Me of Little Faith

Sometimes I don't write because there really isn't anything to say. Other times, I don't write because I have something to say but don't know if it's worth documenting- if I write, it means that I have to be vulnerable. Lately, the latter has been most applicable. Well, I think it's time to be vulnerable and document.

It is in that moment of doubt that you lose yourself. Doubting your purpose. Doubting your worth. It is when you take your eyes off of Jesus that you begin to sink to your watery grave. It's like I've been drowning in the salty water of decision making, gasping for the air that I hope will give me answers. But through it all, I've received no answers. No clarification. No miraculous sign from God to show me what I'm supposed to do with my life. Nothing. Just empty discouragement.

Yet, as I gazed longingly at the Savior, my eyes slowly descending beneath the water line, I realized what had happened. My faith had failed, and instead of keeping my eyes on the One who rules all, I looked at the size of the waves and the strength of the wind, and my focus on Jesus was shifted to my lack of strength. Who was I to walk on water? I wasn't anyone at all, and I didn't deserve to be defying any sort of laws of nature. I couldn't do it. I wasn't capable. Well, I was right. I wasn't capable. What I didn't and still don't always understand is that, that's the point. Jesus allowed Peter to sink for that brief moment because Peter pulled his eyes away from Jesus, even if just for a moment. That brief glance at the water represented Peter's reliance on himself. Peter was no longer trusting in Jesus for strength.

As I, metaphorically, walked on the water, I realized in just a moment that I didn't know where I would step next. I had no plan, and even if I did, I probably wouldn't be able to complete it. Well, Jesus hasn't called me to know where I am going on the water. He has just called me to walk, my eyes fixed on Him. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters wherever You will call me." -Hillsong United

I know God has called me to serve Him, whether I know the specifics or not. The question isn't where I'm going, but whether I'm willing to go or not. Though I fight discouragement, confusion and lack of direction, I know that there's more to this story than meets the eye. An easy life is not an option in life of a Jesus follower, and I must realize that if I'm not willing to serve God while not knowing His calling, I won't be willing to serve God while knowing His calling. Knowing isn't the issue. It's the step of faith that defines the follower. No wind, no wave, no lack of footing can prevent me from accomplishing God's purpose for my life. May I keep my eyes on Jesus, no matter the storm.

Matthew 14:22-32 

22 Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. 23 And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24 but the boat by this time was a long way[a] from the land,[b] beaten by the waves, for the wind was against them. 25 And in the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea.26 But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, “It is a ghost!” and they cried out in fear. 27 But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.” 28 And Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”29 He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind,[c] he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out,“Lord, save me.” 31 Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” 32 And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased.

The Poem of Unrest

Miles and miles by car or flight,

The world seemed to have shrunk,

The Caribbean star, the Arabian night,

A filled, yet empty trunk.

To pasture grand with roaming horse,

Or eastern salty wave,

So far to learn, no past remorse,

I thought that I was brave.

And though the travels did entice,

My heart was left behind,

I found that though each place was nice,

My love was not that kind.

Romantic dreams of southern stage,

Made faulty thoughts unkempt,

And though the dreamer dreamt a page,

The words were still unmet.

Expectations, inspirations,

All but really fake,

Though I still have aspirations,

It’s not my time to take.

Willing attempt, decision and plan,

Each a noble cause,
Still fall short for every man,

They’re destination flaws.

Every place, experience galore,

Though rewarding in their way,

Leave its partakers wanting more,

Grown hunger every day.

One thing fulfills and does suffice,

Its mysteries unfailing,

Few prove willing to pay the price:

Surrender and exhaling. 

The Room

As I sit in my bedroom at home, its history haunts me, reminding me of who I've been and how God has changed me. I remember when I moved into this room-- eight years old and completely unaware of the utterly different, yet curiously similar girl that would sleep in the room thirteen years later.
The pictures on the wall have hung there for about nine years, some for longer and some shorter.
On the wall to the left of my closet hangs the wolf poster I designed in 6th grade (that was the class project that sparked my love for the crazy beasts) and a variety of other wolf pictures. To some, it may be an odd fascination, but I love wolves, nonetheless. Another glimpse of the nerdy-self.

The figures on my dresser have collected there over the years, my 1st grade softball trophy being the oldest member of the collection. On one side of my mirror hangs my kindergarten graduation tassel, and on the other side hangs my high school graduation cap.
The miniature piano music box given to me by my piano teacher of eight years sits on the dresser as well, and I remember the many frustrating, yet absolutely incredible years of piano lessons. I think of how my piano teacher didn't just teach me how to play an instrument but how to live a song. She always reminded me of why I should play and Who I should play for, and I haven't forgotten.

Each poster and picture on the wall has a memory and a background. In high school, I hung the 1 Peter 3:3-4 poster above my mirror to daily remind myself of the beauty that lasts in life. Pictures of my family all around my room, because I am blessed by them. Pictures of childhood friends scattered here and there, whether I'm still friends with those folks or not. Why I do keep the pictures? To remind me that friends come and go, but the LORD remains. Posters of childhood fandom and adulthood realizations, Bible verses that have especially made a difference in crucial points in my life and things with memories. I hung John 14:27 at the end of my bed during the times of consecutive nightmares, and it reminds me every night of the peace in Jesus Christ.

The bookshelf that holds many of my favorite classics and even more of my unread, literature goals. I haven't conquered the whole mini-library yet, but someday it will happen (although the books constantly seem to multiply). Books from my childhood sit up there-- the ones that sparked my love for story-telling.

The memory chest is a newer addition to my room, but one of my favorite parts of it. When we found it in the attic, I knew it would be in my life for a while. No matter how unexciting or unenchanting it's outward appearance may be, it's inward contents are priceless. Old journals, even older pictures, little artifacts that remind me of the people that have come and gone through my life, glimpses of myself from the past and dreams for myself in the future. Few secrets, but many stories.

Such a little room, yet so much history of my small life.

This summer, I plan to move to my sister's old room.
Maybe it's for the extra space. Maybe it's for the change. Maybe it's for both.
Maybe it's to remind myself that a room with a past does not define me.
It will be hard to say goodbye to this room, but it will always be my room.
No one knows it like I do.

It's time to move on.

A Girl and Her Journal

Tonight, I finally finished my latest journal. I'm not sure what number journal it was, because I've filled many a journal, but I'm sure it's up in the teens somewhere.
Anyway, I'm moving onto a new journal and sort of feeling nostalgic.
The relationship between a girl and her journal is a beautiful thing.. delicate, honest and vulnerable. A journal knows its girl's deepest thoughts, hardest aches, happiest joys, silliest rambles, most illogical feelings, most embarrassing experiences, funniest quirks and sincerest sentiments.

This completed journal's name is Daisy... yeah, I name my journals. Lame, but true. I don't actually address the journal by it's given name, I just like to think it has a little bit of personality. I haven't had a journal named Daisy yet, and, it being my pen name and all, I thought it would be appropriate to have at least one Daisy journal.

Daisy's seen my entire junior year of college up until this point, so it's sort of weird starting a new one at the end of February, but ya know. What can ya do. My new journal is pretty spiffy, and I'm still trying to think up a good name for her, so if you have any suggestions, do share!

To fill up the last few pages of Daisy, I decided to list a few things that I need to do more, want to do more or just want to do in general. The list sort of turned into more than just a few things, but here's what came out of the list:

• Read my Bible more
• Pray more often
• Be thankful
• Be more loving
• Be more generous
• Listen
• Be kinder
• Talk about myself LESS.
• Trust God more
• Be less self-conscious
• Have more self-control
• Not take things so personally
• Guard my heart
• Don't idolize anything
• Love Jesus MOST
• Love people second
• Try new things
• Don't give up
• Work hard
• Take breaks
• Enjoy every day
• Love the little moments
• Let a guy pursue me
• Be ok with being single
• Remember God provides
• Don't plan every moment
• Take a breath
• Focus
• Don't waste
• Spend less time on social media (which I'm on right now... just spent 15 minutes scrolling twitter. That's a problem).
• Be happy =) even when things are just "eh"
• Start exercising more
• Get better at swimming
• Play more piano
• Hug people
• Be selfless
• But have boundaries
• HUG lots of people... oh I said that one already
• Read a lot!
• Be creative
• Think outside the box
• Just think in general
• Read about how to train dogs so that one day I can own one
• Learn to sew
• Write a book already!
• Eat better
• Finish this journal already...
• Be GOOFY and not care if people are JUDGIN' (I really did write it that way)...
• But know when to be serious
• Never stop telling stories
• Hike more
• Go for more late night walks and never forget the pumpkin seeds!
• Never take any season for granted
• Pray instead of complain
• Write and never stop
• Keep my eyes open and don't overlook people
• Be myself & no one else.
• Stop comparing myself to others
• Be an example
• Be a mentor
• Seek a mentor
• Never think so highly of myself that I don't serve
• Be confident
• Don't be arrogant
• Be honest
• Don't be afraid to confront issues
• If I wouldn't want people knowing it, don't say it.
• Learn to knit something other than a scarf....
• Go to Europe
• Do whatever it is God allows me to do with my major and rock it!
• Love Jesus ALWAYS
• Never take my family and friends for granted

So that's how I filled Daisy's last few pages. She lived a good life, and I think she ended it well, too.

Hello, new journal, new memories, new lessons, new stories, new thoughts and new perspectives. Enjoy me, in older form!

Julie & Julia & Daisy

This weekend I watched "Julie & Julia." Would it be dramatic to say that it sort of changed my life?
Yeah it probably would be since it did not actually in fact change my life.

However, I did happen to gain a small education from this film.

1. I do not want to work at an insurance company answering phones. 
2. Actually, maybe I could work at an insurance company answering phones and write about everyone's really ridiculous stories that they call in about. Or is that illegal? ......Maybe I should just stay away from this.
3. Blogging really is wonderful. However, I need to focus my blog to a specific audience... or at least start another one that does so.
4. I really do not understand cooking lingo. I should probably look into that if I'm ever going to read a cookbook.. and cook from it. And not poison everyone who eats of the results.
5. Note to self: never put my writing endeavors before people. Putting my own thoughts and opinions before tangible human beings who are in the real world is just asking to be alone for the rest of my life.
6. Julia Child is hilarious, and I would have loved to be her friend. In fact, my mom sort of reminds me of her. I don't know if that will insult my mother to tell her that, so.. mmm.. better not. Either way, my mom is cool.
7. This may be Meryl Streep's finest movie. This woman can act.
8. Pearls really do make everyone classier. 
9. I wonder if cooking lobster is really as hard as it looks? Also, I should probably try lobster sometime... especially since I'm from New England. Yes, I am from the Boston area and have never in fact tasted lobster. Fail, self. Fail. 
10. I want to create a project blog just like Julie. You know, the kind of blog that keeps readers hooked and longing to see what happens next. I want it to be honest. Vulnerable. Unleashing the quirky. Entertaining. Inspiring. 

I need ideas. I guess there isn't really a rush... but then again, if I don't do this now, I probably never will (or at least I'll put it off until I'm 42 and my hypothetical children are in high school).

Time to use my investigative reporting skills and research the internet for all that is missing in it. That's so hard... that's like trying to complete one of those "Spot the Difference" puzzles. If you've ever tried one of these, hopefully you aren't as bad as I am. Being observant isn't one of my finest skills. Remind me why I'm a journalism major again?

Can you "spot the differences?"
Hey look, it's Julia Child baking a cake! And... me? And a cat!

What can I bring to the imaginary table?

Well, I have no answers for now, but I'll be thinking. And praying.
This may seem sort of petty to pray about, but I do believe that anything I write is to glorify God anyway, so of course I would pray about this.

Guess we'll find out what happens!

Boston Love

There's nothing like ringing in the New Year by spending the day in Boston. Ok, it wasn't exactly ringing it in, per say, but January 2nd is pretty close.

When I went away to school in the South, I think I tried to convince myself that I would somehow realize that I was a southern girl at heart. I always romanced the South in my mind, making it a place of country bliss. It's like there's some sort of syndrome where you want to run wild and free away from your roots the moment you leap over the fence. Well, needless to say, my whole adventure seemed to produce opposite emotions. The distance and culture difference not only opened my eyes to my love for the North but also seemed to blow up my northern heart into a giant, Boston-shaped sun ray. Seriously though, something snapped in me. I have taken my amazing New England for granted.

 
Now, I can't get enough. The sharp Boston accents, the fast-paced environment, professionals and classy folks, the rich history, the small New England towns nearby, the sweeping trees, the majestic mountains of the far North, the wiry winters (though bitterly cold and easily frustrating), the airy summers, the breath-taking foliage in autumn and spring's fresh scent in the nipping April air. It's all so perfect. It's like a romantic dream dripped in history and drenched in class.

Honestly, Bostonians and, well, New Englanders in general, are so very misunderstood. No, we're not cold, grumpy folks with no sense of family and lacking in hospitality. We're not mistrusting brutes. We're street savvy with wise minds. We love those close to us with a passion, but don't leave our remarks for when you turn your back. We're honest. We're friendly, but you'll hear it how it is. No fluff. And I can tell you, I think I've just about HAD it with fluff (not marshmallow fluff.. that stuff is heavenly).Especially in churches. But that's another story for another time.

Now don't get me wrong, the South has it's charms and beauties as well, I just happen to be partial to the realism that I believe exists in the North.

There's beauty in reality that I think people miss on a daily basis.

Life is beautiful, and I'm proud of where I've grown up. The Boston area is the first place my parents (and all of my relatives for that matter) experienced in the United States, but it hasn't been the last. I'm so thankful for the memories that are cued in my mind when I'm surrounded by the New England folk, and I'm thankful that the memories are fond and beautiful.

Princess Heather and the Swinging Suitor

Last night, my best friend Heather couldn't sleep, so I decided to tell her a bedtime story via Facebook chat.
Below is the result. Enjoy!

"Princess Heather and the Swinging Suitor."

Once upon a time (cause every story has to start with that if it's going to end well) there was a beautiful princess named Heather.

Now Heather liked lots of things like flowers and pumpkin munchkins and anything that did not contain dairy products.

She loved music and dancing, and when she was alone she loved PR.

So one day, Heather decided to gather up all of her favorite things and make a song about it.

She decided it would also be useful to sing the song to a multitude of children during a thunderstorm.. and then eventually use the drapes to make them clothing. ("Sound of Music" reference).

While this seemed illogical, Heather decided it was worth the joy that she would bring these children.. and maybe it would bring her a wonderful prince, because everyone knows that princesses all eventually marry a prince... they don't marry anyone less noble. Unless it was Hugh Jackman. Who is a Duke. ("Kate and Leopold" reference).

So anyway, off Heather went, drape-clothed children, favorite things and all...

into the woods they roamed. Dancing and singing and playing with gnomes, until a giant possum emerged from the depths of the darkness.

 The giant possum made its way towards Princess Heather and the children as they stood frozen in their tracks, frightened and confused.

"Why is there a giant possum in the woods!" yelled one child. 

"And why is it dark? It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon!" yelled another.

 "Hush children," said the princess. "The louder you are the more likely the possum will eat you. Also, it's always dark in the forest." ("Anne of Green Gables" reference)

The children all held each others mouths shut since we all know children can't be quiet ever.

So... the possum approached... it's long, fanciful fangs dripping blood and it's eyes seeking satisfaction (for the possum was hungry and trees and bark just aren't satisfying).

Just when the children thought that they would be the solution to this possum's discontentment, Princess Heather saw a light. It was the light bulb above her head. 

She had a plan.

"I shall do my bird call and it shall emerge the birds into the woods!" "You have a bird call?" asked one of the lads. "Not yet," she replied, "But Snow White does this all the time. I know it will work."

"Question," said one of the frightened girls. 

"Why aren't the birds already in the woods? Why do they have to emerge?"

"Stop asking questions," Princess Heather replied, very irritated at the children's ignorance. "You're all nonsensical. I made you clothing out of drapes-- don't you trust me!"

This silenced the children, for she was right. She had never let them down before, and if Princess Heather wanted to emerge the birds, she would emerge them, especially since Snow White was her support in this matter.

The bird call she made was like none other... almost like a shrieking of sorts.

No movement.

"Why didn't it work!?" yelled little Alfred. "Hush. No nonsense," she replied.

And again she shrieked.. er, I mean called.

What happened next was not exactly what Heather expected.

Though birds did not emerge, something else did. Thump, thump, thump. 

Heather couldn't believe her eyes.

Not one, but two bears plopped themselves merrily towards the possum.

"We're saved!!!" yelled the children.

The two bears took quite a while to destroy the possum, not because they were incapable, but only because they could not agree on which would get the head and which would get the bottom.

Once a compromise was finally reached, the bears soon devoured the possum leaving only its tale, because no one likes cartilage.

"HOORAY!" yelled the children. But Heather stood speechless.

She knew there was more to this situation than met the eye. Actually, it was quite evident to the eye, but at this moment everyone was blinded by the fact that the two larger bears just devoured their smaller enemy.

"Stop! There's a bigger problem here, children! Grab your drapes... these bears are still hungry."

This comment caused all of the children to shriek... bringing more bears. Goldilocks was relieved.

So, everyone was surrounded.

There was no hope.

But what's this? A gentleman swinging from trees? This confused Princess Heather, because normally gentlemen don't swing from trees, especially when they're wearing suit coats with tales.

The bears recklessly strained their necks to see what all the commotion was about above them, causing some of their heads to snap off of their bodies.

This resolved some of the bear-problem, but yet some of the smarter bears simply tilted their heads carefully and remained alive.

The gentleman swung and he swung.. and yet he swung more until he reached a high branch, unreachable to the ferocious beasts.

There were only four bears left at this point, leaving the suited man with a few more options than before.

Princess Heather knew she had to do something to divert the attention from the man, so... she did the first thing that came to her mind.

She danced.

She danced and she danced, the draperies swinging about merrily.

Then something magical happened:

Not only did the children begin to dance, but so did the bears.

Not only did the bears begin to dance, but so did the possum (and the possum was dead, so this was magical indeed).

Not only did the possum begin to dance, but so did the birds (who had refused to come because they don't respond to shrieking).

Not only did the birds begin to dance, but so did the trees and the rivers and the ants and even some of the skunks (who like to frighten women who stick their heads in their cages). (Youtube video, "Killer Karaoke" reference).

Princess Heather paused a moment in her dancing endeavors and watched the motions of the forest.

The entire forest had erupted into dance. Bears dancing with children and children dancing with skunks. The Creator would be pleased to see his creation as He intended it.

The gentleman looked from above, his suit coat swaying in the breeze, the sweat dripping from his dark brow and his eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

"This woman. She is ravishing."

As he peered from the trees, admiring her beauty and elegant dance, he decided he would marry her if it was the last thing he did.

But first, he must not miss out on this dance, because no gentleman misses a ball.

Arms spread majestically, he dove into the dancing forest and landed into a pile of leaves doing a jig as well.

It tickled a bit so he was forced to giggle but then he composed himself, because we all know that gentlemen don't giggle.

(except for Andrew)

The man quickly brought himself to his feet and pushed through the dancing crowd of forest friend, struggling to find the dancing queen, young and sweet only 17. But he was mistaken because she was 20.

Finally he reached her.. the woman of his dreams.. her light brown hair blowing in the wind and her big blue eyes sparkling with relief. "Miss! May I have this dance!"

She was astonished. She couldn't believe her ears. Who was this suited stranger who had come to rescue her? Why was he now seeking a dance? She shrugged. "Oh well," she thought, "He's charming and handsome, and I'm young, beautiful and can make clothing quite creatively."

So they danced.

And danced.

The bears still dancing, the children still dancing, the skunk still dancing... the forest dancing.

But all of this seemed to be nonexistent as the two shared their dance. All they saw was the trees, hanging like a canopy above their heads.

Amidst the dance, however, Princess Heather, the PR in her arising, remembered that once the dancing ended, so would their lives (for the bears were still hungry and their appetite would only increase due to intense dance).

"Stop," she whispered to the man. "We must take the children and leave. I am hungry, and if I am hungry the bears are hungry and if the bears are hungry we will no longer be hungry because we will no longer be."

The man was slightly lost, but decided that Heather was too beautiful to argue with. So he grabbed her hand along with all of the children's hands (I'm not sure how managed to hold all of their hands at once, but gentlemen find ways) and they sneaked out of the dancing gang, past the bears, through the woods and up to a mountain.

"Let's get married!" he shouted victoriously. "OK!" she yelled, staring into his dark, melancholy eyes.

"Wait! But what about the children?!"

She stopped abruptly.

"The children? Well they have drapes, isn't that enough?"

She was offended by this comment and he knew it, so he quickly came up with a solution.

"Let's send them to a convent and they can all become nuns!"

"But the majority of them are boys," she said logically.

"They can become monks then!"

This seemed reasonable to Princess Heather.

So off they sent the children, each to their convent and monastery.

And the gentleman, whose name is unknown to the public, and Princess Heather lived happily ever after as they skipped through the mountains singing joyous melodies about climbing mountains and yodeling peddlers.

The End.