons we look like that when we're in pain, is because the pain is overwhelming us and we can't take it. Good music, when I fully realize it for what it's worth, overwhelms me, and I can't take it. Thus I usually do this alone. Most often in the middle of the night. When I'm not distracted by the goings-on of day-to-day life and I'm more open to thinking about deeper things and emotions are more readily felt. I think that's why most of the more poignant times in my life occur at night, when I am alone. Well, alone except for God. He's also able to get through to me more at night, due to the lack of distraction. God obviously made me a night owl for a reason.
That is what I've been doing this night. Oh, and should you be wondering what music has been making me feel this way tonight, you shouldn't have to guess much. Downhere. I promise, I do listen to other music.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Update
Good news! I didn't break anything (completely, anyway) and I don't have to have surgery! The latter fact makes me very happy, because I thoroughly dislike surgery.
I found out that I tore a ligament and a tendon. I will be getting a brace sometime over the next two days which, I think, will make it easier to walk. I will be wearing the brace anywhere from two weeks to ten weeks, depending on how long it takes everything to heal. After that, my doctor wants me to have some physical therapy. So I'm going to be limping around for a while.
I will be missing school tomorrow, but I should be able to go Friday. I don't know whether to be happy about that, or not. Sure, I don't have to go to class, but I still have just as much work to do. And to do that work, being in class would be beneficial. But I'll take things the way they are.
I also filed an accident report today with campus police. We're hoping that they'll pay for all of this, since it happened on campus, inside a building, in a high-traffic area, that shouldn't have had a pool of water on the floor.
If I were to try to say at least one positive thing about this whole experience, it's made me laugh. Today, while limping in to see the doctor, I told my brother that I felt like a pirate. All I needed was an eye patch and a parrot, maybe a hook, and I would have been set. Too bad it wasn't Halloween.
I found out that I tore a ligament and a tendon. I will be getting a brace sometime over the next two days which, I think, will make it easier to walk. I will be wearing the brace anywhere from two weeks to ten weeks, depending on how long it takes everything to heal. After that, my doctor wants me to have some physical therapy. So I'm going to be limping around for a while.
I will be missing school tomorrow, but I should be able to go Friday. I don't know whether to be happy about that, or not. Sure, I don't have to go to class, but I still have just as much work to do. And to do that work, being in class would be beneficial. But I'll take things the way they are.
I also filed an accident report today with campus police. We're hoping that they'll pay for all of this, since it happened on campus, inside a building, in a high-traffic area, that shouldn't have had a pool of water on the floor.
If I were to try to say at least one positive thing about this whole experience, it's made me laugh. Today, while limping in to see the doctor, I told my brother that I felt like a pirate. All I needed was an eye patch and a parrot, maybe a hook, and I would have been set. Too bad it wasn't Halloween.
Warning to the clumsy: Beware Of School!
School is hazardous to your health. Seriously. Well, mine anyway.
I barely made it through my first year due to an injury, and ended up taking a year off just to recover. I started back to school this fall, eagerly anticipating an injury free, easier year, and what happens this Monday at 11:15 AM while heading to lunch? I slip. I fall. I mess up my ankle.
I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon. He poked around on my ankle, making me gasp in pain a few times, and then sent me to the hospital to get an MRI. I went to the hospital, was wheeled around the place by my brothers in a wheelchair, spent a little over 20 minutes with the lower half of my body in a mammoth-sized machine that made very loud noises akin to an old video game, and then headed home. I spent the rest of the evening on the couch. Then slept on the couch. Woke up on the couch. Spent the morning on the couch. And then finally got up off the couch for a grand total of 10 minutes because I was tired of being on the couch. During those 10 minutes, I went upstairs. Not the smartest thing I could have done. But I wanted to get dressed. And besides that I'm rather stubborn and no one can tell me what I can and can't do with an injured ankle. If I were the marathon-running type, I imagine that I would be the one who would break her leg and then try to run a marathon as soon as the cast was off. (Bet you thought I was going to say I'd run with the cast. I'm not that dumb. ;-) ) Anyway, while I did go up the stairs, I did play it safe. I scooted up them, pushing myself with my good foot. (See, I'm not that dumb.) I got dressed, hopping on one leg in the process. And then scooted back down the stairs.
And now I'm writing this. And now I need to wrap this up, because I have to go back to the doctor. He should have the results of the MRI, so I should be finding out the extent of the damage. I will be sure to update on here after I hear what he tells me. I'm hoping all I did was twist a ligament, instead of tearing it. It honestly doesn't feel that bad, but as I'm sure you can tell from my stair-climbing, one-legged hopping adventure, I'm not the best judge of the severity of injuries. I can put up with a lot, so I often think things are fine when they really aren't.
Off to the doctor I go, so I can limp some more and look hilariously awkward while doing it!
I barely made it through my first year due to an injury, and ended up taking a year off just to recover. I started back to school this fall, eagerly anticipating an injury free, easier year, and what happens this Monday at 11:15 AM while heading to lunch? I slip. I fall. I mess up my ankle.
I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon. He poked around on my ankle, making me gasp in pain a few times, and then sent me to the hospital to get an MRI. I went to the hospital, was wheeled around the place by my brothers in a wheelchair, spent a little over 20 minutes with the lower half of my body in a mammoth-sized machine that made very loud noises akin to an old video game, and then headed home. I spent the rest of the evening on the couch. Then slept on the couch. Woke up on the couch. Spent the morning on the couch. And then finally got up off the couch for a grand total of 10 minutes because I was tired of being on the couch. During those 10 minutes, I went upstairs. Not the smartest thing I could have done. But I wanted to get dressed. And besides that I'm rather stubborn and no one can tell me what I can and can't do with an injured ankle. If I were the marathon-running type, I imagine that I would be the one who would break her leg and then try to run a marathon as soon as the cast was off. (Bet you thought I was going to say I'd run with the cast. I'm not that dumb. ;-) ) Anyway, while I did go up the stairs, I did play it safe. I scooted up them, pushing myself with my good foot. (See, I'm not that dumb.) I got dressed, hopping on one leg in the process. And then scooted back down the stairs.
And now I'm writing this. And now I need to wrap this up, because I have to go back to the doctor. He should have the results of the MRI, so I should be finding out the extent of the damage. I will be sure to update on here after I hear what he tells me. I'm hoping all I did was twist a ligament, instead of tearing it. It honestly doesn't feel that bad, but as I'm sure you can tell from my stair-climbing, one-legged hopping adventure, I'm not the best judge of the severity of injuries. I can put up with a lot, so I often think things are fine when they really aren't.
Off to the doctor I go, so I can limp some more and look hilariously awkward while doing it!
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Target Practice
I just finished doing my nightly "target practice."
I'm sure visions of bows, arrows, and maybe even darts are floating through your heads. But I am not an archer, nor a hunter, nor have I been hanging out in a bar dividing my time between a pool table and a dartboard.
"Target practice" is the name for the homework given in this class I am taking. The class is called, "Getting Your Life On Target" and it is put on by 180 Degrees Ministries. The class meets every Tuesday night for 12 weeks and this Tuesday will be the 9th week, so it's nearing the end.
This class has been incredible. So much truth has been spoken these eight weeks, and I know there will be even more in the remaining four. I cannot begin to regurgitate all of the amazing things I have learned thus far. One of the things that's been so cool is the fact that I've known a lot of the things being taught, but I didn't realize I knew it. So many things have been presented in a way that makes everything click. So even though the knowledge was there, I understand it in a way that I never have before.
180 Degrees Ministries was started by a man named Steve Austin, with the goal of helping people break from the bondage of addictions and vicious cycles in their lives. If you're like me, you hear "addiction" and think, "That's not for me. I'm not addicted to anything." But in reality, if you're like me, you've been living with vicious cycles in your life that you didn't even realize existed. That's what an addiction is, a vicious cycle.
Steve Austin, the one teaching the class and the one who started 180, was the stereotypical addict of all addicts. But God freed him from his addictions and vicious cycles, so now he's spending his life helping other people find the freedom that only comes from God. His testimony is pretty amazing.
Here is the website for 180, if you want to check it out: http://www.180degreesministries.com/home.html
Tuesday nights have been one of the highlights of my week. I am definitely looking forward to the next class. Maybe over time I will be able to relate some of the things that God has been teaching me recently. There's a lot. And it's pretty powerful stuff.
But for now, it's midnight. I have a class at 8 AM, so sleep is calling.
Much love,
Emily Lynn
"Trust steadily in God
Hope unswervingly
Love extravagantly."
1 Corinthians 13:13
I'm sure visions of bows, arrows, and maybe even darts are floating through your heads. But I am not an archer, nor a hunter, nor have I been hanging out in a bar dividing my time between a pool table and a dartboard.
"Target practice" is the name for the homework given in this class I am taking. The class is called, "Getting Your Life On Target" and it is put on by 180 Degrees Ministries. The class meets every Tuesday night for 12 weeks and this Tuesday will be the 9th week, so it's nearing the end.
This class has been incredible. So much truth has been spoken these eight weeks, and I know there will be even more in the remaining four. I cannot begin to regurgitate all of the amazing things I have learned thus far. One of the things that's been so cool is the fact that I've known a lot of the things being taught, but I didn't realize I knew it. So many things have been presented in a way that makes everything click. So even though the knowledge was there, I understand it in a way that I never have before.
180 Degrees Ministries was started by a man named Steve Austin, with the goal of helping people break from the bondage of addictions and vicious cycles in their lives. If you're like me, you hear "addiction" and think, "That's not for me. I'm not addicted to anything." But in reality, if you're like me, you've been living with vicious cycles in your life that you didn't even realize existed. That's what an addiction is, a vicious cycle.
Steve Austin, the one teaching the class and the one who started 180, was the stereotypical addict of all addicts. But God freed him from his addictions and vicious cycles, so now he's spending his life helping other people find the freedom that only comes from God. His testimony is pretty amazing.
Here is the website for 180, if you want to check it out: http://www.180degreesministries.com/home.html
Tuesday nights have been one of the highlights of my week. I am definitely looking forward to the next class. Maybe over time I will be able to relate some of the things that God has been teaching me recently. There's a lot. And it's pretty powerful stuff.
But for now, it's midnight. I have a class at 8 AM, so sleep is calling.
Much love,
Emily Lynn
"Trust steadily in God
Hope unswervingly
Love extravagantly."
1 Corinthians 13:13
Friday, October 31, 2008
The story.
It is a beautiful Halloween night here in my little corner of the world. To celebrate, there are two glowing, carved pumpkins on the front porch and I am listening to my Haunted Mansion/Phantom Manor audio. (I am such a dork. Who, but a dork, would listen to ride audio from Disney parks when they're not actually there?)
As riveting as all that sounds, I'm sure you don't want to hear about my lack of festiveness. So I thought this would be a most opportune time to tell the story of the inspiration for ExtravagantlyLoved.
Hold on...as soon as I finished typing all that, my brother got a phone call from a friend, inviting us to come to his house for a birthday/Halloween party. It was his dad's birthday. So we went to the party. And I scrambled to find something to wear that might resemble a costume. I kind of went for a hippie vibe. Don't know how well I pulled it off. You can see a very small bit of it in that picture up there. Anyway, it was a lot of fun. And that's all I have to say about that. Now, on to what I was about to do earlier.
Oh, and before you go any further, I predict that this is going to be very long. Consider yourself warned. You may have to read this in chunks.
I'll go back a little less than three years ago. January 2006. I was 17-years-old. That was a very big age for me, in so many ways, the biggest of which I intend to share in this post. Christmas had just passed not too long before, and I was still kinda coming off of my Christmas-high. I wish I could remember exactly what day this took place, but I don't. If I had started writing in a journal at that point, I would have written it down, and therefore had documentation. But I didn't start writing in a journal until that summer. But what I do know, like I said, is that it was January. I'm thinking mid to late January.
One of the gifts I got for that Christmas was Rebecca St. James' latest CD at that time, If I Had One Chance To Tell You Something. I fell in love with it the first time I listened to it. And I didn't know this at the time, but it apparently was something that I needed to hear. All I knew is that ever since I had gotten it, I had taken to listening to it at least once every night. Most nights, I listened to it twice or more. So at this point when my story was taking place, I had had that CD for at least 3 weeks, and I had listened to it countless times. Enough times to have most, if not all, of the words to all of the songs memorized.
I was living in Arkansas at the time. In the middle of nowhere on a small mountain. In a very small, two-bedroom trailer with my parents and two little brothers. I was extremely priveleged and had a whole bedroom to myself. Not only that, but I had the biggest bedroom all to myself. When I say biggest, that makes it sound really big, but it wasn't. I've seen closets that were bigger than that room. But still, it was all mine. To give more background about my living situation, we had just gotten running water. For just over a year, we lived there without running water. I won't go into detail now about the whole experience. I'll just say that it was very difficult.
There was one particular night, that I was laying in my bed. I had listened to my new favorite CD once already, and I was laying there trying to go to sleep. But it wasn't happening. I was feeling very low at that point, and very distressed. I gave you some insight into my living situation, and even though we were all rejoicing about having running water, it still wasn't the greatest. The biggest reason being that 5 people trying to coexist in a space that small rarely works well. I'm just happy that I and my family get along as well as we do, or we wouldn't have survived.
Also, since we were out in the middle of nowhere, we were really cut-off from social experiences. There were times that I didn't leave there for a week. I was kinda stuck on top of this mountain. And even though I like my space, being cut-of from people that much of the time really wore on me.
On top of that, my mom had gotten sick a couple of years before that. She actually is still rather ill, but there was a year pretty early on that was the worst. 2004, 2005ish, I think. She was in the bed for just about a whole year. I really wish that I was exaggerating when I say that, but I'm not. And that meant several things for me. 1.) My mom was sick, and I was obviously concerned. Worried even, at times. 2.) That left me to be the responsible adult. My dad was gone all the time working, so I tried my best to do all the typical motherly/housewife things. Cook, clean, take care of my brothers. But I was like 15 at the time, and I was still trying to take care of my 15-year-old obligations as well. Like school. My brothers and I were homeschooled. There were many days that my schoolwork was completely neglected in favor of a more pressing issue. Oh, and if I was 15, that means my youngest brother was about 5. Kindergarten age. Supposed to be learning letters and numbers, and how to read and write basic words like "cat." So "teacher" was added to my list of responsibilities. I can say right now that I didn't do a very good job. I tried. But a 15-year-old girl is not supposed to be teaching her little brother everything under the sun. He wouldn't listen to me. Not just with school, but in generally every other area. And why would he? I wasn't his mother. Or I wasn't supposed to be.
So, anyway, back to that night in January '06, where I was to be found laying in my bed, feeling distressed. I'm sure you can tell why at this point. And then, I hear my parents down the hallway, the very, very short hallway. Another argument. My parents will be the first to tell you that they haven't had the greatest relationship. They just celebrated their 25th anniversary this year, so obviously something has held them together, but it's been an extraordinary struggle. And I know that all married couples have ups and downs, and arguments, and things of that nature. But I think my parents have been on the extreme end. I can't stand arguing. And I've listened to it my whole life. But I think what has bothered me more than that, is the constant wondering in the back of my mind if this time is going to be the last straw. I'd honestly rather them argue the rest of their lives than give up because it's too hard.
So I was laying in my bed, feeling particularly depressed because of all this junk, and then I hear this arguing. And it wasn't typical arguing. It was the really, really scary kind of arguing, like your-life-is-about-to-change-dramatically kind of arguing, or the if-this-gets-any-worse-someone-might-get-hurt kind of arguing. An overwhelming feeling of desperation overcame me. I started crying and I felt the need to pray, and all I could say was "God, help me. Help us. Help." Over and over again. All I could do was plead for help.
After I don't know how long, I finally thought I'm not getting anywhere or helping the situation at all with doing nothing but dwelling on the problems. So I decided to go through and thank God for everything under the sun that he had given me. Even my problems. I eventually got to all the people in my life. I started with my immediate family, then expanded to my extended family and out to friends. And as I was going through and thinking about all these people, I started to realize just how much I really loved them all. And it became completely overwhelming. I don't know if you've ever felt so much love for someone that it hurt or overwhelmed you. If you haven't I can't really explain it. But that's where I was. Completely overwhelmed by love.
It gets better.
I decided to listen to that CD again. The first song started. Guess what the title of that song is. "God Help Me." The exact same thing I had just been praying. A fresh wave of tears came over me. I settled in to listening to the rest of the CD. Guess what the theme of that CD is. Love. God's love. That's what the title refers to: if Rebecca had one chance to tell anyone something, she would tell them that God loves them. So here I was having just felt a tidal wave of love from myself to others. And I hear her saying that God loves me. It all clicked at that point. Oh my. All this love that I had just felt, even though it was overwhelming me, was just a small fraction of how much God loved me. God loved me. God really, truly, honestly loved me. I had heard that my whole life. Had you asked me before then if God loved me, I would have told you that yes, he most certainly did love me. But for the first time, I really felt it. And if I thought I was overwhelmed before that point, and that I had cried as hard and as much as I could cry, I was wrong. I was laying there convulsing and gasping for breath I was crying so hard.
After I finally calmed down enough to think, God started showing me some things. I started wondering why I had never felt this before. What took me so long? I had been a Christian at that point for at least 12 years. What was the deal? God showed me, that I had to come to a place of complete brokeness where there was nothing but him. So when everything was shattered and I was left with only him, I was able to experience the vastness of his love, of his very self, for the first time in my life. Wow. He also told me, "Okay. Now that you have felt this love, go share it with the world. Everyone you come in contact with."
I ended up listening to that CD about four times total, I believe. The third time through, my desperation had turned to jubilation and if it hadn't have been in the middle of the night, I would have been singing at the top of my lungs and dancing around my room. I had to settle for dancing in my bed and mouthing the words.
Shortly after that, I happened to read 1 Corinthians 13 in The Message. I absolutely love how Eugene Peterson words that passage. I got to the end of verse 13 and I read, "Trust steadily in God; hope unswervingly; love extravagantly." I liked that word in that context, "extravagantly." It perfectly described how God loved me. I actually quite dislike that word in many other contexts. Because I tend to associate extravagance with negative things, like overindulgence, and waste. But when it comes to love, extravagance is a good thing. A thing for which I am very grateful.
I got up the next day, after what I soon thought of as the most incredible night of my life, and my circumstances weren't any different, but I was different. No one can walk away from an encounter with God and be left unchanged. Therefore, my world felt very different. And it's been different ever since. I am not the same person that I used to me. I can't tell you all the changes I have noticed in myself since that point.
And that's my story. Well one particular story, at least. I have many. God has been good, and I love sharing his goodness. But I'll save them for another time, maybe another place. This post is far too long already. If you have made it to the end, I applaud you. You couldn't see it, but I actually did clap as soon as I said that. And I hope that it was comprehensible. I pretty much let the whole thing flow, and I'm not going to back through to do any editing.
Now, go do something! Get away from the computer. Dance, run, jump, do the hokey-pokey, YMCA, something.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Mein Tag
Today was a very long day. It was a good day, don't get me wrong. But it has left me tired. I put my pajamas on well before 8PM.
I think that one of the things that lent to my good day was the fact that I wasn't on the computer all day. I know. Pretty incredible. As I'm sure you can tell from the fact that I am blogging, I like my computer. Quite a lot. And the Internet is one of my favorite things, to which I'm sure you all can relate. But it's nice to take a break every once in a while.
And speaking of breaks, I am going out of town this weekend. That means a whole two full days without the Internet. You will notice that I didn't say I would be without my computer. I haven't quite reached that point yet. I depend on this thing to go to sleep, so it will be accompanying me on my brief journey.
I feel that this is a rather lack luster second post. But I am too tired to say anything else. Thinking does not come easily for me at the moment. I think I can promise that every post will not be like this. When I'm not this tired, my brain is too active to make such a shallow post as this one.
But sadly, I am this tired. And it is now shortly after 9:30 PM. As late as that doesn't sound, I need to be settling into bed. And in order to do that, I need to clean off my bed. I just gave the thumbs-up sign to demonstrate my enthusiasm - or lack thereof - but unfortunately you could not see that. You can imagine it.
Guten Nacht! That's good night, for all you who do not speak German.
I think that one of the things that lent to my good day was the fact that I wasn't on the computer all day. I know. Pretty incredible. As I'm sure you can tell from the fact that I am blogging, I like my computer. Quite a lot. And the Internet is one of my favorite things, to which I'm sure you all can relate. But it's nice to take a break every once in a while.
And speaking of breaks, I am going out of town this weekend. That means a whole two full days without the Internet. You will notice that I didn't say I would be without my computer. I haven't quite reached that point yet. I depend on this thing to go to sleep, so it will be accompanying me on my brief journey.
I feel that this is a rather lack luster second post. But I am too tired to say anything else. Thinking does not come easily for me at the moment. I think I can promise that every post will not be like this. When I'm not this tired, my brain is too active to make such a shallow post as this one.
But sadly, I am this tired. And it is now shortly after 9:30 PM. As late as that doesn't sound, I need to be settling into bed. And in order to do that, I need to clean off my bed. I just gave the thumbs-up sign to demonstrate my enthusiasm - or lack thereof - but unfortunately you could not see that. You can imagine it.
Guten Nacht! That's good night, for all you who do not speak German.
Introducing Extravagant Love
Welcome to my blog!
I'm having a really hard time trying to decide what to write, because today was an amazing day and a lot of amazing things happened. So many things, that I could probably spend a whole other day talking about them. But I don't have a whole day to talk about them right now. Besides, if I typed for a whole day, even if what I wrote was the most incredible thing you ever read, you'd give up eventually. Well, maybe not give up entirely, but you'd take several breaks. But considering how I tend to ramble, it won't be the most amazing thing you ever read, and you'll get tired of my rambling all too quickly.
Therefore, I'm not going to say anything else about my amazing day. This is an introductory post, therefore I think it should live up to its name and introduce you to my blog.
I've been thinking for a while that I wanted to start a blog, but I couldn't come up with a name for the longest time. I chose the name ExtravagantlyLoved. Those of you who know me on webland will probably recognize this as one of my many screen names, and I chose to use it in this situation for various reasons.
1.) I think it has the most meaning out of all my various pseudonyms. A meaning I suppose I should explain. I will do that shortly.
2.) I think it fits me the best. Sums me up. Sums up what my life is all about.
3.) It is the reason I have decided to blog at all. Without it, I really would have nothing to say. There would be no point in me attempting to say anything.
And now I'm sure you're asking, what is "it?" What is this "reason?" Now I shall explain the meaning to which I previously referred.
"ExtravagantlyLoved" is what I am. I am loved extravagantly by God, my father, my creator, my savior, my redeemer, my everything. He gives my life meaning. He gives my words meaning. And because of that I feel that I have something of value to share with the world.
So here I am. I hope you stick around. I could say a lot more right now, but it is very, very late and I have to go to school at a rather short time from now. Trying to get some sleep would be wise on my part. (This will probably be a common theme in my posts.) Sometime later I need to share with you the story of from where "ExtravagantlyLoved" came. It's quite amazing, if I do say so myself.
Hopefully, I will keep up with this and post frequently. I've never tried to keep up a regular blog before, but I think I can do it. As long as I don't try to post a novel every time, I should be fine.
Until we meet again,
Emily Lynn
I'm having a really hard time trying to decide what to write, because today was an amazing day and a lot of amazing things happened. So many things, that I could probably spend a whole other day talking about them. But I don't have a whole day to talk about them right now. Besides, if I typed for a whole day, even if what I wrote was the most incredible thing you ever read, you'd give up eventually. Well, maybe not give up entirely, but you'd take several breaks. But considering how I tend to ramble, it won't be the most amazing thing you ever read, and you'll get tired of my rambling all too quickly.
Therefore, I'm not going to say anything else about my amazing day. This is an introductory post, therefore I think it should live up to its name and introduce you to my blog.
I've been thinking for a while that I wanted to start a blog, but I couldn't come up with a name for the longest time. I chose the name ExtravagantlyLoved. Those of you who know me on webland will probably recognize this as one of my many screen names, and I chose to use it in this situation for various reasons.
1.) I think it has the most meaning out of all my various pseudonyms. A meaning I suppose I should explain. I will do that shortly.
2.) I think it fits me the best. Sums me up. Sums up what my life is all about.
3.) It is the reason I have decided to blog at all. Without it, I really would have nothing to say. There would be no point in me attempting to say anything.
And now I'm sure you're asking, what is "it?" What is this "reason?" Now I shall explain the meaning to which I previously referred.
"ExtravagantlyLoved" is what I am. I am loved extravagantly by God, my father, my creator, my savior, my redeemer, my everything. He gives my life meaning. He gives my words meaning. And because of that I feel that I have something of value to share with the world.
So here I am. I hope you stick around. I could say a lot more right now, but it is very, very late and I have to go to school at a rather short time from now. Trying to get some sleep would be wise on my part. (This will probably be a common theme in my posts.) Sometime later I need to share with you the story of from where "ExtravagantlyLoved" came. It's quite amazing, if I do say so myself.
Hopefully, I will keep up with this and post frequently. I've never tried to keep up a regular blog before, but I think I can do it. As long as I don't try to post a novel every time, I should be fine.
Until we meet again,
Emily Lynn
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)