Christmas Reflections

Once again, this Christmas season was packed full of things to do. Between balancing work, soccer, family, and friends I felt like I had no time to really sit back and enjoy the Christmas season. Is that what happens as you get older? I miss the wonder and innocence that exists in a child during this wonderful season of our Savior's birth and hope that I recapture that when I have kids and am able to see the world through their eyes. Instead, I am consumed with buying the "right" gift for everyone (I always wander aimlessly from store to store, hoping to be struck by that perfect gift...where I'll see it and just know who it is for), baking cookies, wrapping gifts, helping my dad shop and wrap, and because of all that busyness I lose track of the true reason of celebration. It isn't until I slow down on Christmas Eve that I give myself time to read the Christmas story and just thank God for the wonderful gift he gave to us.

Anyway...aside from my musings, here is how my Christmas played out.

The Eve before the Day
Christmas Eve always consists of doing something with my mom's side of the family, and this year was no different. In the past, Laura and I used to hole ourselves up in the garage playing ping-pong all day, waiting until it was time to get ready for Christmas Eve service. We would create teams and brackets and fight it out in the cold detached garage with a fire blazing in the stove until around 3 or 4. However, we don't have that luxury anymore. This year, I went out to my parent's around 11, finished wrapping gifts with my dad, went on a nice 3 mile walk with my dad and the dogs, while my mom & Laura made various treats for the evening festivities. Then it was off to church at Cascade. The service was short. Full of music, singing, rejoicing, and of course, the children's choir. My favorite. Then Nate, our pastor, gave a brief message. And it had to be brief, as he was holding his 8 month old son on his shoulder the entire time he was preaching. His son, Isaiah, was actually their Christmas gift/miracle. For over 2 and a half years, his family has been praying and waiting and enduring the adoption of their sweet baby boy. 12 days before Christmas, they recieved the call, flew to Korea, and returned with their son. How incredible! It truly gives me goose bumps. God is amazing!

After the service, my family drove to my Auntie B's house in West Seattle and had a great time eating crackers & cheese, pork roast, mashed potatoes, applesauce (homemade & so good!), rolls, and the like. And of course, no holiday feast is complete without wine, champagne, and sparkling cider, which I had plenty of. This year, we donated money to the flood victims in our state and spent less on each other. It's not so much the gifts I care about, but the time spent with my family. Except for our tacky/white elephant gift exchange. That is something I look forward to more than anything! We were diving, clawing, tugging, tossing, and clinging to our gifts. I laughed uproarisouly at everyone's antics and even cried at points from guffawing so hard. In a nutshell, it was everything I could have asked for.

By the time our speeding bullet of a van arrived home, the clock was nearing 12 and Christmas Eve was on the verge of becoming Christmas day. We leaped out, struggled to carry all our gifts inside, and proceeded to read the Night Before Christmas, like always. BUT! This year...Laura emerged triumphantly from the basement with an old, worn film reel of the Night Before Christmas. Thus, we were greeted with a dilemma. Should we watch it now...or in the morning? But in the morning it won't really make sense, as it won't be the eve anymore. In flash we were down the stairs in the basement, setting up the projector, propping ourselves up on pillows and blankets, and settling in for a blast from the past. The film was horrible and corny, with awful effects, as expected. We laughed. We imitated Santa on his sleigh and laughed some more. I'm so glad we opened up that dusty, crackly film canister and enjoyed a remnant from the 1950s. So glad.

The Day that follows the Eve
Christmas day dawned bright and full of promise. Rain fell softly from the gray clouds in the sky and my hopes of a white Christmas faded fast. As is the norm, Laura and I arose around 9 and pounced on our older and much sleepier sister's bed to awaken her from her deep slumber. She roused...slowly. Then it was down the stairs to open gifts with the parents, who were already showered and in their bathrobes. Mom was mixing up hot cocoa for us all and dad was doing whatever he does. We settled in on the couch, packages were distributed, turns were taken, and soon all the pretty wrappings and ribbons glittered softly from the floor. After presents, we enjoyed a quick breakfast of sausage, eggs, and coffee cake. Then we raced out of the house to catch the ferry to Vashon. We paid for our passage only to be stopped by a fierce orange cone at the front of the line. We needed a miracle. No one wanted to wait an hour for the next boat. Then, with just minutes to spare, the cone leaped aside and we were granted the privelege of driving our car on board. Shouts of joy echoed around the car! We made it safely across the great Puget Sound and drove up the precarious driveway to my aunt & uncle's house. As we exited the car, the cold rain slowly began transforming into snow. Could this be a white Christmas after all? Time would tell. Inside the warmth of the house, we drank Tom & Jerry's, shared gifts, laughter, and stories, and even played a few games of pool. After a few hours, their yard looked like this:

Yay for the first white Christmas in a long while! I know it's not much, but to me, it was the best Christmas gift yet!

A Few of my Favorite Things

1. That is probably my favorite song in the Sound of Music. Closely followed by Lizel singing "I am sixteen going on seventeen". I think I liked that song so much when I was younger because she had on a gorgeous, flowing, gauzy dress. And I wanted one just like it. And I wanted to sing and dance in a gazebo. In the rain. To a hot guy. Who in actuality, wasn't that hot. But I was 8. And to me, it was incredibly romantic.


2. Rain. I love walking in it. Running in it. Dancing in it. Falling asleep to it pattering on the rooftops, plip-plopping on the leaves of the surrounding bushes and trees, and splish-splashing into the puddles. Not to mention, I love stomping through the puddles. Yes, even at 24 years old. However, I don't like being freezing cold & wet because of the rain. But playing soccer on a grass field while the rain comes pouring down...I just don't know if there is anything better. Except maybe the bubble bath I take afterwards to warm up. :)


3. Fall days in Seattle. The air is crisp and clear. The leaves are brilliantly colored in deep crimsons, vibrant oranges, and glowing yellows. I get radiantly happy everytime I crush a fallen leaf with the heel of my boot or toe of my Jack Purcell. The crunching sound of the leaf hitting my shoe, letting out it's last final cry of pain, brings me unexplainable pleasure.


4. The smell & sound of old books. The musty scent as I turn each aged and fraying page. The crinkling sound the spine of the book makes as I bend it back and forth. Such a small pleasure, yet leaves me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Even better is when I curl up in an oversized armchair with said book in a cozy, quaint bookstore and read. For hours. With hot cocoa or cider. I'm not a coffee girl. Never have been and I don't see it ever happening in the forseeable future, but I love my warm, coffee-free, beverages.


5. The elderly. I have such a soft spot for them, which is good because I feel like they are often overlooked by today's society, which glorifies the young and selfish and forgets about the old and wizened. I have a secret longing to play a game of chess in the park with an old man...hopefully he'll be wearing knickers and suspenders. Or just one of the two. And preferably this park will be in Germany. I think I got this idea from the Pixar short where the old man is playing a game of chess against himself. Hopefully one day this dream will be realized. ;)


6. Rocking out in the car to Backstreet Boys or Phantom Planet with my younger sister. Belting out the lyrics off key, in various accents (country, russian, valley-girl, deep shouting voices). We're pretty incredible and will think about recording that album someday.


7. Watching the fire in my fireplace as the flames swirl and leap in the air. This could entertain me for hours on end. And sometimes it does. Especially fun to watch on a cold, rainy evening while cuddled up in a warm, fuzzy blanket.

Amazing Grace

I watched the movie "Amazing Grace" last night with my boyfriend and can now see why it is so highly acclaimed. If you haven't seen it yet, run, don't walk, to the video store. This is one you don't want to miss! Such a powerful story...that is actually a true-life event, so calling it a story always seems wrong to me. One thing I hate when discussing the Bible is that we always call them stories, when we are talking about real people and real events.

The passion Wilbur Wilberforce (yes, that is really his name) has is simply inspiring. He shows that one person really can make a difference. And even help to change the world. Just believe in the gifts God has given you and put them into action.

Fall Glamour Shots

This year, for our presents for our parents and grandma, we decided to take some fun fall photos and have them framed. Here are some of the pictures that my cousin, Max (great photographer), took for us at my most favorite park...Lincoln Park in West Seattle:

Selfishly Concerned

I sit here, at work, rain pounding against the windows and splashing into puddles, and all I can think about is "will this torrential downpour & flooding keep me from attending my much anticipated Switchfoot concert??"

I seriously hope not.

Neat to a Fault

I am a neat person. I like things organized, swept, vacuumed, and in thier "proper" places. When I was younger my two sisters would come in my room and "borrow" (without my permission) an item of clothing from my closet and I could always tell when they had been in it. A hanger would be askew, a shirt missing, or a skirt hung in the wrong spot. And if my closet door was even slightly ajar, it was a dead giveaway. They would also shift things on my dresser & desk just to irritate me. I was pretty uptight about my room. Sitting on the bed wasn't allowed & I would make a huge dramatic show of smoothing out every wrinkle on my bedspread. Yes, I was that child.

I'm still pretty neat, but now my bedroom is not quite as meticulous as it used to be. Clothes tend to pile up on my chair into a small mountain as the week rolls on, but gets cleaned up on Saturday. But one thing hasn't changed. My closet. It is my sanctuary of cleanliness. My happy place. I still keep it organized as follows:

• Sweaters are kept in the corner against the wall. They are itchy and bulky and are the outcasts of the closet.
• The shirts are very rigid and aren't very welcoming towards new garments. Because of this superior attitude of theirs they are placed next to the sweaters and segregate themselves according to sleeve length and button up or zip-up.
• Dressy tanks are the popular clique and hate mixing with the sweatshirts that border them on their right. I'll admit they are a bit stuck-up. They refuse to be hung on a hanger that does not have notches for their delicate straps to rest in. Otherwise they will slip off, one silky strap at a time.
• The sweatshirts are typical jocks and reside in the middle of the closet proclaiming their dominance. They also like to be close to the beaded, stylish tanks, so they had ulterior motives about being placed there. The hooded sweats are one team, facing off with the zip-up sweatshirts and fleeces that are on the other side of the half-line. Determination etched in their stitching.
• Next to the sweats are the skirts. They make a lot of flippant comments (pun intended) and tend to get ruffled easily by the jocks who like to tease them. Sending them into a fit and inevitably flouncing away.
• Naturally, the dresses are next to the skirts. Arranged according to season...spring...summer...fall...winter. Lights to darks. They don't say much, as they tend to keep to themselves. Probably related to the fact that they are a whole ensemble on their own and only require accessories to dress them up or down.
• Pants are clipped on hangers next to the dresses and are pretty passive and friendly. They don't have many enemies and seem to make friends wherever they go. Except when they start to fit snugly. Then they become enemies to the owner.
• Finally we have the coats. But only a few, as most are stored in the hall closet. But here, here are the favorite jackets. The ones that aren't worn often, but know that when they are worn, it is for a special occasion. So they are a bit prideful and arrogant. But that is to be expected.
• Oh, and one cannot forget the massive quantities of shoes that fill the closet. Hanging next to the luxurious coats, is a rack full of shoes...all styles. Stacked one on top of the other, as there are simply not enough compartments to hold them all. And then there are more on the shelf above the clothing in the closet. And more lined up in neat rows by my front door. Heels, wedges, peep toes, tennis shoes, athletic shoes, ballet flats, boots, Uggs. You name it. I probably have it. Yet, sadly, it still is never enough!

On top of my clothes being arranged so fastidiously, I also arrange each section by color. It is a kaleidescope of rainbow colors in my closet. Each grouping is ordered by red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, black, brown, grey, and white. If there are patterns, I pick the most dominant color and file them accordingly.

I'm ridiculously neat and ordered. I know. And I rejoice in that fact.

Faster than a Speeding Bullet

November is almost over??? What??? When did this happen??? Are you kidding me? Only 26 days till Christmas? That's crazy!

Every year I ask this question. And every year I go through the denial. It seems the years just keep picking up speed. Maybe it's the fact that I'm aging. I mean, I'm almost 25, which is a quarter of a century old, which means I'm halfway to 50! Okay, Dani...don't think about that. Focus on your youth. Deep breath. Don't worry, I'm calm again. Maybe life really does move faster as you get older.

Whatever the reason, this year has hurtled by. And there have been tears, laughter, heartache, celebration, excitement, fear, doubt, and rejoicing. Here are some of the highlights of 2007 thus far:


January
I went to Disneyland with my good friend, Christy. I almost missed our flight, due to forgetting to set my alarm, but made it to the airport with 10 minutes to spare before take-off. We had a blast! Truly kids at heart. :) We went on rides, ate good food, had amazing talks, and made lasting memories.

I also began playing on a women's basketball team. We weren't amazing, but it was fun to get back out on the court and realize just how out of shape I truly was.

February
I took a photoshop course with my older sis. We didn't learn a whole lot of new skills, but the time spent together, laughing and writing notes via our computers, was just like being back in high school. Good or bad? You decide.

February also brought with it my 24th birthday. I celebrated in much the same way as I always do...quietly with family. I guess I'm just not that into celebrating my birthday like I used to be.

In fact, Feb is a month of birthdays for my family. I celebrated my Uncle's 50th birthday. Welcome to the Golden Years! He immediately retired. Set for a life of hunting, fishing, and mischeif making. My dad's 54th & my mom's 54th also ocurred this month.

March
I coached high school track & had a blast! Realized how much I love working with kids of all ages and what a joy they are. Definitely know that kids are in my future...some way...somehow.

I visited my friend in Pullman...Cougar country. First time in all my years at UW of ever venturing there. Realized why I had stayed away. Purple runs deep in my veins.

April
My baby sister turned 22. That's when it hit me...we are all growing up. So fast. We had fun celebrating her day of birth and reminiscing about all the stupid things we had done together in our past. Yes, we have truly reached that age. Where you look back and recount all the good times (and some of the bad), but we still look forward. With expectant faces, smiles of anticipation, and flickers of fear about the sorrow that will surely come too.

May
I went to The Killers concert with my sister & her boyfriend who was on break from the Marines. Originally, it was Laura, Julie, and I going to the concert, but we made our way all the way down to the WAMU Theater only to discover that the concert had been cancelled and rescheduled for the following weekend. We drowned our sorrows in beer and fries at Pyramid.

The first wedding of the year...Ryan's college friend Dave. Ran into an old, old classmate of mine dating back to 2nd grade. Nolan Erickson. What a small world that we were at the same wedding. Especially since I had no connection to the bride or groom, except through Ryan.

June

I flew to Spokane to meet my boyfriend and attend his best friend's (Mike) wedding. We had fun...Mike was a bit nervous the day of, so we made several stops on the way to the church for that one thing that cures and calms the nerves. Hard liquor. The wedding was quick and went off without a hitch. Before I knew it, I was back in Seattle.

June also brought my first trip to Vegas, where I played in a soccer tournament in 100+ degree heat. Fortunately, I drank water and gatorade instead of beer and margaritas like most of my team and managed to avoid heat exhaustion. Don't really have much of a desire to ever go back to Vegas. It seemed so fake to me...and I'm just not that into the clubbing and over-indulging that Vegas promotes so blatantly.

July

I played in the All Nations Cup (soccer) with Team Europe. We were sponsored by Soprano's, one of the best pizza restaurants around...check it out! Shameless promotion, I know. ;)

We made it to the championship game against Team America and won in a shootout, making us the 2007 Regional Champions. We got a medal and a plaque.

I also spent an entire day at the hospital while Ryan had his appendix removed. Did I mention it ruptured during the surgery? So scary! But it did give me a chance to immerse myself in the world of Harry Potter and gang for an entire day, so how could I complain? I finished book 7 in less than a week. Cried at points, stuck my lower lip out in sadness and frustration, and finally conculded my love affair with Harry. It truly was a sad moment in my life.

Three days after Ryan's surgery, we journeyed to Creation NW. Not the smartest choice, but we still managed to have a good time. Great bands. Great speakers. Amazing communion with God.

August

I journeyed with Laura (sister) to Cle Elum, where we spent the weekend with my mom's side of the family in a gorgeous cabin on the river. We went rafting down the Yakima, played flyer's up in the field, laughed, ate, and relaxed. Already, I am missing that quiet retreat.

Played on a softball team, despite the fact that I despise the game. Actually had fun. I'll miss the dread that filled my soul and caused my heart to plummet before each game.

September

Ryan and I shared our one year anniversary by taking a short hike up to Rattlesnake Ledge. I learned that I had not conquered my fear of falling like I had thought and, with shaky legs, stood on a rock overlooking the edge and the lake below. I had to scoot out on my but, scraping my hands and legs in the process, and then stand up in order to reach the edge to begin with.

I joined a women's bible study at Bethany Community Church (check it out if you are searching for a place to call home). I'm so thankful for the women in my small group and the connections I am forging.

Dom married Mandy! Dom, Ryan's roommate of 7 years was married, leaving Ryan homeless and sending him back to Seattle. The wedding was gorgeous and we danced well into the night.

October
My family and I made our return to Maui and spent 11 days basking in the sunshine and relaxing on the beach. I went snorkeling, boogie boarding, swimming, hiking, and even zip-lining. It was a blast! Save for the fact that I cut my leg on lava rock on day one and had to get 8 stitches. But I didn't let that stop me from enjoying the trip.

October also brought with it the painful loss of a friend and mentor at my office. Greg, our lead architect and part owner, was killed in a head-on collision on the 26th. The news devestated our office. But we pulled together like never before and slowly began healing.

November

I attended a funeral that I never expected to be at...at least not for another 30 years....guess that makes 4 weddings and a funeral for the year. I would have much preferred not having the funeral.

Thanksgiving celebration at the parents! Good food! Great people! What more could I ever want?

December
Went to the Switchfoot/Relient K concert with Ryan. Sure, we fit into the older crowd, but that didn't take away from the incredible music and energy that both bands exude.

Searched for the family Christmas tree in the freezing cold sleet and snow. Wouldn't have had it any other way.

Brad married Adrianne and they couldn't have picked a more perfect day for their wedding to occur. The snow was falling all day and created a striking back drop through the large floor-to-ceiling window behind the altar at the church. If I ever have a winter wedding, I would want to make sure I had snow that day too!

Christmas! My favorite holiday has come and gone. And with it came wonderful gifts, amazing celebration, and priceless time spent with those I love most. It was the first white Christmas I can ever remember in Seattle. God gave me exactly what I aksed for. :)

That covers some things, but leaves out a lot. Here's to a great, yet trying, 2007. I'm looking forward to the next month and the celebrations it entails. Yet also excited for the coming year and the plans I'm already beginning to make for it. Mainly the travel that will occur. Planning trips to Haiti, Nicaragua, and possibly Greece & Southern Italy in September. Can't wait to see the wonderful things God has in store for me!

Wishing you all a joyous holiday season & hoping your past year was incredible. And if it wasn't, that's fine too. God holds you in the palm of his hand, so great things will come.

Simple Joy

On Thanksgiving morning, my parents, Laura (younger sister), and I took advantage of the clear, crisp fall day and set forth on a walk around Tye Lake in Monroe. We parked by the Chocolate Moose - which was unfortunately closed - and proceeded to hike through several feet of tall grass. Okay, so Tye Lake is actually man-made. And consists of a smooth, paved path circling the lake. Perfect for walkers, mothers with strollers, bikers, and bladers. I prefer hiking through rough, rooty trails that have been solidly packed down over the years by hikers and walkers before me. Windy trails where I am constantly tripping or scraping my leg on something. BUT...we didn't have much time before our guests began arriving for the much anticpated turkey feast. So we had to settle for the 'fake lake walk'. Our dramatic nature taking charge, Laura and I tromped through the tall grass between the parking lot and beginning of the path, shouting out warnings, as the trail was extremely treacherous (sarcasm intended...however we are dramatic. That is just fact). There were a few brambles I forgot to warn Laura about, which she berated me for later.

So we began our stroll down the path, avoiding various pet droppings along the way.

While circling the lake, we noticed teal paint clinging to the reeds near the shore and were sad to note that people were dumping such toxic waste in the water. Laura & I stopped at the playground and I dared her to climb the play structure and go down the curly slide. Of course, she can't resist a dare. So she took her thin, 22-year-old frame up to the top of the play toy and I stood at the bottom of the slide, in order to spot her. Yes, we revert to being 5 & 7 when we are at home. And we relish the freedom. While Laura was struggling to squeeze herself through holes that were too tight and up ladders that were too small, a family of four approached the playground. The mother held the stroller with the baby, too young to play on the swings, while the father and son made their way to the play structure. The mother called out to her 3 year old son, "Watch out for the teenagers!" Of course, we aren't teenagers. Haven't been for years. But our antics and the fact that we are cursed with youthful features worked against us. The little boy ran over to the other curly slide, placed his hands on either side for support, and shouted up in a loud, sing-song voice "Teenagers! Oh teeeeeennnn-agers!" He was too cute.

Laura and I laughed and hurried away from the playground and back to our walk.

Further along we saw a flock of ducks swimming in the lake. One in particular stood out.
He would have blended in with all the other ducks, if not for one thing. He was twirling. The kind of twirl a little girl in a pretty dress does because she is enraptured with watching her dress billow out from her increased speed. This duck almost looked like he was stuck in a strong current because he just went 'round and 'round. Occasionally he would slow, re-orient himself, and then begin spinning all over again. He was free. He was blissfully happy. And you could tell he was getting immense pleasure from his newfound ability. The other ducks were even a bit jealous. There was a small huddle of 3-4 ducks watching the twirler and they appeared to be deep in conversation. Then, they began swimming purposefully towards my favorite spinning duck. He was unaware of their imminent approach and continued to spin in fast, tight circles. The herd of ducks swam determindley at him and ran right into him, knocking him off course and confusing his spin. The twirling duck stopped for half a minute. Swam a few feet away. And resumed his spinning. Apparently the jealous ducks didn't accomplish much.

It was really entertaining to watch and reminded me of all the simple pleasures in my own life. Like acting 14 again on a children's playground.
Thank you Lord for that simple reminder.

A Day to Give Thanks

I have never really stopped & examined the origins of Thanksgiving. Yes, I know the "story". The pilgrims traverse the Atlantic Ocean on the Mayflower and arrive, proudly displaying belt buckles on their hats and shoes, completely confused by the lay of this new land and the odd crops it reaps. The natives (often referred to as Indians, despite the fact that they are not from India), sensing the foreigners inability to survive without help, stepped in and offered their superior knowledge. In return, the pilgrims shared their abundant crops with the natives. Feasting, laughing, and drinking well into the night.

At least, that's the story we tend to hear. But I wonder, what was it really like?

So, I did what any person equipped with the resources of the milennium would do. The library? no. Asked my older and wiser relatives? no. I went to...wikipedia. The source of all that is true. Because I agree with Michael Scott from The Office.

Here is what I found:

1. In the United States, Thanksgiving Day, always a Thursday, is part of four day long weekend which usually marks a pause in school and college calendars. Many workers (78% in 2007) are given both Thanksgiving and the day after as paid holidays, and others with leave benefits are allowed to take a vacation day.[1] After Thanksgiving Day, the day after is known as the unofficial holiday of Black Friday, the beginning of the traditional Christmas shopping season. Many retailers open very early (typically 5 A.M.) and offer doorbuster deals and loss leaders to draw people to their stores.

So apparently, Thanksgiving is all about the time off from school & work & the shopping frenzy that ensues afterwards. Interesting...my view of the holiday is now forever changed.

2. Thanksgiving, or Thanksgiving Day, is a traditional North American holiday to give thanks at the conclusion of the harvest season. Thanksgiving is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November in the United States and on the second Monday of October in Canada.

Okay. I like this definition better. Stems back more to the origins...giving thanks for the harvest. To being provided for. Not giving thanks to massive sales where people mob each other in order to get the "best" deal on the new X-box 360 or something else of material/inconsequential value.

Also, the pilgrims meal with the Native Americans was technically not the first Thanksgiving. The Native Americans had been celebrating the end of the harvest season for many years prior, but this was the first time they shared the celebration with outsiders. AND...horror of horrors...they didn't eat turkey, stuffing, or yams! It was meat upon meat. Deer. Fowl. Rabbit. Whatever they could hunt. And then of course, vegetables. Talk about eye-opening! ;)

Side Note: I just walked into the corner of my cubicle...basically the wall is at shoulder level and the point of the corner jammed into my bicep. I feel the bruise forming as I type. Typical me.

Glimpse of the Past

Recently, for some reason completely unknown to me, probably a lapse of mental clarity, I decided to allow my boyfriend, Ryan, to journey through the past with me. That's right. I began reading my middle school diary aloud. To him.

What was I thinking?? Honestly, I still can't answer that question. And it haunts me. Night and day.

Actually, it wasn't too incredibly painful. It did bring up all those long dormant emotions of inadequacy, loneliness, frustration, and unrequited 'like'. Because, let's face it, it wasn't love in middle school. It changed monthly, sometimes weekly. I like Elliott. No wait, Ben. Oh he is so last week. Don't you know I like Jeff now? Keep up! A common theme threaded throughout my diary was how I had "no friends", which was true to some extent, but not exactly. I had a lot of friends, yet I didn't have any real close friends because this was a time when so many of them were choosing popularity over me. And I wasn't one to conform. I didn't hang out with people based on their social status. I was the one who would defend the nerd or eat lunch with the
'loner'. And those are the ones I'm still friends with today.

I also revisited a painful time in my life when I lost someone close to me. My papa (grandpa). I have been thinking a lot about life and death lately, having just lost one of my co-workers several weeks ago, so it was interesting to see my perspective on things back then and to compare it to now. I was actually a pretty smart kid. I recognized that my papa was in a better place because he was now with Jesus, yet I still mourned his loss. I rejoiced in the fact that I enjoyed 13 wonderful years with him, yet cried myself to sleep thinking about all the years he wouldn't be sharing with me, my nana, and my family. The graduations, weddings, great-grandchildren, and golden anniversary that he missed. I loved him fiercely and knew he would only want me to go forward, loving life, loving family and friends, and loving God as he did. It was definitely an interesting read. And my eyes filled with tears and voice cracked...just a hair...as I read that section. I had even saved the program from his memorial service and realized papa has 2 siblings I have never even heard of! Incredible! Definitely going to discuss that with my dad when I get the chance!

I also realized I have reached the point of healing over the loss of Greg at work. It is still sad to think about him being gone at such a young age. I didn't know him as well as I would have liked. I never worked closely with him, as I am not an architect, but I did have conversations with him at lunch, in the kitchen, or in the hall. He would come by my workstation and offer advice regularly. And I miss that. I miss his quiet presence and kind words. But I am also thankful for being touched by his compassion and gentle spirit, even if only for a brief period of time.

As my 8th grade self said: "The hole in my heart will heal, but will never fully recover." And to me, that is a good thing. A great thing. God is here. Always. Through the joy and the sorrow. And he heals. How amazing is that?

Lackluster

I want to write something uplifting.
I want to write something creative.
I want to write something humorous.

Yet I feel none of these things.

I'm still dealing with a lot of emotions carried over from the previous week. I'm not upset. I'm not depressed. I'm just devoid of emotion in either direction.

I feel unmotivated, yet at the same time deeply introspective. I'm a quiet person in general, but I'm finding myself slipping into silence and escaping into the solitude of my thoughts more often lately. Thoughts about Greg. Thoughts about his family. Thoughts about my future. Sometimes just random thoughts about ridiculous things. I talk to God a lot in these times...wrestling, questioning, praising. Simply expressing my feelings to Him in any way possible.

I know I'm healing. I know life continues and I must move forward. Yet I hate the thought of losing these feelings of pain and grief because I wonder if that means I am forgetting the loss?

In the Face of Tragedy

Yesterday was a hard day. Probably the hardest day I've ever had to endure...at least it's in the top five. I'm still reeling from the news and will be for some time to come. But life keeps going on. Even when I want to shut down completely.

Which is how I felt yesterday. I think it's how everyone at my office felt.

Normally I wouldn't blog about work. But I feel this is the exception.

Yesterday, just a little after 8 in the morning, an office wide meeting was held. At it, we were informed that one of our four principals (bosses) had died in a head on collision sometime on Sunday. The news was a devastating blow to our office. He was riding his motorcycle - something he loved doing - and a semi-truck crossed the center line. Everything changed in an instant. It was so sudden and so unexpected I don't really even know how to process it all yet.

Our office is small (50 people) and everyone is close...more like a family. And this hit hard. Despite just being a co-worker, he was a friend, a mentor...not to mention a husband and father. We had just celebrated his 50th birthday on Thursday and we're laughing and joking together. He was just here and to think that he never will be here again is tough. Despite the sorrow that now blankets our office, there are rays of hope and love. Yesterday, we all came together at lunch and shared our memories about him...his humor...his quirks...his love for life and adventure...his huge heart and willingness to help everyone around him. Instead of being consumed by our grief, we let love shine through. And it was beautiful. Slowly we began to laugh again. Our smiles came easier and the stories lasted for almost 3 hours. It was a time of healing.

I know this week won't be easy. Or the next. In fact, the next year is going to be tough. But slowly our grief will fade. For joy truly does come in the morning.

We will keep putting one foot in front of the other. And slowly, we will emerge from the valley. And we will be stronger and more refined because of it.

Please pray for his family...his wife and daughter. I cannot imagine what losing my father would be like. I just pray that his family clings to God and lets the best healer of all provide comfort and peace and strength.

A Taste of Hawaii

We love our Hula Pie...definitely the best dessert out there!


Ziplining...so much fun! :)


The Second Hula Pie of the trip...we probably gained 10 pounds eating it all!

Love my sis!


My family...minus mom :)

Seeking Sunshine

It's been 5 years. If you want to get technical, it's been 5 years, 4 months, and some-odd days.

Since what, you ask?

Since I have made my glorious return to the beautiful, sunny, warm, tropical island of Maui.

And now, in less than 48 hours, I'll be back. To say I'm excited would be a bit of an understatement. Am I upset at leaving the gray, windy, rainy, 54 degree Seattle weather that I am currently enjoying? Not a bit. I love fall. But we all need a break from the bleakness of the impending winter season every once in a while, right?

So, I will soon be leaving on a jet plane for one of my favorite vacation spots. I will be tanning, swimming, snorkeling, boogie boarding, relaxing, playing shuffle board, hiking, biking, consuming hula pie, and taking a zip-line trip above Haleakala. So excited!

However, I am NOT looking forward to the fare airlines refer to as....food. I honestly am holding back a shudder right now. Okay, I lied. I'm not holding it back, but am convulsing at the thought of what is going to be offered to me on the flight. Here is a look at the menu I am so fortunate to select from:

To Begin:
Tossed Greens, Corn, Shredded Parmesan, Cherry Tomato and Caesar Dressing

Entrées:
Fajita Chicken Casserole
- OR -
Spaghetti with Marinara Sauce
-OR-
Turkey and Cheese Sandwich on a Kaiser Bun with Chips and Cookie

And After All:
Cookies

I don't want to even guess what the fajita chicken casserole contains...definitely brown bagging it! Just for the sake of comparison, here is a look at the menu for first class (same flight):

A Choice of Three of the Following Five Entrees will be Available for You
- Tomato Mozzarella Salad: Fresh Mozzarella, Basil, Tomato Salad with Pine Nuts and Calamata
Olives
- Tandoori Chicken: Chicken Tandoori Served with a Buttery Tomato Sauce and Sultana
Basmati Rice
- Spinach and Feta Roulade: Spinach and Feta Cheese-Filled Roasted Eggplant Roulade with
Sauce Pomodoro and Crispy Fried Risotto Marble
- Hawaiian Crabcake: Sautéed Hawaiian Crabcake with a Maui Gold Pineapple Salsa
- Fruit and Cheese Plate: Extra Sharp Cheddar, Gouda and Goat Cheese, Grapes and
Walnuts

And After All:
Caramel Macchiato

Why can't I fly first class? Oh, right. I'm poor. :)

I definitely feel like airplane food has gotten continuously worse in the past few years. I mean, part of the fun of flying used to be the experience of eating the food. And, it may never have been mouthwatering delicious, but it was decent. I remember having actual silverware to eat with. Now it is flimsy plastic forks and spoons that bend when you poke your chicken or meatball. And you expect me to eat with that?

I guess I miss the "good 'ol days". Am I really that old?

Well...despite the unsavory foods being offered, I will still order something. And I will attempt to swallow it. But, I make no promises!

Why I love my family

There are many reasons why I love my family. The jokes, heart-to-heart conversations about any topic imaginable, generosity, acceptance, faith, love, belief in each other & one another's dreams. That's just naming a few. Although, finding someone who is willing to dance around your apartment while singing karoke to Bette Midler into the remote with you is also extremely rare....thanks Laura! ;)

Anyway....I thought I'd share some pictures depicting a small glimpse into my family's fun/crazy side. Laura and I tend to be pretty vain & enjoy taking random pics of ourselves...as might be noticed from some of the images below...

Sweetly Broken

We sang this song in church yesterday and it is one of my favorite worship songs. It's one of those songs that touches my soul. Sends shivers down my spine. Brings tears to my eyes. Causes my voice to tremble. Raises goosebumps on my arms. All of those things and more. I just feel God's presence when I'm singing it. It's a wonderful thing.

Last night I mentioned how much I like this song to Ryan. He asked so insightfully "Why?" He always forces me to delve into the inner workings of my mind & heart and analyze my feelings and reasoning. So I thought about it. And I answered, "I guess it's because I long to be broken." Ryan studied me and responded, "You don't want that. It's incredibly painful. I fight against it all the time."

I wrinkled my forehead and squinted my eyes at him. Then slowly said, "Yes, I fight against it too. But isn't that what we should be striving for? To have our will broken by God? To have our sinful nature removed, our pride & anger & bitterness broken by Him. It's what my heart longs for."

Ryan agreed. His point wasn't that we shouldn't be striving for brokeness, just that the road there is extremely difficult. And often we hold tightly to our selfish desires and maybe allow God to crack one area, but not fully break it open. We rationalize so we don't have to surrender all to Him. We meet God on our schedule and ask Him to fix the areas of our lives we feel are falling apart and then say "thanks God, but I don't think that needs repairing right now. I'm quite happy with the state of my relationships, so you just focus on helping me get my bills paid off and I'll be set." Then we walk away. We ignore the still small voice in our heart because we think our way is easier or more fun or we just don't want to put out the effort. I do that way too often.

I know the process of surrendering and breaking is difficult, yet at the same time, I look forward to it. Does that make me weird?

Jeremy Riddle - Sweetly Broken
From the album Sweetly Broken

To the cross I look
To the cross I cling
Of its suffering I do drink
Of its work I do sing
For on it my Savior both bruised and crushed
Showed that God is love
And God is just

Chorus:
At the cross You beckon me
You draw me gently to my knees, and I am
Lost for words, so lost in love,
I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered

What a priceless gift, undeserved life
Have I been given
Through Christ crucified
You’ve called me out of death
You’ve called me into life
And I was under Your wrath
Now through the cross I’m reconciled

Chorus

In awe of the cross I must confess
How wondrous Your redeeming love and
How great is Your faithfulness(2x’s)

Chorus

One Year Later...

It's been a little over a year since Ryan and I started dating, and as cliche as it sounds, it's been the best year of my life. I cannot describe how incredible our relationship is. I never thought I would be so comfortable, open, and vulnerable with anyone, but Ryan makes it so easy. We can talk about anything...be it as trivial as who is better at cards (I am - we're super competitive) ;) or talking about life and God - praising Him, grieving with Him, fighting against Him (just a losing battle there), or struggling in our faith. Ryan also can point out my negative qualities and I don't actually get upset or defensive. Incredible steps for me! And if I do, it's only because I know he's right. Ryan also has the amazing ability to always make me smile...no matter how badly I wish to remain mad, I just can't when I'm around him.

Anyway, for our anniversary we went hiking up Rattlesnake and then made a brief stop at Snoqualmie Falls on our way home. Can you believe Ryan had never been there? I mean he has lived his entire life in the PNW and had never been to the Falls!! I was shocked, so I made him stop! :)

The view from the top!

Snoqualmie Falls

I really like this pic :)

Food for Thought

I've recieved this email before and it struck home then just as much as now. I don't think it could have been said better then this. Please read. And read till the end. Even if you've read this before, it might have more of an impact the second or third or even twelfth time. I struggle with these same thoughts daily. What is our nation coming to? How free are we? Why are we turning our backs on God?

The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary.

My confession: I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are: Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a manger, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat. Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew went to.

In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking. Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her "How could God let something like this happen?" (regarding Katrina) Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"

In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK.

Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said OK.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves. Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

Are you laughing?

Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it. Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.

Pass it on if you think it has merit. If not then just discard it... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.

My Best Regards.

Honestly and respectfully,
Ben Stein

I hope this gets you thinking the way it has me. The next question is, what are we going to do to change things?

Digging, Building, Serving, and Rolling in the Mud

My parent's church held an event entitled 'ServeFest' this year, which my family chose to participate in. The entire church shut down on Sunday and instead of worshipping in the sancutary chose to extend our worship and talents outside the walls of our building and into the community. There were a variety of activities/service projects to choose from. Ranging from painting school playgrounds, filing, planting trees/flowers, and building benches to cleaning headstones at the local cemetary, doing a plethora of odd jobs at the fairgrounds, or building houses for low income families. We chose to build houses, as my dad is quite the craftsman and felt it would be something he could contribute on. We were told we would be doing siding and trim work. But apparently that was almost completed by the day ServeFest arrived. So what did we get to do? We dug holes for piping and spread dirt in the garage to prepare it for paving. On a normal day this would have been fine. And it was fine. But it was also pouring rain, so digging holes in a torrential downpour...let's just say it makes for some very dirty people. It doesn't help that my sister and I just enjoy getting dirty, so we "fall" in order to muddy ourselves up even more. Not that we needed it. Also, by the time our hole was complete (8 feet deep by 5-6 feet wide) the rain was coming down hard and the runoff from the roof of the house was causing our hole to flood and fill with water. Oh well! We had fun doing it anyway!

Dad, Laura, and I after a long day of digging and shoveling

Our mom isn't nearly as dirty...she was inside doing caulking all day!

Our jeans...before we hosed them off.

Removing the grime

Apparently I am on a bathroom kick in my blogging. Not sure why that is. Obsession? Fascination? A little of both? Whatever the reason, I had a pretty incredible revelation while cleaning my shower the other day and felt the need to share. Now...here it is...get ready to have all your life transformed....

People are like showers!

I know! Unbelievable insight I have, right? However odd it sounds, it is pretty accurate. We are like showers in the way that a shower builds up grime, dirt, and bacteria. This grime is not always visible. Often we can go for weeks without giving our shower a thorough scour, and even then, we may miss those hard to reach corners or just give up because that highly acclaimed "elbow grease" we are supposed to have just isn't enough to power through the dense layers of scum. Then, finally, when you think your shower is perfectly clean and you are staring out the sparkling white tile and shiny knobs, congratulating yourself on a job well done, the grime starts to grow again and threaten your pristine walls and crystal clear glass door. It would seem that the job is never done. You are always having to wash it, scrub it, disinfect it. Inspections are done regularly or maybe you decide its just not worth all the hassle and give up. Letting the dirt take control.

Does this sound familiar? Does it sound like you? I know it sounds like me.

My heart is very much like a shower. I am constantly having to clean out the filth I let cling to the sides and manifest in the corners. Often I don't even recognize the things that are making me unclean, but God always has a way of pointing them out to me. Often subtlety. Sometimes more forcefully. He is aware when I'm not. He is always on the lookout for the grime in my life and wants to purify me and make me whole again. When I get rid of one thing, such as pride or anger, God is quick to show me another area that needs my attention. Very much like a shower, my heart is never clean. Just like my shower constantly needs my attention, so does my heart. I'm a constant work in progress and have resigned myself to the fact that I will always be that way. ;)

But it's so rewarding to scour off, layer by layer, the scum and grime that has built up and to know that I am getting closer and closer to being sparkling white.

The Unspoken Rule of the Women's Restroom

Note: This blog will most likely be understood by women, as men have a much easier time in public bathrooms than we do.

You enter the restroom and cautiously give a gentle push on one of many stall doors. It budges. You feel it is safe to swing the door wide open, only to pull back in disgust. The toilet is either clogged, covered in toilet paper, or just plain disgusting. You obviously can't use that stall. So you move to the next. It's possible that a repeat of the above situation occurs or you find the selected stall occupied and are forced to search elsewhere. Finally you find an empty, fairly clean stall to use.

I believe there is an unspoken rule where you must go in at least one stall before actually settling on one. At least, it happens to me constantly. And I doubt I am the only woman who has this problem.

Another thing I just don't understand about public bathrooms is the toilet paper. Whose idea was it to invent tissue thin toilet paper that disintegrates the second you touch it? Someone must be getting a huge laugh over it! I mean, what good is toilet paper that just shreds in your hand when you try to pull it off the roll? I always am forced to jam my hand up into the toilet paper dispenser and carefully slide the roll around until a sufficient amount of paper is dangling from the spool. Then, and only then, am I free to victorioulsy detach the 3-4 squares of TP I have freed from the roll. By the way, this process is simply too involved for the paltry reward. Is it really that expensive to use 2-ply toilet paper? I know that this tissue supplied in most public restrooms is supposedly better at breaking down (however, despite the fact that it falls apart in my hand, I almost always find 1-3 clogged toilets in the restroom...), but even a thicker 1-ply would be nice.

Hopefully, things will change. I look forward to the day when I enter the bathroom at Barnes & Noble and am greeted with soft to the touch, quilted toilet paper, instead of the sheer, paper substance I currently find.

Lack of Motivation

I am a horrible blogger. No, don't try and convince me I'm not. I am quite aware that it's true. ;)

I thought when I created this account I would actually use it. Instead, I'm rarely signed on and post a disjointed thought about once or twice a month...if that. However, I've been thinking about it and I wonder if it really even matters if I write some bland story about myself. I don't even know if anyone views my blog or finds what I write a mite interesting, so should I just let myself get lost in the black hole that so many blogs are consumed by? Perhaps. Or maybe I should buckle down and take 10 minutes a day or every couple days to post something half exciting. Okay...maybe not exciting...but most definitely random or strange. I am constantly amused or entertained by things throughout my day and my mind is always struggling with God about something. Consequently, I should find something to ramble about for a paragraph or so. Be it stories from my childhood (and there are many...paperdolls...blading to the Little House on the Prairie Theme Song - and creating routines for it...spying from our secret hideout....this list could go on forever, but I'll keep some of the mystery alive for now. ;) ), thoughts about life, observations, rants, or praises to God, I should have at least something to write about!

Sometimes I just want to delete all my posted blogs and start from scratch. Who knows...maybe one day I will! :)

Joy among Suffering

I am a pretty optimistic person. You can almost always find me smiling. And if I'm not, just crack a joke or make a silly face and I will probably burst out laughing. However, lately it's been a little harder for me to laugh. There are still a lot of wonderful and amazing things occurring in my life, but there have also been some not so wonderful things....

I recently found at my Uncle Bob (dad's sister's husband) has been diagnosed with Stage 4 Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Hearing this basically knocked the wind out of me and brought immediate tears to my eyes. Especially when I heard that it was Stage 4 - the most severe. In Stage 4, the cancer has spread from the lymph nodes and invaded the bone marrow, liver, and other vital parts of the body. Thinking of my uncle being attacked in this way depresses me incredibly. He is tall, funny, strong, quiet, witty, and most always laughing. I hate to think of how the treatment is going to sap him of his strength and strip the weight from his lanky frame. But I cannot imagine Uncle Bob being angry or bitter and I know that he will fight this with everything he has within him. And God will do the rest.

I hate cancer by the way. Of all illnesses it is probably my least favorite. Mainly because it has touched my family just one too many times. It ravishes people's health and it always seems to be the victor - at least in my family's case. My mom's dad died from lung cancer, my papa (dad's dad) died from melonoma, and now my uncle has Hodgkin's. I have seen how it silently creeps up and steals your vitality away. I don't want to watch it happen to another person I love. Fortunately, I have God on my side. I don't know where I would be without my faith. I hurt for those experiencing pain and sorrow who do not have God to lean on for comfort and support and I continually pray that they will accept the great gift that Christ offers us. There is no one who is better at wiping our tears away and giving us hope and strength to endure.

On top of this news, I learned that my dad's cousin has Parkinson's. She lives on the property behind my parents and I worked for her husband, Nick, for awhile doing data entry. She is an amazing cook (Nick is Greek, so she whips up delectable Greek treats), but now her dexterity is digressing and it is becoming more difficult for her to do the daily tasks she enjoys so much. She also has started shuffling when she walks. It kills me to see such a vivacious and active person lose these abilities, but she is staying positive and presses on with determination. I pray that this disease will progress slowly.

As I was driving to work today, one of my favorite Casting Crowns songs came on the radio and definitely applies to how I have been feeling:

Praise You in this Storm
Casting Crowns

I was sure by now,God, that You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
and it's still raining
as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

Chorus:
And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I've cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to You
and raised me up again
my strength is almost gone
how can I carry on if I can't find You
and as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away

-Chorus-

I lift my eyes onto the hills
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth
I lift my eyes onto the hills
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth

-Chorus-

It is such an incredible song to me! To keep praising God, even when all the pains of life are weighing so heavily upon us is such an amazing thing! This song and MercyMe's song "Bring the Rain" depict so well the mix of joy and sorrow that often are conflicting in our souls. Just incredible and moving to me. :)

I'm still smiling and laughing amongst this bout of depressing news. But I'm also more pensive and prayerful, which I find to be great blessings. My prayer life needs to be more active than it is and these events have definitely helped propel me closer to God.

Sleep is Overrated...

I used to tell myself that. In fact, I used to believe that. Back when I was young and energetic...you know, when I was still in college. I used to be able to function on 4 hours of sleep. Now I find myself craving 7, 8, or 9 hours. Where did my youth go? Has it vanished? And what will happen when I reach that dreaded, quarter-of-a-century age that is 25?? My legs don't bend as easily as they did when I was 21...my knee pops when I run...my vision has steadily declined in the last several years...and worst of all...I don't go out at night. I find myself choosing to stay in on the weekends instead of venturing out into the wonderful world of clubbing, drinking, and socializing. Going to the movies and out to dinner...that's fine. But can I have the early-bird special, please?

Anyway, along with my physical weariness comes something much more serious. I find that I am spiritually weary as well. I spend less time in God's Word then I used to. And I don't have any good reasons as to why that is. I am working at building better habits and using my vast quiet time to commune with God, but often I feel distant from Him. And I wonder if I will ever be close again. I know it is in these times I need to cling to Him tighter then ever before, but I feel like my grasp is slipping...as if I have no strength to hold on. I know that I love Him completely, but I don't treat God like I should. I mean, He is the one who loves me more then ANYONE ever will! How incredible is that??!! I should love Him more than anyone too. But I often place other things and people ahead of Him. I take my best friend for granted because I do the things I want to do (even when I know I shouldn't) over following Christ. How selfish I am! How can he keep loving me? Amazingly and thankfully, He does. It's marvelous to have such incredible love in my life. So, I know this spiritual weariness is only passing. An opportunity for me to draw closer to God. To just rest in his presence. Because rest is what I need. Rest will allow me to be filled with strength again. Physically, our bodies need rest. We sleep at night so they will recover for the obstacles the next day presents. So it makes sense that our spiritual selves need rest too. We thrive on rest. And it is when we are resting that I believe we hear God clearer then ever because the noise of our lives is not surrounding us and filling us up. Only God is filling us up. And He fills us with the things we need most. He breathes life back into us. So I will relish the rest that God is asking me to take. :)

And I will embrace sleep. It's definitely not overrated. :)

Climbing to Total Exhaustion

Last weekend I went on what can hardly be described as a hike with my parents. I was home for the weekend, the weather was relatively nice (partly cloudy with sunbreaks...typical Seattle), so my dad & I decided it was perfect for a walk up in Lord's Hill Regional Park, situated just up the hill from my parent's property. We informed my mom & then headed out to round up the dogs. Or at least one of them. My parents have a golden retriever and a St. Bernard. Madison, the retriever, is a great walking dog. She could walk all day and night if you allowed her to. Shenzi on the other hand, is large. Very large. 120 lbs large. She may act like she's the size of a terrier, but she's not. She'll bowl you over in a heartbeat. But she also hates being left out of things. So when she saw us loading Madison into the back of the Subaru, she became slightly jealous. She eyed the car, then made a clumsy dash to the trunk and flung her girth into the trunk with Maddie. My dad and I looked at each other and attempted to pull Zee out...but she turned those glistening, sad eyes on us and we melted. Zee was coming on the walk. If we had known how things would turn out, she wouldn't have come. Unfortunately, God didn't give us the ability to see the future. :( So she came.

Lord's Hill Park is basically a trail system through the woods that accommodates walkers, runners, mountain bikers, and horseback riders. There are no grassy areas with picnic tables and barbeques. It's pretty natural as far as parks go. So, we entered into the trail system and decided to do the long loop down to the river and then back up and around Temple Pond and back onto the main pipeline trail. It was long, but not too arduous. However, there were a few steep climbs on our way up from the river and halfway through the walk, Zee began to pant. I take that back. Zee pants after taking about 10 steps. But there are several categories of panting when it comes to Zee, similar to a hurricane or tornado. Her panting was about a category 3. Not too bad, but definitely dangerous. We ignored her cries for water and forced her onward for another hour or more. None of us really took notice of her condition until we were about 15 minutes away from the entrance to the park. By this point, Shenzi's tongue had grown several inches longer, was dangling precariously out of her mouth - it looked like a roll of bubble tape had unrolled out of her - she was foaming uncontrallably, and her eyes were glazed over. We could tell she was in trouble. Somehow we made it up the final hill to the car. Shenzi collapsed to the ground and began breathing extremely fast. I was worried. I didn't want anything serious to happen to her, but I think we were already to that point. She had heat exhaustion. My dad found 2 bottles of water in the car and began pouring water into Zee's mouth. Not much made it down her throat though, as her tongue had swelled to match the size of her mouth. My dad and I had to lift Shenzi into the back of the car because she didn't even have strength left to stand up. We zoomed down the hill to home. The race to save her life was on! Zee wobbled out of the car on her own accord before crashing to the cement in the shade. My dad began spraying her down with the hose to cool her body temperature and eventually, after several hours, Shenzi began perking up.

I guarantee Zee won't be so eager to hop in the car next time.

The Curse of the Silver Screen

I'm beginning to get the distinct impression that I am not welcome at any of the local cinemas. Maybe I should stop viewing films in theaters altoghether and just watch from the comfort of my own apartment. Why do I think movie theaters are out to get me? Mainly because I'm cursed. Okay, I'm being a bit dramatic (that is my way...ask anyone), but these things don't just happen to anyone. I guess I should start back at the beginning...at least the first time I ever noticed that theaters don't like me.

It was my first date with my ex-boyfriend. We went and saw the movie "The Hot Chick". I honestly cannot say why he picked that movie, but he did, and I went. There were maybe five other people in the theater. We walked down the aisle and finally settled on sitting dead center. It wasn't by anyone else and wasn't too far back or forward to cause any discomfort in viewing the film. We had just relaxed into our seats - feet propped up on the chairs in front of us, so as to keep our feet from becoming permanently glued to the sticky mess that was the floor - when a teenager, probably around 16 or 17 came into the theater. He had the entire theater at his command...there were seats everywhere. But he must not have noticed it. Maybe it looked packed to him. Because he came down my row and sat directly next to me. I'll admit that it made me slightly uncomfortable, but I am a friendly person and am probably too nice for my own good. I said hello. Mistake number one. He immediately started talking to me about the film...he had already seen it and loved it. He knew I was going to like it. And of course, he had to inform me of all the "funny" parts before they actually happened. Did I mention he spit when he talked? Yeah. A lot. All over my left arm. Everytime. My boyfriend at the time just sat there, trying not to laugh. I was to polite to change seats. So I endured the whole movie with this guy sitting on my left, leaning into my personal space (I like my bubble, thank you!), and providing me with a shower of spit throughout the entire film. Then, when the movie finally ended, he walked out of the theater with me, chatting the entire time...all the way down the hall...into the lobby...out the door...and to his car. So that was my first interesting movie experience.

Later in this same relationship, my boyfriend & I went to the movies again. Not sure what the film was...but I do remember the person sitting behind me. During the previews he sprawled across 3 seats and began vomiting onto the floor directly behind me. My eyes went wide with shock and disgust and I had to quickly suppress the urge to throw up my own dinner. I turned to my boyfriend, we barely glanced at each other before we were on our feet moving to a different seat. At least 10 rows away from this guy. He probably had enjoyed himself too much at Hooters before coming to the theater. I don't know. All I could see that night was rivers of vomit cascading down the carpeted theater stairs and pooling around my white Jack Purcells.

Since these first two disturbing movie experiences I have other problems. Sitting next to the guy that emanated the smell of marijuana from every pore...fire alarms going off during the middle of Pirates (this happened twice...not at the same movie)....rowdy teens who make it their goal to drive as many people out of the theater as possible by their obnoxious screams and loud chatter....but that is not the worst of it. Recently, I went to see Ratatouille. I loved the film. It was creative, humorous, romantic, cute, and enjoyable. But I did NOT like the father sitting three seats down from me. His two daughters were sitting on my left and would not stop talking/whispering throughout the entire movie. But that was fine. I could handle their outcrys of "this is my favorite part!" or "I love when all the rats cook together!", but their father was far less polite. Let me state that it was a packed theater. In the middle of the film, his cellphone rang. Instead of politely turning it off as quickly as humanly possible or exiting the theater to answer the call, he decided to slowly reach for his phone, flip it open - illuminating the entire theater with the blinding white LED light - and actually say "hello" to the person on the other end. Of course, it would be too polite to stop there. Here is what I can remember of his conversation at the movies:

"Hello" "Yeah, I'm at the movies." "Oh, I'm seeing Ratatouille with my girls. How are you?" "No way" "I was going to do that tomorrow, but I'm not sure how things will shake out." "Let me know how it goes."

He talked to his phone friend for a good 3-5 minutes IN THE THEATER. Who does that?? I mean, I guess I know the answer to that question now, having witnessed it, but I seriously could not believe he had the nerve to just carry on a conversation in the middle of the theater like it was his own home. And he didn't have a quiet voice. I really wanted to start throwing my popcorn at him to send the message that what he was doing was rude & distracting. Unfortunately I was all out of popcorn. I guess I could have chewed my Sour Patch Kids up and then tossed them...Calm down, Dani, just calm down. Okay, I would never actually throw anything at someone in the movies...unless I knew them...then maybe. But only maybe. However, I really wanted to!

Anyway, is it just me? Or do other people have similar experiences at the movies? Because I'm beginning to think I am cursed. I find these experiences entertaining to a degree..at least it makes for a memorable night out! But I sometimes wonder if God enjoys putting me in these situations...I mean, it is definitely forcing me to work on patience!