tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-121620662024-03-18T23:42:45.295-05:00Nothing Comparesmelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-49382337201522269102010-10-14T09:18:00.013-05:002010-10-14T11:51:19.303-05:00i see a train.<div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />I've always wanted to start a music blog. My friend Maclean did so this week. He's entitled it "Audio Flag," and you can find it </span><a href="https://audioflag.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">here</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Here are the reasons why I have yet to start a music blog:</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">a. I do not doubt my excellent taste is music, but I do doubt my ability to offer interesting .. insightful .. novel commentary.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">b. I fear my inevitable inconsistency in posting.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Reasons why I SHOULD have a music blog:</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">a. People frequently ask me to make them a mix . . and a music blog is sorta a good substitute. Kinda? Just go with it.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">b. It would be a good outlet for my constant desire to talk about music.</span> <div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That being said, I don't have plans to start a music blog. I do, however, have plans to post about music on this [seasoned] blog whenever I so desire.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><br />And today..I so desire.<br /><br /><br /></strong></span></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Do you ever have moments when the perfect song comes on? It resonates within you in <em>that moment</em>. It could play at another time, in another setting.. and it might not resonate to the same extent. Or at all.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Of course you've had those moments. I'm sure of it, whether you're a self-proclaimed music lover or not.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I often have these moments of auditory magic early in the morning. Or late at night. When, as far as I can tell, I'm the only person on earth. Or on roadtrips, when everything is a million miles away.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But today, it's mid-morning. I'm at work. With pre-schoolers yelling across the hall, and a dirty tupperware container within my peripheral. But this song removed me from the chaos for 8 minutes and 40 seconds.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Enough preface..the song is:</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Se Lest," by Sigur Ros.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sigur Ros's rockumentary, <em>Heima, </em>definitely attributes to the fact that this song stabs me in the heart. I picture the ethereal Icelandic landscapes and the Nordic families in their scarves and hats.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Regardless of whether or not you've seen <em>Heima, </em>know anything about Iceland, or have an affinity for Jonsi Birgisson's matchless falsetto, "Se Lest" will take you to another place. If you let it. (see: ifyoulookbeyondthesoundsoftop40music)</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Se Lest" is from the album "Takk..." released in 2005. The lyrics on the album were written in both Icelandic and in a made-up language called "Hopelandic." The title of this particular song translates into "I See a Train," but the song as a whole has no literal translation.</span> <div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So it's up to you, listener, to take in the words (or non-words), the melodies, the xylophone, the strings... and interpet it on your own.</span><br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><object width="1280" height="745"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BxRDnFAn1VM?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BxRDnFAn1VM?fs=" hl="en_US&rel=" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen= "true" width="1280" height="745"></embed></object></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-23210126293222037672010-06-02T09:16:00.004-05:002010-10-14T11:41:29.170-05:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>fill me with Your perfect love. </b></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>let me be unable to walk out the door each day until </b></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>i'm filled with my one source of joy, beauty and strength. </b></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>all of the room in my heart is for You. claim it, and be greedy with it. </b></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>i can't afford for You to be any less.</b></span></span>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-77013759501932042272010-05-19T16:37:00.003-05:002010-05-19T19:55:32.920-05:00we hear encouragement to dig our heels deep into the soil of community, and it so deeply resonates with us. the most inner parts of our beings know that we were <strong>created</strong> for community. but then we step out into the sunshine, and we are hit with the reality that bundling up with others isn't as pretty as we had imagined. sometimes it is messy. often it is painful. but it is <em>life-giving.</em><br /><em></em><br />how easy it is to go about our days with only our<em>selves</em> in mind. we are able to do as we please. we have no one to impress, and no one to let down. we can rest and relax, and do nothing, say nothing, be nothing. all of the world that we pass by can hold in their heads a pleasant and untainted view of us, because they know nothing better.<br /><br />but then we step into community. at some point the facades can't help but fall away. people see what lies beneath when community cracks our shell. we feel uneasy. we see that others need us, and suddenly we cannot go about our self-centered schedules and agendas free of guilt. suddenly others' paths and schedules begin to creep into our own. it's scary. it's inconvenient. it's unsettling and nerve-racking and obnoxious, and sometime it is exhausting.<br /><br />why were we created for something so difficult and uncomfortable? why can't life be simple, easy, comfortable and carefree? little chapel nestled among still rivers and green hills and birds chirping...piano melodies flowing freely and effortlessly from the pipes that echo between the panes of stained glass. not a care in the world. why can't it always be this way?<br /><br />the irony of it all? because we made a decision to live greedy, self-centered lives. when we put the self first, everything fell apart. when we begin to come together, to bundle together, things begin to line up again. that discomfort? it's beautiful. wrestle with it, wallow in it. you'll have your moments of serenity. you can even have a life of inward serenity, if only you will come to terms with the fact that community will not always be what you want it to be. if only you will allow yourself to be vulnerable, and to not succumb to fear. fear of judgment and pain and rejection. you <strong><em>will </em></strong>experience these things. it will not be easy. but keep loving. love until it hurts, and then love more.melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-26536316958707507102010-03-31T13:25:00.002-05:002010-03-31T13:27:38.849-05:00you're welcome.<div>I single-handedly am saving the globe by the infrequency with which I wash my clothes.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 134px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454866142808347234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSc8gGpND_Xs3ka4F1AVVNgLcO_ZfCVsbn8sfNoIFcqYCseRQ8y4UrxoykQSzkQdkTd_NlhYqx_QL5EV6rVpJuj6WbT00y3Tf61jSAMDKoQ6_Ev0T30S67Z3vTHTIHjNhvFtq/s200/ww_gi_hug-tree.jpg" /></div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-66908937906262118952010-03-22T00:38:00.003-05:002010-03-23T22:35:43.423-05:00small things<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Last week I received a gift from two people in particular that meant so much to me.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The first came in the form of a phone call. </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It was Jessica Lee! Jessica is one of my favorite friends. We became friends my sophomore year of college. Jessica and I had been dorm room neighbors the previous year. All I knew about her was that she had great taste in music (we shared a fondness for a band called Stars), that she seemed very easy-going, and that she had once received a male visitor who came over just so the two of them could tinker with an easy bake oven.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I had Jessica’s number stored in my phone, and I very randomly called her months later to tell her that I had an itch to visit the state of Kentucky, and I wondered if she’d like to join along. I had never been to Kentucky. And I had never hung out with Jessica.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Jessica came along, and we ended up exploring a very random town. We met a few locals, sat on the edge of a dock at a marina, and enjoyed an afternoon that felt a million miles from anywhere else.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Throughout college, Jessica and I had many other adventures. We camped in a teepee. We had pizza with homeless friends underneath a bridge. We explored along the cobblestone streets by the river in Savannah, Georgia. We played with pups at the humane society, we had strobe light dance parties in Jessica’s room. Jess was there when I met my first college boyfriend, and she was there when I had my heart broken by another.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgfNSzJfCOIJ4mEYfDXzLVxYliF0nybikBHqHgaDdSjoFSsTHmVXoSwc5ejCxUgTUBy_hraUrT6X10FhhoIXd1pqIFfma5_zc-T_XYVy_UJw24eCbkMj8RBjXw3gFZH-7V_qp/s200/jessica+amish.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451825264004719586" /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Jessica and I are now living hours apart. Neither of us are good at picking up the phone, so I haven’t talked to her much since I left Nashville. But I’m not one to measure my relationships by the frequency with which we communicate.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">On Saturday of last week, Jessica left me a voicemail telling me she was so sad to hear about Franklin, and that she was also sad for <i>me</i>. She wanted to know what she could do to help out financially. Jessica is only one year older than me - fresh out of college, and she is not rolling in the big money. Yet she was willing to help out her friend 600+ miles away who was struggling to pay the vet bills for her sick pup. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In true Melissa fashion, I have yet to call her back to thank her personally for her message. It was truly one of the most thoughtful and genuine offers I have ever received. Jessica, please consider this my formal thank you. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Exactly a week later, I checked my mail. There was an envelope addressed to Franklin Ralph Carter, with paw prints stamped on the back. I knew the handwriting well -- my sister! Inside was the cutest little “get well” card, along with five $20 bills. Melanie said that when she heard me brainstorming what I could sell in order to pay for Franklin’s vet bills, she too asked what she could give up to help me out. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">At this point, Franklin’s vet bills have been taken care of in full. He is still in the hospital, and it has been ten days since his second surgery. He has a very serious infection in his abdomen, but he continues to improve each day.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The last three weeks since Franklin got sick have been filled with plenty of low moments and low days. But the constant encouragement and thoughtfulness of people like Liza, Regan, Ellee, Drew, Haley, Mom, Yaya, Leigh, Whitney, Lindsay, Erica, Robynne . . and Melanie and Jessica . . has been so refreshing. I mention specific names simply because I want to recognize any of those people who may read this!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Mother Theresa knew what’s up when she said, “But we can all do small things, with great love, and together we can do something wonderful.” </span></p>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-58873201618633384612010-03-06T10:35:00.002-06:002010-03-06T23:38:57.931-06:00a personal narrative of sorts<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I’ve always loved dogs. I remember when I wrote Mom and Dad a persuasive essay...asking that we get a lhasa apso. A persuasive essay had worked when I wanted my first camera. But it didn’t work later, when I wanted a big trampoline. I can’t remember why I wanted a lhasa apso particularly - might be because our neighbors, the Wright family, had one. Her name was Carly. I also remember when the mom, Cathy, told me not to brush my hair when it was wet. She told me it would pull my hair out - or pull the bristles of my brush out. I could never remember which. I also remember when Ashton Wright let me use her sand art kit. She warned me not to shake the bottle when I had it filled, but I did anyway. I regretted it. Christmas of 1994, Melanie and I ran into the living room to see what all Santa had brought us. We looked right past the furball in the middle of the floor and began to explore the games and gadgets on the fireplace. When Mom and Dad (bewildered) pointed out our new puppy, I cried.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">A couple years later he and Carly had puppies.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I loved Buddy Leroy Carter for fifteen years. I was crazy about that dog. I was as crazy about him in 2009 as I was in 1994. He died a few months ago - I think it was late November. Sometimes I forget that he’s gone. I expect to visit Lubbock and find him curled up at the foot of Dad’s recliner. I was in San Diego, working for Invisible Children, when I got the call. I knew the call was about Buddy before Mom and Dad even told me. When it comes to these things, you just know. I had seen Buddy when I was home just about a week before. We always celebrated his birthday on Thanksgiving because he was born Thanksgiving of 1994. We never figured out the actual day. I tried though. I knew he wasn’t in good shape, so on his birthday I spent a lot of time on two birthday signs and hung them in the kitchen. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Melanie was in Uganda when Buddy died. We waited until she was back in the states to tell her Buddy died. That was hard. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Sometimes Melanie and I would find Buddy and have a dance party around him to make him feel awkward. I almost laughed as I wrote that.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHWvPf7MrmN4H4cGsWML-s0OfWyO69_niq-yD1EhIWx89h7Dnw3LV-nl2RcZSGZe20eVm8DyBhi9H6r7lLtC7etRhRAr0nrqUtkfyECHFtAKIconVjKDnsH4hhmYDde4QvK89/s200/buddy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445562485720899842" /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I missed Buddy a lot during college. I could talk to Mom and Dad while I was away, but not to Buddy. I would have them make Buddy bark over the phone, and I would squeal with delight.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I wanted a dog in Nashville, but Mom and Dad - along with others - warned me about the financial commitment and time commitment that dogs required. I listened to them, even though I didn’t want to. Come to think of it, I really restrained myself from getting a dog just because I knew Mom would be mad if I did. The threat of mom’s disapproval makes me not do lots of things. Often she does know best.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I moved to Austin in January. Just a couple weeks before in Lubbock, Dad and Grandmommy had come home with a precious puppy for me. I named him Henry. What a wonderful puppy! Huge personality, and ridiculous amounts of cute. There were two problems, though. First off, he was a miniature poodle. I really didn’t want a miniature poodle. I tried to want one, I really did. I flipped through Google images and saw some miniature poodles - full grown - that were presh. <i>Maybe he’ll turn out like that!..But what if he doesn’t? Am I shallow? Am I selfish? I’m a horrible person. But maybe someone else would love him better? But I’ll feel so bad for rejecting him, and for rejecting Dad and Grandmommy’s gift.</i></span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i></i></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I cried. I felt so bad for even considering turning Henry away. Oh and the second problem? Within the first 24 hours I became acutely aware of the time commitment dogs (especially puppies) required. I couldn’t really walk into another room without worrying about the little guy. So I gradually made my feelings known. I really did feel so bad. And I wanted to let myself go emotionally. So I could love him as my own. I didn’t enjoy holding back. Dad was great about it. He said he didn’t want me to feel pressure to keep him. He hinted that he and Mom would probably keep him if I didn’t. That was comforting.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So I chose to let him go. Melanie came home for Christmas. She fell in love with Henry. She considered taking him to Nashville. She <b><i>really</i></b> wrestled with that decision. But she didn’t take him. She decided she wouldn’t be able to give him enough attention. The Creels fell in love with him too. Especially Haley. I loved watching Haley love Henry. We all casually talked about how Aunt Yaya should adopt the semi-orphan pup. Haley would be moving from Lubbock to D.C. in a matter of weeks, and Ross had recently joined the army. Times were rough for the Creel household. The nest was about to be more audibly empty than ever before. So I moved to Austin, and as Mom and Dad began to feel attached to baby Henry, Bobby and Yaya announced that they were going to take him in. Mom cried.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Yaya quickly became an adorably proud and loving mother. She took Henry to puppy school. There’s hardly anything cuter than puppy school. The very thought of it pains me. Henry is especially special because he has a bond with both the Carters and the Creels. I request pictures of him often. He is growing into the cutest dog ever. I think things worked out just as they should have. I’m glad Yaya has him.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So I got to Austin...and a few weeks in - in late January - puppy fever returned. I blame it all on Town Lake. I went there for a walk, and I saw so many wonderful dogs. Repeatedly I said, “That person can have a dog - why can’t I?” My 23rd birthday was near. I’ve always been an impulsive person. I looked at dogs online for a few days. Decided I wanted a small shih tzu or a goldendoodle. I would have loved to have gotten a lhasa apso like Buddy, but I learned they can be a bit temperamental the day Buddy bit my face and I got ten stitches.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I already knew I had parental blessing for a dog since I had been given a pup, so I was ready to spring for it. Multiple people warned me not to give in to my puppy fever. I knew I was getting myself into something big. I was okay with the warnings, but I was peeved when the words were not warnings, but instead instructions or commands. Geez people, let me grow up, let me make my own mistakes, and let me be <i>me.</i> But that’s another story.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">There were also friends that encouraged me, like Ellee Burkholder, and like my cousin Layne. The day before my birthday was Tuesday. Doug texted me. He wasn’t feeling well, and wouldn’t be going into the office. He encouraged me to take the day off, and rest up after the big retreat from the weekend before. By rest up, I thought he meant search online for dogs some more, find the one you want, drive and get it, and wake up tomorrow as a dog owner.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So there are no actual pet stores in Austin. It seems they’re illegal or something - encouraging people to adopt. How very “Austin” of Austin. People aren’t even allowed to <i>sell</i> dogs or puppies. They can only ask for an “adoption fee.” That being said, I had a hard time finding any cute pups around the city. I realize I’m a heathen for not taking in a lovable mutt, but I really want(ed) a cute dog. That’s all I can say. I found a shih tzu in the Dallas area, about three and a half hours away. I had made many inquiries, and had decided to drive up and get this little boy. I had e-mailed the owners of a few goldendoodles. They were all far, far out of my price range, and I told the sellers that if they felt like they could at any point offer a pup for much (much. much. ...much.) less, then...here’s my number. I didn’t exactly hold out much hope. I headed up toward Dallas. Only a few minutes after I had embarked, I get a call from Veytia Hays. Really nice lady. She’d like to offer me a goldendoodle for only four hundred dollars. It’s a stretch, but I can do it. I want to do it. I call the seller in DFW and turn down yet another dog - the little shih tzu who was getting all geared up to go to his forever home. Gosh, I’m cold-hearted. I turn my car around and head for College Station. I stop on my way to buy toys, a collar, dog food...so exciting, and so foreign to me. I brainstorm names. I look at business names and street signs for inspiration. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I meet Veytia in a McDonald’s parking lot. I knew my boy’s name before I even laid eyes on him - Franklin. Franklin Ralph. Four percent of me wanted to name him Henry, because I love that name. But that wouldn’t be right. When I see Franklin, I know the name is right. I can’t believe how big he is at only four months! <i>What have I gotten myself into? I love him. Am I sure about this? ..He is precious.</i> So I hop in the car after grabbing a chicken snack wrap, and Franklin and I are off. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Not far down the road, a policewoman stops us because my headlight is out. I get off with a warning, but I sure hadn’t made a good first impression on Franklin. Not ten minutes later, we’re pulled over again. As the policeman stands outside my window, I fumble around long enough for it to get awkward, and finally locate my recent warning. We were off off the hook again. We pull over so that Franklin can have a potty break, and he is terrible on a leash. Ugh, he hated me. Or he hated the leash..one of the two. We looked like a scene from a movie as I worked hard to make him cooperate. It was cold, and he was stubborn. He didn’t go potty, but I was just relieved when he was back in the car and we were back on the road.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Franklin and I fell in love quickly. Others fell for him too - especially Leigh Congdon. It made me happy. I took him lots of places. To the park. To work. To Spiderhouse. He would always stick near me - such a mama’s boy. Such a sweet and faithful little companion. I took pictures of Franklin playing, sitting, scratching, and breathing, and shared them any person willing to tolerate my infatuation. Yes, he (like Henry) proved quickly to be quite a responsibility, but it was worth it. I loved loving him. I loved caring for him. I loved playing ball with him, and I loved the splat he made every time he plunked down on the floor.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8np5OJlyXI-rxi0ic23kNE0B28hq5ghMaEzShIYhcCd5_3XNXErLYfj-8d2gdh0FBn7qJHNBIyEc6v3897sANGK7fAsn13rI6QFMLBTEkcjWHvb-rxKJYnLiGPL2eOYXelAj/s200/IMG_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445561301535063874" /><p></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It was just four days ago: I came home, fed him dinner, and he cut his bowl time shorter than usual. He went into the living room and threw up three times. Man, it was like fluorescent. I hated it - for him, for me, for my carpet...but I knew this kind of stuff happened sometimes. Dogs get sick. They have tummy aches.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But then he threw up two more times. I called the first 24-hour animal hospital that Google offered. In a moment of vulnerability, I called this guy to see if he would come with. I needed a male figure with me. This guy and I had gone out before. But I mean...twice. I knew asking him to accompany me to the vet might sound like code for <i>We’re in a relationship, right?</i> Or at the very least, <i>Can we be in a relationship?</i> Well, I meant neither of the two. I was just banking on him interpreting the invite as neither. I toyed with the idea of telling him what my invitation <i>wasn’t</i>, but I decided not to jump the gun with false assumptions. He turned down my invitation. I don’t blame him. But I did really want a guy with me. Coulda been him, coulda been a brother, coulda been my dad. I was just upset and worried. I had the textual support of a number of friends and family, and that helped. I sent Melanie a text and/or picture every two and a half seconds, so it was kinda like she was with me.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The vet wanted to do nearly five hundred dollars worth of tests. I couldn’t do that. They treated his symptoms, gave him fluids, and sent us home. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I went by the boy’s house. It was only a few blocks away, and I received a much needed hug. I’m not really one to need a hug. But there it was. The need, I mean.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Franklin and I had a sad night. He groaned, whined, and heaved all throughout his (our) restless night. I was sad for him. The next morning we went outside. He bounded around a little bit, much to my delight. We got back inside and he threw up three times. Ugh. I took him to Hill Country Animal Hospital, right by church. Liza Martin had suggested it. A very pretty place - nice people, and it smelled really good. I love a place that smells good.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">They checked out my little guy, and decided he should stay there for 24 hours to be monitored, to receive fluids, etc. There was another $250 on top of the $130 I’d spent the night before. The next day, I received word that he was better! He had been playing with the other dogs and had obviously improved. No vomiting. The news made me dance around. He came home, I was ecstatic, and we picked up chicken and rice to cook for his dinner. Only he didn’t want it. And he didn’t want his meds. And he didn’t want to move. Or follow me from room to room. He whined during the night, and never got comfortable.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Weren’t we supposed to be happy back at home together? This isn’t what I had imagined.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">That brings us to this morning. Today is March 5, 2010. Franklin could hardly move this morning. I tried to take him outside. Not only did he not get excited, but he wouldn’t even get up when I opened the door. My stomach dropped. I didn’t even take time to get ready. I grabbed my keys, and I had to </span><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">carry</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> Franklin - all 38 pounds of him - down three flights of stairs and out to the car. I cried on the way. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">That was a quiet car ride.</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The vet planned on teaching me tricks to get food and meds down his throat so he would regain energy. Call it intuition, perhaps..I just knew something was very wrong. It wasn’t just gastritis. I decided to pay another $180 for x-rays. If nothing else, I needed peace of mind. While Franklin was off getting his “glamour shots” as one nurse called them, I started brainstorming all the possessions I could sell to help pay for these costs. I began to sympathize with mothers living in poverty who resort to desperate means to care for their children. The doctor returned. Franklin did have an obstruction of some kind in his intestines. If surgery was not performed, he probably wouldn’t make it. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I tried to be strong, composed. I tried to keep it together. The doctor decided to give me a few minutes to process everything. I called Dad while he was in class, and couldn’t even get the first few words out. Dad was so sad for me. He offered to help me a bit, and I decided to do the surgery. I suppose all along there was really no question. Of course I would do the surgery. I would find a way to pay for it. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">When the doctor returned, my eyes were no longer a visible part of my face.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I was gone within half an hour. I had said bye to my boy, smoothed a couple of stray hairs, and kissed the top of his head. I went home to clean up, and I put on my favorite dress and headed to Tacodeli for the sixth day in a row. At the register, I realized I’d left my money at home. Embarrassed, I got a free taco. And I didn’t have enough gas to get home. After discarding my trash, I headed to Whitney Bell’s house. She put gas in my tank and five dollars in my pocket, and I came to Spiderhouse. I suppose I’ve been here for about five hours now. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Around 1:30, before heading to Tacodeli, I really began to wonder if I’d made the right decision. The surgery was to begin in thirty minutes. I texted Melanie:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Melanie, I’m really struggling with this. How can I spend that money when there <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>are people dying all over the world.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I’m wondering if I need to cancel the surgery. It begins in thirty minutes.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Nope, you can’t cancel it.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Have you talked to Mom and Dad?</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Melanie why?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Even if they’re helping me pay for it, it’s still a thousand dollars going toward an <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>animal.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">What happens if he doesn’t have the surgery?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He won’t survive.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You can’t let him die, sister. I don’t want to speak for Him, but I think God would be supportive of that.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I didn’t wrestle for too long, but for a good ten minutes, I was ready to call and cancel the surgery. Ready to simply hope for a miracle. But this miracle wouldn’t entail someone offering to pay, because that wasn’t the issue. The issue was about one thousand dollars going to keep my dog alive, knowing that in places like Uganda and Haiti people were (are) fighting for their lives as well. It felt as if, essentially, I was choosing an animal’s life over the lives of human beings. How could I do that in good conscience?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Images of people suffering in Haiti filled my brain. I could hear echoes of myself encouraging people to find something to give up so that other people could receive the resources they need to survive. Shane Claiborne’s face was sitting in front of me, reminding me of all I had learned from “The Irresistible Revolution” - a book that had rocked my world after a cute Starbucks barista had recommended it.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Out of nowhere, or maybe somewhere very particular, came these lyrics:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise </i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Thou my inheritance now and always</i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>First and thou only first in my heart</i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Thou in me dwelling, my treasure thou art</i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I sang it. Like fives times, probably more.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I chose not to stop the surgery. I don’t know if I made the right decision or not. Was God asking me to put Isaac on the altar? I like to think I was ready to do so. Maybe I made the wrong decision. But what I know is this.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I have a full time job for the first time - and a salary. I have the ability to buy clothes, makeup, and to get hair cuts from nice places. I am surrounded by beautiful people who have much. I’ve begun to see that I need much. Better makeup, cuter clothes, an iPhone. The conviction to live simply and stray far from materialism has quietly faded. I’ve even begun to rationalize things this way: </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">If I feel cuter, and if I feel more comfortable, I feel more confident. If I feel more confident, I’m able to better love people.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Geez, where is my love coming from? From a self-confidence?</span></p> <p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">How foolish. How foolish. How foolish.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I found a way, all of a sudden, to give one thousand dollars to my dog. I sure was blind to that money before. It sure wasn’t available to buy a tent for Haitians after the quake. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>May it not take the near death of someone or something I love to remind me of essential truths. </i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Who am I to live lavishly, or to constantly work to beautify my outsides, when there are people suffering?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">On Monday night at Signulls, I sat before all the students and talked about trials. I told them something my dear sister once shared. She told me that sometimes she almost wishes for times of heartache and trial, because it is in those times that she is drawn into a deeper level of faithfulness. It is in those times that she draws near to the heart of God. And it’s when things are going well that she becomes complacent, and she forgets things that matter.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">That’s the thing. These things really matter. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">These essential truths are truly...essential.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It seems so cheap to rededicate my life to simplicity...to rededicate myself to loving the poor and the suffering. Did that before, and then I found myself where I am now. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I didn’t make a New Year’s resolution this year. I have seen myself not go through with plenty of resolutions before, so why set myself up for failure? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Cheap as it has proven to be, that’s where I am now. Not a resolution of any kind, but a rededication to live daily in remembrance that nothing I have is my own. In remembrance of the fact that I am called to care for widows and orphans. To consider every day if I am using my money, my resources, my time...with just myself in mind?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I’ll continually pray against foolishness.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Oh, and they found a rock in Franklin’s intestines. It’s out now though. I’m gonna make him wear it around his neck to remind him not to eat rocks. Credit to Melanie for helping me come up with that.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx60a0tzsoCNXks7oPoVSWhEOD0ejYB2ghpT_8i-pKvfnvEf5KTS_aEkp_H4TFvyS-J7388MBkzZYMJH1C3KccGUlFuf_rjEIJtItZvhZV0ww0-hZou5x4v7E5ZUNsMshOTSX3/s200/16334_560649527237_54601513_32957550_5023068_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445563835455636546" /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i></i></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-68287628743272705332010-02-22T08:46:00.002-06:002010-02-22T08:49:32.078-06:00recipe for a good morning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinn8xRqrI-FJRLdKhd69_dBx3OOabOhMZKbOeDVdpRjiwJOU2jU9kOqSDv-Iv9yUhVEL9heeVKUVTS52THslpDo93j1oeLJx_iLOGwngguEpU8Kqw6VuYOWDK5z3gJVVfqI8nj/s1600-h/1367black_tea.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinn8xRqrI-FJRLdKhd69_dBx3OOabOhMZKbOeDVdpRjiwJOU2jU9kOqSDv-Iv9yUhVEL9heeVKUVTS52THslpDo93j1oeLJx_iLOGwngguEpU8Kqw6VuYOWDK5z3gJVVfqI8nj/s320/1367black_tea.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441080037720795874" /></a><br />1 bag of earl grey tea<div>1 splenda</div><div>2/3 cup water</div><div>1/3 cup milk</div><div>1 Tbsp brown sugar</div><div><br /></div><div>..and i'm off to a great start.</div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-61836425036606722562010-02-21T19:34:00.004-06:002010-02-21T19:52:09.489-06:00adventure: part 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJ2ZSUsTN_gh5Ml9ZyerjL3zFcYPhxbXxzL6uU0aaFlHNG8P0fSweJ1U3XaYhyphenhyphenjaFcdzuY2JpduQ5npf4qWxeVAlEF5rkTRHxTIMetsVAitwmFlrZm8RW0rVRP-Gc8b0amHcp/s1600-h/33760879.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJ2ZSUsTN_gh5Ml9ZyerjL3zFcYPhxbXxzL6uU0aaFlHNG8P0fSweJ1U3XaYhyphenhyphenjaFcdzuY2JpduQ5npf4qWxeVAlEF5rkTRHxTIMetsVAitwmFlrZm8RW0rVRP-Gc8b0amHcp/s320/33760879.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440879691342384242" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;">So today I bought this beautiful journal..actually a sketchbook..and it has a very specific purpose.</span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I plan to write every day about two things:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">a. an adventure from that day, big or small</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">b. something I learned that day</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today, my adventure was simply going to eat with strangers. I hope none of them read this, that would be awkward. But anyway, though I feel confident in meeting new people, it's still a little nerve-racking to accept a lunch invitation with a group of like 7 people that you don't know at all. I decided to skip with formalities and just be myself, unapologetically. It was refreshing.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I learned two things:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">First of all, apparently leaving your dog in your car for even 5 minutes is illegal. I left Franklin in the car (which yes, was hot) long enough to walk into a restaurant, set down my purse, and decide on my order. I came back out to get Franklin, who I intended to tie to a pole right outside the restaurant. *sidenote* Austin is very dog-friendly, and dogs are allowed at many, many places. It's not uncommon to tie your dog to a pole outside the restaurant where you eat. ...So anyways, I come back to my car to get Franklin, he decides to go #2 on the beautiful lawn of the offices next door (I did dispose of it, thank you.), and a cop pulls up with his sirens in full force. He said he got a call from someone that I left my dog in the car. Good GRIEF. I was able to apologize and talk my way out of it. I guess I can be glad that someone was watching out for ole' Franky-pants. I didn't even tell the random lunch crew I was eating with what happened, because I was ashamed.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I also learned from my dear friend Leigh that the Bible verse that says "perfect love casts out fear.." in the original Greek, it actually can be translated "perfect love casts out insecurity." That is beautiful to me. I can be incredibly insecure, and I am thankful that she shared that with me.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'm excited to fill my new journal with stories and sketches of adventure and life lessons.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I leave you with a picture of where I spent the afternoon:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><br /></span></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Gsj-ZOLRtwN8EjqVmUH9Z3um73ycenoXgSf5eb7wAlH4_hxh8h4MIF95GRL5zgJw7zYgKLQ4EgaS1pRp2kCsWWg_7Y0XD1tckpTtaQN4jEkwwTkA2lUvFt0rcIGfOMYuimBl/s1600-h/Austin-1381c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Gsj-ZOLRtwN8EjqVmUH9Z3um73ycenoXgSf5eb7wAlH4_hxh8h4MIF95GRL5zgJw7zYgKLQ4EgaS1pRp2kCsWWg_7Y0XD1tckpTtaQN4jEkwwTkA2lUvFt0rcIGfOMYuimBl/s320/Austin-1381c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440878922034855666" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-71105092968908417732010-02-20T19:47:00.006-06:002010-02-22T14:31:43.667-06:00<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rr0is7HdSaU9exzf9nvbEAabAHvfDbUXeFSkvs78SYbiOfq4S7ulZ4NI-nR46bDdlfcpczLO51VRZvssbZYLNsfJlDiL_xrp5NCKYSU80-eOCK-rsoVq6OS8cz2FgjSL8l8b/s1600-h/south+carolina+jess.jpg"><br /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">So I've decided to make a rule for life. Each year, I have to have a minimum of three adventures. An adventure is defined by a few characteristics:</span></span> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">a. said adventure must take place at least 30 minutes away from the town in which I reside at the time</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">b. said adventure must call for at least one full day</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">There are no real rules on the adventure past this...except that the idea is mainly to just forget about real life for a time. Sometimes these adventures may be planned, and sometimes they may be spontaneous. Even if the adventure HAS been planned, it can be considered null and void if I do not fully enjoy myself and/or I think about real life / take care of real life responsibilities while away. Furthermore, adventures may happen on accident - these can count as one of the three if they meet the stipulations. I can say with confidence that I am on year 3 already.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">2008:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">March - road trip with Jessica Lee around Alabama, Georgia, and North Carolina</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">July - flew to Chicago alone, road a subway for the first time, explored the city alone, and flew back to Nashville that night (one of my favorite experiences.) <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441098572441605986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPkDioaBN7JTOrdZTpQsmJYRisJc9huJwOlS_RmplL6SLN9JxRvGHHi9nQjZ5-77PRjdVPS7TTnC3Z2KNdv0uhXZr2Hih2Nq8UclmzHXmyHtvuyg2jwgsd2Ixna-IaB8Bjo8N/s200/n147800172_31310071_7113826.jpg" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">August - ran (power-walked) a half-marathon at Virginia Beach with sister, cousins, and Erica Osborn. then explored DC on foot, which was quite painful post-marathon.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">September - drove ridiculous night hours with Jay Ferries in the middle of a week..to Chicago, again..to see Sigur Ros in concert</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"></span></span><br /><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">2009:<br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">March - road trip to Savannah with three life long friends. Saint Patricks Day madness.</span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 148px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441090291289613042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxntWgPAVUzEghFA9oCUN-orPMXfDO_aQcfkzbV9cjpXBbb7i8XOfSxVV535g_H1-yO-wl4FV11iRyuCwTJ3Eg88s4l_JPPaV5jwpTIFQO0mLD7gA5DU3_XwQTJATn5GcWlaCn/s200/P1010637.JPG" /></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">August (through December) - transplanted to San Diego, lived with 59 others in one house, and lived out of a van for ten weeks<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 154px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441099646945973442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8a8D65vqXjvhEjAIjxjzmRu7lqyeqcQJb-o8fA7U8fv9qn4bYtZDSYL-le744pfax3maMI1vsJfad-f0Bj76GYo7SaHGlbVu1qvWH-g63aP_tVtbRPkZJZlAiJy0qjVTkpJk/s200/P1020605.JPG" /></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">December - spontaneous road trip to Los Angeles in an unbelievably crammed car to eat fried chicken and waffles</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">2010:</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">So far..I have New York City with Kendra in May. </span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I'm hoping to find myself in the pacific northwest at some point..and I want to venture with a like-minded friend somewhere around East Texas..explore a small, random town..hike..take fun pictures.</span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Lately I've been concentrating on really being <i>alive. </i>Alive in the small moments and the big. Alive around people that don't make me feel too alive, and alive around the people that re-open my eyes to beauty and laughter. And it's adventures such as these that help me remember to be alive. I cannot wait to see what this year will hold! I'm working out in my head ways that I can make an intentional effort to get outside my comfort zone in some way each week.</span></span>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-29442610112567870802010-02-12T10:45:00.022-06:002010-02-12T11:19:12.981-06:00ablaze<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">i just watched jonsi birgisson's first solo video - for the song "go do." it </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">confirmed that he is absolutely my favorite artist. by an immense long-shot.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">it's almost as if every time jonsi sets out to create something, whether it be within sigur ros, riceboy sleeps, or on his own, he first asks, "how can i</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">shape this into a way that will cause melissa carter's heart to explode?"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">what is it in life that really sets your heart on fire? if you are a follower of </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Jesus, it is probably that thing that just causes you to worship. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">as far as i know, jonsi is not a Jesus follower. but it is his work that has so often caused me to fall on my knees in praise.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">i am so thankful that God meets me in such places of beauty. when it is not an experience accompanied with sigur ros/jonsi, it is in the parks and </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">forests of tennessee, the mountains of new mexico and colorado, or the</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">beaches of south georgia. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">when i see jonsi perform in new york city, i know it will be a religious</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">experience, just as it was when i saw sigur ros at the chicago theater in</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">september of 2008.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">i know not everyone hears what i hear when i listen to sigur ros. i know not </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">everyone sees what i see when i flip through the pages of a riceboy sleeps</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">book. but i know there are things others see and things others hear that i </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">do not. things that set their hearts ablaze as mine hardly skips a beat.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">april 6 is the day when jonsi's album releases. i plan to take the day off, andgo on an adventure in east texas with my new treasure.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2guwCl9yw38&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2guwCl9yw38&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object></span>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-65451917610262471252010-02-10T23:01:00.007-06:002010-02-10T23:33:32.502-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTvEBfI4Vg53mj0tifebJnn3WCgbLuqx4ERCLI9FT8QZtjNjNAAOq0iT5C4HCqwPvQIpF6JqHJ9cZGJNW0lUpUjIs_FVTNL_COQm0GPGC9e0nG4qNOP8zBVrkTFRFCEqTHqZc/s1600-h/P1020206.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTvEBfI4Vg53mj0tifebJnn3WCgbLuqx4ERCLI9FT8QZtjNjNAAOq0iT5C4HCqwPvQIpF6JqHJ9cZGJNW0lUpUjIs_FVTNL_COQm0GPGC9e0nG4qNOP8zBVrkTFRFCEqTHqZc/s320/P1020206.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436849247988394306" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', serif;font-size:small;">This is my life today.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Loving my pup Franklin so much.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>especially when he pounces</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Wintersleep, Explosions and Bon Iver.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>and maybe a little Sufjan</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Wondering if my sarcasm is too much.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>and loving to be hit with it by others</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Kettle corn, sugar free fudgepops, and veggie patties.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>ooh! and curry</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A desire to create.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>admiring the creators around me</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Seeing Scripture come alive in a new way as I open commentaries.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>particularly Acts</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Large levels of excitement as I dream of seeing Jonsi in New York.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>with my dear friend Kendra</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Eagerly awaiting warmth so I can go on long walks.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">they refresh my spirit</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Cherishing particular friendships a lot.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">they refresh my spirit</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Loving the moment while dreaming of the future.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><b>my heart tells me it will be bright</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-26764990992568202772009-10-11T22:50:00.010-05:002009-10-12T00:17:11.650-05:00Ordinary.<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >I had no idea tour would be this hard.<br /><br />I'm learning to value time with people more than I do sleep.<br /><br />I'm learning to focus more on what people are saying rather than what I will say next.<br /><br />I'm learning that I can push myself a lot more than I originally thought.<br /><br />I'm learning that you don't always have to pretend that life is fairy tale romantic. And that there is beauty in the rough days..the moments when no one really has anything interesting to say..beauty in realizing that I'm extraordinarily ordinary.<br /><br />I'm learning to embrace my love of cheap buffets. The fact that not everyone is going to love my music. The fact that I often don't know where I'm going with what I'm saying. The fact that sometimes I fail.<br /><br />But of all the things I've learned, this is what I most love:<br /><br />We spend almost every night in a different house. We have met so many incredible people. But by the world's standards, they are completely ordinary.<br /><br />Last night we stayed in an old couple's house. They have lived in the same low income neighborhood outside Houston for 30 years. They have had pretty boring jobs inside the oil business. Their house is decorated with trinkets you would find at any garage sale. Pretty boring..pretty ordinary. They can't offer you important social connections, and they can't offer you extravagant gifts.<br /><br />But their stories are incredible. Their lives have been so rich. They told us about the young people they have taken into their home. Young people whose parents had abandoned them. They loved on them. They offered them a safe home, with biscuits at breakfast and a comfortable place to sleep. They have had near death experiences that blew my mind. As the old man told the tale of an 8,000 pound piece of machinery that nearly crushed him he said, with a laugh, "that didn't feel too good." He was so light-hearted, and he had such a refreshing spirit about him. He and his wife had a strength about them that is so rare. They had wall upon wall of photos of the people in their lives. They shared countless stories with us about the friends and family on the walls.<br /><br />This morning I sat around the table with this couple, their friend Tom, and my roadie family. We ate sausage, bacon, eggs, biscuits, campfire potatoes (so good), and...steak. They prepared a feast of a breakfast for us. The 7 of us crowded around a small table for 4.<br /><br />It has been so heavily impressed upon me that we so often want to be known. We want to be known by the world. We want to make a name for ourselves. We want to be noted as someone of special success. We want to have remarkable experiences and impress people with our adventures and well-roundedness.<br /><br />As we have traveled from house to house, I have learned the stories of people the world considers small. I have seen the way they impact the people around them. I know that this impact reaches so much farther than these people can know. I love seeing how content people are in so many different towns..in these Texas/New Mexico towns where most everything is just so ordinary. But completely extraordinary. And so beautiful. It makes me so much more content as I look ahead and to the future. It has given me such a new perspective on what it means to live a full life.</span>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-4878059493050205342009-08-22T01:32:00.006-05:002009-08-22T01:49:25.365-05:00<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">My blog posts are so borinnnnnnggggg.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">They work us so hard it's not even funny. Like honestly? I know I've been tested before..but not like this. I've been thrown into something so completely different from anything else.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But I laugh so hard in this house. We have hour long sing a longs as we work.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Yeah..I get to work at 7:30 every day, and we leave between 6 and 7..except for on extra training days, when we leave around 10. That's a long day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Friday nights are the one possible night when we can chill out and stop thinking about work. It's pretty amazing. Tonight I just wanted to bake for everyone..I've been wanting to for the past 17 days..and I made a gooey butter cake. Cut into 40 pieces..so not everyone got a bite-sized piece, but everyone loved it, and it made me so happy. I love how people were saying I was the best cook ever..it's the easiest thing to make ever. I think it was extra delicious because we roadies live off rice cakes and sandwiches and cans of corn and easy mac.. but I bought some bulk stuff at the grocery store, and I make sandwiches at lunch with turkey, feta cheese and avocado or home-made guacamole. SO GOOD. At night I have lean pockets, and while we're at it..in the morning I have cream of wheat. I quite satisfied with these selections. I'm glad the bulk of this post is about food..I could be talking about how these weeks have affected me as a person, but instead I tell you about my eating habits.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">In a similarly shallow vein, we were in downtown San Diego for an event one night and ran into Kipton, the runner-up on The Bachelorette. Needless to say, I was pumped.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Screenings have been booked around Lubbock..and I cannot wait to share this story inside my old schools..inside my church..</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">That's all I've got for now. It's time for bed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I am thankful every day that I wake up for those people who have helped me get here, and for those who are so supportive and encouraging.</span></span>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-9505037283199309712009-08-06T01:05:00.002-05:002009-08-06T01:32:56.197-05:00I honestly cannot believe I made it to San Diego. The last few weeks I have been so swamped with pre-arrival activities and the longest paper ever for a class at Lipscomb..and then I was baking lots for the fabulous people who ordered cookies and such from me. So yeah, I wanted to be excited for this but I didn't really see light at the end of the tunnel until..the night before I left. Which was Tuesday, August 4th.<div><br /></div><div>Cannot believe how crazy pretty this place is. When the plane was landing my reaction was really nerdy and I unashamedly was taking pictures all over the place with my camera phone, and audibly exclaiming. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I arrived, I was picked up by one of the Invisible Children staff members, who also was picking up two guys from Detroit. Hello, funniest boys ever. My first impression of fellow roadies started off quite well because I laughed my head off the entire way to the IC offices, which is where we went first thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>All the roadies and the IC "Movement" staff members watched a documentary outside about the first landing on the moon. People thought those moon-walking fools were crazy. They couldn't be stopped by nay-sayers. They were some serious dreamers. The movie started at like 8:30, and so it was a late evening..didn't get back to the roadie house (where 60 of us are living, don't worry. 7 bedrooms, 60 young people.) until 2:30 AM Texas time..because the hungry boys insisted we stop at In and Out on the way home..ya know, the burger place everyone raves about. I tried a bite of our nice Aussie roadie's hamburger..I mean, it was good. My life isn't changed. Oops. Anyways, then we had to stop a taco place too. Really not surprised that we were making midnight runs to fast food joints. </div><div><br /></div><div>Got in bed at about 2:30 Cali time..4:30 Texas time..and I was already mad crazy sleep deprived. Had a very early morning today, our first day in the office. I suppose most mornings will be 6 A.M.ish for me. I live in a very small room with 5 other girls..3 sets of bunk beds with a small little path to walk in. Then there's the whole 30 girls, 2 shower thing. Haha..it's all part of it, and we're all totally down with it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today at the offices we had a tour of everything, met all the staff members, and went through session after session after session of information on the IC mission..programs..history..you name it. My rear end is ti-yerd. But what an incredible day. I absolutely believe in this organization. The values of it resonate with me in a serrrrious way. I'm so in this it's not even funny. I want to shove myself out of it though. This is not about me, and I never want to become arrogant and I cannot be fooled into thinking I like "get it" or something. No no no. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am so thankful for being here. Missing you guys. And dangit, missing my puppy Daisy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh also. I have the opportunity to go to Uganda either next month or in January..for 10 days. I have another $2000 to do so. We would be visiting with victims of the war, and would really get to see the programs IC has set in place over there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh how I want to go to Uganda. Oh how I do not want to raise another $2000. I'm really putting this one in God's hands. He knows I want to go..but I don't have it in me to pursue a lot more fundraising..so I'm trusting if I'm supposed to go, doors will open and it will be clear that that's where I'm supposed to me.</div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-46916347030949820842009-07-13T12:51:00.001-05:002009-07-13T12:52:23.325-05:00my application video!Thought I'd post a link to the 5 minute video I had to make with my roadie application video. I had to keep it set to "private" until decisions were made for the group of fall roadies! The video isn't super exciting, but here it is.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/melac05#play/all/uploads-all/0/seZQDN5jdII">http://www.youtube.com/user/melac05#play/all/uploads-all/0/seZQDN5jdII</a>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-38629573753582749012009-07-12T14:59:00.000-05:002009-07-12T15:01:12.204-05:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The people of East Africa and Congo are beautiful</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Their stories are real</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Their voices have been silenced</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Yet I have heard their voice,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">and I want to join with others who aren't willing to abandon dreams of peace and restoration.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The heart behind Invisible Children is good, and it is true. I have seen it, I have heard it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I want to use what I have been given for something greater than myself.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I cannot and will not turn a blind eye to the atrocities caused by this war.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">It won't always be easy. I am broken. My strength will fail and my efforts will fall short.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">And so I ask and I pray that God work through my cracked hands, my crippled feed, and my willing spirit.</span>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-57936273642743468912009-07-03T23:41:00.004-05:002009-07-04T12:31:28.221-05:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Home is wonderful. I love just <em>being </em>with family. Hanging out with mom and dad in the living room doing nothing in particular is one of my favorite things to do. We have a new addition to the family - a maltese named Sandy. At first I didn't know how to feel, because my loyalties lie with Buddy, our lhasa apso that we got Christmas of 1994. He has been my puppy for 15 years and I don't want Sandy stealing any of his attention! But she has grown on me. I just make it a point to divide my attention equally.<br /><br />I made dinner tonight for mom, dad and both of my grandmas. One of my favorite things is making food for someone that they really enjoy. Dinner was a hit. I made these soft tacos with pork, homemade guacamole, and chilied pecans. OH MY WORD. They were delish. Get the recipe from me, right now. I also made an apricot peach cobbler. Mmmm.<br /><br />While I've been home I've been able to catch up with four friends. Three of the four have lived in East Africa for at least a year. One of them (my age) lived in a mud hut by himself. The LRA hadn't been active in the area where he was staying in quite a while - until two days after he moved in. Then for many, many nights, he laid in his hut while bombs flew over him. He heard bullets going by..bullets landing in the dirt..as he would (attempt to) go to sleep, he literally did not know if he would wake to see the next morning. He also saw a young 8-year-old Sudanese boy almost beaten to death by government officials who wrongly suspected him of being an LRA soldier.<br /><br />..I've heard incredible stories that have made every"thing" so much more real to me.<br /><br />I've been really challenged since I've decided to be a roadie with Invisible Children. Many have been supportive and encouraging. Many have been somewhat supportive, with reservation. Some have cheered me on blindly, assuming they should because I'm going to work with .. something .. Africa related .. and others have been a bit critical of my decision - either directly or nondirectly.<br /><br />I so value honesty and transparency. I am really thankful for those who have told me how they really feel. It has caused me to really closely evaluate why I made the decision that I did, and why I have chosen to become so closely involved with this organization.<br /><br />I am such a people pleaser. If people don't like what I'm doing, I tell myself that I should change and mold myself or the situation into a way that will please everyone. In the last month I have begun the process of liberating myself..or..allowing God to liberate me..from the binds of people-pleasing.<br /><br />I feel so confident in my decision. I realize that non-profit organizations as a whole are a little..eh, risky. I firmly believe that any person should really look closely into a non-profit before deciding to become involved, or even deciding to donate money. I also realize that Invisible Children is not the answer to all of the world's problems. <strong>It is a group and a movement with a wonderful vision and heart, but there are other groups and movements that also have a wonderful vision and heart.</strong> Undoubtedly, I want to urge all of those that I meet to learn more about what Invisible Children is doing, and to cast their support in one way another, big or small. But most of all, <strong>I would want to encourage people to really evaluate what their hearts beat for.</strong>I would want them to take a good look at their gifts, passions, resources..and find out where it is that they might be led. That may mean quitting a job and doing something radical. Or that may mean opening one's eyes to a lonely neighbor who could use a visit every now and then. <strong>Each role is of equal importance and value.</strong><br /><br /><strong>I suppose my greatest fear is that I will die not having lived for anything greater than myself. So with that said, I want to encourage others to live for something greater than themselves.<br /><br /></strong>Happy 4th. God, do bless America - but God, bless this world. We are thankful for our freedom. But I pray freedom for the other countries. And I pray that while we celebrate freedom and sacrfice tomorrow, we would remember all the people just like us living outside American soil. I pray especially for Uganda, Congo, Sudan, Iraq, Iran, and Honduras.</span>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-38178275871612314442009-06-25T23:21:00.000-05:002009-06-25T23:22:11.906-05:00Hey fam and friends.<br /><br />I’m sorry for being the hardest person to keep up with.<br /><br />As most of you know, I like to fly by the seat of my pants.<br /><br />In May I applied to be a roadie this fall with Invisible Children. On Friday June 19th I received a call from Tiffany at IC letting me know that I was chosen to be part of the team. I am so so excited for this chapter of my life! But things have drastically changed in the last week. <br /><br />I have to be in San Diego on August 3rd. I was planning to spend a few days at home in Lubbock if I got the internship, and wanted to be in Texas by July 25th so I could be at one of my best friend’s (Ashley Adamson’s) wedding. <br /><br />I started a job at Cheesecake Factory as a server here in Nashville on June 18th. The training process there is QUITE extensive, and wasn’t going to end for me until July 4th. That means that within the week that training ended I was already going to have to put in my two week notice to quit. I couldn’t in good conscience go through the training process without telling my managers that I would soon be moving to San Diego. Once I told them they were very understanding, and we agreed that for a variety of very good reasons it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to work at CF for only a few weeks. They did, however, tell me that if I return to Nashville after the internship that I would have a job with them!<br /><br />It’s very hard to find a job for only a few weeks. I don’t even have time to set something up - I need income immediately! My boss back home in Lubbock from my high school job at On the Border said he would let me come back and work for a few weeks before I head to California.<br /><br />Therefore, I’m going back to Lubbock - next week. I’ll be able to work, finish up my summer school classes at Lipscomb online, and spend time with my family. I haven’t lived at home in years and am really excited to be there for the month of July.<br />I am so sad to leave Nashville - especially so suddenly, but after long discussions with people who love me most, know me best, and whose opinion I value and trust, I decided this was really the best option. Furthermore, I really really feel God’s hand in all of this. I’ve hardly had to do anything throughout this entire process. He has been in the details. Everything has been happening quickly and smoothly and I haven’t had to worry about anything for even a minute. It’s like it’s all been laid out for me and I’m simply be asked to follow.<br /><br />I received news that I would be a roadie and quit my job at CF just in time to allow me to go to D.C. for Lobby Days with Invisible Children this past weekend. I was worried about the trip financially, but the money was taken care of in ways that were very obviously not coincidental.<br /><br />I’ll be in San Diego from August to December. For the first 5 weeks I will go through training. Then for 8 weeks I’ll be sent on a tour with a team of 3 other roadies in some region of the US where we will host screenings and tell people about what is going on in Northern Uganda and the Congo. Then I will be back in San Diego for 2 weeks of “debriefing and decompressing.”<br /><br />Fortunately, my advisor at Lipscomb has agreed to arrange for me to receive school credit hours for my time as a roadie, and I will be able to graduate in December if everything goes according to plan.<br /><br />This position is unpaid - my housing and transportation is taken care of, but I have to raise support to take care of my weekly food stipend. I’ll have to raise around $1500.<br />My sweet roommates are hosting an open-door goodbye type thing on Saturday night from 7 to 9:30. It’s very informal. I would love for anyone who is able to come by and say hey! It’s not a sad thing..I mean, I may be returning to Nashville in only a matter of months! It’s just really an opportunity to hug everyone since I don’t have a chance to hang out with people in the little time before I leave.<br /><br />Thank you to all of you who have been so supportive and encouraging throughout all of this. Love you!melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-69564581689640300452009-06-21T00:49:00.002-05:002009-06-21T00:54:06.597-05:00Off to Capitol Hill I GoI'm leaving super early to go to D.C. for Lobby Days with Invisible Children. It will be exciting, no doubt. Here's the site that tells about the event called "How It Ends" - http://www.howitends.tv/<div> ...you can see who will be speaking and what's on agenda and such.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also..I'm moving back home to Texas for the summer. Wow. For all good reasons..I still love Nash always. It will be good to be with family for a few weeks..haven't seen them for that long in years!</div><div><br /></div><div>It's late. I need to rest my eyes. Goodnight :)</div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-89488162717964714712009-06-01T22:10:00.000-05:002009-06-01T22:18:59.528-05:00<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So I have been encouraged to blog about my time as a “Rescue Rider” with Invisible Children. As I lived through that week I was anxious to come back and do just that. But since returning home, the thought of blogging about it has completely mentally exhausted me. How do you take a life experience that was so very meaningful and put just the right words to it so that all those who are close to you can truly understand what you lived? ...Well, I won’t. But I’ll try to come close. Forgive the typos..there is no way I will proofread all of this.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>When the subject of The Rescue comes up, I’ve told my friends this: I either have to tell you “It was awesome,” or you have to sit down and allow me to tell you it all. You know how it’s frustrating sometimes<b> </b>when something happens and you try to tell someone, and they’re like..”oh yeah..that’s cool..” <b>...</b>and you just want to shake them and be like “AHH it’s not just cool!!!...” Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. Anyway, I’ve had to really try to push those frustrations aside. I’ve learned something really importantly in the past month.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We all have passion<b><i> </i></b>of our own. Well, at least I hope you’re passionate about something. Someone..I think it was MLK Jr., said if you don’t have something you would die for, you’re not fit to live. Not a direct quote, but close. My sister always refers to it as what one’s heart beats for. My heart beats for the invisible children of East Africa.<b> </b>One cannot watch the Invisible Children documentary - or the Rescue documentary in particular, without being shaken up.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I found out about Invisible Children around the time of the “Displace Me” event in 2007. I saw people post pictures of the event on Facebook afterward, and I was intrigued. I basically thought it looked like fun. I looked into the IC cause a little closer..but I didn’t really understand everything. I gave it a mental check as one good cause among many around the globe, and moved on.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>During Spring Break 2008 I was in Savannah, Georgia with my good friend Jessica Lee. As we walked down Main Street an Invisible Children van<b> </b>passed us. I went ballistic...I’m not sure why, but I was super excited and made it a point to chase down the van and give the occupants a thumbs up. I did just that. Since Main St.<b> </b>was pretty congested, it wasn’t hard job. Inside were four IC “roadies.” A roadie is one who goes around the nation in an IC van telling people about the organization and educating people on the war going on in East<b> </b>Africa. They book screenings at schools and such.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So when we caught up with these roadies, they said they were looking for a parking spot. Jess and I were just headed out of town and we offered them our spot. We hopped in their van and took them to our place down the river, and saved them a few bucks with the few hours we had left on our ticket. We all took a fun polaroid together and they gave Jess and I some stickers. I came home and immediately slapped an Invisible Children sticker on the back of my car. It’s still there. Gave the other to my sister, and it’s still on her good ole’ Rodeo as well. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Sometime between March and December 2008 I educated myself more and more on what exactly Invisible Children was (is) fighting for. It’s worth mentioning that in the summer of 2007 I had read </span><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">The Irresistible Revolution</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> by Shane Claiborne. The book opened my eyes to social justice. Like, I had honestly been blind to it before...life was all about self-preservation and about getting along comfortably. So, yeah. That contributed to my heightened interest in IC.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Toward the beginning of April I got a text from a friend, Miriam McAlister. She asked if I wanted to help with the Rescue event in Nashville. I totally thought it was just a screening of the IC Rescue documentary..I was so out of the loop. Guess I should have been checking the IC site more regularly. But I got really excited to get involved and told Miriam I would totally see her at the meeting that night.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So the meeting comes, and I find out this whole Rescue thing is wayyyy bigger than I thought. I learned that across the globe - primarily in the US, but in other countries and on almost every other continent, nearly one hundred cities would be participating in this event. Participants were going to be “abducting themselves” on behalf of the abducted children in East Africa. I’ll focus later on the Nashville event and how it went down so you get a better idea.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I volunteered to help lead a team for the Nashville Rescue, and one of the main coordinators, Tyler Jones, had me head up the VIP/mogul team. That meant for two weeks I was doing everything in my power to get in contact with politicians and celebrities in the area. I was reaching out to every possible contact and looking for connections anywhere and everywhere. I was on the phone with the offices of senators, the Nashville mayor, and many councilmen and women. I was talking to Taylor Swift’s best friend’s boyfriend’s friend and Nicole and Keith’s interior designer. My job was to find a VIP/mogul who would come out to the Nashville event and voice their support for the cause.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Oh, and so after the first meeting, I went home and watched the Rescue documentary. When I watched that, something changed inside of me. I suppose maybe what I felt was a fire being lit by someone bigger than me. I cried so hard that when I spoke to my dad shortly after, I couldn’t tell him why I was crying, and I totally freaked him out. I knew I had to do something. I didn’t know what. I knew, just as I know now, that my resources and skills are quite limited. But I knew I was all in. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In the days leading up the Rescue event on April 25th, I stayed pretty stinking busy. Outside of working on the VIP/mogul thing, I made a couple of shirts promoting the event, and wouldn’t shut up about it..at all. It was all that was on my mind, and I couldn’t help that it’s all that would spill out of my mouth. A few days before the Rescue I received an e-mail from one of the volunteers asking for any and all who could to head downtown to help out with something. I didn’t understand the details, but I thought I was heading downtown by the river to like stand behind Adam (an IC staff member who had just arrived in Nashville from San Diego) in an IC shirt while he was interviewed by the media. I was totally off. I was directed to the symphony center - which is ridiculously beautiful, by the way. There was a “Nashville For Africa” benefit show going on with Faith Hill, Keith Urban, the African Children’s Choir, Jars of Clay, and many others. I helped to sell IC merch at a table that the IC roadies had set up, and at intermission and after the show I handed out informational cards and talked to people about what was going down in Nashville on the 25th. I also got to see a few of the performers, and Faith came to the merch table! However, as it is with most of my celeb sightings, I had no idea it was her as she stood only a few feet away. ...I’m always told afterward who I just saw. Anyway, it was a fun night that came by surprise.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So..Saturday comes. The 25th. Time for The Rescue. I went early that morning to buy gifts for the VIP/mogul people who came through for us! I got them a few things from Ten Thousand Villages that were handmade in Uganda and Kenya.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This is how the Nashville event went down. Everybody showed up at Centennial Park at 3 p.m. in their official Rescue shirts. The shirts were hunter green with a big AK47 on the front..it kinda looked like wearers had a gun strapped on the front of them. It represented the kids in Uganda/Sunday/the Congo who are abducted from their homes by the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). They have an AK47 thrown across them, and they are forced to fight. So over 1000 showed up for the Nashville event - awesome. I never would have guessed that, but I was told later by a reliable source that it was near 1200. All of the participants trekked from Centennial to the Bicentennial Mall right in front of the capitol building. It was between 2.5 and 3 miles, and it was hot. We walked single file and arrived at Bicentennial a couple hours later. We stayed there at an outdoor amphitheater that served as our “LRA Camp.” We were to stay there until we were rescued. We could not be rescued until a person of influence came out and pledged their support for the cause. They had to recognize our cries and join in the fight to bring Joseph Kony to justice and end this war. Joseph Kony is the leader of the LRA. He is the one primarily responsible for the war and for the abductions. Go to invisiblechildren.com if you’d like the details.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We had a number of influential people come out. First was Cheg, who was named one of “Nashville’s Most Beautiful.” He was also on Oprah’s Big Giveaway. He is from Africa, and he has an awesome story. Then we had a representative from Nashville’s mayor come out, as well as councilman Bo Mitchell. Before rescue came, participants had written letters to many of our nation’s leaders calling on them to take action. Participants also brought pictures of themselves with family and friends, and circled themselves in red to signify their abduction. These pictures were all gathered and pinned up on clotheslines. Finally we had a letter delivered from Senator Lamar Alexander. Nashville was rescued! </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Throughout the event I stayed fairly busy writing letters of thanks to the rescuers that came out, greeting them and giving them their gifts..and because of this I actually missed out on hearing what was going on throughout the night. I hated to not hear everything, but knew it was more important that I take care of business. Around 10:00 everyone gathered up their things to march to the parking lot of First Baptist Church, about an hour’s walk away. We had to leave Bicentennial Mall because of the park curfew. So yes, Nashville had technically been rescued at this point, but we had prepared a place where everyone could stay the night in case rescue did not come on the 25th. We decided to follow through with plans to camp out simply to draw out the event and bring about as much awareness as possible in the city. The march from Bicentennial to the church took us straight. through. downtown. ..and it was a Saturday night! Gosh, it was crazy. Anyone who has been on Broadway on a Saturday night knows it’s a lively place. It’s honky tonk city. The music is loud. There are people inside the bars and clubs and tourist shops, then there are the people outside waiting to get in. There’s lot of traffic..and it’s just full of life. Hundreds of us marched through there! It caused quite a commotion. Only a few were visibly angry. One man said no one could hear his poetry readings on a street corner because of our long train of people. I apologized for the disturbance and told him we would be gone soon. Other’s were obviously annoyed that the streets were that much more congested. I’m sorry it was a bit<b><i> </i></b>annoying, but we needed to make a scene for a bit. We were peaceful about it..it wasn’t about protest..it was just about making the victims in East Africa visible.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So we arrived to the First Baptist parking lot a little before midnight, and people started spreading out their sleeping bags and getting ready to settle in for the night. Soon after I noticed some people were packing up and getting ready to go, including the IC roadies. I was a bit perplexed, and wanted to know what was going on. I found out that in the midst of my running around earlier in the evening, I had missed the announcement about “rescue riding.” Apparently the roadies and a few others from Nashville who were able were headed to Saint Louis, Missouri! Saint Louis had not yet been rescued, and they were going to drive through the night and would get to Saint Louis early Sunday morning and stay with the people there until rescue came. Then, I learned, they were going to continue on to the next city that hadn’t been rescued, and would keep going until every city had been rescued! I had totally missed out on this plan. I would later learn that the concept of “rescue riders” was developed by the staff in San Diego only one week before the Rescue event.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyway, I knew I had school on Monday, but I so wanted to continue on to Saint Louis. Three cars were headed that way, and there was room for me in a car with two Belmont kids who said they were coming back to Nashville Sunday night because they too had school on Monday. So I hopped in the car with my new friends Whitney and Josh. One of the roadies, Johnathan, road in the backseat with me. Johnathan is about 6 foot 100 inches tall, and so the two of us attempted to squish ourselves in somewhat comfortably.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I literally had nothing with me. I did have a sleeping bag that my dear friend Jessica Lee had allowed me to borrow. In my backpack I had some chapstick and powder, my wallet, some craft supplies, some water, some granola, my digital camera, and my polaroid camera. Oh! I also had some deodorant, mouth wash and a brush. Whitney and Josh raced me to my car parked at Centennial and let me drop it off at my house before the caravan took off, and <b>I </b>grabbed the last three essentials. Since I was only going to be gone for less than 24 hours, I didn’t grab anything else.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We took off for Saint Louis. I instantly bonded with my car mates. Instant bonding is inevitable in such a situation. You’re instantly family / BFFs. The caravan made a stop at Waffle House on the way out of town. Adam, the staff member from San Diego, struggled a bit and kept us all laughing. First he spilled a drink. Then when the food came, he got really excited about his plate. After perfectly preparing his food to be ingested (dispersion of his preferred condiments and such), he spilled it all on his laugh. The ketchup looked awesome on his khaki pants. It was sad and hilarious. Then, of course, there were the drunken early morning Waffle House people stumbling out of the restroom. Good times. After a gas stop and some terrible energy shots, we were off to Saint Louis. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Around 6 a.m. Sunday morning we spotted the arch. Johnathan caught some serious zzz’s in the car...I think he had been so sleep deprived the whole week that nothing could stop him. As any good friend would, I got some great sleeping pics and posted them later on Facebook. Johnathan was a good sport and even made one his profile picture. So anyways, the leftover Saint Louis participants had set up camp right below the arch. We arrived, pretty energetic in the midst of our delirium, right as they were all waking up. Despite our annoying amounts of happiness and energy, they gave us a warm welcome. We met some of them, then plopped down to wait it out. When we arrived there were probably around 75 Saint Louisianans...but many left within a couple hours. I don’t doubt that many parents wanted their chillens home. But about 30 (my total guess) stayed. It was a pretty warm day. Taylor Swift, who had done a concert the night before, was staying at a hotel just a stone’s throw away. Many made various efforts to get messages to her and plead for her to come to the rescue. However, celebrity politics got in the way. Though she voiced her support indirectly, she couldn’t come out. Throughout the day many of the Saint Louis natives as well as some of us from Nashville made various efforts to contact celebrities and politicians. Finally, around 3 p.m., rescue came! One of the participants early that morning had mentioned the fact that his family was friends with an NFL player and that they often went to eat with him Sunday afternoons. He left the event to go to church and then afterward at lunch attempt to get<b><i> </i></b>his friend to come to the rescue. Chris Chamberlain, a player for the Rams, came through! The rescue was pretty exciting. Media came out to document it. Four girls from Saint Louis said they wanted to join the Nashville rescue riders as they traveled on, and there was one roadie (the beloved Daniel Trigg)<b> </b>stationed in Saint Louis who would also be joining. Whitney and Josh were going back to Nashville, and I was more than a little sad at the thought of the journey ending. I found out there was room for me in one of the cars going on, and I made the irresponsible decision to continue on to the next destination: Wichita, Kansas...ten hours away. I made sure there was a car that would be going back to Nashville by Tuesday, because I knew I didn’t need to miss my Tuesday class. I did have a quiz Monday as well as two huge papers due Wednesday, but I went simply on the hope that things would work out. Not only did I want to continue the adventure, but I felt as though I was supposed to be there.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>One of the Nashville rescue riders was Ryan Smith, who has a great job (well..had..he ended up quitting his job when we returned from the Rescue) working with celebrities and big shots, and he was able to get a room at the Hilton nearby where some of us could clean up and rest before heading out. So we hung out in the Hilton lobby in our dirty nastiness, and one by one we went up to the room to clean up..about ten showers in an hour..in and out..no clean clothes to put on..yeah. I was proud of my idea to wash my clothes in the sink and then blow-dry them..however this totally mis-shaped my event shirt that I had on.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Around 6 we finally all packed the cars and headed out for Wichita. There were 15 of us in three separate cars. I was in a car with three girls (Becky, Brittany and Emily) from Saint Louis who I had never met..and Johnathan was with us as well. Man, that was a long trip. And we learned that there were tornadoes in and around Wichita. We drove through the night. Becky drove for a while, then let her friend Brittany take the wheel so she could rest for a while. Brittany did well, but then got a little nervous when the torrential rainfall began. Becky took back over, and everyone else passed out. I woke up around midnight and asked how Becky was doing..and she was just barely making it. The torrential rainfall was still coming down, and she was beyond tired. I offered to take over, not knowing if she was willing to let some stranger take the wheel of her car. But, again..instant family thing..she let me drive. Everyone was passed out, and I proceeded to drive two hours in a state I had never seen before...and barely saw even as I drove. The rain was so intense I could barely see a thing. Furthermore, the wind was totally out of control. I simply kept my eye on the car in front of me and followed the turns of the red tail lights. We made it into Wichita around 2 a.m.. The participants were indoors at a church, where they had moved due to the weather. There were probably a hundred people inside when we got there. Most were sleeping soundly, but a few got up to welcome us. We laid out our sleeping bags in a hall, because the gym where everyone else slept was terribly cold. We passed out cold (or, warm) in the hall until around 6 a.m., when a man woke us and asked us to move to the gym. Apparently schoolteachers were going to be meeting in that part of the church for in-service, or something. We continued to sleep in the cold gym for a couple of hours. One of the Nashville girls, Annie Brown (who actually goes to Lipscomb), was so cold that at one point she got the washcloth out of her sleeping bag to lay on her for just a little more warmth. That still makes me laugh to think about it..poor girl. When we awoke, there were still tornado warnings. That didn’t stop us from taking one of the cars to go to Walmart, and to Starbucks, where a friendly manager had agreed to donate a coffee traveler. At Walmart we were able to buy a few essentials..you know, like underwear and a toothbrush and such. We took one of the Saint Louis guys with us since he knew his way around. Wichita may not be super big, but from our experience it is extremely hard to navigate. Our guide bought all of our toiletries for us, just because he wanted to! It was better than Christmas morning..toothbrushes, toothpaste, Old Spice body spray, shampoo..and a package of white undershirts!! We were even spoiled with some disinfecting gel. Is that what that stuff is called..disinfecting gel? That term seems weird right now. Anyway, back at the church there were a couple of showers. They were the communal kind..awkward, but dang better than nothing.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Throughout the day people and businesses around the community donated bagels, chili, pizza, cookies, cookies, and more cookies...we were so well taken care of. Though I’m pretty sure we could have used some multi-vitamins. That reminds me, there was some fruit. Blessed fruit givers..I’d kiss them if I ever met them. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Our new friends at Wichita were so great. There were some pretty intense games of knock-out in the church gym where we all stayed. That was undoubtedly my favorite part. We continued to write letters and make phone calls to politicians. We especially wanted Senator Brownback from Kansas to come to the rescue, because he has been involved in previous Invisible Children documentaries and such. Some people also made bracelets to pass the time..one of my most treasured momentoes from the week is a bracelet that was made for me. That afternoon I went to the public library with two other Nashvillians. I knew it was imperative for me to contact my teachers and to get some of my work done if I could find some of the books I needed at the library.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At this point I learned that none of the Nashville cars would be returning home anytime soon. I realized that I would probably be missing much more school than originally intended. At this point it was Monday, and the very last day of classes was Wednesday! Thursday was dead day, and Friday was the first day of exams! I had no idea how things would work out. I knew I simply would have to pray for mercy from my teachers. (In regards to work, the woman I nanny for was extremely supportive and understanding, and she was able to easily find a temporary replacement.) I e-mailed my teachers and told them what was going out, and asked if there was anything I could do. I had huge, important papers due and quizzes I was missing, and in State and Local Government I had my final exam on Friday! I heard back from all of them very quickly. One simply thanked me for my explanation and suggested it would be okay. Another told me that I would receive points off of my final exam paper (we had a paper due in lieu of our exam) for each day that it was late. He was not very understanding, and it was a bit discouraging, but I knew that my previous grades in the class would provide enough cushion and that I would still pass. The rest of my teachers were so very supportive and understanding. My toughest teacher responded and said that she was proud of my involvement and definitely would want me to stay rather than coming back early. She said that what I was doing was more important. Man, I was blown away by her response. My second toughest teacher called me. CALLED me! And left a voicemail assuring me that my absence was more than okay and that he was proud of me. I nearly cried when I heard his message. Dr. Tays, my government teacher, agreed to let me take my final the following week. Everything worked out perfectly. I did have to work hard in the library on the papers I had due. Throughout the next few days I had to work on the paper for the teacher who was unmerciful. I ended up failing the final because it was late, but I made a B in the class! (When all was said and done, my grades were fine in all of my classes when semester grades came out. Everyone back home in Lubbock and in Nashville was so worried about me missing class! Kinda funny. Everyone thought I was crazy.)</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At the end of Monday there was still not a rescuer. Rescue riders from many other cities had arrived at this point. We slept soundly that night, and rescue riders continued to arrive throughout the late night and early morning hours. By Tuesday morning only a few cities were left. Rescue finally game late Tuesday afternoon with a letter and representative from Senator Brownback! We found out the next city would be Chicago. Only Chicago and Richmond, Virginia remained.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So we prepared to head out. (Donations had continued to arrive throughout our stay in Wichita. I didn’t know where my next meal would come from at any time, but I never went hungry and I never had to drop a dime for any sustenance.) There were countless Invisible Children vans and regular cars. There were people from Austin, Albuquerque, Phoenix, Salt Lake City, Portland, Saint Louis, Nashville, and lots and lots of other places. It was incredible. Bah. We all set off for Chicago..a solid twelve hour drive. We had some rest in us, but we were all still quite sleep deprived and totally worn out. I don’t know how we all survived that drive...I simply don’t. I was put in a car with the Albuquerque/Phoenix people. Gosh, I miss the people from that car..they were amazing and so much fun. We had a dance party to MGMT and others. I was totally gettin’ in with people I didn’t even know.. you know .. more new fam/ BFFs. Their names were Valerie, Rachael, Talitha and Thad. I was quite thankful for the good music played in that car. So..we’re all pretty dirty, and dancing, and then the heat/AC stops working. And for some reason it wouldn’t stop blowing heat. It is not an exaggeration to say that the following few minutes were some of my most miserable. I have no doubt that I was the hottest and stinkiest person in that car. Thank God above, the a/c was soon fixed. For<b><i> </i></b>unknown reasons, the dance party had not ceased, and had only grown more party-licious, in the midst of the heat blast...so it was pretty intense and memorable. The hours wore on, and the non-drivers couldn’t keep from falling asleep. There were limbs thrown all over the place in search of comfortable sleeping positions. I met Thad, from Albuquerque, and within a couple hours his shoulder was my pillow. I’m not one to just lean on any shoulder. Just wanted to emphasize the immediate family element, in case you hadn’t caught that already.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Just outside of Chicago we stopped at a gas station. We didn’t known if we were going to have a real home once we reached our destination, so one of the Portlanders from the van ahead of us decided to brush her teeth in the gas station bathroom. A number of us followed suit. Before long there were a solid ten of us brushing our teeth inside the gas station. The attendant was fairly perplexed, as he should have been. We reached our final destination around 6 or 7 Wednesday morning. All those in Chicago had stayed inside a church Tuesday night, and were just packing up to leave as we arrived. We learned various churches were housing participants at night. During the day, the city of Chicago enforced a rule that said participants could not all gather in a location for more than four hours at a time. There were hundreds of participants who had begun in Chicago and had been there for over four days at this point. Many rescue riders had arrived to join them. By the time we arrived, there were between 400 and 500 of us total. Somewhere between 50 and 75 of us had come from Wichita.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Around three hours after we arrived in Chicago we all hiked from the church to a park many miles away. Considering our level of exhaustion and the load we had to carry with our backpacks and sleeping bags, the hike was a little rough. But we arrived at a park where we stayed for the next few hours. Since arriving in Chicago I had been in contact with Jeremy Cowart, a photographer from Nashville. He was in Chicago with the Britney Spears tour. I new Jeremy had connections with many celebrities, and also knew he was a supporter of IC. He attempted to make a few contacts with us despite the fact that he had lots of work to do. Again, celebrity politics and crazy celebrity schedules got in the way, and nothing could work. But Jeremy came out to the park with his wife and adorable kids to say hello and show his support. It was great to meet the Cowart family. They were so great to take the time to come out. While we were at the park, the huge IC bus from LA arrived with another 50 rescue riders, including Jason Russell, one of the film makers! (Another of the film makers, Bobby Bailey, had been in Chicago upon our arrival.) Let me tell you..when the LA bus arrived..it was party city and celebration town 2009. We knew they would be coming soon and anxiously awaited their arrival. As we sat in the grass, we saw people running toward us from far away. They were waving huge flags. We all jumped up and started running toward them. Everyone was screaming. We all met up and rallied together and it was just stinking amazing. We were all together. (Well, except those from Mexico<b> </b>and some from Australia, who arrived soon after!) Bah, I wish I could relive that right now.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We all stayed in a church building that night. There were a couple showers..hundreds of people..obviously not everyone cleaned up. There was also a big dance party. With money donated some of the IC staff made some seriously delicious pasta. Man, it was good times. Hundreds of people sleeping on the floor of that church building that night..and I slept so soundly. When we woke up the next morning it was rainin’ rainin’ rainin’.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We had our sights set on Oprah to come to the rescue. A fairly lofty goal, yes. The film makers and IC staff<b><i>, </i></b>were all there at this point (yes, Laren had arrived as well..) and were making the decisions. They decided we were going to all go to Oprah’s studio to dance and sing outside it in the rain. We were going to sing “In the Name of Love” by U2. But we changed up the lyrics to “In the name of love, Oprah come and rescue us..” ..and we had sweet dance moves, and some singers who took over the verses.. and yeah, it was sweet. You can even watch it online! I’ll post a link at the end of this novel of a blog. After practicing for a solid hour, we headed to Oprah’s studios. Just as planned, we sang and danced on each side of her studio. People were leaning out of windows and off of balconies of surrounding buildings watching. No doubt, we were quite a sight. But after singing and dancing for probably an hour, there was no sign of Oprah. We were a bit dejected. It was time to go...and there was a church about 45 minutes outside the city that had agreed to put us up for the evening. With such a large number of people, after only one or two events, it was time to call it a day. Little things took lots of time, and everything took some serious coordination efforts. When we got to the church that night we had to wait outside for a bit before we could be let in. This is when I met one of my favorite new friends from the week, Rob Juarez. As we talked, I found out he had been a roadie in Mexico - though he’s from Orange County, California. When we were let into the church, the IC staff took inventory. They wrote down names and contact numbers for each person there. At the beginning of the Rescue, the staff had ensured any rescue rider who stuck it out until the end that they would have a ride home. So as they took inventory (this was Thursday night), they spoke with everyone about how they would get home when all was said and done. The staff decided that everyone could use some serious rest that night. In order to keep going, we would need stamina. They were going to let us sleep in Friday morning, which was prettttty exciting news.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Not long after, the staff came on the megaphone and announced that the plans had changed. They would be waking us up at the friendly hour of 2 a.m., and we would all be making our way back to Oprah’s studio. Oprah shoots live at 9 a.m. on Fridays, and they knew she would be getting to work at 6. Therefore, they wanted all of us to be surrounding her studio when she got to work.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So we all took a two or three hour nap and woke up to head to Harpo Studios. Friday morning was not my favorite. I headed to the bathroom in my state of half-consciousness to brush my teeth, and found a line of about twenty girls waiting. Sigh. As usual, the line to the guys’ restroom was about a fourth of the size of the girls’.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyway, we got to Oprah’s studio between three and four a.m. Friday morning. It was cold. Really cold. We huddled in a parking lot for a bit until around five, when we were placed around the studio. A few had signs, but the rest of us stood in a line side by side with peace signs high in the air. Signs told Oprah that we were with Invisible Children, we wanted her to come to the rescue, and that we only needed five minutes of her time. We stood outside for a couple hours, and Oprah’s BFF Gayle came to say hello and see what we were all about. We spoke with her for a bit, and she even brought out some gourmet cupcakes. Oprah had arrived at this point - though because the windows to her car are so tinted and because her car parks in a garage inside her studios, we did not know when she arrived. Nevertheless, there is no doubt she saw us. The hours standing outside her studio were so cold that at one point I began to feel the first effects of hypothermia. It felt like pin and needles all over my arms and legs. No one could help warm me up because it was very painful to be touched. There was a car nearby with blankets where I found relief. Within ten minutes I was in good shape and was back outside. Around 7:30 a.m. Oprah came outside. She was outside for only a minute, and took the three film makers inside with her. She spoke with them for a few minutes, and watched the Rescue documentary while she had her makeup done.<b><i> </i></b>She told Jason, Bobby and Laren that not only did she want to rescue us, but she wanted us to be on her show. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>What?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Yeah. That one was never, ever expected.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She wanted to have her crew film us around her studio so that she could show viewers what she saw as she arrived at work that morning. Then she wanted to have us on live..with us gathered just outside<b><i>r</i></b> her studio as she spoke to us from the inside. Her guests on the show that day were Ellen DeGeneres and Hugh Jackman. And her BFF Gayle, of course. They had a “View” style round table thing going. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So we all stand outside for another hour and a half in serious anticipation. As 9 a.m. neared, the police closed off the street in front of her studio so that the hundreds of us could gather together and all fit in the shot as we were on air. The three film makers stood in the front and served as the spokesmen.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We got rescued. That’s for sure.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We were on Oprah for the first 6:35 of her show. From what I have heard, that time is worth around $5 million. But the words Oprah said in regards to IC and the Rescue were worth even more. At one point she looked straight into the camera, and pointed emphatically as she said to her viewers, “If you can hear my voice right now,<b> </b>I want you to go to invisiblechildren.com.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Pretty sure nearly every rescue riding jaw dropped when she uttered those words. The IC site crashed soon after!! The power of Oprah’s words and influence changed the face of IC and the Rescue. After she rescued us, the event was over. It was bittersweet. We all gathered in a nearby park to arrange rides home and say our goodbyes. All of us from Nashville and Saint Louis ate with a few of our new friends at a nearby restaurant before we headed home. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Everything was completely surreal. I mean, we had been on Oprah that morning. It aired at the normal Oprah time, which is 4:00 central. My momma said she saw me when it aired! Of course, I had told her what area I was in and what I was wearing..I’m fairly certain she’s the only person who saw me. (I’m including a link to the clip from Oprah at the end of this as well.)</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>All of us from Nashville got home late Friday night - it was about an eight hour drive. As you can imagine, I was truly dead to the world for the next day or two. When I got home Friday I was so dirty, but too tired to shower. I put my sleeping bag on my bedroom floor and slept as I had for the last week. I so missed my hundreds of roommates. I didn’t welcome my empty room one bit.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It’s important to note that the Rescue wasn’t about money. Yes, there<b> </b>were money-raising goals for each city, but they were humble, and a lot of it was just to cover costs from the event itself. The Rescue was really just about raising awareness. IC wanted celebrities and politicians to get involved and come to the rescue simply because they have power and visibility that the rest of us do not have. Countless politicians got involved across the country and pledged to join the fight to bring Joseph Kony to justice. Many celebrities got involved as well, such as Kirsten Dunst, Switchfoot, and Gavin DeGraw.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>June 22nd and 23rd are Lobby Days in Washington D.C.. All who are able will be going to D.C. to bring the thousands of letters that were written at Rescue events to our nation’s leaders. Furthermore, we’ll be meeting face to face in the offices of our senators to talk to them about what is going on and ask them to act. Since I live in Tennessee, I’ll be going to the offices of our Tennessee congressmen.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Please be in prayer about this.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have also applied to be a roadie with Invisible Children in the fall. I will have a phone interview in the next week. If chosen, I will be moving to San Diego at the beginning of August. Beginning August 3rd, I’ll go through five weeks of training, and then I will be sent to a certain region of the U.S. in an IC van with three other roadies to host screenings and talk to people about what’s going on. After eight weeks I would return to San Diego for a couple weeks of debriefing and decompressing, and then I would head back home. I will find out if I have been chosen to be a roadie by the end of June. I’m quite nervous, to be honest. But I have been shown many opportunities to serve in Nashville next semester if it doesn’t work out, so I suppose things will be good any way around. And I am so thankful for the experience I have had with Invisible Children up to this point. But it’s not about me, at all. This experience has also been extremely humbling.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I hope that you will watch the IC documentary. You can watch the original documentary on YouTube, though it is in<b> </b>segments because it’s fairly long. I have a copy that I would consider lending out for a couple days, or you can purchase a copy on the IC web site. You can also watch the Rescue documentary online - I would highly suggest watching both. If you really look into the background of this war and the man who is Joseph Kony, you will realize that this is spiritual warfare. At one point in Chicago, Jason Russell said that this war will not be won by human efforts alone. It is imperative that we be in constant prayer. Jason truly believes, as do I, that Joseph Kony is possessed by demons. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Thank you so, so much to all of you who have shown your support for the IC efforts - and to me, personally. Genuinely, you do not know how much it means. I have experienced plenty of discouragement from the mouths of many, and I try to push it out. But the words of encouragement have stuck with me, and I am so thankful. I continue to learn how powerful it is when people unite. I have experienced love and community in such beautiful ways. I have made incredible new friends. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My heart breaks for the people suffering in Africa. They are suffering even as I type this, and even as you read this. The level of suffering is unimaginable to me. But I know -- know -- that there is hope.</span></p>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-24840043790875897012009-04-16T07:25:00.003-05:002009-04-16T07:39:28.821-05:00tear jerkers and warheadsoh hello there my hundreds of avid readers..sorry to keep you waiting.<div>my new house is wonderful, and i have plans to post pictures of the fun interior sooner than later. one, for my hundreds of avid readers. two, for mom.</div><div><br /></div><div>want to know what made me cry like a baby yesterday? <a href="http://therescue.invisiblechildren.com/en/#/watch/">this.</a></div><div>please, please watch it. it's so heavy on my heart right now and i think it's important for everyone to see. it's 30 minutes long. if you don't have that now, make time for it later.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>and comment and let me know what you thought about it? please? even if it's just one word, like, "wow."</div><div><br /></div><div>then..tell a friend and a neighbor and a stranger. tell them about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>love and peace and a wonderful thursday to everyone.</div><div><br /></div><div>it's my sister's birthday, and i get frustrated just trying to explain to her what she means to me. she's an incredible human being. </div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyeB7Hnwp4rytaod0JUqGwcJPopDuV7pSO-vT8ktom6q3sY3xKOy8lYGbkrQ0oqjziEc3jOi2cxflR6W-Mn68y5BncVDaC2Y7HcIxbIEn0PO77FxbQRm3tPONFysVUSpdYNurv/s320/sisters.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325267849277927474" /></div><div>she just glows with the love of Jesus. she seeps with passion. and she has a heart for those who don't feel loved or beautiful. she has a heart for those who have been forgotten. she is so beautiful, and i am so undeserving to call her sister. i am also super lucky that i get to hang with her today. she's all mine ladies and gentleman. well, mine and ross's.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-3821905700497228682009-03-14T10:28:00.001-05:002009-03-14T10:28:17.866-05:00I made a good cup of coffee AGAIN! <div><br /></div><div>YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS</div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-76747181434732276172009-03-13T07:02:00.009-05:002009-03-13T09:25:35.126-05:00I have been, most definitely, in a funk for a few months. Never knew how analytical I was! I've been trying to figure it all out! Mostly it's left me in a mess of confusion in which every thought I think and every choice I make confuses me and I'm constantly left to wonder what my motives are, what I'm thinking, what's right..blah! [Thank you to Jill Robinson and one post in particular that helped alleviate some of my intense over analyzation.]<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I don't have everything figured out. I wasn't magically lifted out of my funk. But I feel like I had some prayer answered yesterday in a very subtle but very powerful way. I've been praying about the possibility of going to Africa since the beginning of September last year. Feelings that I should possibly go there have loomed over my head..constantly. I'm not so sure I want to go out and say anything definite right now, but I really feel like God told me a definite answer yesterday. I was just sitting at Panera by myself and something struck me. There was no dramatic lightning bolt..I mean..I was sitting there eating my soup and realized what was going through my head. It was interesting. I'm not gonna go on because I must be off to take someone to the airport right now..but anyways, in the next 48 hours my three best friends will all be under my roof. Ohhh jubilation.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, I made the best coffee EVER this morning! That hasn't happened since I was home for Christmas and used mom's coffee pot o'magic!</div><div>ALSO! I move April 1st. Here's my new house : ) Built in the 20's! Doesn't really look like it from the outside. It has a big doggy door in the back with a fenced backyard..just asking for a golden retriever or a Norm [goldendoodle].</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6w6EPIWn4ZaIPnLaultCdGbqBI78MrGNUZKVxcwVcyqnKeMeXF6SqsJizx3LK8eP3sB03wGEYppWdLPKJ-7I1l_1KjynYeHNNEG5JYFDQLyEOW67pyrFdeP7tLsXpQ3nC9Nvh/s320/house.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312643150120216338" /></div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-9630393119734531122009-03-11T21:57:00.003-05:002009-03-12T08:27:24.229-05:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I've been sleepin',</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And I've been dreamin'..</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Sometimes my dreams are real -</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and I'm livin.'</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But if I could only choose one,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'd choose real livin' over real dreamin'.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:13px;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJ0cAmIeygrFN9AyIv9p78NnW7kyZ0GOgnK2tk6dCPcGT6ysDX_DFWgUwwutWEvEqnuNW0E1gAOuzXe8uIgpaDpF8FBcn72vVjk8beNTQdryBEPVshyP9AjkDu2lb5FBjrYvr/s320/laughter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312131533519347442" /></span></div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12162066.post-23696519503290072782009-03-08T22:00:00.003-05:002009-03-08T22:05:12.965-05:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don't want my happiness to be dependent on my circumstances.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But ain't nothin' wrong with your circumstances making you really happy, right?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm so happy..things are just falling into place lately.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm very very thankful for the people who have been put in my life lately or for those who have re-entered my life. I'm very very thankful for the sunshine and for springing forward. I'm very very thankful for my visitors coming this week. I'm very very thankful for my time at the Harringtons with Ross and Nicky this weekend.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now if only we could ward off the rain in Georgia next week..</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">to do list:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Read the New Testament</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Call Mom and Dad</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Stop skipping classes</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Look for deals on living room/dining room furniture for the new house</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Find help (and a pick-up) for the move next month..oh my, that one is dreaded.</span></div>melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15019078578851964900noreply@blogger.com1