junebug's Xanga

IHOP

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 01:06:20 GMT

So I'm out here at IHOP and I don't even know what to say. I am sick in the apartment missing class and the prayer room which aches me, especially since I have less than 2 more months here anyway. :( I can say that I am and have been completely transformed. Witnessing this place and watching my prayers unfold into reality, getting a glimpse of healing, opening my ears to the divine.. it's just incredible and so much. So many doors seem to be opening in various realms: from doors in my heart to love and forgive, to doors in my life to venture out into. My heart is literally overwhelmed.

35 Hours

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 02:04:01 GMT

Yes, 35 hours until my plane takes off from New Jersey and 38 hours until I land in Kansas City, Missouri (assuming no crazy flight issues like storms, air traffic, or a cargo of crickets exploding in the cabin). I'm still constantly being asked if I'm excited but as mentioned, it's still difficult to realize that I really am going. But if I allow myself to wrap my mind around that fact for a split second, I am then truly excited. So, yes, I am excited.

I've been receiving so much though in just saying my goodbyes. My mom keeps laughing that I'm acting like I'm going away for 3 years instead of 3 months with all my goodbyes. I guess it'll be hard to get used to the fact of not seeing certain faces every week or everyday. My goodbyes began last week with a dinner and h-mart trip with one of my favorite girls and best friends, Grace followed by another dinner night out with my siblings (minus Joey). Imagine how cherished I felt when Frank offered to take me out to dinner, AND PAY! He always offers to "take me out to dinner" but that really means he wants outside food, wants to be driven there, and wants to be paid for. I got to spend a day (sort of) with my dad and the boys as we played at the park, picked up pizza, and watched Dancing with the Stars. It was cozy since I then had my final Thursday prayer meeting for awhile followed by kdphi goodbye dinner (plus Cookie). AND THEN the lock-in with my beloved youth who created me the funniest and sweetest goodbye video ever. It shall be uploaded soon. Okay this whole paragraph was more for my sake when in the future I browse through old entries and then I can remember my being showered in love week.

I've also been receiving support left and right. Members from church, family/friends, and a check from Allstate to make up for an accident (which I'm pretty sure all the fees were covered so I need to call my Liberty in the morning to make sure it's okay to deposit this). I joked to my mom that I make more money taking breaks and not working than staying here and serving, heh heh.. heh.

All I can say is God is so amazing. I desire this Christian Perfection John Wesley encourages but at the same time, I fail everyday. The sin in my heart, in my mind, in my actions. I sometimes cannot even forgive myself and I wonder how this amazing Father can. Not only forgives, but uplifts. *sigh*

Totally unrelated, but just now I snuck in to check on Joey because Frank said he was positioned funny. I curled up next to him and whispered over and over, "I love you" waiting for him to respond in a half sleeping voice. As usual, he did, and as usual, his response was, "love you more..". <3

34.5 hours now!

ughhhhhhhhhh

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 02:42:35 GMT

Everyday I'm becoming more and more discontent. Almost fed up. One of the more famous quotes by Mr. C.S. Lewis himself is, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world". We read that quote, we say, "yup, that is so me!", sigh it off, and then move on. Okay, so we were made for another world, or rather, the heavenly Kingdom. Now what? The fact of the matter is, you and I are still living in this world and our priority, our God-given mission, is to show the rest of the world that they too were made for another. Not just another world, but for another One. Made "for" and that means something to me. Yet to just whimsically sigh it off is such a cop out. A desperation has seeped into my heart and there are just a few things I cannot be content with.

Ministry is difficult, we all know that. I have more than once complained and cried it off. Too many nights I have cried it off. And when someone decides to follow their calling into ministry, they are often asked how they will be survive on such little pay. The answer is ALWAYS, "Well, God provides. I know I'll never go hungry or homeless". And honestly, most likely you won't go hungry or homeless - is that to say it is simply because you had faith and God rewarded that faith? What about the thousands of children who die each day out of hunger? Or are brothers and sisters being killed out on the mission field as we speak? God most definitely provides and I praise Him for that yet at the same time what I trust in Him to provide me with is His heart and His home and that means everything. I've really, really been getting frustrated with many laughing how they are storing their treasures in heaven since they are making so little here by serving God. Why does it even have to come down to treasures in heaven? How about:

"I serve and I have no luxury money, but undeservedly I still have a meal and fresh water everyday. Oh, well, yes my outfit is from J.Crew (or insert any retail label here) and I guess I am up to date on the current fashion trends. Not only that, but somehow I am still able to afford meaningless luxuries such as an iphone and the newest generation of ipods. I have a car and if not, more than a handful of friends who will drive me from point A to B. I have no idea what it would be like to fear falling asleep starving and in the rain with no roof over my head. Basically, I'm filthy rich in comparison to the rest of the world. Yet even in the little offering I give, I have to constantly remember that it is absolutely nothing, not worth a drop of Christ's blood which He gave an outpouring of. Treasures in heaven? Just making it into heaven is more than I could ever ask for".

Yet even when we say those words it comes with a reward of others seeing us as humble and genuine. Gosh, I remember in June sharing the word to the entire church at our annual graduation service and I ended it with my tidbit of my dream. The one I had where pastors and preachers were being recognized and praised for their messages when in reality all they were doing were saying what happened to the Man who did everything. I said that we who speak are undeserving of praise and that when we are praised, we are stealing God's glory. If the message is so great, start praising God, literally. And still I had a handful commend me afterwards on my words. "I know you don't want to hear this and you said not to say anything, but..."

Would I be lying to say that I couldn't help but internally gloat? To feel utterly awesome that not only had my words affected youth, but senior citizens and parents as well? I shamefully admit that I did. It was almost a double reward because not only was I being praised on my words, but they were also praising my humility and as I constantly look at myself and these feelings I can't help but anticipate when I finally do enter His world, His kingdom. When this battle is over between man-made pride simply serving. I said this on Sunday, but when I meet my Father face to face and He starts telling me the rewards I earned from my time here on earth equates to... washing His dishes for the rest of eternity while all else dance and sing in praise, my goodness, I'll be the most joyful dishwasher ever. Matthew 20 hits me home.

One more week until I leave for IHOP. All month I've been getting calls and emails that often begin with, "Where are you?" with many thinking I'm there already. Nope, not there yet, but one more week! I'm so thankful for those who prayed for me and for this and who have lent me guidance and insight and their experience. Everyone keeps asking if I'm "excited" and I wish I could say yes, but I'm more in disbelief. I think maybe after the first night there it'll hit me. Seriously though, more than going is my amazement in being taken into God's heart. God's desires are greater than man's needs. I say that because I couldn't help but arrogantly think and worry that I was needed too much here to go where I realized God wanted me. No one needs me here but I need Him everywhere. That line might not have made as much sense as it deeply means for me. Okay, one more week!

soon

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 17:36:29 GMT

Okay, I know I should be doing other things, but I love compiling lists such as these every once in awhile. So here goes, my list of things I wish/plan to do in the near future (obviously after 3 months from now)!

take a walk through central park
visit the aquarium (Baltimore would be ideal, but...)
visit the Christmas tree at Rockefeller (I think I say this EVERY YEAR and never hold true to it, but one of these years, something is going to change - honestly I don't think this is the year though)
go ice skating
start visiting the animal shelter again
find and pick up my pastels and sketchbook!
visit this Serendipity in NY (similar to my tree adventure, I've dreamed about going since my high school days)
start preparing my sister's bridal shower?
apartment hunt.
finally master the back handspring. THIS IS A SURE GOAL I MUST ACCOMPLISH!

farewell friends!

IHOP - Fire in the Night

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 04:07:53 GMT

The way the Lord has orchestrated the past couple months of my life is nothing short of a beautiful symphony. I always say that I'm in awe of Him, but, I really really am.

Hmm, where do I even start? Well, I would love to start at the beginning but then this will be the longest thing ever written in the history of words, so I'll keep this short and to the point. In just about two weeks I'm leaving for IHOP (www.ihop.org)! I don't know how to deal with the excitement and nerves because I have never stayed outside of NJ for longer than a week except for family vacays to Korea. To spend three months in Missouri is a concept I haven't fully grasped yet! I'll be back right before Christmas (and of course, right before winter retreat 2009).

As I explained to my beautiful students yesterday, I'm not leaving to take a vacation or to run away from school or ministry. In fact, serving them has been such a delight and blessing and God has even healed shadowy corners of my heart through them. But I've reached a point where my devotion to God was almost entirely about serving Him. I was running without pausing constantly asking and screaming up at Him, "are You happy now? does this please You?". I was constantly wondering and questioning and desiring to know if what I was doing was enough and I would ask Him that every day, almost every hour. How would I even hear His answer if I was so busy doing all the talking and asking? I felt what I was doing was never enough and so I added on more responsibilities where ever and whenever I could. I would feel exhausted and then I'd feel so shameful for being tired because for what He has done, how could I dare feel any exhaustion? Jesus gave me His life and I can't give Him a night without sleep? But the Lord doesn't love or desire me because of my works. Goodness knows He doesn't need it! In fact, I think Him using me is more of a risk than an asset! So to hear Him (and He used many brothers and sisters around me to help me clear my ears) say that He doesn't want my works, but just ME(!!!) I realized I had to do what would be the most difficult for me: not work, not add on more tasks, not worry. It would mean knowing what is better - to lay at the feet of Jesus and just love and be loved by Him. Luke 10:38-42... that passage... I cannot use written word to explain what that passage means to me.

As for my Wavers. I am so blown away, amazed, and blessed by this bunch that I continue to abuse week after week. :) Many know I am not an affectionate or affirming person and I often show tough love to them over... what, soft love? haha. I show love through discipline, lecturing, and as experience has shown, by making some of them cry. And yet for them to encourage me, laugh with me, text me with "i love you"s throughout the week... yes, God has used them to bless my own heart in ways that I hope one day I can express to them. I hate canceling a Saturday bible study because that would mean seeing them only once that week rather than twice. Three months without my wavers will be tough, but desperately needed. I've come to realize this is probably more difficult for me than all of them combined, hahaha, but they are a beautiful group and I just ask for anyone reading this to lift them up in your prayers. I have felt since the start of all this that God was to quake our ministry and our lives soon and move mountains and I feel that this is it. I'm so excited for them to have this vacation from me because I cannot wait to come back and see the leaders and warriors He is really raising from our ministry.

There's still so much more to say about all this - the words spoken, the prayers cried, the doors He opened (the way He opened doors for me to go is a whole separate testimony and it's mind blowing what He did!) but it's just the beginning. I remember Leslie asking me a few months ago, "If God called you to pack up your stuff and go somewhere far, just leave, what would you do?" and I'm so excited that I have this opportunity to actually say that I would follow.

Please pray for my beautiful eggs (I'm tagging them on fb so you can pray for them if possible) and for me that God ministers deep into my heart during this time. 3 months, just me and my Dad. <3 He has always been there for me, as He has shown me through His beautiful ways, and now I just want to be there with Him.

profane profanity

Sun, 13 Sep 2009 03:56:36 GMT

I despise, detest profanity. I cannot help but cringe whenever I heard such a word mumbled by mouths. Honestly, I find it completely disrespectful for both parties; the one being cursed off (you *****) or cursed to (hey that ****** is in the way), and the one speaking the words. For the one being spoken about it's obviously horrible and cruel, even in jest, and for the one simply being spoken to... it just bothers me. Would you dare say such a word in front of the president, or the king? No, and why not? Out of respect. Yet we say so often that these people are just regular people too yet to regular people words and insults are tossed and thrown around so lightly. Ugh, how it irks me. And as for the one speaking such words, and obviously I have a passion for words studying creative writing and literature in college, it feels, to me, as if the person is throwing in the towel in their word choices and settling for the easiest (simplest as well as most distasteful and cultural) choices. Why not take half a second in your thought to share your feelings with different words?! There are so many words in the English dictionary to express feelings, emotions, or thoughts. Don't get me wrong, I used to mutter foul words and I confess in one of my recent car accidents I did mumble a profane word (I felt so horrible I repented) but I have come to the stance that if one can convey their thought with different terms, it just makes their sentence so much more beautiful!

The word profanity comes from, obviously, the word profane. I couldn't help but dictionary.com the term and you know what I found? http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/profane

1.	characterized by irreverence or contempt for God or sacred principles or things; irreligious.

2.	not devoted to holy or religious purposes; unconsecrated; secular (opposed to sacred ).

3.	unholy; heathen; pagan: profane rites.

4.	not initiated into religious rites or mysteries, as persons.

5.	common or vulgar.

I find it fascinating the first half of the definitions listed are pertaining to God and holiness. Terms such as "unholy", "pagan", and wow, "contempt for God"! James 3 always comes to mind when I think of the unholiness that can manifest out of the tongue.

This is just my vent. Yea, I really hate profanity. I believe people are capable of choosing better words than these.

My Name

Mon, 07 Sep 2009 18:17:59 GMT

I cannot begin to even describe what this song does to me whenever I hear it. If I don't start crying outwardly, my heart does internally. It's so interesting because for some reason this song continues to heal me while continuously taking me back to the dark corners of the shadows of my deepest, and most hurtful memories. I've been cleaning out my room nonstop for the past week - organizing, shelving, tossing away - and found an old birthday card my kdphi little got me years ago. She made the card herself - a giant Squirt from the movie Finding Nemo - hand drawn and cut out ranging about 1' x 2'. Yes, it's huge. I was reading it today and there was a line that said how I helped her "adopt a new motto of 'live happily' " as that was my personal motto all through college. To live joyfully and enjoy each moment and everyday. Ironically deep inside so deep I was always hurting and doubting and struggling. Questioning and hating myself and wondering what really happened back then.

I had a conversation with my brother recently about how he sees my personal relationship with God, how He is so real and tangible in my life. How God is a real being that I can see, hear, and touch. I wish I could explain it better, but I just cannot begin to describe or explain how much He means to me. I want everything in my life to bear fruit and honor Him - everything - and when someone asks why, how can I begin to explain? How can I put into words how much He means to me and how in love with Him I am and how much He has fixed me. I was broken, so shattered and torn and desiring so often to just be invisible. I can even say I hated myself at times because it felt the world did and if the world hated me, if the people who were supposed to love me abandoned me, what could there possibly be left to desire? I'm not sure I'll ever be able to fully explain or describe the worthlessness I carried or how I felt my creation was a complete and utter mistake. I would try to fight and battle this by BEING visible and working hard and seeking approval because I thought that might fix me. But it never did and I felt hollow. I wish there were easier ways to explain how I felt and how I feel and what I did and what He does but since I cannot, I feel this song often does it quite well. Just living this song and words and knowing them to be a truth - that I was actually desired by Him, my Father - I'm suddenly not so broken. Every single word, every line, I almost feel as if these are His own words singing to me and reminding me...

"I have a maker
He formed my heart
Before even time began
My life was in His hand

He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call

I have a Father
He calls me His own
He'll never leave me
No matter where I go"

Utopia

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 03:42:52 GMT

I wrote this one February of 2002. So about 7 and a half years ago!! I think I may have been studying Emerson at the time or whatnot and feeling the need to write out thoughts as if I were some fine philosopher, heh heh:

"We all wish to escape into some grand "Utopia" where everything's perfect and great ... the total opposite of everything we feel is in our lives. We want to go, "somewhere over the rainbow where bluebirds fly. And the dreams that you dream of dreams really do come true." To escape all the pain and misery that we were forced to deal with in our daily lives. Some of that pain was brought on by ourselves, some brought on by those closest to us like family, or some just painful memories of the past that we don't even know how it all happened. We're all too busy thinking that our lives are so horrible and awful and that no one could possibly understand the base of it all. Which is true, no one can understand other's troubles because everyone's too busy figuring out their own. Problems in life were created so we can deal with them, learn from them, grow from them. When we sit in our rooms in the darkness at night crying for hours because no one understands, we only make the problem larger by making it into something bigger than what it must really be. But when we open our lives to someone and share all the secrets inside, it's like opening a giant box in the attic. Not knowing what will come out of it once opened. Will it be something sweet and comforting? Or something bitter that makes us feel even more like the world is against us? I suppose that we try to hide our problems so that we can wallow in our own self-pity and convince ourselves that it really is that bad. Because if you share that secret, the biggest fear may be hearing the words, "It's not that bad. It‘s okay, you‘ll be alright." We want to be miserable ... except when we are truly happy."

I remember writing this. I remember thinking how often we desire our problems to be bigger than they are so that we can soak in pity and wallow in our own. The bigger we made the problem to ourselves, the more it was justified in our self-centered minds that it was more than fine to dwell on how horrible our situation or issue was. I was reflecting on myself and my hatred at hearing "Oh things will be okay" or "I completely understand" as if my problems were understandable or as if the person responding had any insight as to how things would turn out. I was especially frustrated with the comment of "Just pray about it" because it had turned into cliche. Looking back now, I think there may be some error in hearing "just pray about it". Not to say that praying about our problems is wrong in anyway because I firmly believe it is the answer; I do believe, however, that when one shares their turmoil, struggles, and depression, they long to be cared for rather than handed off to someone else... someone else, who most likely, is being feared at that moment anyway. I don't recall getting as frustrated, or even frustrated, upon hearing the words, "I'll pray for you" and having that sense of comfort and security that this person was actually going to seek GOD on my behalf. In that way, we are showing what Jesus commands us to show always: love.

I recently have been pondering as to why we often ask questions, yet do not want to be taught the answers. I can literally replay in my head times when someone will ask a question and as soon as the person being asked begins to respond with the answer or with some insight, the person asking looks as if they're dazing out or no longer paying attention. Almost as if the question was asked just to be asked! To make it known to all those hearing, "Hey look at this size of a problem or question I'm struggling with! It's a doozy!" but to have it answered in anyway would mean that the problem is answer-able. And to be taught the answer rather than to just be told it, well, that's a whole separate issue! This would require the asker to learn and to seek on their own. To take on this problem straight on and to say that this problem is one that can be passed. In my thinking, I believe we just choose and desire to believe that our problems are NOT fixable and that no one has the answer and not only that, but sometimes we believe this problem chose us. As if it was an attraction to someone high and mighty such as we.

It's funny, I just chose to read some random old school thought tonight and had no idea it would open up a whole line of thoughts. I'm also not choosing to say that problems are not worthy of drawing attention to. Goodness knows that when a student comes to me with a concern, a hurt, a problem I often just stare back at them as I start bawling on their shoulder. It's strange as they come to me for strength, I just start soaking their shirt with my own tears. Nonetheless, problems are not small or to be ignored. But any problem is squashable if and when we trust who is in control, who made light and the ocean and the muscles used to type these very words right now, and trust that He is bigger than anything we are facing. Our problems might not be small, but compared to THE KING, it's smaller than an atom. :)

9/11

Wed, 26 Aug 2009 21:14:10 GMT

I realized I have let my creative juices seep out my brain as any or all of my writing is random xanga blogs or sermon prep. I was driving home today thinking how much I miss and love writing and wondering how to inspire myself once again. When I was majored in cw I used to have to write a poem, a memoir piece, or a short fiction almost every week to be scrutinized by my fellow classmates - many too pompous for their own good (sorry, I had to momentarily vent... it just really bothered me how violently they critiqued each others writings sometimes). So I'm going to start reading my old writings from my teenage rebellion rants to my newest poetry pieces. Perhaps they'll spark some inspiration and passion in me once again!

Here's a memoir piece I wrote about 2 years ago. I wrote it September 10th, 2007:

-----------------------------------------------

The entire bus went silent except for the sound of my muffled sobs. I could feel all eyes on me but the only activity going on in my head was a desire for the bus to speed up so I could race home. My breaths were short and I felt my chest tighten up more and more and everything just seemed to be spinning.

The morning started off beautifully. My dad had left for the airport early to go on yet another business trip to Los Angeles which, for me, meant a peaceful week without constant shouting between me and him. I was only sixteen so I, as most teenagers do, resented my parents for almost anything. They were like two closed-minded beings without a desire to understand my place in the home with whom I was forced to coexist with. I sinfully felt delight whenever my dad went on his business trips because out of the two of them, he was my main rival. My mother wasn’t that much better being about three to four months pregnant and a woman driven by her fuming hormones.

I sat in my French class wasting the hour and a half period obnoxiously having side conversations with my friends when an announcement over the intercom instructed all students and teachers to focus our attention on the voice coming out of the mesh box. A grave voice announced that there had been some sort of accident involving a plane and one of the twin towers. That’s it. That’s all we were told. Oh, and to remain calm because everything was under control as they will update us on further news.

“I wonder what happened,” someone mused.

“I hope everything’s okay,” I ignorantly replied. “The twin towers are my favorite New York city buildings!”

“That is the weirdest thing someone could say right now,” a friend laughed.

We all laughed. We all continued with our class. And we all went on as if nothing had changed in our lives.

The day continued as if nothing had happened. Students ran into each other scrambling from one class to the next. Teachers continued to yell at students for loitering in the halls during class periods. Of course there were the casual conversations now and then where people would bring up new rumors they heard about the “accident”.

“I heard it was a plane crash. A plane crashed into one of the towers.”

“How would a plane crash into one of the them? Was the pilot high or something?”

“I overheard some teachers talking. I heard both towers got hit!”

“No, only one of them! Pay attention, idiot!”

All day students would try to compare whatever knowledge they had about this “accident”. That’s all we called it. An “accident” because anything other than that would be ludicrous.

I would later find out that in the final period of the day, there was a televised announcement explaining all the events that had occurred that day. Explanations as far as who, where, and what had happened involving the events that we now refer to as a whole with “9/11”. Of course, I didn’t see that announcement. The final block period of my day was spent in gym class. As a class we enjoyed our final period with our adventure bound program gym class. I remember we had broken up into two teams figuring out how to cross a tight rope raised about one foot off the ground. I remember enjoying that final class very much that day.

The bus ride home was filled with the daily shouting and loud conversations as most school bus rides are filled with. Today, however, all the conversations were focused on the Twin Towers and the plane crashes. I listened eagerly to be filled in on the announcement my class and I had missed.

“Terrorists hijacked commercial planes and hit the Towers and the Pentagon.”

“Three planes crashed.”

“Boston to California.”

The news came in fragments because everyone was talking at once.

“Wow,” I finally sighed. “Boston to California? That’s good. My dad was flying to California! He was flying out of Newark though.”

A couple people slowly turned to face me. Their faces suddenly changed from shock and anxiety to dreaded fear. Fear for me.

“ One of the planes that crashed flew out of Newark,” a friend said very slowly to me.

“Oh but the crash happened in the afternoon, right? My dad was already on the plane in the morning.”

“What time?”

“I don’t know, I think around 8 or 9,” I shrugged.

More faces. More fear. I studied all their faces and suddenly realized that their facial expressions said a lot more than their voices would. I suddenly felt a hard time breathing and started panting for air like I never had before.

“I’m sure your dad is fine though,” my friend consoled in a way that was not at all consoling in anyway whatsoever.

My chest began to tighten up. It felt like someone had a tied a rope around my heart and lungs and was casually pulling on it every other second. I only remember having one other panic attack in my life up to that point and that was when I was under the stress of finals, cheerleading practice, and my bird flying away from home. The stress from cheerleading could not remotely compare to the anxiety I was feeling at this point.

That rope suddenly pulled tighter. I just remembered my mother and my three to four month old baby brother growing inside of her tummy. I remember just days ago my father pulling me aside with excitement in his eyes and advice to lend me.

“Be very sensitive to your mom for the next few weeks. Anything shocking or overwhelming can cause her to have a miscarriage. She has to remain calm and healthy. Obviously throughout the entire pregnancy, but the doctor said the second to fourth month is the most dangerous. Remember, in a few months there will be another one of us here!”

The entire bus went silent except for the sound of my muffled sobs. I could feel all eyes on me but the only activity going on in my head was a desire for the bus to speed up so I could race home. My breaths were short as I felt my chest tighten up more and more and everything just seemed to be spinning.

I remember trying to make incoherent sentences. I shouted out words like “daddy” and “the baby” and “my mom”. The rope pulled tighter and tighter until I thought I was about to pass out. Finally, the bus pulled up just a few houses away from my home.

I’m not a fast runner. I never was. But I do believe I reached my house within thirty seconds of leaping off the bus. I fiddled with my keys with horrible images going on in my head. I prepared myself to see my mother laid out on the floor passed out. I finally burst open the door and flew in in with tears flowing down my face.

“Oh, honey, Jennifer just walked in. Do you want to talk to her?”

I looked up to find my mother sitting in the kitchen on the phone. On the phone with my dad. I couldn’t hold myself back from running over to her and embracing her in a way I hadn’t since I was about eleven.

“Wow!” she squealed. Apparently, she did not hear any of the news as she spent most of her day working on her arts and crafts as she usually did. Not until my father’s phone call was she aware that anything had even happened to our country.

“Daddy?” I squeaked into the phone.

“Yes, honey, I’m here. I’m okay.”

I tried to think up anything to say. Moments ago I was convinced my father was part of a great tragedy and here he was now, trying to have a conversation with his speechless daughter on the phone. My mind went blank till I finally managed to mutter out the words I hadn’t said to him in years, “I love you”. The same response was immediately repeated back as he promised he would find the first rental car he could find to bring him home to his family.

My dad had read sometime after 9/11 that his plane was one of the planes targeted for attack that day. Whether there were terrorists on his plane or not, we still don’t know. The idea alone still blows chills down my spine. To this day my father is the greatest man I know and my mother is an angel is disguise. It wasn’t until that day that I realized how in love with my family I was. That I couldn’t breathe if anything were to happen to one of them, literally.

jumbled bunch of my ranting

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 03:48:57 GMT

WELL I think my summer is officially coming to a close. What an amazing and eventful summer it was and I almost don't even know how to look back and reflect on it. When did summer really begin anyway? Either way, from the staff retreat to Alive Conference to staff beach bbq blast to random daytrip to Maryland and of course VBS quickly followed by a week in Texas then some kdphi seminar time at Rutgers and finally ending tonight with a revival. I know that I have not heard my full voice in over a month now and I am so excited for this week that He has given me to just rest and regain my strength.

My goodness, the Lord has been stirring in my heart so much this summer and blowing me away by bringing me back to the beginning. I would say the three most eventful times this summer would be broken down to Alive, VBS, and Texas. During Alive He spoke to me and whispered deep in my heart that He actually yearns for me and not what I do or my service... just me. VBS reminded me how much I love love love ministry and children and youth and how beautiful the faith of a child is. Also how very much I love my church as well as how He is using me even when I have nothing left to offer up. Then Texas was the clincher when He ministered so deeply into my heart into the deepest wounds. Not only sharing my deepest story with the girls... a story I've only told for the first time in full there in that meeting room... but to be reminded of who my Maker is... just trembling.

I feel so excited for what is to come. For just our youth ministry I know God is really about to quake things up and that He allows me to be even a part, even a witness to it, is just so overwhelming, exciting, and yes, intoxicating. For my own LIFE the things God is doing it's unjustified and it's just grace. You know, when someone meets me and finds out or realizes I'm a youth pastor I'm often greeted with, "are you serious" or the sometimes, "no way" and in my mind I'm secretly thinking, "I can't believe it either!!". I really truly cannot. Driving back from church tonight with Frank we were talking about his first youth conference. It's so weird to look back on years ago and on who I was and how I'm here now. But that's something that blows all our minds away everyday for anyone in ministry. :) At Podonamoo revival I got to see one of my favorite sammonims again. Well, to be perfectly honest, I almost fall in love with each one that I meet even though some do indeed frighten or intimidate me. Either way, there is something that exudes out of them that makes my heart go light. Anyway, I'm so amazed and blessed and encouraged by this woman's faith and strength during their times of struggle. I tell her daughters time and time again I think their mother is so beautiful and I really truly mean that. When I got back to church my senior pastor, as usual, asked how my sister was doing and how wedding planning is going. He then asked about me and I did one of my witty comments as usual. I think I realize now why it is I always observe pastors wives a bit more and why I long to be one. It doesn't make sense and in no way is it glamorized in my mind but the true desire to be one is so that my marriage is my ministry. I think about the times I get to eat dinner at my senior pastors house or another pastors home and how their wives cook and offer their homes up so tenderly and I'm so blessed by that. She becomes the ultimate hostess. And knowing my senior pastor a bit well, I think of his struggles and travels and journey and then I think about the woman whose stood beside him to minister and nurture his heart all the while. I think about the prayer warriors who intercede on their husband's behalf for their ministry and church. I mean, I know it's not easy but I gave up on wanting or desiring easy. If this is one more thing I can do that honors or serves the Lord then take it! At the same time, I have no idea if it is God's will or if this is my future and on the other hand, haha, I'm not going to lie... if it's not I'll be okay with that too! Goodness knows my parents fear this hahaha. But either way I'll always admire the women who, when joined with their husband, lay downs their lives for the Kingdom and offer their service to the church. This one sammonim to stand strong as they rebuit their church from the ground up is just so inspiring on so many levels. When I went over to say hello to her, I couldn't help but just tear up I don't even know what it was. The moment she wrapped her arms around me it was as if I was being held by God Himself. How powerful the ambassadors of Christ are! That as she hugged me and encouraged me her eyes pointed straight up to the King Himself. And as I did my meet and greet with all the senior pastors from the district.. how strange it is that I actually know these fierce men I once feared more personally... I couldn't help but be reminded on how much God has spun my life around in just the past two years.

I guess I've been reflecting a lot this summer on just offering and worshiping in every area of my life possible. As a student said to me in terms of committing a life to His will, "how can I not?".

Even so... I'm really excited for this week of rest, heh heh. :)