when i was a little girl, i loved visiting my dad at work. He works for a ministry called Bethel Colony of Mercy. It's a faith-based drug and alchohol rehab, and might seem like a strange place for a little girl to hang out, but i loved visiting my daddy. He has always taken such good care of my brother and i, and i can't remember a single time that we ever felt unsafe or unwelcome at Bethel. My dad is quite a quirky person! If you don't know him, you'll just have to take my word for it. He has all kinds of unique sayings and quotes, and silly things that he says simply because he thinks they are funny. No one else may get it, but he does and he's definately laughing about it. That's what i love about him (among the other bazillion things that make him wonderful).
Well, he also has a very "different" taste in music, and he can't wait to share what he thinks is musical bliss with everyone else. So, back in the day, there was a song by George Younce, former bass singer for The Cathedrals, that he loved to play over the intercom at work. The men had no choice. They simply had to listen until the song was over. I used to beg him to play it every time i visited, and like most daddys do, he had a hard time saying no to his little girl. I would like to take this moment to apologize to all the Bethel Men i forced to listen unwillingly to this song. It's called the laughing song. You'll see why. (skip past the interview part to the part where he's singing)
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
So there i was
trying my best to be athletic and kick the soccer ball.
In 5th grade, i wasn't really a big fan of the whole sports scene. In fact, i always got picked last in PE (unless my brother was choosing team members either because he felt sorry for me or because our mom had told him not to "choose your sister last!").
Today, the boys and girls had been segregated, and the girls were playing soccer on the upper field while the boys played on the lower field. For some reason, our teacher hadn't made us change for PE that day, and so all us girls were skipping around in our skirts and dresses looking just like a bunch of Christian school kids (which i was, but that's a blog for another day). I was doing my best to run in my "2 inches below the knee but at least 3 inches above the ankle" jumper. It was denim (and fabulous). My shirt matched the pockets on the jumper, and the straps secured themselves over my shoulders like suspenders. I was wearing white keds and white socks folded neatly in half.
I had been waiting for a chance to prove my athletic prowress to my best friend, who is good at ALL sports. For me, most of the game was spent watching everyone else play and making sure i didn't get dirt on my new, white tennis shoes. I may have been a weakling and uncordinated, but i was also determined. So i determined to prove myself, should the opportunity come my way. Granted, i wasn't going out and looking for any opportunities, but if the ball happened to roll in my direction and stop in front of me, i was going to make the most of it. Boy, did i ever.
The ball rolled my direction and stopped in front of me. Gulp. I pushed my butterflies and my insecurities aside and started running and kicking and kicking and running. Amazingly, no one stole the ball from me. They were probably in shock at the sight of ME with the BALL....or so i thought. Shocked they were, but not at the sight of me with the ball. Simply shocked at the sight of me.
I was so focused on looking like i could play soccer that i took notice of nothing else. Unfortunately for me, i ran right out of my jumper (those supsenders straps were a bad idea) and now i was halfway down the field, my slip and my skinny, white, freckly legs blinding everyone. If ever i have had a moment of sheer terror, this was it. I was mortified. I was already self-conscience enough, being the only "practically albino" girl in school. And now, i had completely exposed myself to the whole world in PE by running around in my slip and tennis shoes kicking a soccer ball like a lunatic. I probably ran the fastest i have ever run in my whole life as i turned and raced back to my crumpled heap of a jumper. I don't remember the details, but somehow i was able to put my clothing back in it's proper place and survive until the end of PE.
You know, I had always hated the rule in our dresscode manual that said "girls must wear slips," but that day, i was so thankful that rule was there. And even more thankful that male/female segregation had been practiced for that PE class.
And to think that i'm now a PE teacher...will wonders never cease???
In 5th grade, i wasn't really a big fan of the whole sports scene. In fact, i always got picked last in PE (unless my brother was choosing team members either because he felt sorry for me or because our mom had told him not to "choose your sister last!").
Today, the boys and girls had been segregated, and the girls were playing soccer on the upper field while the boys played on the lower field. For some reason, our teacher hadn't made us change for PE that day, and so all us girls were skipping around in our skirts and dresses looking just like a bunch of Christian school kids (which i was, but that's a blog for another day). I was doing my best to run in my "2 inches below the knee but at least 3 inches above the ankle" jumper. It was denim (and fabulous). My shirt matched the pockets on the jumper, and the straps secured themselves over my shoulders like suspenders. I was wearing white keds and white socks folded neatly in half.
I had been waiting for a chance to prove my athletic prowress to my best friend, who is good at ALL sports. For me, most of the game was spent watching everyone else play and making sure i didn't get dirt on my new, white tennis shoes. I may have been a weakling and uncordinated, but i was also determined. So i determined to prove myself, should the opportunity come my way. Granted, i wasn't going out and looking for any opportunities, but if the ball happened to roll in my direction and stop in front of me, i was going to make the most of it. Boy, did i ever.
The ball rolled my direction and stopped in front of me. Gulp. I pushed my butterflies and my insecurities aside and started running and kicking and kicking and running. Amazingly, no one stole the ball from me. They were probably in shock at the sight of ME with the BALL....or so i thought. Shocked they were, but not at the sight of me with the ball. Simply shocked at the sight of me.
I was so focused on looking like i could play soccer that i took notice of nothing else. Unfortunately for me, i ran right out of my jumper (those supsenders straps were a bad idea) and now i was halfway down the field, my slip and my skinny, white, freckly legs blinding everyone. If ever i have had a moment of sheer terror, this was it. I was mortified. I was already self-conscience enough, being the only "practically albino" girl in school. And now, i had completely exposed myself to the whole world in PE by running around in my slip and tennis shoes kicking a soccer ball like a lunatic. I probably ran the fastest i have ever run in my whole life as i turned and raced back to my crumpled heap of a jumper. I don't remember the details, but somehow i was able to put my clothing back in it's proper place and survive until the end of PE.
You know, I had always hated the rule in our dresscode manual that said "girls must wear slips," but that day, i was so thankful that rule was there. And even more thankful that male/female segregation had been practiced for that PE class.
And to think that i'm now a PE teacher...will wonders never cease???
Monday, September 22, 2008
In case you were wondering
I used to be obsessed with astronomy. I still love it, i just never seem to have the time to pursue it. When i took the SAT's my senior year of highschool, i put with full confidence in the information section that i was going to study astronomy and one day be an astronomer. I wanted to work for NASA and discover new galaxies, track meteors, and name stars. I spent nights freezing in my sleeping bag, watching my snot turn into snot-sicles, not being able to feel my hands, and unable to talk due to the chattering of my teeth, just to track meteor showers. Once, i endured an abscessed tooth because i didn't want to miss the amazing display to come...and i didn't want to get a bad grade on my astronomy homework. I still get chills (no pun intended) every time i see a shooting star. I just love it. As weird as this sounds, i feel like i'm somehow connected to those bits of asteroids and comets mysteriously shooting across the universe, making themselves brilliantly visible for a mere few seconds before dissapearing and being forgotten forever.
All that to say: this is why there is a section in my blog dedicated to a daily photo from NASA. Enjoy at your own risk :)
All that to say: this is why there is a section in my blog dedicated to a daily photo from NASA. Enjoy at your own risk :)
The Beginning
A few things from the past to start something new:
The thing is
if you really love a person (anyone - friend, family member, that someone) the YOU part is not so important. It's the THEM that matters. That means putting their needs before your own, laying your pride on the line, quieting your own heart so you can truly listen, recognizing and accepting the fact that you can't change them and never should for your own benefit, always speaking the truth in love, and sometimes...letting go.
The risks?
Heartache. It just can't be avoided. But i believe it is better for a heart to ache than be consumed by bitterness.
Losing yourself. There's a difference between loving someone unconditionally and allowing someone to walk all over you. You must learn where to draw the line. It is possible to love unselfishly without being controlled. It's also possible to get so wrapped up in trying to please and be liked that you place yourself at the disposal of another. To be controlled is not to be loved. To allow another person to become an aggresive, selfish being that drains the life from you is not to love. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for a person is to walk away.
The benefits?
Everything. A clear conscience, a clean heart, a free spirit, hope, the opportunity to see lives change, the satisfaction of knowing you've been true to yourself, no regrets, and most likely, a friend for life.
Try it. The people you truly care about, the one's you've been given to walk through life with, the friend that puts up with all your junk, that somone who looks past your imperfections and insecurities to see something beautiful.....Love them....more than you love yourself.
~Sept. 17, 2006
What are Onions and Abercrombie & Fitch, Alex
The answer, of course, is: Things that stink.
I ordered half a salad with my soup for lunch today. I didn't read the full description of the salad. I just got through the part that said apple slices and dried cranberries and knew instantly i wanted to eat it. I carried my lunch tray to an empty booth, arranged my food in front of me the way i like it, propped my feet up on the seat across from me, opened my book, and began to stuff my face and turn pages at the same time. "Mmmmm, delicious apples! Scrumptious dried cranberries! Crisp lettuce popping in my mouth! Zingy cheese crumbles! And what is that disgusting, obnoxious, biting flavor ruining the pleasent, delectible ones?!?!?!???" I look at my salad in horror already having guessed what detestable thing has invaded my previously perfect lunch....ONIONS!
GROSS! SICK! EWWW! RETCH!!! GAG!!! COUGH COUGH!! MAKE A FACE. DRINK WATER! WIPE TONGUE WITH NAPKIN. DRINK MORE WATER! GAG again. and again. and once more for good measure. I gingerly reached across the apples, through the dried cranberries, and very carefully, making sure to use only the tips of my fingers, remove the remaining intruders from my salad.
The damage is done though. My gums sting with the overwhelming, searing flavor the demon vegetable possesses. My breath REAKS (AND i have to go to the dentist in 2 hours), and worst of all, even though i barely grazed the upmost part with the tip of my fingers as i removed them, my fingers still stink. There's no way around it. They just stink, and they will until i get the bleach out once i'm home and detox my hands. Nothing smells worse and lingers longer than an onion....
Except for Abercrombie & Fitch.
~Feb. 18, 2008
The thing is
if you really love a person (anyone - friend, family member, that someone) the YOU part is not so important. It's the THEM that matters. That means putting their needs before your own, laying your pride on the line, quieting your own heart so you can truly listen, recognizing and accepting the fact that you can't change them and never should for your own benefit, always speaking the truth in love, and sometimes...letting go.
The risks?
Heartache. It just can't be avoided. But i believe it is better for a heart to ache than be consumed by bitterness.
Losing yourself. There's a difference between loving someone unconditionally and allowing someone to walk all over you. You must learn where to draw the line. It is possible to love unselfishly without being controlled. It's also possible to get so wrapped up in trying to please and be liked that you place yourself at the disposal of another. To be controlled is not to be loved. To allow another person to become an aggresive, selfish being that drains the life from you is not to love. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for a person is to walk away.
The benefits?
Everything. A clear conscience, a clean heart, a free spirit, hope, the opportunity to see lives change, the satisfaction of knowing you've been true to yourself, no regrets, and most likely, a friend for life.
Try it. The people you truly care about, the one's you've been given to walk through life with, the friend that puts up with all your junk, that somone who looks past your imperfections and insecurities to see something beautiful.....Love them....more than you love yourself.
~Sept. 17, 2006
What are Onions and Abercrombie & Fitch, Alex
The answer, of course, is: Things that stink.
I ordered half a salad with my soup for lunch today. I didn't read the full description of the salad. I just got through the part that said apple slices and dried cranberries and knew instantly i wanted to eat it. I carried my lunch tray to an empty booth, arranged my food in front of me the way i like it, propped my feet up on the seat across from me, opened my book, and began to stuff my face and turn pages at the same time. "Mmmmm, delicious apples! Scrumptious dried cranberries! Crisp lettuce popping in my mouth! Zingy cheese crumbles! And what is that disgusting, obnoxious, biting flavor ruining the pleasent, delectible ones?!?!?!???" I look at my salad in horror already having guessed what detestable thing has invaded my previously perfect lunch....ONIONS!
GROSS! SICK! EWWW! RETCH!!! GAG!!! COUGH COUGH!! MAKE A FACE. DRINK WATER! WIPE TONGUE WITH NAPKIN. DRINK MORE WATER! GAG again. and again. and once more for good measure. I gingerly reached across the apples, through the dried cranberries, and very carefully, making sure to use only the tips of my fingers, remove the remaining intruders from my salad.
The damage is done though. My gums sting with the overwhelming, searing flavor the demon vegetable possesses. My breath REAKS (AND i have to go to the dentist in 2 hours), and worst of all, even though i barely grazed the upmost part with the tip of my fingers as i removed them, my fingers still stink. There's no way around it. They just stink, and they will until i get the bleach out once i'm home and detox my hands. Nothing smells worse and lingers longer than an onion....
Except for Abercrombie & Fitch.
~Feb. 18, 2008
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