Beautiful

Well, hey there! It's been a few months, but I'm still around, still thinking. Still living life. So I thought I would blog about my last semester in college, since that's what's been going on. Now, the last semester of college can be a positive or a negative experience, depending on your attitude and what's going on in your life at the time. Personally, the circumstances surrounding my last semester have been fairly turbulent, so I could think of it as a totally negative experience. However, it's my last semester, so I'm trying to live it the way that I would like to remember it. Actually, when I'm having fun, I imagine myself in the future looking back on the memory and that kind of distracts from the moment. But anyway... Yes, it's been rough. Long story short, when I started college, I was under the impression that I would receive an accredited degree via an online school. However, that online school decided to close up shop a year ea...

      Wet evening Water hemlock, or something. Pretty, but deadly.  One of those moments when you go to smell or handle a flower and suddenly realize there's a bug on it!  The evening sky spread hazily over me as I left the driveway and walked quickly up the road. I was tired, but mentally so; I still had the physical energy to go exploring. And even more than energy, I felt the evening was literally yanking me out of the house. It had just rained, the intense humidity of the afternoon had eased, and the sun was spearing through yellow streaks just above the pines. The air was calm, and the sound of a distant airplane hummed above my sharp footsteps.         After following the road for a few hundred feet, I stopped and hesitantly surveyed the tall grass and weeds up the hillside on my left. Wet grass mildly deters me, but the wilderness was calling, and I couldn’t resist. With a sigh, I hopped over the muddy ditch, and push...

I wrote down this conversation a few months ago, when I was going through a difficult time. I took the specific details of my situation out to make this conversation more applicable to others. Although He was speaking to me, I'm sure He would say the same thing to you, if you are also fighting to trust. Sometimes we have to get to the point of desperation before we start to be real with God. It may seem like disrespect, and you may fear that He will respond in anger, but He won't.  Always remember that Jesus loves to have REAL conversations with us about the very things we struggle with. Jesus' words, as I heard them, are written in italics in this conversation.  (I know it probably seems like my life is always in chaos, but it's really mostly internal. I am just sharing how Jesus helps me when I am struggling. Externally, my life is very blessed. My fight is in the mind.) Lord Jesus, I don’t want to write, because my thoughts are so dark that it’s fright...

Life has been very busy recently, so much so that I haven't had the time to write about it. I finished my practicum (a tremendous thought) and returned to my house and college. I will be honest and say that although practicum was difficult, I grew to love my life as a teacher. I discovered that I can do a lot of things I once thought impossible, such as get up earlier than 7:00 am and actually enjoy the rest of my day. I also realized I have a lot more self control than I used to. That's a gift from God, and I think my kids gave me lots of opportunities to exercise it. I lost a lot of self-consciousness, and fear of doing things that might make me look silly. Playing with kids really does a lot for that. They don't care how funny you look as long as you are there with them. I played tag, ran obstacle courses, played tug of war, arm wrestled and played chess with my boys at lunch (lost in all cases), wore my pajamas and slippers on Pajama Day and played basketball in them,...

I'm laying on the floor with my feet draped over a couch. The room is dark. A dog is barking in the neighborhood. I can hear the faint roars of distant traffic. I am in my grandparents' house, two hours away from home. A few minutes ago I was laying on my stomach, staring ahead at a globe I was spinning, holding my finger lightly against it. My mind went back to when I was eight or so. I'm standing in the basement Sabbath School area of my old church with my best friend Austin. We are eagerly taking turns spinning a globe and holding a finger against it until it stops. Wherever the finger points when the globe stops spinning is where we are "going." "Ooh!! You're going to Africa!" "Aw man, I want to go to Australia! I'm spinning again." "Wake island? Where is that??" "Haha!!! I'm going to the Pacific Ocean!!" We would spin the globe over and over again, never getting tired of imagining where we would go....

In two more days, I only have two full weeks of teaching left. The time really has gone by quickly, now that I look back, but it seemed so slow. I feel as if I have changed so much that I don't even know how to write any more. I guess I've just gotten out of practice. I used to journal constantly; almost every night, sometimes for more than ten pages at a stretch - by hand. It wasn't rich or meaningful thought, but things that I was experiencing and reflections on my issues. Needless to say, as I thought about my problems and analyzed them, I didn't really change much. I thought that I really needed to write in order to get my thoughts out and keep myself sane. It was just another coping mechanism in fact, and a harmful one. Like taught my students today; as sure as the law of gravity is the principle that by beholding we become changed. By re-reading about my past hurts and meditating on exactly how I had been wounded and figuring out the ways my hurt was coming ou...

God commands the light to shine out of darkness I'm sitting here in front of my computer, my head full of thoughts. A short time ago, the tone of my thoughts was primarily pleasant and calm; now a strong breeze is blowing, and stirring the placid surface into turbulence again. My heart sinks a little; when will these storms be past? When will I be continually at rest? It seems like all it takes is a tiny little thing; a word misplaced...a look from someone else...a faint memory...and it all comes back again. And I wonder if I have made any progress at all. But then I recall that these are not my own thoughts. They have been subtly placed in my mind by the enemy. And I have a choice whether or not to allow myself to focus on them. I can resist. I'm not doomed to continue the old patterns of thought, of overthinking, of imagining things that are not real. The only method that has given me any measure of lasting success in the battle against a diseased imagination i...