My friend, Tigger

Growing up, Winnie the Pooh was a dear friend of mine. My mother tells me that before my brother was born, Winne the Pooh came over to the house all the time. I even put him in time-out once for having a bad attitude. Granted, this was all through the vibrant imagination of a three-year-old. I watched "The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh" and other Pooh-related films. I liked Tigger, too, but he was never invited over. I liked to keep him in the films.

When I grew up, I discovered that there was a parody psychological analysis chart for the Winnie the Pooh characters. Among these was Tigger: ADHD. Yes, go ahead and chuckle. You know it's all too accurate. Pooh became more relate-able with time, but for far more simplistic reasons than other characters I had grown up with. Later on, I met someone who has come to remind me a lot of Tigger. And yes, they do, in fact, have ADHD. But, more importantly, this friend and I are very different. He is a self-proclaimed pagan and basically makes things up as he goes. I am...the opposite. Sometimes, he's a little much for me. Sometimes, I offend him. But, at the end of the day, we are definitely friends.

Though I'm an adult, I occasionally watch children's films to put myself to sleep. It's nice to have something calm and familiar playing. Recently, I've been using "The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh" for this purpose. In the scene during which Tigger is introduced, I found myself relating the entire scene to my relationship with my friend. The symbolism was strange, but worked. Pooh inviting "the new sound in" was the fear I had of inviting my friend into my life as a friend. Being a Tigger related to my friend's spiritual identity. Honey was the thing which Pooh would do crazy things for, or my spiritual identity. Heffalumps and woosels related to a misunderstanding which we'd had. (He told me he'd seen angels before and didn't like them, and I thought that what he'd seen was something pretending to be an angel. It turned out later that such was not the case.)
Click here to watch the scene on YouTube.

After seeing this symbolism in pictures from my childhood, I found myself once again amazed at how creative a God we serve. He reveals things to us through the new and through the familiar. And then, sometimes, He uses a mix of both. I ask Him to do the same for my friend, though it may take years for him to see it. 

"I Know, I'm a TCK"

I recently read an article/post by a mother who was comforting a friend of hers. You can read it here: http://www.popsugar.com/moms/Motherhood-Strongest-Bond-36728831

In the post, the author talked about how mothers have a mutual connection because of motherhood. No matter what struggles they go through, they can understand each other by this simple fact: "You know, you're a mom." I'm not a mother, but I understand what the author meant. There are other roles which we take up which allow us to say, "You know, you're a [insert]." College student. Christian. Daughter. Son. The list goes on. There is one role, though, which came to mind very quickly when reading that post.

Third culture kid.

Third culture kids, or TCKs, know another TCK when they see one. I know because I am one. Somehow, we manage to find each other and connect. We see the tendency to quickly adjust to our environment. We see the moves we make to keep peace among our peers. We understand the vast difference between, "Let's go home," and, "I miss home." We know what it's like to say something and realize at the last minute that it wasn't English. We know just how hard, "Goodbye," is.

People like to hear our stories, but not as much as we like to hear each others' stories. It's comparable to Christmas, a time to exchange gifts. If we are only getting gifts, we feel guilty for having forgotten to get others gifts. Or, if we got everyone gifts and no one got us any, we feel left out. Exchanging stories is not that different from exchanging gifts. Those who listen to our stories want to have something to offer back. When they have something to offer back, we enjoy our own storytelling all the more.

When tough times come, we don't have to offer each other any profound words. It suffices to say, "I know, I'm a TCK."

When a TCK freshman comes in, going through reverse culture shock, we can say, "I know, I'm a TCK."
When a fellow TCK goes through grief, we can say, "I know, I'm a TCK."
When they can't make it to a gathering of any kind because of a Skype call, we give them grace and say, "I know, I'm a TCK."

We have been blessed with the fact that there are enough of us that we don't have to be alone. We can encourage each other just by being who we are. We are TCKs. We know.

Letter to My Younger Self

I've seen a few videos on YouTube of people giving advice to their younger selves. I've wondered what I would tell my younger self at times. At this point, though, I think it's time to stop wondering and just get it out.

Dear 2007 me,
8 years from now, you will be sitting at a computer in a dorm basement typing out this blog post to yourself. You've been through some interesting times by 2007 and probably feel like you've barely come through emotionally in the past year. In fact, you're trying to not think about it. But, some of the best times are ahead of you. There are places you will go and people you will meet that will shape your vision of the person you want to become. Be flexible, though. You will think you have a plan on more than one occasion, but it won't always work out. That's okay. You know that God changes people's plans. However, people change, too. You are not exempt from this. It's a good thing.

Right now, you don't know how much of a romantic you are. Your ideas of what you want are actually more idealized than you think; you just think that they're practical. They're not. Life is not as clear-cut as we'd like it to be. Whether you choose to believe it or not, you will, in fact, come to a point where you decide that it's okay to date, even to let a guy know that you're interested. Don't change what you're presently doing in that area right now, though. That guy you have a crush on right now isn't worth it. I know you'll do what's best in the long run and keep your mouth shut. After him, though, you will have to adjust that mindset.
You will have times when you wonder if you're supposed to be single for the rest of your life. Right now, you would find that a strange notion, but there are things which will happen to you that will change the way you see the world. I know that you're looking forward to traveling across the world. That's going to be a big life-changer. College is going to be good, too. In college, you will develop friendships which will help you heal from several wounds which are fresher than you want to admit right now. No, you probably won't have a best friend in a good long while. But, that's okay. You'll still have close friendships and people to guide you.

Keep loving the Lord. He is your hope. Your perspective of Him is going to change as you grow up because you're going to get to know Him more deeply. Keep being positive. Keep letting yourself cry when you need to. In all things, remember, "The joy of the Lord is my strength."

In His grip,
2015 me

My Kindred Spirit, C.S. Lewis

For my job, I'm required to read a chapter from The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People each week. (I know, reading assignments for work, what an amazing idea.) We meet once a week with our primary supervisor to discuss what we've read. Once in a blue moon, she has us do an activity in addition to the reading. This past week, she handed us a printed drawing of chairs around a table and asked us to write the names of people who have influenced us on the chairs. One of mine was C.S. Lewis.

Clive Staples Lewis was an author who passed into eternity before either of my parents were born. However, his writings have influenced me second only to the Bible. When I was 6 years old, my mother introduced me to him through The Chronicles of Narnia. I was immediately hooked. With time, I have had the pleasure of reading more of his literature, both fiction and non-fiction. At first, I was in complete awe of him. I wondered how he could plausibly be so skilled at breaking down theological ideas into lay terms and even children's terms. To this day, whenever I re-read one of his books, I find something wonderful that I didn't notice before.

But then, one day, I came across a quote of his which caught my attention. "Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important."
I agree with this statement. It's logical and gets right to the heart of the subject at hand. However, there was yet another factor that made the quote stand out.

Christians usually go through a faith crisis, or a time of questioning their faith, at some point. Those who are saved in their adolescent to adult life had the crisis right before their salvation. Those who grow up in Christian homes typically have it during their journey. Most of the time, the children of Christian homes have this faith crisis in their adolescent to early adult years.

I had mine when I was 6 years old.

Imagine a 6 year old girl lying in her bed with the covers pulled right up to her chin thinking silently. I wondered if Christians had gotten it wrong. What if evolutionists were right and we really did come from apes? What if Buddhism or Islam was actually what we were supposed to follow? What if we not only were wrong, but the consequence was Hell? These questions ran through my mind for several nights. In the end, though, I came to this conclusion: Christianity was what I knew, and if it was right, it was highly important that I follow it.

This is exactly the same conclusion that C.S. Lewis had come to. Seeing his quote made me realize that truth transcends time and space. I had just connected with a dead man on an intellectual and spiritual level.

Recently, I came across another quote of Lewis's that reminded me of that connection. "If Christianity is true, then it ought to follow that any Christian will be nicer than that same person would be if he were not a Christian and that any man who becomes a Christian will be nicer than he was before."

Once again, I had had an experience in which we agreed before I knew we did. About two years ago, an unsaved friend of mine fell off of a cliff and went to the hospital. I visited him in the hospital a few times. During the first visit, he was groggy from pain, fatigue, and morphine. As I said goodbye, he looked me right in the eyes and said, "Thank you for everything you've ever done for me." I was taken aback. I wasn't sure what he meant by that statement. What had I done? The question pestered me until I finally asked what he meant on my third (and last) visit. He listed a few things, mostly pertaining to being a good friend to him. What he didn't know was that a year earlier God had told me to be his friend, even though I had been reluctant at the time. I told him that there was a reason I had done the things he'd mentioned. His response was, "I don't want to know why you do the things you do. I want to know why you are the way you are."
I could not have asked for a more open door. I said, "Well, it's because I'm a Christian." I proceeded to explain that, though there were nice people who aren't Christians, I knew that I would not be nearly as nice a person if I were not a Christian. I am defined by my relationship with my heavenly Daddy.

I found Lewis's quote in a book last week. It made me throw my hands up and say, "Woah!" Once again, C.S. Lewis and I believed exactly the same thing. The older I get, the more I realize that he thought about some of the same things that I do. He is a kindred spirit.

Lewis has also taught me things about the nature of God. He introduced me to the idea that God is outside of time. He showed me how God knows and loves us so much that He even feels our pain. He has been a teacher to me even though we have never met.

More importantly, we are family through Christ Jesus. I know that when my time comes, meeting Jesus face to face will be the most important thing on my mind. However, my present hope is that, somewhere along the way, I will get to meet and converse with C.S. Lewis. It's not about his fame. It's about our Daddy having used him to bring me closer to Him. 

Blood Kaleidoscope

As a 20-something, I often hear people say, "Everyone is entitled to their own opinion." Sometimes I wonder if that's true. The bigger question that it leads to is, "Is it entitlement or a freedom?" Sure, everyone has an opinion. Here in the States, we have the freedom to voice those opinions. One of the more popular opinions held by many my age is that racism is wrong. I agree with that. However, sometimes the way the issue is treated is as if racism is not a right. But, at its core, racism is an opinion, correct? It's not a pleasant thought, but it's one that ought to be considered.

I asked myself the other day if I have the right to be racist or classist due to my heritage. The conclusions I arrived at left me uncomfortable at first. But, after further thinking it over, I came to terms with them.

Let's start with my maternal grandmother. She was from a poor family in North Carolina which was mostly German and English. Her father was a paranoid schizophrenic who left the family because he believed her mother had cheated on him. This left my great-grandmother, a seamstress, with six children to feed. She came to a point where she could no longer afford to care for all of her children. She opted to send three of them to an orphanage so that they would have food and a good education. My grandmother was one of those three. She went on to become a teacher.

Her husband also came from humble beginnings. His father was a pig farmer with Welsh ancestry. His mother was an upper-middle-class girl who claimed to be related to Queen Elizabeth I. Unfortunately, the two had a shotgun wedding due to my grandfather's conception. So, he was raised on a pig farm with a mother who resented her situation. Fortunately, my grandfather grew up to become an engineer. He and Grandma moved to Virginia and had four children.
So far, we have two people who, though European, worked hard to reach the middle class.

Let's go to the other side of the family. My paternal grandmother has the most pure-blood European in her. Her father immigrated from England to West Virginia. He worked there as a coal miner with his father from the age of 12. This coal mining family is related to King Edward I of England. He married an American woman who was mostly German. They had ten children, the youngest of which was my grandmother. She became a math teacher.

My paternal grandfather was also from a West Virginian coal-mining family. His father was neighbors with the Hatfield family growing up. Yes, I am speaking of the family involved in the Hatfield-McCoy feud on the West Virginia-Kentucky border. Grandpa knows so much about that history because of his father's stories from his neighbors' first-hand accounts. Grandpa's mother was full-blooded Melungeon. (We'll get to that in a moment.) His older brother fought in Vietnam, but died in a car accident shortly after returning to the States. His younger brother was murdered by some local idiot. Yet, Grandpa became a history and geography teacher. He and Grandma also moved to Virginia and had four children.

These two couples worked hard to earn their place in the middle class. But, there's a piece of the story we still haven't reached yet.

What the heck is a Melungeon?

Melungeons are a group of people from the mountains of Appalachia who were discovered by European settlers. These people usually have dark skin, dark (usually black) hair, and blue eyes. They do not appear Native American, and the genes for their look are recessive. Stories of "the dark people from the hills" were told to European settler children to scare them into behaving. They have been studied for years, and it has been difficult to find out where they came from. The most reliable conclusion my family has seen is this: They are a triracial combination. 

The Portuguese came to the New World with the intention of taking it for their king. Some of these people left descendants. Whether this was by force or marriage, we don't know. These descendants somehow made their way north to the mountains. Through further study, it has been found that the Portuguese whose descendants made this trip north had Moorish blood in them. This was due to the Moors' invasion from sub-Saharan Africa during the Crusades. Using logic, one can conclude that these Muslim Moors may have also had some Arab blood in them.

So, let's recap. My family does have a good deal of European in it, but they were generally poor Europeans. We also have Melungeon in us, a people group with African (and, perhaps, Arab) blood used to tell bogey monster tales. But wait, there's more!

My mother discovered a physical feature which led to even further ancestry discovery. On her pinky toe, she has what is called a "sixth toenail." This is a sliver of extra nail found only in those with Mongolian ancestry. The Mongols, how shall I say this, got around. It's highly likely that this trait was passed to her through the German piece of her family. We've inherited a trait from someone's highly unfortunate circumstance. 

How many races do we have now? European, Native North American, African, East Asian, and maybe Middle Eastern. Naturally, one would conclude that I couldn't possibly have the right to be racist or classist, right? Wrong. If everyone truly has a right to their own opinion, I can still technically hold the opinion that I'm better than someone else based on race or class.
That doesn't make my opinion truth, though. As a child of God, I am called to seek truth. If the Bible is true (and I believe it is), I am supposed to love others. Just because I have the freedom to do otherwise does not mean it is wise to take up the opportunity. As a sinful human being, I have to rely on Jesus to show me when I am doing another wrong. Yes, I will admit, I have looked down on others before. No one can say that they have never done so. We live in a world where, at the core, no one is naturally pure of heart. We have to be changed by Christ and follow Him. 

Stop Saying, "...in love."

Love. One little four-letter word with so much meaning behind it. Unfortunately, the meaning is often skewed, especially in Western culture. Matt Chandler said in his Bible study Recovering Redemption that our culture likes the idea and feeling of love but does not want to pay for it. Yes, pay.

A dear brother in Christ talked with me earlier about how he doesn't like the term "in love." I nearly jumped for joy at the discovery that I wasn't alone in that sentiment. My roommate knows full well that I hate the term. In fact, she has followed my habit of replacing it with the Bambi-coined, "twitterpated." Anyway, my dear brother in Christ said something rather poignant. "So much of loving a person is commitment and sticking by that. It does not make sense to say 'in love.' Do you just fall out? No, not if it really is love you have. Thank God for that." Our short discussion led me to a thought: Should Christians even use the term, 'in love,'? I don't think we should. Here's why.

I'll put this in plain terms. "Christian" means, "little Christ," as in Christ Jesus. We believe that Christ Jesus was the Son of God and the Son of man. We learn in I John 4:8, "Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love." Okay, so to recap, Jesus is God. God is love. We want to be like Jesus. So, we are to be love. How is that done? John 3:16.
"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life."
So, love involves sacrifice. Self-sacrifice, to be specific. When Christ died for us, He was displaying the ultimate form of love.

If this is love, how did we come to using the word to mean a fleeting feeling of excitement? Well, to understand that, we have to go a very very long way back. (This is my personal hypothesis, so please feel free to correct me if I have missed something in my historical accuracy.) In ancient Greek, there are four words for, "love." (I wish English had that, too. There would be so much less confusion if that were the case.) These were phileos (brotherly love), storge (affection, or maternal love), eros (romantic/sensual love), and agape (unconditional love, or God's love). Then the Roman Empire took over. It spread as far West as Britain. The idea of love being the romantic feeling had to have made it there. Somehow, as English was formed, the word, "love," became the end-all be-all for anything pertaining to phileos, storge, eros, or agape. As times grew easier (which took hundreds of years), eros began to slowly take over the meaning of "love," in Western culture. Just like the way Rome was just before it fell, we became enamored with the idea of romance and excitement.

We got lazy.

Is eros what lead Jesus to die on the cross? The Da Vinci Code conspiracy theory might have us speculate that, but I'm not buying it. No, it was agape. Agape is how we as Christians, little Christs, are called to treat others. This is especially true within a romantic relationship. When you say that you "fell in love" with them, you imply that you can fall or climb back out of it. "Whoops! I have all these interesting and exciting feelings towards you. I have no idea how long they'll last, but let's not think about that. Oh, you want to talk about our future? Pshaw, I don't think so. I'm outta here. Bye!"

Be a little Christ. Be someone who stands up for true love, agape. Stop saying, "...in love."

8 Observations About Young Men

Over the past few years, I have been granted the privilege of becoming good friends with a number of young men. It has enlightened me. I have observed a few things about young men in general:
1. They want to be useful. If you are hosting a young man (ex. making him dinner), DO NOT make him just sit there. You know how little boys have the stereotype of being really energetic? Well, that doesn't ever really go away. They just learn how to channel their energy. If they offer to help, let them, even if it's as small as, "Would you wash this cup for me?"
2. They want to fix things. Though it's along the same lines as their desire to be useful, young men want to solve the problems presented to them. If you need someone to only vent to, go to a woman. Men will give you suggestions on how to fix what you're venting about. Personally, I like this. When I'm thinking about something and I go to someone to talk about it, it's usually because I want advice. Young men are guaranteed to give a thoughtful response.
3. They are make good listeners. Granted, not every man is a good listener. Not every woman is a good listener, either. However, the men who try to listen well usually excel at it. The reason for this is they want to gather all of the information they can so that they can offer a solution. Again, this is why I usually prefer going to young men for advice.
4. They are deep thinkers. Young men are trying to figure out what kind of person they are going to be for the rest of their life. They think about this at great length, and far more often than they let on. I have had some of the most delightful conversations with them about the nature of God, how to allow Him to use us to love others, and even what Heaven is going to be like. The confusing part is the following:
5. Sometimes, they really and truly aren't thinking about anything. Unlike women, men are capable of thinking about absolutely nothing. One young man explained it to me this way: "We like to organize our thoughts in boxes. Sometimes, we need to go into our nothing box for a little while to clear our head." Thankfully, they are very aware that women usually have something going on in their heads, so they make a habit of asking, "What are you thinking?" So, next time you ask a guy friend that same question and they answer, "Nothing," they very well may be telling the truth.
6. They do, in fact, cry. I don't care how many times a guy tells you, "I just don't cry." They do. If they don't, something is wrong with their biological system and they must seek medical help. The reality is that some of them prefer people to not see them cry. Some of them admit that they cry, but still don't want others to see it. I have seen young men whom I thought would never let anyone see them cry tear up in front of me. [Somehow every time the "tougher" ones did it, there was always another mutual guy friend present.] When it comes to young men crying, though, don't push them one way or another. If they cry a good deal, don't tease them. If they aren't prone to cry often, don't push them to try. Keep in mind, some women cry a lot more than others. The same is true for men. The best kind of tears a man can produce are those out of joy. Second to that is compassion.
7. They pray for patience a lot. I ask how I can pray for my guy friends a good deal. I cannot tell you how many times each of them have said, "Patience." Patience with where they are in life. Patience with not having answers. Patience, patience, patience. The good part is that they know that they need patience. They say that the first step to solving a problem is admitting that you have one. I wish I knew how often I was being impatient.
8. Sometimes fighting is fun for them. By this, I mean the kind of rough-and-tumble sort of fighting that guys do with each other.The film, "Braveheart" has a perfect example of this. Near the beginning, William and Hamish are young boys. William beats Hamish in a rock-throwing contest. So, Hamish hits him. William gets right back up and they proceed to hit each other, laughing all the while. This behavior does not stop at childhood. They continue to do this into adulthood.  Don't believe me? Watch "Fight Club" sometime. Maybe it's just me, but I find this behavior one of the most hilarious things to watch.

These are just a few of the many intricacies of young men. I'm looking forward to learning more about them in the coming years. And by the way, if you don't have a guy friend, get one. They're awesome. 

Prayer, Worship, and the Dog

I had a first today. I prayed for the family dog. My family owns a gray toy poodle (shown in my blogger profile picture). He's technically my brother's dog, as he was a present for his 7th birthday.
The dog does not have much appreciation for music. This is unfortunate, because my brother and I are musicians to some extent, and my parents like playing music from the computer. The notes will hit a certain range of pitches that makes him howl in protest. So, we usually have to send the dog to my brother's room when we play music in any format (other than straight vocals).
Today, I wanted to play some worship music without being interrupted by the dog. So, I prayed for him. "Lord, please protect [insert dog's name] ears so that he does not protest to my worship. In fact, let him worship you in whatever way nature does."
It worked. The dog did not howl, whine, or anything. I called him to me, and he rolled over for me to pet him. No protestations were made. As I type this post up, I am STILL playing worship music. He is lying on the floor about a foot away from me, perfectly content.
God is so good. He loves His creation enough to protect it so that it brings glory to Him. "Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For anyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks the door shall be opened." Matt. 7:7-8

"She's here!": A story from a young mother

I mentioned a few months ago a young family which was expecting a baby girl. The first week of December, she arrived. We students kept hearing, "You have to hear the story of how it happened." A group of us wanted to do something to say, "Thank you," for all this young family has done for us, so we prepared a breakfast-for-dinner meal for them on Saturday of that week. When we arrived to deliver the food, the mother (I'll call her M) was up and walking, holding the baby. We were a little surprised, but happy for her all the same. The father (I'll call him P) invited us to stay and hear the story, but only myself and one of the other students could stay. After the commotion of, "Thank yous," and, "Goodbyes," were over, we sat down. (I got to hold the little one.)
M began the story. She said that she had gone in for her doctor's appointment, having begun some light contractions. She was told that she was a certain number of mm or cm dilated. However, with her first child, it had taken about three weeks of on again, off again contractions before he was born. So, she went home and let the contractions continue. M had planned to go to watch a movie in the evening at a friend's house. She decided to watch the intensity of her contractions before officially deciding to go. Happily, she was able to go. The contractions continued, but were light enough that she could carry on conversation.
When M arrived home, her contractions intensified. She and P decided that she would lie in the bedroom and he would sleep in the living room, as her pains required a vocal release, so to speak. Around 3:00 am, the contractions were at 4.5 minutes apart. M informed P that it was time for the baby to come.
At this point, P took up the story. He went to pack the car and make the needed phone calls. Ten minutes later, M announced that she needed to use the bathroom. She commented that her thought was that it would be the last chance she would have to do so. P completed his packing five minutes later and announced so to M. He was about to ask, "Can you put your shoes on, your would you like me to put them on you?" when she cried, "She's here!"
P's initial thought was that M was crowning or something. However, when he walked into the bathroom, his wife was sitting on the toilet holding their daughter. He was shocked. He said that his first thought was, "I've failed." M said that the look on his face was a mixture of surprise and horror. She asked him if they ought to call an ambulance. (The afterbirth had not yet come out, and they were concerned that M might have internal bleeding.) P went to do so just as a friend of theirs arrived to care for their son while they were away. She helped M snap out of her own shock by suggesting they put a blanket or towel around the newborn.
The ambulance took M and the baby to the birthing spa they had planned to go to. M was checked for any problems at the destination and the baby was attended to.
Their daughter's name means, "blind faith." As I held her during M and P's story, I looked down at her from time to time and thought, "What a precious gift you are." Children truly are a blessing from God. Praises be that this little one has come into our lives. 

Blessed With Honorable Men

This semester, I have been taking a peace and social justice/religion class on nonviolence. Sexual harassment was brought up, and it got me thinking hard afterward. Sexual harassment is a horrible thing, no matter what some may say. It's amazing what peer pressure can do, though. I have been sexual harassed before, but statements like, "Where's your sense of humor?" "You're so innocent," and, "My head is so much deeper in the gutter than yours," pressured me to stay quiet. 

I came to terms with what the above situation was and became overwhelmed with gratefulness that things are so much different at my college. The men at my school are truly honorable. So, I wrote this poem. 

Because they are watchful

I don't walk in fear.

They keep their eyes open

So that I can blink.

Their respect for me

Means my good night's rest.

I don't need both mace and knife

By my side during the day,

And at night, they replace my weapons.

Their presence scares the shadows.

They don't have to hold my hand,

Though an arm is offered in the cold.

The unskypable silence is all I need

To know they'll be soldiers for me.

Daddy amassed an army here

Of men who love purity.

Every woman is a precious jewel to them.

To taint us would be a crime.

With a solemn vow they leave unspoken

They watch with keen eyes.

Quiet as lambs, they become our friends.

Alert as hawks, they listen for danger.

Fearless as lions, they put our safety before theirs. 

Ladies, if you have men in your life who protect you, be grateful. You are immensely blessed. If you don't know if they protect you, think about this: Do they walk you back to your dorm when it's dark? Do they ask about how you're doing? Do they quietly watch someone who potentially has a crush on you when they think you're not looking? Watch and see. You might be surprised how many are protecting you. 

Favorite People: A post inspired by a friend

I have a friend who made a post about her favorite people. These people inspired her in godly ways, such as enthusiasm over the little things. I decided to make a similar post, going from furthest back to newest.

This man, has known me since before I was born. In fact, he knew a little about me before I was past egg stage. He has been friends with my dad since his senior year of high school.

 He is like an uncle to me. Growing up, he would read to the children in our families with a voice they could put on the radio for bed-time stories.He has a sense of humor which I have enjoyed my whole life. It's silly, but it continues to create wonderful memories. 

Next up is the one peer who has known me since before I was born. We "officially" met while our mothers were pregnant. . 

Afterwards, we would see each other every year or so. We have never lived in the same state, but have maintained a friendship throughout the years. She is the closest thing to a sister that I haveThis young lady's laugh, smile, and determination make me thing of the joys which God has blessed me with. 

The next in line is a whole family of lovely people. This family was a source of help which no one else could supply. The father is laid back, never raises his voice, but makes his point clear. The mother is vibrant and outgoing. The daughter is much like her mother, yet more of a social

butterfly. She is two days older than me, and is the first person I have ever connected with immediately. The son is steadfast and a highly talented musician. (You should hear him on the fiddle.) The reason this family is so dear to my heart is they lead my family in training to go overseas. Without them, the experience wouldn't have been the same. 

This man unknowingly taught me the beauty of going with the flow. He seems like a regular Joe, but he has had many an adventure in his travels. Some of his stories leave me wondering, "How have you survived this long?" He is a filmmaker and recently won several awards for his documentary "Circle the Wagen," an adventure which led him to the discovery of a Volkswagen underground. Every time I see him, it's on the opposite side of the earth than when last we met. 

Since I reached college, I have been abundantly blessed with friends. However, these people are the ones who leave me in wonder of my Heavenly Daddy. 

This wonderful young lady I like to call "Frodo." She calls me "Sam." We go on little adventures here and there, share stories from our times overseas, and vent to one another. Sometimes we simply do homework in the same room, "just existing together," as she says. It's a comfort which she greatly enjoys. Frodo has shown me that sometimes words don't need to be said in order to understand that God's presence is in people's hearts. 

This incredibly beautiful family leads the Christian college group I attend. They are young, but still more experienced than the rest of us. As you can see in the photo, they have a 1-year-old son. What you can't see is that they have a little girl on the way. Their love for God and for one another is beautifully expressed by their commitment to each other and to us. 

And last, but not least...

This young man is a wonderful expression of Christ in my life. Though he has a child-like feistiness (as shown above), he also has a very adult level of wisdom. He has a tender heart which cannot keep tears back when it sees sadness, sees Christ in the unusual, or thinks of Heaven. I have cried with him over simply discussing what Heaven will be like. He is my college brother. 

These are not all of my favorite people, but they are at the top of the list. So many people have come and gone from my life who have shown me what God is like. 

When I see these people whom my Heavenly Daddy has placed in my life, I realize how truly blessed I am. I don't deserve to be this blessed. This is why it's a good thing that life isn't fair. Our Father gives us good things, and among those good things are people who inspire us to look to Him. I thank Him for them and know that there are still more to come. 

Poetry out of Joy

For the first time in a very very long time, I wrote a poem about something happy. I use poetry as a release of emotion, and so many times it's a stress reliever. However, the other day I couldn't contain my joy over seeing two friends whom I hadn't seen in months.

My life is brilliant.
My life is grand.
I saw a Jordan
And a Dan.
I'm up in the sky
My feet over trees.
I flew up there
With the greatest of ease.
"Why does she fly?"
You ask and ponder.
My spirit went up there
Because with theirs, I wandered.

I must confess that at the time I had the song, "You're Beautiful," by James Blunt in my head, and thus the first line was stolen. However, the rest is all original. 

Four Weeks and a Day

Today, it has been four weeks and one day since a tragedy occurred. My beloved Mamusta S. was killed by a student who then committed suicide. Now, the mention of a handgun, suicide, someone dying, or praying in school are far more serious to me. The grieving process has been going well. From time to time, I cry over the loss. Sometimes I pretend that S. is with me, that we can still converse. It helps me think through things, because he liked to ask a lot of questions. Sometimes just pretending his presence is there helps to make the day brighter. Unfortunately, sometimes it has the opposite effect. For example, yesterday I went on a hike with my Health class, and on the way back, I thought to myself, "S. would have enjoyed a hike like this." Then, when I tried to imagine him walking with us, I couldn't picture him, and it brought me down. I suppose having people all about put it in perspective, which made it more difficult to allow imagination to have its way. Ah, well, life goes on.

Hopefully, in all this, my memories of S. will motivate me.

Kosher

For Lent, I decided to eat kosher. However, as Lent technically ends on Resurrection Day, I decided to extend my kosher eating until after Passover, since this year Passover falls after Resurrection Day. I know, odd. It didn't seem right to quit eating kosher right before Passover. Anyway, I've found that my diet has changed far more significantly than I thought it would. To eat kosher, there are three main things that have to be followed:

1) Only meat from an animal the chews the cud and has a cleaved hoof. Basically, that means no pig or equine animal. I highly doubt that they'll be serving horse or donkey in food service, though.

2) No shellfish or bottom-feeding fish. That's been pretty easy.

3) Don't mix dairy with meat. This means no meat and cheese sandwiches, no sour cream and shredded cheese in chili, no alfredo sauce with meat in it, etc.
Now, all of these sounded really simple to me, and they are. The elimination process is very easy to follow. However, because of this, I eat a lot more vegetables. On top of this, I've been under the weather with some sort of congestion illness that's been going around. So, guess what I've been drinking a lot of? Orange juice. So, with the combination of lots of vegetables and orange juice, I have to relieve myself far more often than I used to.

I have a Messianic Judaic friend who, upon hearing that I was eating kosher until after Passover, told me that I ought to go kosher full-time. I don't think I will, because I like having sour cream and shredded cheese in my chili, and one of my favorite sandwiches is ham and swiss.

I didn't succeed in coming across as mad today; however, I did succeed in spending most of the day speaking with a British accent. I've realized that my problem is that I need to have a reason to go mad, something like a bump on the head or a tragedy. That is how Hamlet was able to begin; there was a basis for people to give cause to his madness. We'll see what comes my way (ex. an injury or a nightmare), made up or no.

If no one reads these, then thus shall it be.

As I've found that no one appears to read this blog, I thought I'd disclose some information since none but I shall read it. For the next few days, I am going to feign madness. I saw a film RTC production of Hamlet starring David McDonald (also known by his stage name, David Tennant). Hamlet appeared to be having such fun feigning his madness that I thought I'd try it. The only difficulty is how far I take it. Do I allow my roommate to believe my madness? We shall see. I shan't allow the madness to affect my work or academics; however, once outside the workplace or the classroom, I shall be an absolute loon. I shall call the annoying young man who haunts me a fishmonger, the pagan who avoids me a gravedigger, and so on and so forth. If someone reminds me the slightest bit of Captain Hook, I shall call them a codfish. What fun this shall be!

Blessed With a Friend

I recently rediscovered a private blog from a few years ago, and it reminded me of the passion I had for my overseas home. It's been rekindled to at least some degree, which I needed.
Due to missing my overseas home, I called one of the young ladies at my college who also lived overseas, saying that I was having an "mk moment". It turned out to be a real blessing. We discovered that we had both needed someone we could talk to about our past adventures who would understand the perspective behind it. It was wonderful.

Most Americans don't understand that once one has been overseas for an extended period of time, it completely changes one's perspective of the world. The American dream comes across as boring. One wishes (especially at our age) that more time were spent on talking about things not nearly so meaningless as video games and television shows. (Now, there is a time and a place for such things, but at our age, people talk about such things far too often.) One finds small reminders of past experiences much more meaningful. One's whole worldview is affected. That is why my friend and I feel very blessed to have found one another.

First B2

I am now living on a college campus for the first time. My new college is very very far from home, and so it's not possible to visit often. However, there are plenty of things to do here. Sometimes I wish I had more down time. It's as if I barely can scrap together time to get my assignments done. And yet, I manage to have snippets of time with my new friends.
I'm picky about choosing friends, so there are only four, maybe five, people whom I consider my friends. Why I'm like that is for another time. However, I do recognize many a face on campus. I simply consider them either acquaintances or people I'm familiar with. It's interesting to see how many different kinds of people can be gathered to a college. I rejoice when I find someone who has anything of significance in common with me. Anyway, life here is good.

First A2

I have my first roommates ever. There are four of us: two 25-year-olds, two 19-year-olds, and a 13-month-old. It has been so much fun living with these girls. I love it!

First X1, Y1, and Z1

Sorry it's been awhile since my last post. I've had several firsts since then. For one, I finished my first year of college. It's strange; it's a significant step in my life, and yet it feels just as mediocre as every year I finished in grade school. I suppose that's because my community college feels more like a high school due to all the early college and dual enrollment students. Immaturity galore!
Another first is that I'm job-hunting. I know this sounds like I've got the luck of a leprechaun, but every paying job that I've had so far I got because someone offered it to me before I had the opportunity to go searching for one. Now that I'm going to need a second job to save up for car insurance over the summer, the hard work has to be done. I'm glad that I'm doing it, though. This will prepare me for the real world.
My final first for this post is that I went to my first wedding for a childhood friend. I had a good time. However, every time I think back on it, I have to remind myself that she has married at a young age. It seems that once you get to college, even in one's first year people are talking about getting married. This makes it difficult when one wants to get married but doesn't even see any promising ones out there. I've had to learn that patience is key. My man will come along in God's timing. He doesn't have to show up tomorrow, this year, or even while I'm in college. I'm going to be alright.
Welcome, summer. Treat me kindly, please. I'm going through a lot of changes right now.