Romans Twelve

On June 30th, 2011 I wrote:

...Today at the home-visit I found myself wanting to judge and assess needs for myself instead of listening with a sensitive spirit of discernment.  Meran (a beautiful 22year-old Ethiopian woman, pictured below) was so patient and willing.  I thank God that He is breaking me of selfishness through these people.  I want to continue to learn to serve and see through a lens of forgiveness and mercy.  I want to give because I've been given to; love because I'm loved...

People aren't projects or formulas.  We are intricately woven, uniquely wired and continually being taken from one level of glory to the next.  This redefinition of my perception of people that began this summer has really become a posture of mine. 

Most people I encounter, mark me; they leave a stamp on my soul or take a piece of my heart.  But it's different when I don't feel responsible to fix them.  Suddenly that ache to 'make it better' melts into a practicing of weeping and rejoicing as those around me weep and rejoice - (and everything in between).  Freedom! 

Ethiopia continues to change and grow me.  Being an RA has been another one of the best and maturing experiences of my life.  I can't help but shake my head at the undeserved blessings I walk in daily.

there is no "me" in control

It was recently proposed to me that the idea of sleep, and it's necessity, should remind us that we're not God.  I need a near daily shut-down time; a physical break from reality.  God doesn't.

One of my professors pointed out that "people have a need to be in control of their own lives...and they have a need to know that God approves of that idea".

What a sticky thing to admit to.  Yet, guilty is my plea.

I like to think that I am in control, or have control, or at least have access to control.  This is detrimental from the ground, up.  I suddenly take on responsibility where I wasn't intended to.  I sacrifice self-control as a discipline and replace it with feigned control of my, and others', circumstances.

But God (one of my favorite biblically-used transitions) knows me.

It took but one sunrise (which is what these photos are from: one of the glorious fall Lake Michigan Sunrises I've experienced) to get my attention and challenge my perspective again.

You feel pretty small standing on the edge of the water, watching the sun climb up the sky and burst from the clouds.  I begin to take myself a little less seriously as I realize how deeply I have fooled myself into thinking I wanted control.

In spontaneous freedom I am reminded that I am not responsible for any one's happiness; my job is to glorify God (period).  I am not in control of his/her well-being.

Where that once made me feel uncomfortable, I now find curiosity in learning passive obedience.  I have begun to recognize my insecurities and reassess the places to which I have attached my worth.

I am back on my 'toes', eager to learn to live in hope instead of dreaming of control. 

I spin a lot of plates, and sometimes it seems that I am able to do it quite well.  But it's time for some better life-managing.

There is an innocent freedom found in simply waking up and realizing, once again, that I was sleeping (because I am not God).  I was never intended or wired to be in ultimate control.

As I move beyond recognition and into implication(s), I know there will be opposition.  So I place one foot in front of the other with sword in hand: "As for me, may I never boast about anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Because of that cross, because of Him, my interest in this world has been crucified, and the world's interest in me has also died" (Galatians 6:14).

And I promise to keep rambling on here as I go.

okay to not be okay

Pain. I keep coming back to this idea.  It's not an idea really, it's an emotion; well, not even an emotion -- a reality.  It's a state of being.  Though usually temporary, it is nearly always personified.  It is typically not sought out; rather, it happens to us, in us, around us.  I used to avoid it at all cost.  If it presented itself predictably, I ran, hid or flat-out denied its existence or affects.  Now?  I've grown quite fond of pain.

Even to my ears that sounds purely twisted.  Fond of pain?  Maybe it would be better stated that: I have grown to appreciate what it is and does in my life (and our world).  Pain keeps us aware of our humanity, morality and vitality.  It challenges us, usually pointedly acknowledging that somewhere within us we have an understanding that we lack a 'shalom' we were created for.  There is an uncomfortable sting that something is not what it is supposed to be -- that tension hurts.  It awakens us to our senses.  It changes us.

Today I heard the story of a 14yr old boy in a detention center in Chicago.  He's there for selling drugs.  His mom got laid off last fall and he has never known a dad.  He's got a baby sister and the three of them lived in an apartment on the west side.  His mom couldn't find work.  His sister cried herself to sleep hungry, and eviction was only a matter of weeks away.  He understood the need for money.  He held his crying sister, terrified of what life would look like on the cold streets, and did the only thing he thought he could: sell to survive.

Pain.  It settled in on me.  That this-isn't-how-it's-supposed-to-be feeling created an unmistakable twinge in my heart and mind.  With wet eyes, I began to smile; acknowledging the collision of Kingdom-ache and supernatural-joy.  Pain was changing me in that moment.  I am not the same because of one story, one circumstance that brought about the weight of a reality I can't ignore.  Pain alerts us to the fact that something isn't right; something is worth giving attention to.

Pain: I still may not seek it, but I welcome it.

Metaphorical Bridges to Ethiopia

I was reading through some of my journal from my time in Ethiopia and stopped to resonate on an entry that I have been living out in a new context.

On June 17th I wrote:

I felt as though the God in me was truly needed in that time and place.  Though tension rang through my mind and heart, there was a peace in my soul.

I sigh because often I make things so complicated.  We make things more difficult than they need to be.  People need to be loved, to be truly seen.  People are dying to be heard and they don't need answers, but a God that is big enough to be Comfort and Grace and Mercy right in the middle of their chaos. 

People need to be reminded that they can.  They want to taste and see living hope.  In response, I want to live magnetically.  I want to live radically different but not out of guilt or in shame.  I want my life to look different because of love, because of selflessness.  I always want to life in awareness of my purpose and worth so that others, too, might see and know theirs.

If you want to see change, expect to be changed.

Previously, I couldn't name or pinpoint the reason I felt prepared for this season.  It's been a beautiful thing to be in another position that invites me, daily, to fight for (and with) people.  Here's to continually learning to love well...

at the top again

The chaos of a new season of life has a way of sweeping me off my feet.  It's not necessarily a frenzy of commotion, but sometimes the rhythmic waves of responsibility (the things I have to do) and sanity (the things I want to do) -- or where the two overlap... an unusually common occurrence in this season of my life.

*time to pause* *time to reflect*

I'm found at the beginning of an end, and believe me when I say that the sentimental moments of reflection have already begun.  Moody has been, and is, such a good chapter for me.  I wasn't expecting the wealth of emotion that this year has spurred, but I've been welcoming it. 

I feel weirdly alive and in a state of anticipation.  I want to "leave it all on the floor" this year.  I'm putting on my metaphorical waders, because reality is already knee-deep but I just need more.

As RAs we get to set a floor theme for the year.  I chose Psalm 142:7...

“Bring my soul out of prison,

So that I may give thanks to Your name;

The righteous will surround me,

For You will deal bountifully with me.”

It has become my anthem in all this, chaos and otherwise.

small changes from a Big God

So it's been a while...




*Insert happily-overwhelmed sigh here*

I've found myself in a bit of a whirlwind. I have arrived at the beginning of my senior year at Moody, just plain ready. I'm very much left in transition from a summer that included almost seven weeks in Ethiopia, and a plethora of other scattered events. (The Ethiopia stories will leak out on here sporadically, so be patient :), and stay tuned.) I've been in Chicago for a little over a week now, preparing to be an RA for the year. The new students are arriving today and I couldn't be more thrilled. The learning and growing has already begun for the semester and I'm eager for even the chaos ahead.



Pausing for coffee has become one of my more guarded practices over the past few months. This stems partially from my own selfishness and love of coffee, but is also perhaps a rubbing-off of Ethiopian culture. None-the-less it's a beautiful reality that I look forward to and enjoy regularly.

Along with that this semester, I've decided to include reading a chunk of the gospel(s) to my daily routine... a result of a summer that stretched me on all levels. Honestly, I just felt like I was gently being taught that God is Bigger, in all areas of life.

My last week in Ethiopia I was reading in the book of Mark. In chapter 6, Jesus feeds 5,000 people with five loaves of bread and two fish. Then, in chapter 8, the disciples ask: "...How are we supposed to find enough food...?" (Mark 8:4). I literally laughed out loud in reading this. Jesus must have been thinking: 'Seriously, that whole miraculous-feeding-5,000-people-with-one-meal thing I did didn't convince you I'm bigger than the food thing? Faith, people, have faith.'

Once I was finished laughing and judging the disciples, I felt a little twinge in my conscious. I do this all the time. Now I'm blessed enough that it's never been about food, but I sometimes have irrational fear about things that God has already proved himself bigger than. I'm prone to quickly forgetting or unintentionally over-looking the truths and promises I've found.

Because I know this about myself, it's time to weed out excuses. I'm going to soak in who Christ is everyday... even if it's just a small piece. I'm going to remind myself of what He did and does, reconciling my worldview accordingly. It's my hope to become more like Him: more like the Ashley God created me to be. Therefore, you can expect to hear more about coffee and Christ.

abstract ramblings

I find myself juxtaposed.

With a pomegranate-green tea on my right and a stack of un-graded papers strewn about the floor-space around my feet, I can't help but smile. Beautiful chaos. This week has been absolutely crazy. I've slept a little and laughed a lot.

"You're a whirlwind of unapolagetic stubborn confidence and unmistakable joy".
I am? I laugh, (again, I'm telling you I've laughed a lot).

I didn't see this coming; I didn't expect this from myself. Then, a still small voice reminds me that it's not from myself. *Insert sigh of agreement here*.

Each morning this week I slowly opened my eyes with the sound of my alarm, expecting to feel the weight of the invisible 2ton truck that used to hit me right about now. No, Nope, No, No, No... It never comes. It's been rerouted, unloaded or all together replaced. Hallelujah!

I can't begin to type the things I've completed this week because you'd all be intimidated and think I was boasting. Haha, subtly I think that sentance did the boasting for me anyway. And I'm not about to type a list of the things I've left to do this weekend & week, because I don't even want to go there right now.

Catching my breath and clearing my mind I'm found content. Somewhere between then and now, I've found peace, hope and joy beyond reason. With no good or rational answer, I look up to the sky and say "You're beautiful".

So much behind me, so much around me, so much in front of me and all in Love. Fear in one thing and one thing alone: the One who holds the stars and my heart, the same.

He created and creates; I too am creating



Romans 8:38-39
"For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

an unlikely defendant

My plea:
I'm a walking, undeserving mess.

The Sentence*:
Therefore, having been justified by faith,
You have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,
through whom also you have obtained your introduction by faith
into this grace in which you stand;
and you exult in hope of the glory of God.

And not only this, but you also exult in our tribulations,
knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance;

and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope;

and hope does not disappoint,
because the love of God has been poured out
within your heart
through the Holy Spirit who was given to you.

For while you were still helpless,
at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.

For one will hardly die for a righteous man;
though perhaps for the good man someone would dare even to die.

But God demonstrates His own love toward you,
in that while you were yet a sinner, Christ died for you.

Much more then,
having now been justified by His blood,
you shall be saved from the wrath of God through Him.

For if while you were an enemy
you were reconciled to God through the death of His Son,
much more, having been reconciled,
you shall be saved by His life.

And not only this,
but you also exult in God through our Lord Jesus Christ,
through whom you have now received the reconciliation.



*Romans 5 | Interpretation & Application

reNEWal

YOU make me new


YOU are making me new


YOU make me new


YOU are making me new





You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us


all around / life is springing up from this old ground


out of chaos life is being found in YOU

For Your Viewing Pleasure

You are welcome :).

HelloGoodbye, and I don't mean the band

This season of life is controlled chaos. In a matter of twelve months I will have spent time in Illinois, Wisconsin, Texas, Minnesota and Ethiopia. I have taken the liberty of titling this chapter: life from a suitcase.

If it has taught me anything about myself, it’s that:
I love arriving, but I hate leaving.

I find joy in looking forward. I like for things to change and shift; I thrive in the new and different. This has worked to my benefit as I've kept pace with a number of opportunities.

I can become almost obsessive with what's next, however. I was recently telling a friend that being an RA means I am obligated to return in the fall. And then I laughed. I love it here, I seriously do. For the first time in a while I feel as though I really belong. But I wouldn't put it past my adventure-craving self to want something new: which I do realize would be incredibly irresponsible and irrational. I share this just to admit how deeply unsettled I tend to be.

This itch to continually start new seasons in my life, however, doesn't exist without irony. I have a really hard time leaving. Once I'm "there", I'm off and running. The transition period itself, on the other hand, is my weak point. I'm not so good at 'goodbye'. Honestly, it's not such a big deal or problem in and of itself. But this semester, I've realized it's deeper than my circumstances. It's a condition of my heart.

There are circumstances, dreams, thoughts, attitudes and relationships of my life that are changing and being made new. This is what I want[ed], hope[d] and pray[ed] for. Yet here I am, throwing a fit in the transition; because leaving the old is hard, uncomfortable and scary.

I am learning what it looks like to live out Philippians 2:13, "For it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure".
Another translation reads: "For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases Him".

Take heart, take hope.

editing.

I love to edit.

Earlier in the semester I had written about the fact that one of my favorite classes was likely to be Research Writing; I was correct. I have loved learning to write and re-write.

Editing has also been a big part of my internship this semester. I get to edit scholarship and application essays for city students. Friends have also taken me up on the offer as I refine, learn and love to be creative with words.

This week, however, I have been reminded of my undeniable humanity.

You see, the more experience I have in editing the more able I feel. Unintentionally I have taken it to parts of my life for which it wasn't intended. More than words on a page, I try to edit my story. The Author writes a perfect and complete sentence; but I'm just sure that I could do better, and out comes the red pen.

Darn you, red pen.

I was not created to be the editor or perfecter of my life. When I try to, a lot of red ink just gets everywhere and things look a little ridiculous... there's not enough white-out in the Midwest to cover my good intentions.

I edit out a circumstance here and insert a relationship there. I cross out an event or conversation here and insert something selfish there.

No wonder I just want to turn the page.

Instead, I'll put down the pen and hold my crayons again. My attention is re-captured. In stillness I'll seek in joy and humility. Already there's freedom in unforced and uncontrolled rhythm. Just one taste has unconvered my apparent hunger.




"Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God" (Hebrews 12:1-2).

RA, RA! SIS-BOOM-BAH!

I'm going to be the RA of 10W next year :).
Early Thursday morning I was startled out of my sleeping by a plethora of screaming and giggling girls with a flashlight. I made my way up to the tenth floor where I was dressed like a tea-bag and taught the "horah", a Jewish dance. I was initiated even in so far that I rapped a song they had written for me.

They were (and are) wonderful.
The girls, most of which have never met me, had coffee and pancakes ready upon my arrival. Nearly the entire floor was congregated in the lounge with smiling faces at 5 in the morning. They gave me a really sweet mug from Anthropologie! Bottom line: they're sweet and I'm very excited.



I'm very excited in general, actually.
I've been given so many opportunities this semester and crazy changes are happening in my heart, mind, and circumstances. I am very much learning what it's like to live in the truths of: "the brother of humble circumstances is to glory in his high position; and the rich man is to glory in his humiliation, because like flowering grass he will pass away" (James 1:9-10). I've lived uncomfortably on both sides of many conditions and I treasure the challenges that have grown and stretched me.

And, I'm painting bigger strokes than ever before...
The undeniable joys hidden in my heart are finding their way out as I take bigger leaps of obedience and make bigger messes as well. I've fallen hard, but learned to fly high too. Each day I do my best to live in the place where trust and graditude collide; and I'm finding that to be rather beautiful.

I Never Want to Grow Up

Daddy, what are you doing?

I'm reading a book, Elliot.

I want to read a book too, can I read with you?
Elliot climbs into his lap as he nods.

The plane is about to take off and Elliot takes his own seat.
What are you doing Daddy?

I'm looking out the window ...keep watching Bud, because we are going up into the sky!

Daddy, this window isn't glass. What is this window?

I think it's plexi-glass.

Confused he wonders whether this is cause for panic.
Why is the window "pexi"-glass and not just regular?

I actually have no clue, but I know it's supposed to be that way and it's going to be okay.

Elliot relaxes and squeaks in amazement as the plane ascends into the clouds. Once he is satisfied by the window situation, he interrupts the silence again with:
Daddy, what are you doing?

I'm fixing my watch, because the time is different where we are going.

Me too please? I help, you show me!
The father gives step by step instructions, even carefully guiding his son's fingers so that the job is done carefully and successfully; both Elliot and Daddy clap upon completing the task.

For the duration of the plane ride the two share laughs, trials, questions, hugs, rest, and everything in between. Elliot turns to everyone around him in confidence (including me), greeting them with:
Hi! I'm Elliot, this is my Daddy, and what is your name?



Meanwhile, I can't help but be completely blown away. This kid has got it, seriously got it. A four-year-old green-eyed stranger, with a thousand dollar smile, lives a rhythm that I desperately hope to learn.

Father God,
What are you doing?
I want to do it too!
What do you see?
Let me see too.
What is this you've put before me?
I know I'm secure with you.
I want to be more like you,
but I need your help;
Show me.
And when I still don't succeed,
Grab my every finger;
Lead and guide me.
Keep showing me who I am,
So that I am eager and confident to greet your children with:
Hi, I'm Ashley, THIS is my Father - He wants you to know your name too.


And they were bringing children to Him so that He might touch them; but the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw this, He was indignant and said to them, "Permit the children to come to Me; do not hinder them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all."
Mark 10:13-15

all stirred up

"Most of us, no matter how badly we've messed up our lives, want to create a better life for ourselves and for those we love. If we have the privilege to live our lives free of the struggle for survival, this instinct within us begins to take our focus to the broader world. We somehow know we're supposed to be conduits of good. We're supposed to make the world a better place. Yes, when we connect to God, we begin to care more deeply about the world around us. But I'm convinced it's more than this."

-ERWIN RAPHAEL MCMANUS

Close To Home

Gunshots ring out in River North; officers wounded and suspect dead - Chicago Sun-Times



Recently, there was a fatal shooting on the southwest corner of our campus.



Something about being within ear-shot of flying bullets puts mortality in stark perspective. Moments of chaos like this one have been littered throughout the past seven months of my life.



Beyond my control I have watched and listened. I've spent days in the hospital with people I love; and wished I could've been there for others still. I have walked with peers; sharing many silent moments on the phone and untangling life over lunch tables.



I've sat with broken high school-ers as they try to learn to dream again, against all odds...Wrestled with inner-city schooling, at a Christian elementary, to the point of tears.



Sometimes the color fades to shades of gray and clarity gets lost in reality. The romanticized adult life wasn't supposed to have this shifting focus. Or was it?

A year of re-re-re-re-re-re-focus; keeping me on my knees, opening my heart to love. This is the good stuff.

she's seventeen.

She sits down, pretending to be apathetic - or at least that's what I have to believe. I'm viewed as an upper-class 'adult' figure; she's seventeen and with her peers, so I'm not offended in the least. There's an ACT-prep packet in front of her which serves mostly as a bed for her cellphone, because "it don't make sense anyway".

She pulls open her borrowed laptop and sighs. I hand her the slip with the college website on it. I'm asked to help her apply online. She types in "youtube" instead and begins to search her favorite music artists. I laugh it off and tell her she must've mis-typed something. Then she types in "facebook". I begin to feel frustrated, she knows what she's supposed to do... she's seventeen.

The application page is full of blanks which we can't fill neatly. Parent/Guardian: _____________, Miss Chante*?, A Step-Mom?, An Uncle?. Parent E-mail:______________, "ain't got one". Address: ____________, "we movin'".

Harder still. Volunteer involvement in the past four years: _______________, does taking care of your child count?, how about siblings?. She has a child; she's seventeen. My heart begins to break. "Let's skip this section for now", I say.

Essay. "aw, hell no", she laughs. "Oh c'mon, this is my favorite part" I say, eager to help her embellish her strengths on paper. I offer to leave her alone and come back and help her edit.



I take a breath and begin praying that I don't say anything stupid or naive. I find her staring at the screen minutes later.

Almost ashamedly, she pushes the screen to angle my way. My breaking heart sinks to my stomach. It's all starting to make sense. Her first sentences read something like: "Some people say you got to follow your dream. And I agree with them. You got to keep tryin. I want to follow my dreams to be a nurse and help people deliver babys. I have the career goals and leading..." She's seventeen. No one has cared enough to teach her how to structure a sentence. She's been passed from grade to grade with just enough to graduate. She doesn't understand a lot of words and reading is very difficult.

Filling my lungs I lean away, honestly just wanting to apologize. I can't help but continuously think, 'she's seventeen'.

Instead I realize how beautiful this moment is; for no reason it seems... well, or every reason. She wants what I want. She deserves it just as much as I do. I thought we were so different. No. We're so the same.

For once I don't have answers or an apology. I find myself smiling, nodding, and saying "good, keep going" before I walk away to pull myself together.

change of pace

Yesterday my friend Rachel said, "You know Ashley, I was thinking, and you're a lot like Flash".

I laughed and entertained the thought of radiating lightning and wearing yellow gloves and boots for a moment. I couldn't deny the parallel; I am often there one minute and somewhere else the next. It takes a special kind of person to keep up and a special kind of circumstance to slow me down. I think fast, talk fast, and walk fast. Most of the time my mind, body, and heart are engaged and even multitasking.

Except on Sundays.

*sigh*. You feel that relief? I'm living it.

My favorite Sunday things the past few weeks:

reCREATING.

from book to journal:


from scrap-paper to a valentine:


from ingredients to breakfast:


LEARNING.

The art of baking:




LAUGHING

because as much as I try to hone my home-making skills, I can't say that Martha Stewart ain't got nothing on me. You see, this morning I broke TWO needles...


I think I require some sturdier equipment? :)

and LISTENING.

to the words of narratives by Flannery O'Connor, Alice Munro, and C.S. Lewis.
to the banter of Loralei and Rory Gilmore.
to music. (most recently that of Mat Kearney, Joshua Radin, Parachute, Ben Harper, Tyrone Wells, Matt Nathanson, and Jason Myles Goss- who you just might want to listen to below...)


A practice I thought could be irresponsible, has been restoring. More and more I am convinced that we were created for a six-and-one cycle. At least for this season in my life I will live in that freedom.

Spring Semester Surprises

Professor McDuffee is, and I quote, "the proprietor of a t-shirt shop in Katmandu" in his mind. He went on to explain that he takes his controversial opinions and loaded thoughts and puts them on a t-shirt inside his head - sometimes "selling" them, (again this is all within the boundary of his brain), to those who could benefit from their advertised truths. "They're not hurting any one's feelings" he shrugged. HAHA! I'm reminded, at least three times a week, how uniquely brilliant the people I get to learn from really are. If we're all a little crazy, this man is my kind of crazy.

My former professor, current employer, and dear respected mentor, Dr. Sauer, has cancer. This might seem like a stark transition from the previous light-hearted surprise; however he is anything but heavy in spirit. This may not have been this 64year-old man's prediction or wish, but he is unshaken and challengingly hopeful. As someone who has taken to calling me "Ann" and greeting me with: "Are you persevering, my child?", I am encouraged even in one of his weakest hours. I prayerfully look forward to the ways this will deepen his dependence and grow our relationship.

I get the opportunity to have a second interview for a 2011-2012 RA position. This has been an unexpectedly exciting process. The application and first interview have already challenged me to look into a metaphorical mirror. Who do people see me as vs who do I want to be? Who am I presently vs. who am I created to be? How do I react to circumstances X, Y, and Z vs. how should I react? What do I like? What makes me angry? Why do I bother? It has provoked some discovery and I'm hopeful of what's to come.

bugs, butts, and bathrooms

Young boys are funny things.

Ivan, for instance, has a bug phobia. His mind has tricked him into thinking that anything small and black is an ant, and anything small and white is a "mosk" - by which I assume he means moth. I guess he could mean mosque; but judging by the things he shrieks at, it would have to be (as Derek Zoolander put it) "AT LEAST THREE TIMES THE SIZE" for people to fit in!

Ethan is convinced the word "butt" is an obscenity. He is also convinced that screaming, writing, or casually slipping the word into every sentence will make him look cool or something. I'm just not the right person to correct this type of behavior. Call me childish, but try not to crack a smile when you overhear " I do like Magic School Butt, especially the one about Mrs. Frizzle-Butt in the body... Hey Ryan, pass me the butt - I mean red marker". I kid you not ladies and gentlemen!!

and then there's Myles. I haven't quite figured out yet if he's obsessed with the bathroom or with paper-towel. Either way he constantly asks if he can go wipe his hands. Now that I think of it, maybe he just has unusually sweaty hands? Sometimes I humor him and say yes, but I might have to start bringing a towel or planting trees.

a suggestion

http://matthew1316.blogspot.com/

Click it. Read it.
I dare you.

get to the point

I'm in a writing class this semester under a professor that I very much respect... but her class is kicking my butt a little bit.

I got to sit down with her one-on-one today and walk through the first paper I submitted. When I received it back I felt guilty - as though I owed her 13 cents - because I'm fairly certain an unfair amount of red ink was used on my paper. It was actually quite comical.

And call me a nerd, but I grew eager with the challenge. I love writing. I knew I wasn't great, but I had no idea how much room I have for improvement.

My greatest grammatical weaknesses: redundancy, vagueness, unnecessarily dramatic transitions, and adjective over-use. Today my professor took entire groups of sentences in my paper and summed them up in one noun or verb. It was beautiful to watch her do this.

Far be it from my expectations, it helped to emphasize what was supposed to be emphasized and maintained readability and creativity.

She says all I need is practice.

We both hope she's right :P.

another chapter

I'm teaching two Pre-K classes this semester at a Chinese Christian school. I'm learning more than I could've ever imagined.

Enter Friday's Super Scientists Class.

Bruce is four; he has the curiosity and energy to prove it.

He likes to know what everyone is doing, all of the time. Instead of sitting with his own project or experiment, he's typically found wandering from one peer to another until he's accounted for the where-abouts and what-abouts of the 11 other students. He likes to help, so it's not all bad.

Today there were three rotating stations. Bruce was very engaged in the first, but insisted on skipping the second - because the third looked more exciting. He didn't understand that the sequence was necessary to the learning process. He wouldn't be convinced that the rules were set up for his good. If only he would trust me and wait, something more and better than he was even imagining would come.

Kicking, flailing, and grunting I carried him to his seat. I tried to softly convince him of my reasoning. When that didn't work, I bribed him a little. And when that didn't phase him, I resorted to all out begging! It was as if he didn't hear me. Or perhaps it was that he was sure his way was best, and therefore deemed my input as untrustworthy and unnecessary.

The only time he would stay in his seat was if I were holding his hand, literally. He wasn't calm by any means, but he remained on the chair if he felt my hand and heard my voice. But having eleven other 'eager beavers' just doesn't allow for this sort of one-on-one attention consistently.

It was quite the scene. It resulted in spilt water and a mess of pepper. His experiment didn't work properly because his persistence to 'do it his way' proportioned the materials incorrectly. The sequence of unfortunate events continued as his clear disappointment turned into jealousy and frustration. Why didn't his experiment work? Did I (the teacher) mess his up on purpose!? And how did his shirt get wet and his table space full of black specs? At the end of the day all of the other kids had something to take home from the second station, but not Bruce.

Even in my frustration I empathized with my four year old friend.

I had to come to accept the fact that I have been in a similar mind-set, it just isn't as cute or excusable on me.

I'm found looking around and ahead as if I could wish my way into something else. I haven't lost joy or excitement in watching others be blessed, but I have been prone to jealousy - more than usual.

It's not that this "station" is bad or unpleasant; I just felt much more engaged in the last, and the next one looks a little more appealing from where I sit. I understand the concept of the 'big picture' and that this season of preparation is absolutely necessary; yet I'm found anxious in heart, mind, and body.

My selfishness wants to reach for control, wants to make a change just for the sake of change. Instead of listening, I'm frequently found trying to convince or bargain my way out of present circumstances.

Not-so-ironically, like Bruce, there are times I sit stupidly still as I feel the hand of the Teacher. I have moments where I am silently taken back by His attention, yet I am then quick to get distracted or squirm again.

Also like this four year old, I make a mess of things. I'm left frustrated and hurt by my own choosing; yet wanting to blame anything and anyone else.

It took me some time to see, and even more to admit. Now it's time for change. It's time I reconcile my attitude with the will of my Father. My heart is being refined, and I don't want to miss one beat. Again Philippians 2:13 is personified to and in me. It's time I look up instead of all around me, and time I kneel instead of run. I trust because my every need is met. I'm thirsty for wisdom and understanding. I feel the weight of the truths in Ecclesiastes;, learning to enjoy what I have and removing grief & anger from my heart, and pain from my body. I'm beginning to ache to live in light of Ephesians 5; imitating the Creator unconditionally and walking in His will.

I write today because my heart and mind are full. I write because I know my inconsistency needs an accountability restraint. and I write today in case you need to borrow my experience to let God speak to your heart.

Twenty One

I recently celebrated my 21st birthday :)! Enjoy a photo-roll from January 17th; visually accompanied with lyrics from Jonny Diaz's song More Beautiful You.



So turn around, you're not too far
To back away, be who you are


To change your path, go another way
It's not too late, you can be saved


If you feel depressed, with past regrets,
the shameful nights, hope to forget;
Can disappear, they can all be washed away


By the ONE who's strong, can right your wrongs;
Can rid your fears, dry all your tears


And change the way you look at this big world


HE will take your dark, distorted view,
and with HIS light HE will show you truth


And again you'll see, through the eyes of a little girl


There could never be a more beautiful you.
Don't buy the lies, disguises, hoops they make you jump through.

You were made to fill a purpose, that only you could do;
There could never be, a more beautiful you.