Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Downhere - Here I Am

if I could write a song, I would have written this one.  It's my favorite. 

Francesca Battistelli ~~ Motion of Mercy w/ Lyrics

Ohio Winters.....

Here's my favorite part of an Ohio winter:

This is view in our backyard.  The field to the right of our house is stunning.  Unfortunately I didn't take a picture :( I should have!
This is the from the front of our home.  The sunset was beautiful.  This picture just doesn't do it justice.  It only lasted a few minutes.






These are the moments that I just live for.  I just love where we live.  Even if we are in city limits (by about two feet)  otherwise I would have chickens.  I completely fall in love with nature seemingly every day.  

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Who Am I?

After my amazingly personal and thoughtful posts I did yesterday, I'm really not sure what to write.
I think part of the charm of blogging is that it's almost like a dramatic diary.  I have tried journaling, my results were awful I'm afraid, I just can't get into the idea that nobody will read it except me, there's no fun in that.  Why would I write down on paper my personal thoughts that no living soul would ever see, opposed to writing down my thoughts and the entire world has access.  It's not that I'm not a secretive person, I have plenty of secrets (no, I'm not going to tell you any) Neither am I a people person.  At times I can be the worse people hater and the next I'm a very friendly people lover (still not sure why I'm like that)   I just think that a blog is almost something that keeps me real.  People get to see a little peak into me as a person.  Not many people really know me.  I keep things very general when I talk to people, hardly ever get personal, and it doesn't help that I'm naturally kind of quiet.  Yet I love the idea that people are reading about me.  Yep, that's me, extremely "keep to myself" and at the same time loving the publicity (what?)
I'm still trying to figure this out myself I'm afraid.  If this doesn't make any sense to you, I totally understand.  It's not making any sense to me!

Actually, about nobody reads this blog so it's almost like a diary.  But I honestly love writing.  I am not the most exquisite talker and writing seems to give me a bit of a break from trying to be a magnificent talker :)  I don't like to be watched (I actually have severe stage fright) but I love having my work (writing) on display because it's essentially a part of who I am, yet it's not exactly the whole me (stay with me here)  I think that what I'm trying to say is that I don't like the physical me being put on display, but I like having my writing seen because it gives me that little bit of publicity that I can be in control of.   Hopefully this makes sense, and next time I'll hopefully write something much more eloquent.  

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Here What We're Not Saying

Read this:

Please....Hear What I'm Not Saying

Don't be fooled by me.  Don't be fooled by the mask I wear.  For I wear a mask, I wear a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me.  Pretending is an art that is a second nature with me, but don't be fooled. 
....I give the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without; that confidence is my name and coolness is my game; that the waters are calm and that I'm in command and I need no one.  But don't believe it; please don't.
I idly chatter with you in the suave tones of surface talk.  I tell you everything that's really nothing, nothing of what's crying within me.  So when I'm going through my routine, don't be fooled by what I'm saying.  Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying;  what I'd like to be able to say; what, for survival, I need to say but I can't say.  I dislike the hiding.  Honestly I do.  I dislike the superficial phony games I'm playing. I'd really like to be genuine, spontaneous, and me; but you have to help me.  You have to help me by holding out your hand, even when that's the last thing I seem to want or need.  Each time you are kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings.  Very small wings.  Very feeble wings.  But wings.  With your sensitivity and sympathy and your power of understanding, I can make it.  You can breathe life into me.  It will not be easy for you.  A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.  But love is stronger than strong walls, and therein lies my hope.  Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands,  for a child is very sensitive, and I am a child. 
Who am I, you may wonder.  For I am every man, every woman, every child....every human you meet. 

I think that this echoes my heart and many others.  Think of this when you look at people.  It makes you see them from a completely different set of eyes.  

My Life.....

here I am again, I have officially cured my dog from the enormous ice balls that he picked up during his play-time outside.  Now I'm going to give you a look into my heart and thoughts, because that's what your supposed to do on blogs.

I'm sure most of you will know my long life story that has been crammed into my short existence here on planet earth.  At the age of twelve months I was adopted from Russia, lived as a missionary kid in Spain for almost five years, then as a pastors kid for the last I can't remember how many years.  When I complain to my parents about my unfortunate life of being adopted, an MK, TCK, PK,  HK,  and WK.  I'll explain:  MK stands for missionary kid, TCK stands for third culture kid, PK stands for pastor's kid, HK stands for homeschooled kid, and WK stands for weird kid.  People are often surprised when I tell them how it's affected me being a missionary kid,  they're like, "But you left when you were five. How can that have affected you so much?"  It's not that simple.  Some of the most foundational years in a child's life is preschool and kindergarten.  I spent both those years overseas.  Third culture kid applies to missionary kid, military kid, basically anyone who has spent most of their lives moving around, whether in the States or overseas.  Being a pastor's kid has it's disadvantages, believe it or not.  Luckily my dad isn't the 'up front' guy any more, so I'm less known.  But often you feel like people know too much about you, they're judging you, talking about you behind your back, or thinking you're a goody-two-shoes because your dad is the pastor.  Some of these thoughts can be just a dose of your own imagination, but it doesn't stop the bit of resentment that you might feel because of it.  Being homeschooled can be a fun and not so fun.  If you tell someone that you're homeschooled you are automatically socially deprived, uneducated, and freak.  Now I am not socially deprived, definitely not uneducated (I can attest to that), and I don't think that I'm a freak.  Well, maybe I am because I don't stay out with friends after curfew, don't date, love my parents to death, appreciate my siblings, and am not always striving to be popular (I would rather be actually LIKED than popular where no one really cares about you as an individual human being)  I'm afraid all of the above make me weird.

Despite all this I appreciate what God has allowed to happen to me.  Being adopted has made me who I am today, and it gives me a deep love for children in other countries who are abandoned, or cannot be taken care of by their parents.   Being a former missionary kid (i kind of still am, only we're missionaries in the U.S.) has shown me that there's a lot more to life than small town Ohio.  I know that there is so much more to life than who's school beat who's in football.  I don't feel like I'm better than this people group because I happen to have white skin.  It just gives me a bigger, better love for people in general.  I'm homeschooled.  Hey, I have a generally good reputation, babysit for people during school hours,  I can make time for my family and friends, and I have better grades than the average public schooled kid. Living the life of a pastor's kid is lots of fun! Sometimes.  I know a lot of the behind the scenes stuff that most people wouldn't ever be told.  I know things before the rest of the church do, and I have more opportunities for reaching out to people in the area.

If you asked me what I want to be doing in ten years this is what I would tell you:
I will hopefully have graduated from medical school, woking as a full time R.N.  I will work near my home (i like my family too much to leave them) and will volunteer for disaster relief.  I want to be actively involved with my church music, youth, and mission trips.  I would love to be able to mentor younger girls. I will basically be a total set-apart girl and living the life God has given me.  Now I might not be doing that.  I might be giving shots to savages in the Amazon :)   Actually, it's just my goal to follow God's leading whether that's in Alaska, Mexico, China, or here in the USA.
Even in all the ugliness that comes with my life the pain, hurt, resentment, and insecurity I love that I have been able to live my life like I have. 

Monday, February 17, 2014

Just Me?

Is is just me or does everybody have those days where the world seems perfect (and i'm perfect too) and then the next day you just crash and things couldn't get any worse?  I think I can tell what mood I'm going to be in by my dreams.  Last night I dreamed that I was a little boy  (way too weird) and I died, that was a sad dream.  My alarm clock wakes me up, I struggle into the waking mode to get ready for the day,  then I'm over at my grandparent's trying to work through the type of story problems that you have nightmares about,  and here I am working on my blog trying to figure out, still, if I'm having a bad day or not.  I'm indecisive of whether it's bad or just worse.   I think that Monday's are usually hard for me because it's back to school after a glorious weekend of doing absolutely nothing, and then I'm back, slaving away at my textbooks.  I really don't care if cumulus clouds are fluffy,  or that Joe is eighteen years older that John and John is two years older than Meg,  nor do I care that shelves get dusty after a week and I need to take my duster to them, and I definitely don't care if the dishes sit in the sink for a week or that I have laundry spread all over my room (my mother does).
I think that I do care a little, but not enough to actually do what I need to do.  I'd much rather read a book and eat a doughnut (preferably a glazed doughnut, I'm not crazy about sprinkles)
Either this, or I need a serious nap seeing as my eyes are slowly shutting.   I thought caffeine was supposed to keep me awake, I loaded myself with it this morning and it seems to be accomplishing nothing.   Maybe I'm complaining to any listening ear.  Or I'm being hopelessly annoying, or I'm slowly going through denial that I'm alive.  Maybe these are just the random thoughts that come to my mind.  I'm rarely like this, so you can see now that I do have those days where I JUST DON'T CARE!!!  

Monday, February 10, 2014

Thought For Your Day

Here's a thought for the day:
from my grandmother's daily devotional.  This is the thought for my birthday, and my favorite.

I am pleased with you, my child.  Allow yourself to become fully aware of My pleasure shining upon you.  You don't have perform well in order to receive My Love.  In fact, a performance focus will pull you away from Me, toward some sort of Pharisaism.  This can be a subtle form of idolatry: worshiping your own good works.  It can also be a source of deep discouragement when your works don't measure up to your expectations.
       Shift your focus from your performance to My radiant Presence.  The Light of My Love shines on you continually, regardless of your feelings or behavior.  Your responsibility is to be receptive to this unconditional Love.  Thankfulness and trust are your primary receptors.  Thank Me for everything; trust me at all times.  These simple disciplines will keep you open to My loving Presence. 

For it is by grace you have been saved through faith-- and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God-- by works, sot that no one can boast. --Ephesians 2:8-9

I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in you inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.  And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have the power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. --Ephesians 3:16-19

Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge. --Psalm 62:8

I don't remember who wrote this, but I think it's one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen or heard. 

Monday, February 3, 2014

Super Bowl Blues

So the Superbowl was last night.  I'm not a football fan and know little to nothing about it, but there  is something about the Superbowl (mainly the food and commercials).  I spent the big night scrapbooking (in which I am very behind, I am definitely switching to digital, the mess of spreading everything out just overwhelms me like nothing ever could. Now I don't get overwhelmed very easy)
Cleaning the oven, I overturned cake batter INSIDE the oven, watching Brady Bunch, drinking rootbeer floats, and watching what my eight year old sister would call a mushy chick flick; however, I can't see how an Elizabeth Gaskill could even be compared to a "chick-flick".  While my brother and father watch the game at my grandparents' house.  Usually we all go to some persons house (since we don't have TV) but this year we spent the time in a much more pleasant evening. I have yet to watch a Superbowl that held my interest for more than five minutes at a time, now I understand that for most guys the Superbowl is a crucial night in their lives,  but for me it's a night of food and commercials, usually the half-time is just plain stupid.

This year instead of doing a regular Bible reading plan I'm trying to memorize Psalms 119.  No, I'm not crazy.
I just thought that instead of freaking out every month because I save a big hunk of my Bible reading till the 30th I have been on a schedule to read the Bible in a year, where you do so much every month. Not my thing since I'm a famous for my procrastination skills.  I'll do something I enjoy more.  I love the Psalms and 119 is one that has always held my interest.  Since I enjoy memorizing (to a certain extent, mind you) I thought I'd give it a try. Oh, and I'm also getting paid to do it :) that helps my motivation a little :-)  Not to mention that I think that reading Deuteronomy again would KILL me. I love how David writes Psalms 119.  It's a poem, and the theme is God's word.  It shows you what kind of man David was, someone who loved God with his entire being, loved God's word because of what it meant to him as an individual, and you can see how unworthy he sometimes feels. Often I feel like his words mirror my own heart and desires.   Because of David's Psalms, I think that he is probably one of my favorite characters.  He was truly a man after God's own heart.