Desire.

I read a book last summer/fall with one of my Bible study groups. It was all about God seeing us a beautiful. I don't even remember the name of it. Oh, yes I do..."Do You Think I'm Beautiful?" in a flowy, cursive script. Stay with me, I am headed somewhere.

Does God think I'm beautiful? Why does it even matter to me whether He thinks I beautiful or not? Why does it matter if anyone sees me as beautiful? If He made me perfect, if I truly am fearfully and wonderfully made, then beauty shouldn't be an issue. But it is. I can only conclude that He made us (specifically, women) to feel this way for a reason, but I don't know why.

When was the last time I was told that I looked nice? January 8th. Exactly one month ago today. My company's Christmas party, and a new dress. I even felt pretty. Nay, I felt hot. Smoking hot. I find it sad that I can mark the specific days when I am told that I am pretty. October 17th was the time before that. Twice in a matter of five months. No wonder I have this deep longing to be told I'm pretty.

Every once in a while some random stranger will come up to me and tell me that I look pretty. At the library, in my favorite Tim Hortons, in stores, on the side of a road, etc. I always feel like it's God reminding me that I am special when I just want to be noticed by someone. Anyone.

But the truth that God was revealing to me was that I was being noticed. By God and by man. It just wasn't ever the man that I wanted.

He finds me beautiful, this I know. But knowing that still doesn't fulfill me like I've been taught that it should. I still long to be desired by man. I may have a God sized hole in my heart, but I also have a man sized one. Maybe I should have made sure I wasn't the only eternally single person in my Bible study group; every one else had experienced marriage and children and friends and family. They never experienced the intense longing that accompanies prolonged singleness.

Why would God create us with a longing to be desired by man, and then tell us that the world will hate us for loving Him? I guess I should be thankful that I was warned at least.

'Til Death Do Us Meet

My cousin just found had her first ultrasound yesterday. She and her husband have been trying to have a baby for several years, so I am absolutely thrilled for them!

Another cousin got engaged about a month ago. Travis is a great guy and they should be happy together.

These two cousins and I were nearly inseperable when we were growing up, but now I'm being left behind. And I don't like it.

I so desperately want to be married and have kids. One of my mom's comments last night upon hearing about the pregnancy was that my cousin is "not getting any younger". The same could be said of me. And yet, here I am. All alone. Alone in my past, in my present, and in the forseeable future.

I mentioned to a co-worker a few days ago, pre-finding out my cousin is pregnant, that I felt like I was missing out on life's blessings because I am single and have no children. She responded that I was already blessed beyond belief just by virtue of having a relationship with Christ. And yet, she also has a relationship with Christ...on top of the wonderful husband she has and her three precious children. So logically, she is blessed four times as much as I am. I sometimes wonder what I'm doing wrong.

Reaffirming my commitment to God is a daily occurance right now. I know that I am right where I belong with regards to God's will for my life, and when I am honest with myself I will willingly admit that I wouldn't trade my relationship with Christ for a husband and children. But I am not satisfied with my life. I do not feel full.

But I refuse to give in to my own desires and doubts. God has been teaching me to stand and face them and say as Albert Mondego did: "Do your worst, for I shall do mine!" I know that God has a plan for my life. Until death when we can meet face to face O God, I am yours. If He chooses to allow me to share my life with another, then I will be eternally grateful. But if not, I am His. My relationship with God is not conditional. It is not optional. It is however, a choice - and I have made mine.

It is for this reason that I am again reading Sense and Sensibility. Elinor is my soul sister. While she is expected to rejoice in her family's triumphs and join in their tears, she is regularly having to deal with secret torments in her own soul. She has the kind of strength I would like to have. Straight from the first chapter: "She had an excellent heart; - her disposition was affectionate, her feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern them...", and "Elinor, too, was deeply afflicted; but she could still struggle, she could exert herself."

This I declare: my hopes, fears, emotions, desires, and doubts shall be governed! They will not overcome me!

In which we have visitors

Two of Josiah's fellow combiners/truck drivers from this past summer came to visit us for a few days last week. I enjoyed every moment of their visit, except for the farewells. Their names were Blake and Chris and they hailed from New Zealand.

I miss them more than I probably should, given the fact that they were only here for three days and I only saw them in the evenings with the exception of the afternoon spent with them when I picked them up in Niagara Falls.

But they saw me. Not just as a physical presence, but me - a person with feelings and likes and dislikes and a name that no one can spell, but is nonetheless spell-able if people would just put in the effort to spell it right.

On Monday they got back from hunting around the same time as I got home from work, and Blake asked me how my day was. I'm sure he was just being polite, but I honestly can't remember the last time someone asked how my day was, and actually turned and looked at me with a look that told me that they actually expected an answer.

And they spell my name right. As much as I say that people spelling my name wrong doesn't bother me, it does at times. If you care about me at all, you should take the time to spell my name right.

It was entirely pleasant having them here. I enjoyed every minute of being a "somebody" as opposed to a "nobody". But now I'm experiencing a bit of a let down. I got a glimpse of what it's like to be cared about, and it's hard going back to no one really caring what I do or where I go.

The loneliness is crushing at times.

What do I write about today? I'm at a bit of a loss. I don't have anything. But I feel like I need to write. Not sure why.

I was looking at some of the NYS adoption photolistings this morning. I shouldn't do that at work. It breaks my heart. Especially the children with the sad tilt to their face and the tears that show through their pasted on smiles. And then I ask God why I'm still not in a position to take some of these children in. Or just one. The idea of having more than one at once scares me a little bit, actually. I don't know which one I would take though. How do you choose between the girl with the scruffy hair that loves the outdoors but is struggling in school and has behavioral issues and the girl that loves to sing and dance and draw and write but has dealt with tremendous loss in her life and is meeting with a psychiatrist several times a month? I can't save them all, but I wish it were possible.

And right now I'm not saving any of them - that's what breaks my heart the most.

The odd thing is that I have no desire to adopt any of the kids. I might someday, but not now. I just want to be their foster parent. I want to show them that love in the midst of an extremely difficult life is possible. I want to help them rediscover hope in their lives. I want to help them become the best people they can be. And I want to help them prepare for their forever home.

I'm learning patience though. And how to rekindle hope, and how to hold onto it desperately as it's trying to escape again. And how to forgive. And how to love those who have hurt me deeply.

Maybe that's why I am not a foster parent yet. How can I teach the children those things if I haven't experienced them myself? All the pain I've dealt with in the past several years are probably just a glimpse at the pain those children are living with every day.

Sing Me A Love Song Again...

The tension is thick in the air
Making it hard to see
I fear what is to come
And what is to become of me
I say a prayer, help me not run away
Will You please hold me?

And sing me a love song again
Say the words that heal my heart
Sing me a love song and then
Let your words remind me who I am

You've never failed me before
Why do I feel betrayed?
If I close my heart to you now
The darkness would have it's way
I crave your voice, help me not fall away
Will You please hold me?

'Cause You are all that I need
And all that I want is You with me
You are all I need
And all that I want is You with me.

(Barlow Girl, Sing Me A Love Song)


Oh, tragedy
Has taken so many
Love lost cause they all
Forgot who You are
And it scares me to think
That I would choose
My life over You
Oh, my selfish heart
Divides me from You
And keeps us apart

So tell me
What is our ending?
Will it be beautiful
So beautiful?

Oh, why do I
Let myself let go
Of hands that painted the stars
And hold tears that fall?
And the pride of my heart
Makes me forget
It's not me but You
Who makes the heart beat
I'm lost without You
And dying from me.

So tell me
What is our ending?
Will it be beautiful
So beautiful?

Will my life
Find me by Your side?
Your live is beautiful
So beautiful

At the end of it all
I want to be by Your side
(Barlow Girl, Beautiful Ending)


(Can you tell I like Barlow Girl? So much truth...)

Marriage: a snapshot

I came home from Arizona determined to never marry. It was a new feeling for me, as one who can still remember telling my mom that I wanted to grow up and be a housewife just like her at the age of 4.

I had just spent a week staying with a college friend and her husband, and I saw their marriage up close and personal - or as much of it as they allowed me to see. And what I saw was a horrid, ugly marriage. It turned me off from marriage completely. I went from telling a co-worker how blessed I felt to be surrounded by wonderful, Godly marriages to telling that same co-worker that I was bound and determined to never subject myself (and those around me) to what my friend had conciously subjected herself to. The selfishness and pettyness and childishness on both sides made me sick, and my goal of promoting Christ through my life doesn't at all correspond to what they had created.

Somehow I went from seeing that marriage as the exception in the realm of Christian marriages to it being the rule, and it scared me. I wanted no part of something like that. I felt God telling me "Let that be a warning to you, girl." What kind of warning? A warning against marriage.

But I chose to listen to a sermon series by Alistair Begg entitled "God of the Ordinary" this week, and it wasn't quite what I thought it would be. It is a series based on the Book of Ruth, and that naturally leads to some preaching on the subject of marriage.

And, thank God, I have been brought to see clearly once again. The issue isn't marriage. The issue is allowing your own fears, and misguided beliefs, and sins into marriage, and neglecting to allow God to redeem it. Or neglecting to allow God a place at all. I don't want a marriage like my friends'. I want a marriage that will seem radical to the world, but is infinitely logical when reduced to how God sees the world. That's what I want. And that kind of marriage requires that I hold out for the man God has for me. How else could you have the marriage God wants for you, but than with the man God wants for you?

And though my heart and soul cry out for a relationship now, my head squashes them both and demands that I be patient and wait.

This one goes out to you, my lovely great aunt.

I have this great aunt. (Actually, I'm sure I have many, but she is the only one I know). Her name is Aunt Ella. It's a lovely name for a lovely person. I'm not sure I ever realized quite how lovely she was until this past thanksgiving.

Aunt Ella is blind, and mostly deaf. The deafness isn't so bad now that she has a super-de-duper hearing aid, but she still can't hear too much. She can be kind of a pain in the neck. I know she gets lonely, living all by herself and never really seeing relatives except at holidays. And it's not like she lives far away, either. She has just been so difficult for us all to deal with until just a few years ago when hearing aids improved substantially. And old people can be a bit difficult to deal with anyways. And I'll admit right now that I am one of the worst offenders...I drive by/near her house every work day as opposed to everyone else that would have to drive 20 minutes out of their way to see her. But I do take time on the holidays to say hello and talk for a few minutes, which is more than most of my relatives do. And I do so without grumbling, which is what almost all of my relatives don't do. They tolerate her, but that is all. She is considered an oddity. She's pushy. She's inappropriate at times. She pesters.

But she is still lovely. Mostly because she truely loves the Lord. I went over to talk to her on Thanksgiving and mentioned that I've been studying for my CPA exams and was kinda stressed about them. "Well, let's pray then!" she says. Heads that were trying to purposely look away shot up, to see my reaction. I don't think they expected to see surprise that was quickly replaced by abject relief on my face. And maybe they didn't see it, but it was there. I'd been more stressed than I was willing to admit, and I just kept remembering that I had all kinds of people praying for me with the first two, and no one was praying for this one. And in some ways I'm more nervous about this exam. So instead of being turned off by her standing in the middle of the room and holding my hands to her heart and praying out loud in front of everyone, I stood there and thanked God for putting her in my life.

God cared for my needs that day. I'd already turned my exams over to Him, but I really felt the lack of prayers for this exam, and it added to my stress. Last time, people told me that they asked God to help me pass in such a way that I would know it was Him. And He did. But would He show up in such a way again without those prayers? Now it doesn't matter. Pass or fail, God is still taking care of my needs, and that is really whats important.

For the record though, I really really really want to pass. The idea of spending another month of time doing nothing but studying makes me sick. And I would have to pay more money. I really really really want to pass. I still don't feel like I'm going to. But as Sarah pointed out to me Friday night, I felt the same way with the first two and I managed to pass them both (with a ton of help from God!).

So today, the day of the exam, I am not worrying. The exam is in His hands, just like my need for someone to pray with me was.

Who to discover a Curtius is able?"

Is it a matter of "can't" or "won't"? God doesn't put us in situations that we can't handle. He gives us issues that we can't handle without Him, but the truth of the matter is that we are capable of dealing with any kind of injustice if we but set our minds to it, as long as we know who our strength is.

The real issue most of the time is that we won't. We won't humble ourselves. We won't forgive. We won't be the "bigger man". We won't allow personal affronts to go unpunished. We won't take responsibility. We won't take advantage of our circumstances, and allow them to become an opportunity for growth.


From "Lucile", by Owen Meredith

"In Rome, - in the Forum, - there open'd one night
A gulf. All the augurs turn'd pale at the sight.
In this omen the anger of Heaven they read.
Men consulted the gods: then the oracle said: -
'Ever open this gulf shall endure, till at last
That which Rome hast most precious within it be cast.'
The Romans threw in it their corn and their stuff,
But the gulf yawn'd as wide. Rome seem'd likely enough
To be ruin'd ere this rent in her heart she could choke.
Then Curtius, revering the oracle, spoke:
'O Quirites! to this Heaven's questions is come:
What to Rome is most precious? The manhood of Rome.'
He plunged, and the gulf closed.
The tale is not new;
But the moral applies many ways, and is true.
How, for hearts rent in twain, shall the curse be destroyed?
'Tis a warm human one that must fill up the void.
Through many a heart runs the rent in the fable,
But who to discover a Curtius is able?"

How do you know?

How do you know when you're supposed to speak truth into someones life, and when you should shut up and let God work?

I feel no regret for what I've done. Only sadness at the possible loss of a good friendship. I asked God what I should do, and upon receiving no answer decided to go ahead and send that e-mail. I'm not sure if I felt peace, but I know I didn't feel anything suggesting that I shouldn't send it. I think the sense of sorrow overcame any peace I might have felt.

Sorrow for what my friend is going through, and what she refuses to admit that she's going through. Sorrow at the comment she made that her prayers hadn't worked, knowing that she is praying to her own version of a god that works like a vending machine. Put your prayer in, and out comes a multitude of blessings. And sorrow at the fact that she isn't willing to put the effort into getting to her own happy ending, which may or may not be considered happy by the worlds standards, but would be by God's standards. Life has been so easy for her, it must be scary to find out that it's not all rose petals and rainbows. I can't understand that kind of easy life since it is not even close to what I've experienced, but I can imagine the struggle to adjust her worldview. To grow up, if you will. And in such a way. Her sorrow is my sorrow.

Did I do the right thing? The idea of God not approving of what I've done, coupled with the loss of a friendship would be too much for me to bear I think. But I couldn't just sit there allowing her family and friends to fill her head with all those lies without giving her some truth. But was it my truth to give?

My heart is breaking. But it will be worth it if God uses what I wrote to wake her up. Even if it doesn't happen right away...I've been learning about patience in my life, and the least I can do is give God the time needed to work a miracle in her life. I'm counting on the fact that God uses all things for good; even my misguided, faulty, and foolish e-mails.

Hello Blogger, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again.

It has been a while. In one sense, I am so desperate to open myself up on here; to write and post my honest thoughts and feelings. But the thought of having it available for the world to see (even if the world doesn't see) is a bit nerve wracking. I hate this blog because it inspires me to honesty, and I love it because it provides a needed outlet. I physically journal, but I think better when I can type and erase and type some more. My thoughts are always so scattered...knowing that I can go back and edit and reword things gives me a sense of peace.

I've been wondering a lot lately about my struggles with loneliness, and with what God's purpose for my life is, and how everything that I thought my life would be is apparently not what God has for me. Or not right now anyways. Collectively, those three things have weighed my heart and soul down for far too long. And I know it's a problem. I've tried many different things over the past several years...including telling God that He's a lunatic (I still tell Him that; it makes me laugh, and then I feel a bit better. And so far He hasn't seemed to mind my name calling...).

I think the worst part is carrying around the longing to be a foster parent. I've wanted to be a foster parent since I was about 15. That's 11 years. And I feel like I'm no closer to fulfilling that role than I was then. Realistically I know that I have gotten closer, just by studying people and spending time with broken children and researching fostering, but the foundational things that I would need to become a foster parent just aren't there. Why would God give me this dream, a dream that is admirable and needed in NY, and then not enable me to fulfill it? I sometimes feel like He's just messing with me. Everyone else was put here with a purpose, but I'm just part of some cosmic science experiment to discover how torture the human mind can endure while still calling Him "Master".

And have I let Him down, just by being the essence of a strong, individual female? People tell me that they admire my strength, and that they wish they were like me. But I'm not like me. I'm strong out of necessity, not by choice. I don't want to change my own oil, I want someone to take care of that for me. I dont' want to be the strong person when things go south, I want a shoulder to lean on and cry into. Instead I save all my crying for when I'm driving alone. And people tell me how much they admire me, and how I inspire them.

But if they could see my weakness, maybe they would also see that it is ok to be weak, to struggle. I struggle too, I just don't let it show. In our weakness, we allow Him to be our strength. And until recently, I've not allowed Him to be my strength. I still don't want to. His way hurts to much...what happened to "my yoke is easy, and my burden is light"? I've sinned against myself and against God. Is that admirable?

I admire those people who can struggle openly, and yet still trust in and rely on God. Yet maybe that's all a farce too. A show. I hope so. Those put together people make me sick, and make me hate myself. Probably because I know that I am viewed as one of those people, and I know how deep the lie can go.

My conversations with God every morning go something like this:

Me: God, I can't do this anymore. I want out. I can't see where this is ever going to end, and it hurts too much.
God: Darling, can you trust me enough to give me some more of your time? Long enough for you to see how it all works out?
Me: How long's it going to take?
God: How long can you spare?
Me: I can only commit to giving you today.
God: That's perfect!

In Which Aimee Is Frustrated With God And Herself

Dear God,

What am I doing here? I mean really, why am I on this glorious Earth that you've made? Am I here only to worship you? Do I have no greater purpose?

I suppose that if you take the expanded sense of worship then that really is my entire purpose. But I really just want to do something, anything, to further your kingdom.

I thought you put me in this office in order to live my life as a witness to my co-workers. I've been here 3 1/2 years...sometimes it seems like a whole heck of a lot longer. And I've made exactly zero progress on your behalf. It sure seems that way anyways. I'm not complaining about that. I'm where you put me, and you obviously have a reason for having me here, right?

I'm really starting to wonder though. Am I really that special? Don't get me wrong, I really am happy for Rach...that she got to witness to someone she's prayed for (longer than me, I might add). And I'm really excited that Jodi was actually interested in what she was saying. I mean, really glad. But at the same time, where does that leave me? Am I expendable? Backup, maybe? Am I really making a difference?

Sometimes, God, I wonder if maybe its me. Like maybe I'm just not a good enough Christian. I seem to miss opportunities left and right. I spend all my time kicking myself for being an idiot and giving in to my fears and issues. I could really use some truth right about now.

Maybe Rachel is just gifted in evangelism. She certainly loves talking about you. Maybe I have other gifts? I wish I knew what they are.

Anyways, I think I'm feeling a little better now. Not a lot, but a little. I need to quit wishing I could be like other people. It doesn't help that other people think that I need to be like them too though, eh? It's funny God, but I feel like you're rubbing the importance of reading your word into my face. The Truth. It's right there. Instant self-esteem.

God, I love you. I'm sorry I'm such a dipstick about everything pertaining to you. And I'd really like to trust you, but its pretty hard sometimes. Anyways, I'd better go. It was nice talkin' to ya.

Aimee

One year ago today...

I totalled my beloved car. It wasn't a special car in any way, other than it was the first car I bought with money saved from an actual after-college job, and it wasn't purchased from a family member. I loved that car. I still miss it.

It amazes me how I responded that day. I'm actually kinda proud of my reactions, and truth be told I don't even regret the accident.

My mom actually told me that she would rather deal with an accident I was involved in any day of the week if it meant that she would never have to deal with an "Ari accident" again. Ari can be pretty difficult. I tend to be pretty calm and thoughtful when things like that happen. By the time Mom had arrived I'd already gone through all the insurance questions I had, and the trooper who came to do the accident report had looked my car over and informed me that it was probably a goner. I had a good 1/2 hour to adjust to life post-accident, and it was more than enough time to regain my mental balance. Things don't overwhelm me that easily.

My most proud moment was when I was sitting in the backseat of my parents car, waiting for the tow truck to finish getting my car back onto the road and then onto the back of his truck. I remember thinking (very sarchastically) that this was such a great way to start the day. I was really annoyed with myself for not slowing down enough before starting down a hill with pretty substantial curves on it. Especially after swerving all over the road in the slush & snow on the flat and straight areas I'd already gone through. I should have known better.

But as I sat there, I realized that that really was a great way to start the day - with a definite example of God's hand on my life. The area where my car eventually ended up had a creek running along the road, at the bottom of a 5 ft bank. Enough to flip my car over and into the creek upside down...which has happened several times to unsuspecting drivers. There are some trees between the road and the creek, but they aren't generally large enough to stop a car. But one stopped my car. Even if I could have gotten out of the drivers side, I wouldn't have - the creek bank started less than a foot from the side of my car. And my car was stopped by hitting a tree with just the back corner of it. All the physics that I learned say that that really shouldn't have happened. It should have kept spinning until at least the front end was in the creek.

I was so thankful. What a great way to start my day!

Sometimes I just need a little space...

Psalm 73:26 - My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

I've been really frustrated with my heart recently. I feel like my heart is a rock where God is concerned. Like he wants me to focus on Him, but I don't really care. I think its kind of a self-protection strategy; I'm just no longer willing to put my heart on the line for God. It leads to too much hurt.

But this verse gives me hope. My heart has failed, but its ok cause God's got my back. I can't unharden my heart, but I think God is ok with being the strength of my heart while I figure this all out. I'm strangely comforted by the idea of God stepping back and giving me space while I unharden my heart.

Imagine a married couple that was seperated but has decided to work things out and stay together. Its a long process. There is hurt on both sides, and pain, and mistrust. And sometimes you just need your space. But if your spouse is truely commited to a reconciliation, you are taking that space with the knowledge that he/she isn't going anywhere and actually can't wait until you're done needing space. They recognize the need for space, aren't threatened by it, and are capable of rejoicing at the closeness which separation can bring.

Thats where my relationship with God is right now. Sometimes I just need space. I'm not walking away. I'm just as commited to making my relationship with God work as He is. But I've been hurt by Him. Even if it just stems from my inability to understand/see His plans, its still hurt. And I'm pretty sure He's ok with my need for space sometimes, as it allows me time to think clearly and unemotionally. And I can come back, ready and willing to listen to what He's trying to tell me.

Home Sweet Home

Home can mean so many things to so many people. My mom didn't have a "home" for quite a few of her growing up years. I've lived in the same "home" all of my 25 years. And WNY really is my home. I love traveling to new places and discovering new "homes", but part of going is looking forward to returning again.

I've found many places where I feel at home. Like

when I go there, I become convinced that I could live there forever. And I don't think its a naive conviction either. Romania and Vietnam are the main 2. Actually the only 2 outside of WNY. I spent loads of time away from the tourist hubs in each of these countries, and I am convinced that I really could live in either country.

Today I miss Romania. I miss being there so much that I just want to sit here and cry. Which is strange, as I don't know anyone that lives there and I really only spent time in a small area of the country. But I miss it just the same.

And just like WNY, there are many things I don't miss about Romania. The racism for one. Every time I think about how bad it is here, I try to remind myself that at least its not like Romania. But also just like WNY, there are so many positives. Many more than I can list here.

Frustration

I like my job. I really do. Some days I have to remind myself of this frequently. Today is one of those days.

I just don't get one of my bosses. Last Friday, a bunch of us grunts were in the hallway chatting when she came in. Her first comment was actually "good morning", but her second comment followed quickly: "Why are you all standing around talking? Are the computers down?" None of us were clocked in. We each have an hour of break time during the day, and I don't recall anyone giving me a specific time that I could take it. So why can't I take it during the day. Actually, we get yelled at for talking too much all the time. We got an e-mail today telling us to stop discussing things amongst ourselves if we're wondering about something and to come to her. Thats kinda funny actually, since when we do come to her she either makes herself unavailable or she'll shoot us down. And I've heard her several times directly imply that someone was either lying or purposely making something up. Its like she feels that we are only here to screw with her life and her perfect office. She doesn't realize how much she screws herself up.

And its a darn good thing that she was lucky enough to become partners with Bob. And she was lucky to hire such great people for me to work with. Cause they're the only reasons I'm still here. She certainly isn't doing anyone any favors around here; that would require being nice, and that is too close to being weak. And we certainly can't admit to a weakness or to being not perfect or to making a mistake. Oh my, that would be bad.

Travelling

I spent a long weekend in Washington DC recently. I was very enjoyable. I was concerned with whether or not I would be able to relax adequately during 4 days, but I shouldn't have worried. While in Vietnam, I purposely worked on being able to relax. It came in handy while in DC, as I made the mental switch to vacation mode basically overnight. I would like to share a few of my experiences from this trip:

1. I got lost as soon as I came out of the Chinatown metro exit. I took one look at the Friendship Arch, knew that I had to go through it, and for some odd reason I turned right around and went the other way. It didn't take me too long to realize that I was lost, but I couldn't for the life of me get unlost. I wandered around like a mad woman for 1/2 an hour before I finally figured it out. During this period of wandering, I passed a black guy leaning up against a wall. He watched me as I walked by, and after I had passed him he said "excuse me" very quietly. I wasn't sure whether it was directed at me or not, so I just kept walking. I turned a few corners, realized I had gone the wrong way again, turned around again, and saw him again. It almost freaked me out to realize that he was following me, but he wasn't terribly close to me so I couldn't be positive that he was following me. But as I went by him again, he started walking with me. "Hi, I'm Donnell", he says. "I'm Aimee. Nice to meet ya. Know where the Verizon Center is?" "Nope. I'm from Leesburg; I have no idea where it is. Can I call you sometime?" At this point, I was a bit confused...is he a stalker, pick pocket, rapist, creeper, etc? "Ummmmm...no. Sorry." "Oh, ok. How bout you call me?" "Um. No. Sorry." "Ok, bye." That was the last I saw of him. I love random, innocent encounters.

2. The guys who ride the horses that pull the state funeral carriages at Arlington all seem to be young and good looking. And apparently they just drive their carriages out to some obscure area during the lunch hour and enjoy a picnic. I stumbled upon the black horses while wandering around Arlington. The 4 good looking guys I met let me pet their horses. It was wonderful ;)

3. While eating at a really really small El Salvadorian restaurant, an older French dude sat next to me (I was eating at the bar). He was apparently really big into the "free love" ideology from the hippy era, as it only took him 20 minutes to start trying to talk me into accepting the keys to his apartment. Wowza. I was very glad when one of the ladies staying in my room at the hostel came in...I don't think she expected to be used as a wingman that night.

There were many more random encounters, including a night out at The Reef with Chris, Daniel, Simon, Andre, Kent, and an Argentinan who's name I couldn't catch. Super fun. I should get to work now though :(

For my next trip, I'm thinking either Toronto for the Royal or Oklahoma for Bedlam. Or maybe both.

Three cheers for football!

I will no longer have to wonder what I'm going to be doing on my every-other-saturday off. If I have nothing planned I will be watching college football. And enjoying every minute.

I will no longer have to come up with something to do during the 2-3 hours between church and afternoon chores. I will be on the couch watching NFL (and sleeping through halftime).

I will no longer casually flip through the sports section of the morning newspaper. I become an avid reader once again.

I will always have something to talk about with my dad when we're milking together. He actually enjoys listening to my random rants about the politics surrounding college ball. Especially when they blow up in my face. And I enjoy coming up with said rants.

I will spend more time with my dad. Sure it's in front of the tv, and we'll be arguing about the relative merits of different coaches and players, but its still time with my dad.

I will be able to feed my love for AD (Adrian 'All-Day' Peterson). He is the best looking black dude I've ever seen. And he's a great person and player to boot.

I will be able to laugh at all the players that sucked in college and still managed to get drafted in the first couple of rounds. They will suck in the NFL as well. At least for a while.

I will be able to watch Knowshon Moreno attempt to be the next AD. And I will laugh while he's doing it.

I could have enjoyed following Sammy as he led the Sooners to another championship game. Now he's injured. I should have written this a week ago :(

I will be able to watch the Sooners battle back from losing their Heisman-winning QB and best TE to injuries. It will be a good test of their mettle.

I will hopefully be able to watch the Shootout and Bedlam. My fingers are crossed...

And last, but most definitely not least, I will have my faith encouraged by Tim Tebow. He challenges, inspires, and encourages me, and I've never even met him. And he also is good-looking. ;)



Hockey starts in less than a month. This is a good time of year. *contented sigh*

In other news - I'm working my butt off trying to get work done, and I feel like I am being undermined by one of my bosses. Not cool. And I officially have glasses. But just for driving. I do kinda like them though.

Silence is the Perfectest Herald of Joy

I don't remember who said that. Probably if I googled it I could find out, but I don't care right now. This post isn't really about joy, or silence, or heralding. It's about making a difference, the right way - the Godly way.

It is the week of our local county fair. I've been really praying for God to use me this week as a minister to the dairy/show community that turns up every year, and that I would be aware of the opportunities to share as they come up. I don't know if I'm just not paying enough attention or what is going on, but I haven't encountered any situations where I felt like I was called to speak or act. Until yesterday that is.

I called in a favor from my brother last night for someone else. I asked him to bring a few bales of hay for a group that had run out. He brought it up and the parent who had asked me to call him never even acknowledged his presence. Never said thank you. Never even looked at him.

I was incensed. They asked me to call him with this favor, and thats they kind of reception they give him? I did mention it to her later, and she gave me $5 for his trouble. But then I found out later that she wasn't too happy and had been talking about me/him. And different members of my family started texting me about how rude that was. I was stuck between feeling the need to defend my friends and protect my brother from their rudeness.

It occured to me that maybe this was one of the opportunities I've been looking for. I was so angry though. I couldn't sleep much last night because I was racking my brain trying to figure out how to turn this situation into a good one. And I've been thinking about it almost nonstop since then. My first (and strongest) instinct was to go in there with both guns blazing. But I did want to make God proud with the way I handled this.

But maybe I'm not supposed to say anything. Maybe I'm making too big of a deal out of this. I did discuss it with a co-worker and we kinda decided that I should say something but that it should be kept positive. Like, "Josiah wasn't looking for money, he just wanted to bless you guys by doing you a favor. He would have really appreciated some kind of acknowledgment, rather than a complete dismissal." I feel peace about this.

But I'm still getting angry just thinking about it. If it was just me I would be ok. But don't mess with my brother.

Poetry and valleys

I've been dealing with my past a lot recently. Well, I think its been 6 months or so that Gods been kinda gently pushing me towards this point. Each struggle and valley I've gone through was just one more bit of proof that God didn't really care about me. I know that this isn't true, but it really felt that way. Each time I would ask God why, and I never got an answer. Or maybe I just didn't get the answer I was looking for; I'm not sure which it was. But I do know that if he wanted to fix my situations (past and present) that He is fully qualified to do so. And He never did remove me from them, so must be He really doesn't care about me. Even though every bit of my Bible-referencing head rejected this though, my heart really believed it, and my heart was broken. But still nothing changed. I was still broken hearted over Gods abandonment, but then it became more.

Anger, bitterness, frustration - You said you loved me, God! Were those just words?!? Why? I don't understand...

Even now those feelings come back. But my eyes have been opened over the past week, maybe two weeks. My discussion with one of my co-workers last wednesday, the sermon I heard yesterday, my devotions...all pointed out to me that God uses our valleys to His glory. The absolute worst part is that we seldom can see it at the time and it truely feels like He's abandoned us.

Several times this past week my mind was taken back to a poem I read maybe six months ago. Its funny that now I can see where reading that poem was the starting point to me climbing out of my valley. And I've only read it once in passing, but I could still remember the name of it, and its author so that I could google it again. The author, Terry Anderson, is actually from my hometown of Batavia, NY. He was caputured by Shiites in 1985 and lived for 7 years in captivity in Lebanon. During this time he became a Christian and began writing poetry. He was the last of a group of hostages to be released in 1991.




Stigmata X
No man can ever start anew completely;
he's everything he's ever done
or said or failed to do.
Each bit is added on,
Altering the whole,
But covering, not replacing
what has gone before.
A piece of unfired clay,
he bears the marks
and scars of all his years.
Not just clay, though--
sculptor, too;
he helps to mold himself:
Objects, artist, audience.
Sometimes, though, larger hands--
destiny, fate, karma, God--
take firmly hold and,
wielding fierce events,
risk fracture to hack
and carve away some
awkward, ugly bits.
The final work cannot be seen
until it's fired,
and all fires cooled.
Paul knew: suffering and pain
are the truest ways,
the only ways for some of us,
to draw out that within
which answers to
the purpose of it all.

The curse of life

There are many "curses of life" out there, but the one I'm referring to today is this whole idea of not being able to sleep even though you need, want, and have to sleep. It is truely one of the worst curses I've had to endure.

It happened again last night. I was awake way more often than I was asleep. I tried reading, tossing & turning, and thinking. Usually on a particularly bad night (like last night) I'll give up after a few hours and just watch tv. But last night I didn't really want to go downstairs, and since we've got the whole digital tv thing going on now, I can't watch tv in my room anymore. I mean, I guess I could if I could just get around to buying a stinking converter box.

So I'm not sure what I want to write about today. I think I'm just procrastinating on getting to work, possibly because I have so much work to do and I am overwhelmed with where to start.

I had a wonderful ride on my horse last night. First though, I cleaned him up really good. He was spotless, which is saying something when you're dealing with a white horse. We got real good and sweaty while riding, so I thought I'd be nice to him and let him roll around a bit in his pasture when we got back home. I didn't expect him to find the only muddy spot left in the entire pasture to roll in. So my white horse is a disgusting mud color now. Yuck. But he is still terribly cute :)