Last Day

I've done a lot since I've written last. I ran a half marathon (got a better time than I thought I would)
I had all good intentions to write a detailed account of the race, but, time got away from me, and I have stayed busy the past few weeks, too busy to spend time blogging. So instead of writing that now, I'll save that for a possibly another post. There is so much happening NOW that must be told instead.
For instance, I got a hair cut. I like it much better short, and it was a goodly amount of hair I had chopped. I had major car problems the last couple weeks.  a week and a half ago my break line broke on my way to work. I had to get my car towed and live 3 days without a vehicle. Then the day after I brought it home (last Tuesday) I got home from work, and was preparing to head out again (the first of my many walmart trips) and my car decided not to start. Turns out I had to have my starter replaced. I'm very grateful I have brothers who are car savvy, my brother was able to come over that night and replace it for me.That was a headache much relieved. What else....Oh, I know! I leave tomorrow afternoon for Ukraine. I can't wait. My facebook statuses are a continual series of numbers, counting down the days till my departure. Pretty soon it will be the hours.
In preparation, I have made countless trips to walmart buying things. I'm sure if I actually sat down and wrote a list my trips would have been fewer. But I generally forget to make lists. Or if I actually made one, I forget to bring it with me. Or, when I make them, I forget to write down half the stuff I need. So really, list making isn't very effective with me anyway. Fortunately, I now have everything I need. And if I don't, I suppose I'll discover that when I arrive in Ukraine.

Last night I was counting up my foreign money from my previous trips. I have about the equivelent of 11-12 U.S. dollars in Hryvna (Ukrainian currency) and 40 Forints (Hungarian currency, we take a train from Budapest to Ukraine). 40 forints equals about 18 cents, American. Almost enough to be able to use the restroom at the Nygoti Train station in Budapest. heheh. It cracks me up that they charge you. They stand guard by the entrance of the restrooms, and dole out a few little squares of toilet paper as you pay them. Needless to say, countless jokes are generally made by us Americans on the ways of European money making. And stingyness. Be forewarned, if you ever travel to Europe, be sure to bring your own TP.

That last paragraph sure went downhill fast.
On another note, I'm spending my last day here at my usual favorite Wednesday hang out, Where pumpkin pie lattes are made, managers who look like Doris Day work, and where artists sit by doors. And I got here early enough to get a properly sized table to use. No little dinky ones for me, thankyou very much. And with that, I bid you farewell for the next month or so, when I return to the land of bloggydom (I'm quite expert at creating names for things aren't I?) I'm sure I'll have countless stories to share with all you readers...assuming people read this.

There is just something about it...

Have you ever listened to a song you know in English (or whatever your native tongue may be) and then heard it in another language? Right now I'm listening to How Great is Our God in Russian. I love this song. And to know I can sing along with it during a worship service in Ukraine, and actually KNOW what I'm singing is awesome. There are songs I sing along with at the Gypsy church we go to in Ukraine. I haven't the slightest clue as to what I may be singing, but you can feel God there just as much as if you knew what you were singing. I just downloaded a few songs in Ukrainian to my phone, worship songs. I'll be happy when I can sing these songs in two different languages.

In a few weeks I'll be traveling to Ukraine. I can't wait. I love it there so much. I have great friends there, I love worshiping with the Gypsies at their churches, I love spending time with the teenagers, having youth meetings with both the gypsy youth and Ukrainian. I love having girls night with some friends (in which all the men are kicked out :P girl time! especially since I'm the only girl going this year!)

One of my dreams is to travel the world speaking to teenagers/young adults. and I do! I have gone to Ukraine every October since 2010. Every trip we have had meetings with the youth. Every  trip we have seen amazing things take place. Every trip we meet new people, make new friends, see healing, restoration and revelation happen in peoples lives. There are the kids to love, the youth to hang out with, the friends to spend time with, the people to pray for and be prayed for by. New words we discover in Ukrainian. Its amazing. I can hardly contain my excitement as I sit here and type this.

The cities where we spend our time are beautiful. The food is delicious. Our hosts know how to treat a guest! (seriously, we would each pack on about 50 pounds of weight if they'd let us! the feed us soooooo much!) its the standing joke that our friends try to kill us with food. You have to eat slowly, otherwise they will fill your plate back up when you aren't looking, and its impolite to leave food on your plate.

I love it. I love them. I love that country. I love the fact that God can use them to minister to me as much as do them, if not more.

I'm excited. Can you tell?

Change.

I really don't care for this. What? Starbucks, MY Starbucks has remodeled. I haven't been here to work in a few weeks. I come in and my favorite table is gone. Replaced by tall round ones. Even the Artist by the door can no longer be the artist by the door. His table is tall round one too. No room for his 3 cups of coffee, portfolios and drawing materials. He chatted with me a little cause I hadn't been here in so long. He said he didn't like the changes either, the tables are too small. I'm sure within time we will both be used to the changes. I just don't understand why they made them. I'm sure that there was a reason, but I liked the old way. Plus, they got my name wrong on my cup again. Just after they started getting it right, I guess that's what 3 weeks absence does.

However, the atmosphere is still the same, even if the interior isn't. I can still work with few distractions, and honestly, there are more things in this world that irritate me more than some new tables and furniture arrangements.

I think I mentioned it before that I'm a creature of habit. I have my slightly OCD tendency's. Fortunately I am the only person the affect. Some things have to be certain way with me. For instance, I've decided I'm going to break my habit of wearing the same sweater on my plane trips as I have the last 3 years when I've traveled to and from Ukraine. I felt in my mind that I MUST wear the same sweater, otherwise it just wouldn't be the same. However, I intend to break free from that one. Mainly cause it kind of annoys me that I felt helpless to overcome the desire to keep things exactly the same. Its ridiculous really. Hence  the irritation of coming to a newly decorated and rearranged store. Its just not the same. But change is good, right? its healthy. I don't want the old things to become moldy, I should want to keep things fresh and healthy. They say the first step to overcoming things is to admit you have a problem. Consider this my admission to having problems. Next month I will take the first   step by breaking my sweater 'problem'. Its the little things that count, right?

Lessons.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say, so aren't you happy that I'm back?
Life has been moving at a fast pace, leaving little time for things like blogging. But things are slowly going back to the old routine, work, youth group, running. My half marathon is in two weeks. I'm freaking out inside.
Things are coming together for my European excursion next month (Ukraine). Speaking of Europe, I have decided that Switzerland is a must, and that I shall go there one day. I keep seeing pictures. Its gorgeous.

We went through fair week, my siblings did well with their market entries. I did not win anything for my entries. I'm an impatient person. Because of that, my apron sewing was atrocious. It looks okay from a distance, but don't look too closely. Its not pretty. My one blot of dissatisfaction of my abilities (okay, one of my many dissatisfactions) is that I am terrible at crafty things. Like sewing. and crocheting. and knitting. Basically anything that has something to do with string and needles.

I have been making improvements though. or instance, I ran my best time for a 5k last weekend at a race, winning 3rd place in my age group. That was exciting.
I've been learning that I have more patience with people than I do with "things".
I've been learning that forgiveness can be tough, but oh so relieving when you give it. I've been learning I tend to feel motherly to my youth kids, and that though it hurts like anything when they screw up, I can still forgive and love them, and do my darndest for their future wellfare.That punishment is hard to delve out when you just want to hug and forgive them on the spot. I think every girl, no matter how reckless or tomboyish, is instilled with motherly instinct to some degree and can't help but let it leak out every now and then.
I've learned the importance of being the best example I can be, because  whether I always realize it or not, people look up to me.
I'm learning I'm far more capable than I give myself credit for, and as long as I keep looking to what I can do as opposed to what my body (specifcially my legs) tells me I can't, I can do more things more easily. I've said it before, running is a love/hate sort of thing. When you run your best time and win something for your efforts, its quite an accomplishing feeling and makes you want to reach that next goal. So really I shouldn't be freaked out about doing my first 10 miler this week (which is what I've been trying to convince myself of. Sometimes its a losing battle)
I've learned that walking nervously back and forth on stage steps as you share your first message with the entire church on a Sunday morning does not bode well for your dignity. I almost fell down them. I'm a klutz.
I've learned that I can't do things on my own, and how its so important to surround yourself with people whose strengths are your weaknesses, who can help you and guide you when you are terrified about how to handle hardships.

And I've learned that I really hope that season 3 of Once Upon a Time is as good as the first 2. And that they place actors in rolls I think they should (right Tory ?:-P)

Let August be August

Its freezing right now. Freezing for August that is. Today's high doesn't even reach 70. My hands are cold. My toes are cold. Right now its barely 60. My question is why on earth are we having Fall in August? We had two weeks of super hot weather. Now within about the last month I think its only reached 80 about 4 times. I'm really not digging this. Makes me wonder how cold its going to be when its really fall. One nice thing (and perhaps the ONLY nice thing) is that it has been perfect weather for running.

Speaking of running, this morning I signed up for my first half marathon. I've been working on training for it. Yesterday I ran 9 miles. That's the furthest I have run. It was a wonderful feeling, except my leg felt like jelly when I was finished. That wasn't wonderful. Not at all. Surprisingly enough, I'm really not sore at all today. My legs are a little tired, but I don't think I'll have any trouble heading back out for another training run tomorrow. I have about 6  more weeks left of training before the big day. I'm excited. I'm apprehensive. I'm nervous. I'm....fearfully excited. Fearful? I can't hardly imagine running another 4 miles on top of what I did yesterday all in one go. Excited? I'll have a super nifty silver medal and cool tech shirt for my pains. Literal pains. I'm not expecting being able to walk by the time I cross the finish line. Oh the things we do for medals (er, accomplishments)

Yesterday was a day full of accomplishments. After work, I ran 9 miles, then we ate dinner, then we got to work..23 chickens. one pot of hot water... Lots of feathers involved. Needless to say there are now 3 freezers full of home grown chickens waiting to be cooked and enjoyed. It was long messy work. But  so worth it once we have a nice roast chicken, especially nice because we raised them. they had REAL free range. Not the nasty mess of chickens packed into a yard with 100s of others and squished together in tiny cages. Our chickens led a nice happy life with us. Plenty to eat, plenty of room, a yard to roam. And I now know how to successfully pluck chickens.It may sound morbid, but I surely do look forward to a tasty chicken dinner .

By this time next week we will be fearfully void of feathered and 4 legged creatures. Its the county fair. Two of the pigs will be leaving us. 6 of our 9 ducks will be leaving us. We already got rid of 14 of our chickens (we just having some young laying hens left, the other 9 chickens we took care of yesterday belonged to my married sister and neighbors). The Rabbit will be temporarily gone. It'll be strange not seeing a flock of white chickens foraging around outside, and a flock of ducks wondering in one large group all over the place, following us around whenever we are outside.

There shall be no post next week due to the fair, but there may be an abundance of pictures the week after!

I Believe in Plaid

You know how Audrey Hepburn said she believes in pink? I believe in plaid. I love plaid. I wear plaid all the time. I'm wearing plaid right now. Plaid goes with just about anything. The same plaid shirt can make you look hip, country, or stylish.You can wear plaid with skinny jeans. You can wear plaid with old jeans. You can wear plaid with tennis shoes, flip flops or boots. Plaid is suitable for all moods. You can wear plaid when you are cold. You can wear plaid when you are warm. You can wear plaid in the barn. You can wear plaid to a restaurant. Its just so wearable. I have a closet full of plaid. Purple, yellow, blue, pink, brown, green, red. Its my go to article of clothing. I wore plaid chasing the pigs out of a ditch when they escaped on monday. I wore plaid at church on Sunday. I wore plaid at a concert last week. I'm wearing plaid now at a coffee shop.I wear plaids usually over a t- shirt. Sometimes on its own. nearly always with jeans, sometimes with pajamas. I just love plaid. I got two new plaid shirts at a second-hand store last week. I love new(ish) plaid. It open up so many new options. I love wearing plaid with old comfy jeans. It practically makes it feel like I'm wearing pajamas all day when I do. Its my comfort clothing. I've worn it everyday this week.I'll probably wear it the rest of the week too. Plaid is cool. Plaid is chill. Plaid is nifty. Plaid is wonderful. Plaid is me.

Yellow Rain Coat

I haven't seen anyone wear a bright yellow raincoat in years. A girl just walked into Starbucks wearing one. With a bowler hat. And those big glasses that are so widely associated with being "hip'' and what not. Inwardly I chucked to myself. Outwardly I smiled. Its the little things. I think I need a bright yellow raincoat.

Nothing in particular

There is a meeting going on at the table next to me between the manager at Starbucks and a shift supervisor trainee. I can hear all the dirt. Its...interesting. I probably shouldn't be hearing all this. I should turn my volume up on Pandora. But...

For the most part it isn't bad. its just a few little stories. I really like this Starbucks. All the people are super nice. The store manager looks like Doris Day. All the employees seem to get along great. All making for a nice friendly atmosphere. My one complaint would be that the music they play can get annoying. Hence the headphones and Pandora radio.
But on the whole, I love this particular store. I see the regulars here. I rarely get my name misspelled or wrong on my cups anymore. I like it.

Once when I was here there were two Russians sitting behind me. I felt like I was in Ukraine (Ukrainian and Russian languages are very similar)
Another time I had a nice chat with the artist who sits by the door. Other times I've had chats with the Barista's. Its very comfortable here.

Plus, I just got an email informing me that I am a gold card member for another year. Thats always nice. Only 7 more stars till my next free drink.

Today is a wonderful change from last weeks unbearable heat. Its not even 70 degrees out right now. Its gorgeous running weather, unfortunately though I am unable to go run. My Wednesdays are 10 hour days generally. starting around 10:30-11:00 AM and not ending till 8:30-9:00 PM.
But tomorrow is another day of this cooler weather and I should be able to get out then.
Yesterday I went out for a run but less than 20 minutes into it I had to call home for a ride due to a thunderstorm that came in. So I had to finish up my workout on the elliptical and exercise bike. Extremely boring, but at least I did it, which is all that counts.

Not my day...

Once again, technology defeats me. I mean seriously, how hard is it to install an app on your phone to run a compatible program on your computer? I've deleted, re-installed, and repeated on both my computer and my phone. A program that once worked great. A program that is supposed to be linked between my phone and my computer, but refuses to link. I've done everything I can think of to do. So I decided it was time to give my mental faculties a much needed break and get my mind on something else. Like blogging. But of course the first thing I think of to blog is my extreme irritation with technology. Figures.

So in order to remove my mind to more pleasant things...
1. We have discovered our two new buckeye "hens" are roosters. Lot of good that does us.
2.Its insufferably hot out.
3. Nothing is worse than old mosquito bites reacting to the heat and making you itch like mad. Why did mosquitoes have to be saved from the flood?
4.Its insufferably humid out
5. My car is acting up again. If its not one thing its another.
6.We are now back full circle because I can't get my lack of computer program abilities off my mind.

I'm sorry. I really don't want to complain. This is just one of those afternoons. I'm  frustrated.

On another note, at least it really can't get much hotter than it already is. And there are no tornado warnings or flooding like last week. There was a story on the news about how an Amish farmer had 1000 acres of corn leveled because of the high winds, tornadoes etc. Its sad. And one little boy did drown in the flooding last week. But there were also stories of people being rescued.

I just saw a story about two  teenage boys who rescued a little girl who was being kidnapped by chasing a car down on their bikes that had had the abductor and little girl in it. There is still goodness in the world. Praise God those boys kept at it.Who knows what might have happened to that little girl.

It is nice to know that I am not the only person in the world, that despite my feelings of negativity and frustrations, and lack of abilities with frustrating technology, God is still working. Working in people's lives, working on my lack of patience, working on hearts and minds, working through people to rescue people. I guess when I think about all that, this day isn't quite so bad as I thought.

Last Night

Last night I ate an unfortunate amount of Gingerbread. And I don't regret it one bit.
Last night I did 35 minutes on the eliptical in the basement. It was boring.
Last night I read in bed until my sister decided it was time to sleep.
Last night there was thunderstorm after thunderstorm. It was noisy yet comforting. I like storms.
Last night a single fly managed to nearly drive me insane.
Last night I woke up sweating because it was so humid.


Last night not much really happened out of the ordinary. a quiet evening at home after a long work day.
Its always nice to come home after a tiring day. It was very hot, I was grateful to spend most of my time at work in air conditioning.There were those 3 hours I spent cleaning out a humid garage during the heat of the day. That was no fun. We finally finished a 17,000 sq.ft. house that we were working on since last monday. It. Was. Huge. and ridiculous. only 4 people lived there. two of them were only 10 years old. Thats over 4,000 sq ft per person. over 3 miles of sq feet total. I don't understand the logic behind it, but to each their own I guess. All I know is if I never step inside another 17,000 sq ft house I don't care. I've had my fill of them.

I remember when I was younger I thought living in a huge house would be so awesome. Granted there were 12 people under 1 roof of a house not meant for 12 people to live in. It was pretty cramped. But now that I'm older and can see all the work that goes into owning that large of a house...I'm cured of ever wanting to live in a mansion. To me its not worth it.

I kind of felt like the Beverly Hillbillies stepping into that house for the first time. Out of place. A little small-town country girl stepping into the land of the outrageously wealthy. Of course in my case I'm not outrageously wealthy. Perhaps outrageously poor. Being a house cleaner and youth director doesn't make you very rich. I bet a single chandelier in that house cost more than I make in a month. To me it seems wasteful, when I see where all that money could have gone to use. I see it every week, at church. I see it every year in whatever country I happen to be in. However, Im not a materialistic person at all. I cringe at spending $20 for jeans. I wait for sales and shop at Marshall's. And Walmart.
I'm grateful I've never been wealthy. I'm grateful that I've had hard work. My favorite job was working on a farm. I spent some time as dental receptionist. I spent most of my time bored stiff. I did lots of babysitting, helped with the homeschooling of some boys I babysat. Now I clean houses and am a youth director. I don't get paid for the youth directing, so I'm grateful to have the cleaning job. I prefer manual labor to a desk job any day. I remember when I worked for the dental office I'd come home exhausted. But It was the kind of exhaustion that came from being bored. With the job I have now, and when I worked at the farm, I'd come home exhausted and knew it was because I'd just put in hours of manual labor. Its a good feeling.

Bucket List

I was thinking about Bucket lists the other day. a list of things that I want to have accomplished by the time I die. Some things are things that will most likely happen anyway, some things are just random fancies that I would love to do someday. Some are highly unlikely to ever come about, but its my bucket list, and I can dream about it if I want.
I could write a detailed itemized list, but that would just be boring. I figured I might share a few of the things I hope to one day instead. Some I have mentioned before. For instances you have probably guessed that book writing, conference speaking and traveling are the top items on my bucket list. So no need to expound on them.

I have long believed I was born about 65 years too late. I love all things 1930's-40's. I love the old movies from then. I love the fact that the country put hard work at the top of there priority list (now a days it seems that the priority is to make money doing as little as possible) It was a time when people banded together when a nation was at war to help eachother. It was a time when dancing was a great past time, and it was real dancing. Not this disgusting wiggling commonly referred to as "dancing" nowadays. It required talent to dance then. Everyone knew how to  dance. Thats why learning the Charleston is number 7 on my bucket list. To be able to dance it like Ginger Rogers would be my preference. Impossible, I know, but its my bucket list. I can dream it up however I want.
To be able to dance the jitterbug, jive, etc ranks up there with number 7 too. That would be so cool. If you know of any good instructional videos, do let me know of them. You can help me make trusty number 7 a reality.

I've always wanted to live on a farm. One day I hope to live on one. Not large, but to raise pigs, chickens and dairy cows. Of course this wouldn't take place till after I had done my traveling circuit, but its still one thing I'd love to do. I've always wanted to have milk cows. Thats why number 4 on my list is to own a Jersey milk cow named Sybil.

Sometimes I think I need about 4 lifetimes to accomplish everything I want to do. Back to the 1940's, I love the idea of having a Diner with a soda counter. Mixing up cool alcohol-free beverages, serving up ice cream, serving breakfast and lunches. I think I could be a pretty good short-order cook. Item number 9: own a 1940's style soda counter Diner complete with a Juke box that played only popular 1940's songs. I think I would open it up for some Charleston dancing on the weekends. I of course will be able to dance like Ginger Rogers in this fantasy, and would be a wonderful Charleston teacher, and we would have Charleston competitions on a regular basis. I would win them all. Because I'd be able to dance like Ginger Rogers.

I think that that is enough bucket list items for now. Hopefully one day Ill be able to achieve them all. Hopefully I have many years left to accomplish them. Whats your bucket list look like?

Missing Africa

I've traveled. I've said it before, and I'm sure by my mentioning it in nearly every blog entry, you have come to the conclusion that I absolutely love it. And miss it. Normally its Europe I'm yearning for, but at present its Africa. I've been looking through my pictures of my last 2010 trip there. I miss it. I miss the kids, I miss the people, I miss having fun with other visitors of the IRIS center where I stayed both times I went. I miss the church services, the babies, the missionaries who live and work on the center. In short, I really miss Africa. I need to find a rich husband to fund all my traveling wants.( That was a joke). But don't think I haven't thought about it !(that was a joke too, I am not a money-hungry-discontented-man-hunting-girl. Trust me, I'm not)

I miss pretty much everything about my time spent in Africa. The last time I went to Africa I traveled straight from Ukraine. I had been gone for a month before I came home to the good old US of A. Besides missing my family, I wasn't homesick at all. I gloried in every moment spent on foreign ground, even to the time where myself and another short-termer had to rescue one of the other short termer from a woman hungry runt of a man who upon seeing Rene's blond hair declared himself in love with her and proposed on the spot. He was surprisingly strong for a little man, but Christine and I managed to fight him off and leave the market unscathed. We laughed after the fact and told Rene` next time we went anywhere with her we would make her wear a paper-bag over her head to avoid any other mishaps with men who want a free ride to the US with a pretty blonde.

I miss street ministry, and preaching to and feeding street kids, getting soaked to the bone in a raging storm, having to yell at the top of our voices to be heard of the thunder. Feeling the hairs on arms stick up from the lightening that struck the building we were standing next to. Honestly, that was one of my favorite moments of the entire trip.

I even miss trying to evade the grasps of many little girl hands attempting to braid my hair. I had been through that harrowing experience on my previous trip to Mozambique, and wasn't about to go through it again if I could help it. You haven't experienced head pain till you have 5 girls braiding your hair all at once, each tugging your head in different directions at the same time. It hurts.

I miss eating the rice with the children, using our fingers as spoons, in the large building that serves as both church and dining hall. There is a lot to miss, and I miss all of it. I hope to one day return to Africa. I hope to being able to one day travel there often, as often as I do Ukraine. For now I content myself with pictures, memories, prayers and dreams, and the thankfulness I feel that I have been able to see Africa, not once but twice. Its a lot to be thankful for.

  Rene` and I after church with children who live on the center and who live in the community

                                                             Paulo and I

                                                   Helena, Myself and Anita
 (Helena has since gone home to be with Jesus. Its hard to know I won't see her on this earth again)

          My sister Anna and I the day we left the Center in 2010 with a bunch of the little boys

Dreaming of the Big Picture

I feel like I've been created to do great things. Like God has a plan for me that will blow me away. Its not a conceited feeling. I don't think I'm any better than the next person. I just can't believe that God could have brought me through things without having a greater plan in mind. Like God hasn't given me certain gifts without having the plan to use them. I like to talk. A lot. I'm a chatterbox once you get me started. I even have inner dialogs with myself going on all the time. Why? Cause I can't seem to get myself to shut up even when there is no one around to talk to.  I'm in a position now, of both authority and up-frontness, where my gift of gab is extremely necessary. I feel like my love of speaking and desire to bring the Lord to teenagers go hand in hand. I've always wanted to do something in the 'Public Eye' so to speak. To be up front, to be able to be in front of huge crowds. Although when I was 16 and first learning guitar, I was determined to be in a Band, basically the next BarlowGirl. My sister and cousin and I even had a name, "Your Biggest Fan" complete with a theme song we wrote in my room, where one of the lines was "We will rock your socks cause we're your biggest fans". Song writing was not our strong point. I wanted to be the drummer of the band, cause I always figured the drummers were the coolest people. I broke a good pair of chopsticks knocking away on buckets in my room to my own version of what I thought was 'rhythm' (I blush to say that is not made up at all. Really happened)
I was certain I was meant to be a musician. I was going to be famous. In a way that happened, though I wasn't famous, I did get some new Myspace (remember that place?) followers from people I met when I was in a worship band that played at youth conferences and things.and I've been a member of our church's worship team for 5 years and I lead worship for youth group. However, as I matured, the rock star ideal faded and I decided I liked my ability to talk, and my lack of shyness made that easy. I think I was around 18 or 19 when I began to feel a passion for speaking. I didn't do it much. I became a youth leader 2 months before my 19th birthday, and was the small group leader for half the youth group. I soon discovered that teaching from a curriculum was not my thing. My first lesson as the small group youth leader, I completely rewrote. Same basis, my words. I can't teach from a lesson plan to save my life. I have no passion for it if it wasn't inspired by God to me personally. I'm not saying that these plans and curriculum's weren't good, they were great, and I would have really enjoyed it had I been the one being taught them. But I just couldn't teach someone else's words. The dynamics of youth group eventually changed, and the new youth director let me teach a few times. I remember my first time teaching. I was so excited and nervous. I labored for a long time over my message. You can imagine when it only took 15 minutes to get through everything when I had an hour to fill. Despite that, I was allowed to teach again, and several years later I was asked to step in as youth director. I was apprehensive, uncertain, and, I admit, a little scared. But I was excited. I could finally start speaking on a regular basis. And I'm having so much fun doing it. Every time I get to lead someone to Christ, I am so excited. God is using me. me! And I feel that this is only the beginning. I still want to be speaking to large groups. I still would love to travel and be a main speaker at conferences. I still feel like that's what I'm called to do. I feel like God is training me right now for the bigger picture. I'm learning so much from my current position. I love working with teenagers. I love little kids too, However, I used to teach Sunday School, and lets just say  that that wasn't my strong point. A desperation for Sunday school teachers at the time was what got me to teaching it, and I'm not sure anyone really benefited from my teaching the 3-5 year olds. (well, except the time I decided I would NOT teach them about Steven being stoned to death like it said in the lesson plan. I was not going to be the cause of their nightmares)

Thats another thing. I love teenagers. I've always wanted to help teenagers, to chat with them, to teach them, to inspire them. So you put two and two together and what do you get? a girl longing to be able to reach the masses in almost any setting, as long as she gets to talk.Talk about Jesus and what he's done for her. Its a pretty good dream. I think I'll live it.

Dreams of the Future

Today you get a two-in-one, no extra charge. My last post went in a completely different direction than I had originally intended. The problem was I liked it and thought it would be a shame to delete it and start over, so you get two in one day. A moment of silence for this momentous occasion in the history of Cara's blogging. Thank you.

I have a table at this coffee shop that I've sat at every week for the past 3 or 4 weeks. A little round back corner table. It is not my favorite. I like the one to the right of the front door better. Its not right by a window, but you get a clear view of whats going on around you. Here I'm oblivious to all because its behind me rather than surrounding me. I suppose that that is a good thing, considering when I'm here I'm busy working, but still. I like to know whats going on. Maybe its because I like to people watch. Maybe its because I just like to be aware. Or maybe its the fact that my favorite table is larger and square, allowing for more room for my lap top, books, notebooks etc. Its roomier. Unfortunately, it has been full every week for a long time. Instead, here I sit, at a tiny little round table in a tiny little corner.

What is it about the atmosphere of coffee shops that allow one to accomplish things that are otherwise difficult to accomplish? for instance, I have better ideas as to what to write or blog while sitting at a coffee shop table as opposed to sitting at home. Ideas flow freely, sentences and phrases come to my mind more easily. I like it here. I like it here. Id like to work at a coffee shop some day. My best friend wants to own a coffee shop someday. I told her I'd help her run it. She said she'd pay me in kind thoughts and words.

Something that I long to do one day is travel to London, find a coffee shop with Wifi and just write. Write what ever comes to my mind, write to my hearts content. And consume large amounts of brewed  caffeinated beverages in the process. I think I could be good at that. Drinking coffee and writing. My kind of hobby. And, in the process, travel all of the world and speak at youth conferences. I think I have the love of traveling, writing and speaking for a reason. I know I have them for a reason. I love doing them. Working as the youth director of my church has been so much fun, so fulfilling. It combines two of the things I love most to do, writing and speaking. And I get to lead worship as an added bonus. Plus I do a lot of my writing in Starbucks. Now if only I was traveling the world and doing these things, that would be the epitome of bliss in my mind. In the meantime, I find my duties as the Director of Student Ministries (that's what my title is on the church website. I sound so legit) as a wonderful training ground. I am learning the do's and don'ts of student ministry. I'm learning my process of writing and speaking. I'm learning how to follow God's lead on messages. I'm learning how to better understand the Bible. Its inspiring me to be better at what I do. Its improving my relationship with God. Its giving me insight into the lives of my students. Its given me a better understanding of patience (and ways to to practice it. If you ever run a youth group with only 2 girls amongst a sea of boys  you'll understand)

Well, that's where I'd like to be one day. Doing all of the above, all over the world. Its a dream, one that I feel certain can one day be a reality. But until then, I will continue learning and working. And one day maybe you'll meet me, in some foreign coffee shop, wearing a cool hat and writing vigorously on my lap top.

Words and Sounds

When I started this blog, I had an idea how I wanted each entry to sound. I wanted it to be chill, a descriptive view of how I see things. Something that would be interesting to the reader. I really like Donald Miller's style of writing. I think if you go back and look at my school papers you'd see that this is the most comfortable writing style for me. If I ever write a book, it'll be written in first person. I like coming from my view of things. How things play out in my mind, written as if I were describing an event, or thing, to someone else. Of course I get to use better adjectives writing it on a blog as opposed to speaking out loud. There are some words, I'm sure, that were meant to be written, not used in every day speech. A lot of times because they look better on paper (or screen) than they sound spoken. I'm sure I misuse adjectives on here, but sometimes you just need a nifty sounding word to make an other wise dull sentence sound interesting. I have a thesaurus on my iPhone that I use when blog writing, or writing youth messages. I'm a fan of words. The more interesting the better. Average every day language isn't nearly as interesting written as it is spoken.
I was thinking about this because I've been working on my Ukrainian. Words in other languages are interesting, especially if you know what they mean. Unfortunately,  you can't stick random Ukrainian words into English like you might with French or Spanish. Its so completely different than English. They have their own alphabet complete with oddly shaped letters  that are extremely difficult to write. And they have letters that are shaped like English letters, but having a completely different sound. And they have letters that are backward English letters. Those are hard to write. When you are so used to correctly spelling things, to having to write letters backwards...sometimes I think my brain can't handle it. And don't get me started on pronunciation. Its so odd to make my mouth form words in a completely different ways. Letters and sounds that are never formed in English are difficult for an English speaking person to speak. My mouth isn't trained to make those sounds, or to put such odd sounds together to make a word that could be remotely understood by a Ukrainian speaking person. Its strange how words are formed, and made. It must have been a headache at the Tower of Babel. So many languages, no one able to understand the next person, the frustration of not being able to get your point across. Its so relieving to actually hear words you know. Like after being in another country for a long time, and then finally hearing an American speaking a language you understand. As much as I love traveling and going to different countries, it is always nice to hear the familiarity of your own tongue. To be able to communicate without the aid of a translator. Its a nice, independent feeling. I hope to someday be in a foreign language speaking country and be able to communicate with the ease I do in the U.S.

The Smell of Pigs Does Not Leave.

I had to pick up my younger siblings from moving the pigs from the barn to an outdoor fenced area. I walked to the barn, and helped a smidgen. Now I smell like pigs. I was in a hurry to drop them off at home, and didn't have time change. So now I smell like pigs. I'm praying its only my sensitive sense of smell. There may be a reason there is no one sitting around me a Starbucks. I'm fairly certain that its only me  and I'm sure most of it is psychological, but still, one never knows. Why psychological? because I was worrying about smelling like pigs. Often when I worry about something like that, I believe that it has happened. I'm not paranoid by nature, but on occasion I seem to exhibit paranoia tendency's. I'm hoping that's the case in this instance.If not, my sincerest apologies,  fellow Starbucks patrons.

The Midwest has been at it again, Bi-polar weather is the norm for this area of the states, and it has been faithful this May. We went from heat, to freezing within a couple days.  Now we are back to heat. Of course the weather would drop to freezing the night after we plant the garden. Thankfully, the frost has not killed off our poor tomatoes and peppers (well, there were those three roma tomato plants that died from frost, but that happened before we planted the garden)
So we had a cold and yucky Memorial Day. I woke up Monday morning with my sinuses acting up (thanks to that lovely bipolar weather change) and not feeling very good. I'm still having sinus issues. I hate not feeling good. Plus, its messed with my running. I feel sick, therefore I do not run. Its probably just my laziness, but really, why torture myself with more achy-ness when I already don't feel good? I should be more conscientious with my running, I do have a race coming up, but, hopefully a few days off won't mess with my 5k. Besides, I doubt my running abilities could get much worse than they already are.

I'm afraid that this is going to be a frightfully ADD blog post today. That's what happens when you only write every now and then and have a lot to say. I had been planning on what to write. But I never did get around to it. So it will be stuffed into one post. Think of it as a buffet of non-important ramblings. Some may find it interesting. Some may find it ridiculous. Some have already quit reading. But no matter, even if my dad is the only one who ends up reading this, Its my blog. I can do whatever I want.

For my youth group, I'm going through the lives of missionaries. I'm hoping to inspire my group to live for God in every way, whether its easy or hard. Conventional or unconventional. As I have been researching, I find myself being inspired by the lives of these people. There selfless way of live is something that I admire. So far I've covered Hudson Taylor. Tonight, I'll be doing Amy Carmichael. Her story is amazing. I highly recommend you read about her. I can imagine the kind of person she was. From things I've read, she sounded like one stubborn lady. Mischievous as well as loving. I believe that she had a great sense of humor. But her heart was a great one. Its good to have roll models and be inspired by people. Its good to see the lives of others and be impacted by them. To be inspired to deepen your relationship with God. I wish I could have met and chatted with Amy Carmichael. She died nearly 50 years before I was born. She wrote 35 books about her life as a missionary in India. I downloaded one onto my kindle app on my tablet. I look forward to reading her stories.

The next missionary I plan on going over is Brother Andrew. His story is amazingly radical. He smuggled Bibles into communist countries and the stories of how he did them are miraculous. God protected him in so many instances from imprisonment. I think that the boys in my youth group will really enjoy his stories. My hope is that my youth kids will be impacted by his life, his courage and his faith. Seeing as the vast majority of my youth group is boys, I think that Brother Andrew's life story will be an exciting one to them. Who doesn't like exciting stories of Smugglers, secrecy, and people escaping with their lives? (I know I do, hence my large viewing history of crime dramas and shows on my Netflix account) I'm excited about re-reading and studying him. I highly suggest the book "God's Smuggler" its a first person book about Brother Andrew (I have no idea what his last name actually is, he is just referred to as 'Brother Andrew') he tells about his early life, his conversion, and his life as a smuggler. Its an excellent and gripping book.

In ending, I encourage you all to read about missionaries, especially if you feel like you are at a hard place in your relationship with God. When I see what God has done in the lives of these missionaries, how he has protected them and brought them through difficult situations, it makes me realize how easy it is for him to move in my life. To help me in hard times. Plus, the stories are extremely interesting, which is always an added perk!

I Still Have a Pulse

Yes, I am alive. I have a pulse. I have been so busy on my normal blogging days that I haven't had a chance to update anything. That and other spare times I may have had is no longer spare, I'm back into my regular running schedule now, so I've been busy (ran my fastest 5k to date yesterday:) )
But, I don't wish to continue on a boring saga of my busy life. So I'll try and make this a usual post.

I am at Starbucks (oh, how many blog posts have I begun that way) and I'm trying to install some software onto my computer so I can make my iphone work as a remote mouse for my powerpoint presentations for youth group. I am on attempt 5 now.Its getting pretty frustrating. Its the same program I've been using since January, but it decided to quit working on me, so I had to go through and delete everything and reinstall etc. Its a good thing my message is all typed up and ready to go or I'd be sunk because of all this extra work. Sometimes I can figure out all this techy stuff, but lets face it: I'm not a tech-savvy person. I run strictly on trial and error. Right now I'm running more on the side of error. Its pretty frustrating.

On another note (and total topic change) , I have really been enjoying getting back into a running routine--let me rephrase that-- I'm really enjoying the FACT that I am back into a running schedule. The running I don't always enjoy. Especially the routes I ran a couple weeks ago. I've come to the conclusion that constant rolling hills hate me. They hate my legs. They hate my lungs. I'd be more than willing to be on a good relationship with them, but they do make themselves so hard to like. Its a bummer too, because Its such a pretty route, but for now anyway, I kill myself on it. I ran 4 miles on that route and felt like I was about to die. Especially because I realized that it took me 25 minutes longer to run 4 miles than it did for me to run the 5k i did yesterday.I am slow enough as it is, so coming to that little revelation was pretty depressing. Needless to say, I will be avoiding the rolling hills at least for a while.Besides, there are pot holes the size of craters on that road that I feel sure want to eat me. I figure its safer to choose ulterior routes, even if they aren't as scenic. But hey, at least I'm running again:)

Leave Politics Out of it.

I've tossed around the idea of writing my views of the terrible events that happened at the Boston Marathon on Monday. I've had a constant see-sawing in mind whether it would be worth venting myself on the internet on a blog that only a few people read. I finally decided that it would, seeing as I would just be thinking about it all the time.

Last year I took up running. I have had a love-hate relationship with it, but I have been able to keep it up pretty well. I love meeting goals and creating milestones in my abilities as a runner. I used to say I wasn't built for running. and more often than not on a difficult day I feel like that's the truth. But I have kept it up, and was able to go from not being able to run at all to running a mile, than two, than a 5k, then a 10k, then 8.5 miles. Its such a rush to see how far you can go. Even if its agony in the process, its absolute euphoria after you have finished and found what barriers you were able to push through. Even if I spend the next two days extremely sore, to know that I had just run 5 miles, or 6 or whatever distance it was, to me, was so exciting. I am a slow runner, I have to take more breaks to walk a little than I would like, but the point is, I am able to push through to the end despite my mental state at the time.
Last year shortly after I began running I was talked into running on a relay team for a local marathon. I agreed, and went to training for my portion of the race. I was told by some guys at the running store I go to for gear that they had dubbed the portion of the race I was to run the 'Hell Leg" because of all the hills. That of course freaked me out. So I made sure to hit the hills down the roads around my house where I run. I had to prepare myself, mentally and physically. When race day came, and my team mate passed the stick off to me and I began to run, I began to wonder when the hills would start. I didn't realize that I was on a gradual uphill climb.  The further I went the more relaxed I felt. its an uphill climb both ways where I usually run, so I didn't even notice that I was running uphill most of the way. There was a really steep hill at one point that I had to walk up, but that was it. My point is, had I not made myself run up and down hills all summer, I never would have been able to run my leg of the race as well as I did. That was the amount of effort I put into being able to run 4.5 miles of a race. All summer. If thats what it took me to learn to run 4.5 miles of hills, how much more training and hard work and effort goes into running a marathon? 26.2 miles. My brother ran a marathon last year. My sisters ran the half. This year I plan to run a half. It takes training, time, effort. For the Boston marathon, not just any runner can sign up. You have to be able to run a marathon within a certain time limit to qualify. It is such a huge accomplishment to qualify for Boston. For many people, probably one of the biggest accomplishments in their life. I have been both a spectator and a runner at marathon events. The feeling in the air on marathon morning is electric. Thousands are there to participate and cheer each other on. Its really not a competition (unless you are an elite athlete) the marathon is such a peaceful race. Everyone is encouraging each other  both the people on the sidelines as well as the people running with you. So many complete strangers running in the marathon were shouting encouragements to each other. I loved every minute of it. To see people from all walks of life, all religions, all backgrounds, all political views, putting everything aside and encouraging those around them, is something you really don't see very often.

I remember, Monday I was so excited to get home from work and try and find a recording of the marathon on the internet so I could watch it. Just as I was leaving work, I got a text message from my mom. She told me that there were bombings at the marathon. I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't believe it. I called her and she explained what happened. I immediately began scanning through the radio stations in my car, trying to find out more. What I heard was awful.  Pandemonium. people losing limbs, people suffering terrible injuries, burns, and, in three cases, deaths. What started out as a peaceful, exciting day, turned into absolute terror within a matter of about 20 seconds. I think I'm still in shock over what happened, and I'm thousands of miles from Boston.

Through the last few days we have been hearing so much from the media about the events of Monday. Whether or not they are all true is yet to be seen. I remember seeing a bunch of pictures of the marathon, same pictures online with various peoples own fabrications and stories of what was taking place, many you could tell were made up. I think I saw about 3 different stories of a picture of a man leaning over a girl who was laying on the ground, seriously injured. It made me angry that people would try and create their own sensations of a terrible act of terror. But even more so than peoples made-up stories, what made me angry was when people tried dragging politics into the situation. People having tirades against different political parties, as if they were specifically to blame. To attack an individual over a word they didn't use in an address made me spitting mad. I'll be the first to tell you, I am a staunch conservative. I didn't vote for the current president, and I wasn't happy that he made it into office. But, just because he didn't use a word that people thought he should, it has made so much of a deal. It takes away from the real stories that need to be shared. The stories of those who witnessed the bombing. The stories of those who stepped in immediately when there was a great need. The stories of those who remained courageous, the stories of those who saved lives by their selfless acts. The stories of those who put others lives above  their own  prejudices. Thats what needs to be made a deal out of. I have heard news stations on the radio making mockery's of Monday's of events. Mockery's because of how certain political parties reacted. It makes me so mad. Its so easy for those of us who aren't in the midst of the chaos to not take it as seriously as it should. I'm not speaking for everyone, And I know there are thousands of people who are reporting what they should, who are responding bravely, as they should. Its just the select few who point their fingers at the wrong spots that makes me mad. It seems that the ones with the least knowledge makes the biggest stink out of a situation.
We tend to point fingers when we don't know who to blame. When we don't know who did something, we decide that the people we don't like probably had something to do with it. That needs to stop. So please, in light of what happened, don't go into the political rampages that are rising through the act of terrorism on Monday. Stick to facts. Don't form opinions based on what you don't know. Pray for those who have suffered, encourage those who want to help. Show God's love and grace to those around you. Be an extension of his hand in every situation.

I'd like to finish this long post by saying thank you. On behalf of myself, and I'm sure every runner I know, Thank you to those who didn't let their fears stand in the way of their courage. Thank you, those who ran the Boston Marathon and immediately ran to give blood for the injured. Thank you for the doctors, nurses, medical workers who ran 26.2 miles only to turn around, and despite their exhausted bodies went right to work. Thank you to the first responders, to the military, to the police, to the aid workers, to the marathon workers, to the citizens, the bystanders, for your courage, and your willingness to rush to help each other.
We are Americans. We refuse to be terrorized.

Free Starbucks is My Favorite!

Venti Quad upside down iced caramel macchiato. And since Sunday was my birthday it was free!
My next couple Starbucks visits will be free due to gift cards and free reward drink (every thirteenth beverage free. Its probably not healthy how fast I seem to earn them). Oh the perks of being a gold card holder!

As you may have gathered from the above paragraph, I am, once again, sitting at the little window table in Starbucks, ear-buds plugged in, Pandora playing a Mumford and Sons station, sipping away on my highly caffeinated deliciousness of an iced caramel. There is some major lightening going on outside, and I have the perfect view. They have been predicting thunderstorms for everyday this week, beginning on Sunday. We have had absolutely gorgeous weather everyday this week, hardly a cloud in the sky. Today I suppose it finally decided to make good on the threats. I don't mind. I am quite partial to a good storm. Not to mention we kind of need the rain. Things were getting pretty dry. Last Friday the field behind our house caught on fire, if that's any indication of how dry things are. Took the fire department all day to get it out, and I was even stopped on my way home from work by the cops to make sure I wouldn't be driving by it. (the fire was happening about 1/4 a mile down the road from us). I don't recall ever seeing any part of our road barricaded, but Friday the cops were stopping every car. It didn't do too much damage though (all though the heat did seem to scorch some of the trees at the line where the field meets the woods, THAT would have been a disaster if the woods went up in flames!) and yesterday the farmer who rents that field was out plowing.

Today has been a good day for getting things done. This morning (after sleeping in a little, its my day off!) I went and picked up chicken feed and made inquiries about pig feed for my younger brother and sister, who are raising pigs for 4-H this year, I got the rest of my taxes figured out and dropped off my forms and check at the post office, Returned library books...I still have to run to the bank and deposit my pay check and make a trip to a running store (they specifically sell running gear. Shoes, clothes, braces, nutrition etc) to pick up some GU (energy gel for runners, I LOVE it!) and then off to church to get things ready for youth group tonight. Full day, but a relaxing one as well.

So after this very ADD-ish post (probably from my 4 shots of espresso), I should buckle down and get to work on my Ukrainian studies. I'm attempting to learn Ukrainian. Its easy to read, I just don't have any idea as to what on earth I am reading, even If I can pronounce it!

long-term planning

I've been thinking about college. The thought honestly terrifies the life out of me. I guess one of my problems is not feeling like I can do things. I don't have a whole lot of confidence in myself, as I have been lately finding out more and more. I'm one of those people who needs to be given affirmation. I need to know that I'm doing something well. I need to be told that I'm doing a good job. Its not vanity. Its not pride. Its necessity. The more I know that I'm doing a good job the better I perform. I thrive of off encouragement. My fear is that I couldn't do well in college. Sure, I had good grades (mostly) in high school. But being home schooled, I always wondered how I would have done in a class room setting. Would I have done as well? what would it be like to do my school in a class room full of kids my own age, studying the exact same things all at once? I am very grateful that I was home schooled  I'm glad I was home schooled. I've seen enough of the drama my friends went through to have cured any desires I may have ever had to go to public school. But still, I always wondered.

My second thought would be what in heavens name would I study? I'd love to go to a Christian college, But they are super expensive. (My third thought is how on earth would I pay for college?)
I'd probably pick a major in journalism or something of that nature. Cause honestly, what on earth would one do with a degree in literature? (which would be my preference)
As I've said before, I love to write. But I also love to speak. I'd love to be a speaker at conferences. Shyness is not a problem I've ever had to deal with. I love to talk. I'd love to be a speaker at youth conferences. What would one pursue to make those realities? I was looking up degrees that had to do with journalism at a local university. I had no idea there were that many options. I thought journalism; you learn  about writing magazine articles or newspaper columns. Nope. There are all types of journalism degrees.
Then I was thinking about traveling, another thing I love. What could I do that includes speaking, traveling and writing all at once? trust me, writing brochures about hotels and resorts is extremely unattractive to me. I want to write about experiencing cultures. I want to write about personal encounters. I want to write from a perspective completely my own. I want to speak about God. I want to speak encouragement to teenagers. I want to speak in conferences full of teenagers who are hungry for and in need of God. I want to travel the world. I want to travel across Europe. I want to see nations. I want to go back to Africa, I want to see South America. How can I do all three and be paid for it? I foresee a great deal of prayer in this area of my life coming. If anyone has any advice or thoughts, PLEASE let me know. If you know of anything I could earn a degree for that could help in any of the areas, please tell me. I feel completely lost on my own

Heart Happy

Ever have those moments of discovery and revelation that blow you away? I'm having that today.I'm here in Starbucks, just finished putting together my message for youth group tonight. I feel close to God right now. I started feeling a huge  passion for what I'm speaking about tonight. A passion greater than I have felt over anything else I've written for my students. I think I did more Biblical research on today's message than I ever have before. I've spent more time comparing old to new testament. And the further I researched, the more excited I felt! The best feeling ever. When I feel something like this, I literally feel like I have drunk 20 energy drinks inside. Excitement spills over, my heart is light, and I feel like I have something inside of me bursting to get out and explode. Its a feeling I have only ever felt when I am at my closest to Jesus. To be given the opportunity  the privilege, to speak the words God places in my heart to teenagers is my biggest dream. To be able to live that dream, and see that dream become more than I had imagined is so...so...Incredible. Awesome. Amazing, and just about every exciting adjective I can think of. A couple weeks ago at youth group, I had the privilege to lead 2 people to Christ for the first time, and 2 people to rededicate their lives to God. Have you ever known how it feels to be used by God to bring more people into his freedom? Its a feeling that I can't describe or adequately express. Its so honoring, and humbling to be used by the creator of the universe and the savior of the world.  I'm on a daily first name basis with the most powerful and influential man who ever lived. I'm in the family of the One who created the world we live in. I know him. I talk to him everyday. My heart is truly happy.

Normalcy

I tend to  be a creature of habit. Not to a point where I'm OCD about it, I just like things to stay the same. Usually. I remember one time when I was 11 or so I had burst into tears because I didn't want to grow up. I sobbed because I wanted to stay a little kid forever. The thought of becoming disinterested in playing house and playing toys and such was heartbreaking. But the inevitable did happen, and here I am 11 years later. I still wish I was little at times. Mainly when bills arise. And taxes. When you are 11 you don't have to figure out how on earth to come up with money for things. Such as the $1000 I had to pour into Max over the last year, or the seemingly endless hospital bills that came from June last year when I had a seizure and had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance and stay over night. Hospitals are expensive. Did you know it cost nearly $20 for two Tylenol? Plus, I wasn't even awake for the ambulance ride, and I have always wondered what it would be like to ride in an ambulance.  And though I never intend to have to be transported again in such a conveyance  It will always be a disappointment in my life that I wasn't awake to see what was like to ride in ambulance.

As far as normalcy goes, I am glad in many respects that I have indeed grown older. If I had stayed 11 my entire life I would have never been able to travel all over the world. I've been to Europe 3 times, Africa twice. I would not be interning as a youth director. I probably wouldn't have learned to play guitar, as I never learned that until I was 16. I wouldn't be able to drive. And I would always be stuck having to learn math. I loath math. But maybe there are more things I would have learned, such as "stick-to". I admit, that once starting a project I have trouble finishing it. My sisters are all super creative, they knit, sew ,crochet, make jewelry etc. I have finished crocheting exactly 1 wash cloth. And its really small and lopsided. Lopsided because I'm hopeless when it comes to crocheting, small because I got bored with it and wanted to be finished. In my room I have so many unfinished projects. I have all the pieces for an apron all cut out and ready to be sewn. However, I cut it out two years ago and its been sitting in a bag in my room ever since. I learned to knit back in September and I started a scarf. While I'm not quite so hopeless at knitting as I am at crocheting, it has been 6 months since I began it and it isn't even half finished. I have many started crocheting projects left in a basket to unravel itself and it has become a hopeless entanglement of colored yarns wrapped into one big knot. I used to be creative. I could draw, and paint and create. However, while I may have been good when I was 11, I never improved any. My drawings still look pretty much the same at 22 as they did at 11 or 12.

One thing I can do is write somewhat well. I have yet to discover a place in which to proceed advancing my literary efforts into something worth while, But I can write. I can write messages to teens for youth group. I get along tolerably well in blogging (though this is the fourth blog I have started). I'm sure I could write good stories. Or even real life. I admit that there is always much room for advancement, but isn't that what life is? I think life would be very dull indeed if we had grown to the top of everything we ever had attempted, and had nothing that needed improving.

The Little Things

Its a chilly, rainy dismal looking day today. It almost feels like February is trying to be Spring, but can't quite get there. Its warmer than it has been, though not warm enough out to suit me. I'm ready for the weather to be out of the 30's. The birds have been quite noisy, and the other day it even looked like Spring, but, Winter it remains.

I'm sitting by a window in Starbucks. I just finished putting together the rest of my message and creating a powerpoint for youth group tonight. Having finished that earlier then expected, and not needing to leave for my meeting with the Pastor for a while, I thought I'd sit here, enjoy my caramel macchiato and take in my surroundings. Its nice to not have to be doing anything in a hurry. I like to just take things in at times. It feels like we live in a world that is so rushed, we don't notice the little things going on around us.

A group of airforce members just left. I believe that they were having a recruiting meeting with the young man at their table who seemed to be contemplating enlisting.They were all in their dress blues, two men and a woman. My friends older sister is in the airforce, and her younger brother is planning on  enlisting and attending the air force academy after he graduates this year. I've always wondered what it would be like to be a part of our nations military. I don't believe that they always get the recognition they rightly deserve. It seems like in the 1940's America was fiercely patriotic, and it was their greatest honor to be able to do something to help the soldiers of our country. Perhaps it was because of the war going on, which I suppose seemed to hit much closer to home than the war America is fighting now. At any rate, I am proud that we have men and women in our country who have chosen to serve and protect our nation.

There are a couple of ladies sitting in the easy chairs in the corner, who have been here since before I arrived, drinking coffee and have long chats. Its nice to have long chats with your close friends. I have 3 close friends who I can talk to about anything and everything. One is away at college in a neighboring state, one lives in Europe, and the other I see at least once every couple weeks and text almost everyday. I wish I could see them all more often, but conflicting schedules and distance really does make it hard.


The artist by the door has been having meetings here all morning, with no less than 3 different groups of people. Some of them discussing artsy things, some looking at his portfolios of sketches, and some just seeming to have friendly chats. It seems like everyone here knows him, which I suppose is because he is here every week, in the same spot by the door. Perhaps one of these days the people who work here will know me by name as well. As it is, they still don't get my name right. But, one day...

Looking Back

I found some old journals of mine that I had forgotten about today. It was interesting to read through them. I used to be a faithful journal writer, and would fill pages and pages with what I supposed to be interesting bits about life. I never wrote my thoughts though, or at least not my emotions. They never filled my pages. Why? I had this wretched fear that if I were to suffer an untimely death, someone would discover my journals and read them, and I couldn't bear the thought of them discovering something uncomplimentary I had written about them, or angry rants I'd had in a fit of frustration over something they said or did. In doing so I pretty much wrote bits and pieces of  the emotionless daily grind of life, experimenting with different writing styles. Reading them, I know exactly which authors I had been reading at the time, as my writing style would be a complete mimic of the authors of the books I had been reading. The journal entries I'd be most embarrassed to have anyone read are the ones from when I had been reading L.M. Montgomery books for the first time. Wow. I can't believe what on earth could have possessed me to use such descriptions as I did. I had decided I should start naming the little places I liked to go sit or be alone in. I shudder to think how I would be teased if anyone saw the names I came up with. There honestly isn't a single poetic bone in my body, and the names I gave things is a living proof of that. I did used to try and write poetry. It was pretty terrible. My belief in what poetry was was something that rhymed . As long as it rhymed and was written in the same format of the poems we read in books, it must be poetry. The thing was, I never knew when I should move onto the next word to rhyme with. I could have 3 stanzas filled with  words that rhymed with each other, but didn't have anything to do with anything I had begun to  write the poem about.
I never even liked reading poetry. There was only one poem I ever really loved. Its been years since I read it, but it was written by an unknown soldier during WWI. the foot note under the poem said that the poem was found on the body of a soldier who had fallen in battle. It was about the war and fighting. The rantings of a young man missing home and wondering what on earth he was doing in those trenches. It really was a touching poem to me. It always stuck with me, and its the only poem I've ever read that really captured my attention. Perhaps its my love of that era. Perhaps it was because it was a story written as a poem. Whatever it was, I'm sure that the young man who wrote it nearly 100 years ago would have never guessed that it would be found and published in a book of poetry to be read by thousands of people, and especially takenk to heart by a young girl of about 13, who did not like poetry.

The Sad Saga of Max the car

I never really consider myself as poor, per-say, but when you have to chuck over 600 bucks into your car within less than a months time, your bank account does make one thing clear to you: You are poor. Max, I'm afraid, is approaching his last miles. Within the last year I've had to get fuel lines replaced, transmission lines fixed, new alternator installed, new belts installed, and, the latest, exhaust pipe and muffler replaced. This latest being confirmed by my exhaust pipe falling off on Sunday, right as I pulled into my drive way. the pipe rusted through and rotted out. However, this latest disaster is now fixed, and I have a shiny new muffler to boot! my car sounds so...quiet. Turns out when your exhaust pipe is rotting away and your muffler has holes in it, your car becomes very loud. As in, deafeningly loud. So yesterday I was able (after my brother wired up the remaining pieces of my exhaust so I could drive it to the mechanic) to finally get it fixed. I took it to a little muffler shop. It smelled horribly of cigarette smoke, and I'm almost certain I could have developed lung cancer had I had to stand there much longer. The shop was run by two seedy looking older men, who I'm sure were probably both at least 10 years younger than they looked and that chain smoking, as evidenced by the pungent stench that seemed to be ingrained into every available surface in their tiny little waiting area, caused them to age prematurely. They were very nice though, and showed me what was wrong with my muffler before fixing it. They seemed to agree with me that I should start looking for another car. Max does have approaching 170,000 miles on him. I suppose that that is an admirable amount of mileage for a faithful 13 year old little car. I did hear the Chevy Cavaliers run great until around 160,000 miles on them, and boy is that the truth. I've had Max for nearly 4 years now, and he has served me wonderfully, despite the little hiccoughs endured along the way. When it is time to move on to another car, I have a feeling that though I'll be excited to have a new (used) car, it'll still be sad to have to let go of my little black Max. I passed my driving test in him.He is the first vehicle I ever drove solo in. On the road that is. When I worked on the farm I drove the trucks through the fields and woods all the time. The first vehicle I had been rear-ended in (twice, actually). There are a lot of memories tied up in that little heap of metal and rust.I do dearly love my little Max, and hope I have many more miles with him before he finally dies.

Impatience is NOT a virtue.

I'm horribly impatient. So much so that I'm actually feeling strains of anxiety. I'm generally a pretty chill type of person. Sometimes I am going crazy inside, but I have mastered the calm-cool-collected exterior, so even if I'm freaking out on the inside I can usually be the voice of calm and reason in a trying situation. But not today. And I admit that its really over a stupid thing that I'm being impatient about. I have totally geeked out and purchased and Android tablet. This will be my first experience with any Android product. I'm pretty excited about it. And why am I anxious? because it was supposed to be here Saturday. Then they changed the date till today, and I have yet to see any FedEx trucks come down my road. Ever have those feelings like something is supposed to happen but you know its not going to? I feel like that about my package that is supposed to be here today. Which is why I'm feeling impatient. And why I am complaining on a blog when I should be writing my youth message. A youth message that I've been planning for weeks but have only written a couple paragraph of. A youth message which I need to teach tomorrow. I guess now would be the time to say that I've got the art of procrastination mastered as well. Seriously. I have no excuse for it. So with that much being said, I better get to work on my youth director duties. After all, I'd hate to add irresponsibility to my list of personal bad qualities.

Nothingness

I began writing this blog, and then deleted it. I felt like it was one huge conglomeration of never ending run-on sentences. I seem to have a penchant for run-on sentences. That and overusing commas. I never said I was a whiz at grammar though. I was always good at the subjects that for me, didn't require too much thinking. Which was mainly Vocabulary, Writing, History, Art, Geography, Music etc. I was never bad at Grammar, it was mainly those pesky semi-colons and sentence diagramming. I never understood the reasoning behind sentence diagramming. I read a sentence and I know what it means. I found it a waste of time write out what the preposition was, what the object of the preposition was, and where the verbs are. I know what a preposition is. I know what a verb is. What I don't know is why I had to go through pages and pages of diagramming to prove it. I never did bad in Grammar, it was actually pretty easy, it was just frightfully boring.

I'm not sure what I wanted to write about in this blog. I just had nothing to do so I thought I'd write something. I have no unique surroundings to write about. I'm at home this snowy morning, the roads not being fit for much travel. There are no people to muse about, because with my family, I know them so well that there is nothing to muse about. I do, in fact, feel an acute writers block at present. Maybe I should go find a book to read.....

Literary-ly Speaking...

I'm at Starbucks again. I promise, I'm not addicted. I've just been working on my youth stuff for this evening. There is something about the atmosphere here that makes it easy to get things done. I'm able to focus. Plus, when I'm all finished I can people watch. This is my usual Starbucks store, and I found something out to day about 'Doris Day'. Nothing really personal, just surprising. Apparently Doris is a smoker. I don't know why I never thought about that. Not that I think about whether or not people I don't know are smokers. Its just to look at her, you'd never really expect it. How do I know? when I parked my car here, I parked next to a Hyundai, which apparently belongs to Doris. And inside was Doris, smoking away on a cigarette. just something that startled me.

I also found out the artist who sits here every Wednesday by the door has a name. Or rather, I know he has a name, just never knew what that name was, but I heard Doris say it a few minutes ago. Some how or other the name was surprising, one that I would have never guessed it to be, so in the future I believe his name shall remain, 'The artist by the door'. I spoke to him today. I'm sitting at the little table kind of caddy corner to his table by the door, and I needed to plug in my computer and the nearest available outlet is under his table. Apparently he is used to such requests, because as I was plugging the chord into my lap top out of the corner of my eye I saw he already had his hand out for the chord before I even mentioned it.
I guess that he has been here a while, as there are exactly 3 Starbucks cups of various sizes sitting on his table. Now I may like Starbucks, but 3 in one day?

Somehow I feel kind of 'hip' while working on my internship stuff at Starbucks  I don't know why though. Its not like I dress hip-ish. I have exactly 1 pair of skinny jeans, everything else is boot cut. I associate skinny jeans as being a hip kind of thing to wear. as well as scarves and big sunglasses (which I own plenty of those, but am not wearing them today). And if you are a male who is dressed 'hip' then that must include a fedora. Perhaps hip isn't the correct word for a male but either way, I associate it with fedoras. A man who was sitting across from me a while ago was sporting a brown fedora, placed precariously on top of his head. He only looked hip from the neck up though. The rest of his clothes bespoke of construction, or some other sort of out-door labor job.

People are interesting. They are interesting to watch. To write about. I've always liked to write. I used to want to be a nurse, then I learned how much science went into it. I hated science. Then I wanted to be a carpenter, but I learned how much math went into it. I'm terrible at math. Then I felt called to work with teenagers. I love it. I love watching them grow. Even though this is only my first month as the intern youth director, I've enjoyed it. I like writing out my messages and creating ideas. It seems to fit me, and I feel like God has me here for a reason.
I'd love to write a book someday. I constantly have stories running through my head. I have a very vivid imagination, and I feel like if I can put my imagination into words, I could make sense of the story lines that seem to jumble through my head. Somehow I haven't felt the courage to actually put those words to paper yet. I'm not sure why. Goodness knows they keep me awake at night often enough, i should just write them down. Somehow though, I feel like I can't write until the setting is perfect. I haven't found the place yet to actually write a book.Maybe one day I'll stumble upon a little out of the way coffee shop or cafe and will know that that is where my literary efforts should begin. Or I can make my dream trip to England, Scotland and Ireland and feel inspired to begin a story then. As of now though, internship work and blog writing is the extent of my writing endeavors. But one day...

surroundings

Im sitting in Starbucks right now, surrounded by all sorts of people. I have seen exactly 1 phone that was not and Iphone. Many people are on their laptops, ipads, tablets, or sitting visiting with eachother. we are all so plugged in and connected. Even I have my Iphone 5 sitting next to me, and my headphones are plugged into my lap top and I have an Ingrid Michaelson station playing on Pandora (seems appropriate, being in a coffee house)
In a way, this is sort of a dream I've had, sitting in a coffee house surrounded by people I don't know, being able to write about the people I don't know, and the afore mentioned people I don't know have no idea that they are being mentioned. For instance, the older man sitting in the easy chair next to my little fire side table had been studiously reading and marking notes over some book, then had his ipad out. young Man across from me is reading a magazine, listening to something on his tablet with with his lap top bag on the floor next his feet. one elderly lady across from me is sipping her coffee and reading the news paper, and her elderly lady companion with her has been staring into the fire place for quite a while. This isn't my usual Starbucks. This is actually my first time to spend any length of time here besides waiting for my drink to be made. I've been here for a couple hours, writing up my message for my Youth group, of which I am the current director. Having been doing that for so long, and really finishing it, I decided to take a break and write a blog. Because coffee houses filled with techy people and blog writing seemed to go hand in hand with each other.
As I was saying though, this is my first time to sit and do anything at this Starbucks. My usual place is much more predictable in its surroundings. For instance, there will always be the man there in the table to the right of the doorway, every Wednesday with a portfolio of sketches and drawings laying out, and he sits there, either drawing or taking in his surroundings. There is the Barista who looks just like a young version of Doris Day, always there (though she thinks my name is Carol, which is what she writes on my cup, usually a caramel macchiato, with, of course, an extra shot of espresso) and the young man with gaged ears and too-tight pants making drinks. Its a comforting feeling sometimes, knowing things will be as usual, at least on Wednesdays at my usual Starbucks.But this being a different Starbucks, I got a different drink from my normal caramel, and decided on Vanilla latte (with, of course, that extra shot of espresso). Nothing like breaking the mold every now and then,  just to shake things up. With that being said, and my latte being gone and my berry coffee cake eaten up, I will go now, out to my old little chevy, ( named Max). I never have trouble finding my car in this city. Its generally the oldest one in the parking lot (its a year 2000, but this is a very wealthy area) probably the noisiest, despite my new alternator and belt, and definitely the dirties, though hopefully this rain will take care of that problem. And thus ends my first post in my new blog.