I’ve been denying it for years, but tonight I feel the need to confess what I know to be true. Sometimes I pretend that I’m cool, but deep down, I’m really kind of a dork.
No, I’m not the kind of dork that collects Star Wars memorabilia or counts down the days to MegaCon every year, and I’m certainly not the type of dork that is deemed cool by Hollywood’s standards right now. Yeah you know what I’m talking about, the “hot nerd” type- aka- the beautiful celebrities that claim they are really big geeks. Nope, I’m just your average dork. There would have been a time when I would have been ashamed to admit this, like say, every day until yesterday. So why come clean now? I would say it’s the fact that I am totally vibing that song, “You think you’re cooler than me,” but I know that it’s not. (Although it does make me laugh every time and prompt me to pretend that I'm cool while cruising down highway 90 in my aviators and extra lipgloss). No, the real reason I share this juiciness with you now is that quite frankly, the Lord is bringing me face to face with this reality. And as strange as it sounds, I think He wants me to share it.
My descent into dorkdom/denial of dorkiness started approximately 10 years ago, just a few days before my sophomore year of high school began. For the past 10 years, that day has lived in infamy as the day I was branded "dorky".
I don’t remember exactly where I was when my best friend delivered the news, but I do remember exactly what she told me. As we chatted, she recounted the events that had transpired in the hallway that day. I walked by in my shortalls and floppy Blossom-esque hat on my way to the TV production classroom (I really am not making up these details to make myself seem less cool. This is for real)for mandatory pre-planning. I smiled and waved to my best friend and the two other girls she was with as they worked on tasks for student government(SGA- aka- the cool kids). A few minutes later, the conversation had somehow taken a trip down memory lane, when in the sixth grade, my feelings had been crushed when this same friend had informed me that some of the things I said and some of the clothes I wore were, well, dorky. And to be fair, she was right. I really was dorky. But somehow I had believed that that was then, and this was now, right? Wrong. Apparently I still was a dork, because right before my BFF had a chance to redeem the rest of the story and say how wonderful she thought I was now, one of the girls blurted out, “well, it’s true!”
“Well, it’s true.” That’s all that was said. The conversation changed right after, no other comments were made, no more laughs delivered at my expense. Most people would probably not see count this as a big deal, but I am not most people. And I can tell you in that moment, I. was. crushed. Mortified. Ashamed. I felt so foolish, for you see, I kind of actually thought I was friends with “well, it’s true” girl. Sure, she was beautiful and popular and stylish, but she had always been nice to me. I mean, we had cheered together as little girls! She knew my name!
This is probably seeming a little ridiculous by now, and maybe it is. Truth is, if I can count hearing that a pretty, popular girl said I was dorky as one of the most traumatizing things that has ever happened to me, then I’ve really had a pretty good life. But as a 15 year old with fragile self-esteem, I felt that night like my world was going to end. I cried myself to sleep that night and maybe the next night too. Yet even worse than my shattered ego was the attitude of my heart. I hated pretty, popular girl for what she said about me. I hated me for being so uncool. I envied her for being so pretty and likeable. And years later, as graduates of the same university, I still feared her. I feared what she thought of me. I feared what everyone thought of me.
I have to interject now, lest I go any further in my not-so-sad sob story without informing you that this girl is actually a very nice person. She loves the Lord, genuinely loves people, and I promise you that if she even had the slightest idea of how traumatized I would be by those three little words she whispered almost a decade ago, she would never, ever had said them.
But those words stuck like shrapnel in my brain, the only “truth” about myself that I could believe. I let that belief shape a lot of who I became. Because surely, if somehow that pretty and likeable thinks I’m a dork, then everyone must think that, right? I don’t think any change was visible on the outside, but something inside me changed that day. That was the day I started living in denial, denial of who I was and denial of who the Lord said I was. That was the day I started offering only the pieces of me that I thought people would like.
Flash forward ten years to today, where the Lord has brought me face to face with my fears. I think he’s tried to make me do business with this one before, but in my own sin and stubbornness I have refused to listen. This has nothing to do with that girl; I’ve forgiven her in my heart a long time ago. But now the Lord wants me to forgive me. Forgive myself for not being cool enough, or pretty enough, or nice enough, or godly enough. He wants me to believe that being a dork isn’t bad, because really, what is cool anyway? He so desperately wants me to believe in what I have to offer and give myself wholeheartedly to others, because he believes in me. He wants me to hop down from the shelf, in all my dork-glory, and be the woman he created me to be. And he wants me to invite others to do the same for themselves.
So today I present to you Katie Stickle, in all my dork finery. So what if I have an unhealthy fear of blushing because I get embarrassed easily and my whole face looks like it’s on fire? Or if I’m totally okay with wearing something that is so last season as long as I think I look cute? Who cares that I’m still totally awkwarded-out when guys try to hit on me, or that I get intimidated by pretty girls because I wonder if they can sense how not cool I feel. (And to think that the Lord has called me to ministry to sorority women. Crazy!) I’ll fess up now that I own an Aladdin thermos, and that try as I may my hair never stays in place, and that one of my shoes is usually untied. I may be shy, but I’m totally loveable.
That’s me. And if that makes me a dork, so be it. God told me he loves the dorks too.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Thoughts on a Child's Tale
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." - The Velveteen Rabbit
I have tried to write this blog several times before, and somehow I just couldn’t get all my thoughts to flow in a coherent fashion. I could run with it in a thousand different directions. But tonight just felt like the right time to share that something about The Velveteen Rabbit resonates deeply within me, and I assume it’s because the Lord is trying to teach me something or some things. I have begun noticing that many times the Lord captures my attention through tales- fables, the parables, even a cartoon or two. Perhaps that’s why I love telling stories so much, because stories speak to my heart in such a relevant way.
At the heart of our story is this: the Velveteen Rabbit longs to be Real. But in order for that to happen, he must first be loved. This love is risky; it is not for the faint at heart. Like the Skin Horse warns, “it doesn’t happen often to people to break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept.” But the Velveteen Rabbit cares nothing of these warnings for the weak. He takes the risk, and at our story’s end he does indeed become Real- not just Real to the boy, but the Real that comes from being truly alive. And at our story’s end this rabbit, the Rabbit formerly made of Velveteen, visits the boy who first gave him to chance to become Real. And he is the most beautiful rabbit of them all.
I think I’m a lot like the Velveteen Rabbit. Not that I was fake before, I just wasn’t alive. On the outside I may have looked alive, I was living and breathing and maybe even smiling once in a while. But I’d be willing to bet that on certain days, if you looked inside, you’d see cotton batting in place of my organs. It was as if somewhere along the way I started to believe the lie that I didn’t have anything important to say. Maybe I never did believe. And with that, I shut off my heart to the world and at times to God himself.
It didn’t happen all at once- Satan was too smart to pull that. Surely I would have caught on sooner. But slowly and surely, over the past 10 months, my heart started to slip away. I bought into the lies that I was boring, that I was foolish, and that I certainly had nothing to offer the world or to the Lord. And so I kept to myself, not wanting to bore or burden anyone with my words, my hopes, my friendship. Until now.
As the Rabbit wants so badly to be Real, I too long to be Real. I want to choose the gutsy love, the love that is not for those who break easily or who need to be carefully kept. I know that in the midst of this difficult season, the Lord is offering me that love, His love. His offer has actually always been on the table; in fact, it's offered freely to everyone! But I'm just now starting to truly understand the value of his offer.
Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter.
Often times over the past few weeks I have compared myself to that little rabbit. At times I have felt pretty shabby; my smile and freckles faded, and sometimes I scarcely felt like a normal person. My heart and attitude were ugly. But I am reminded that no matter how shabby I look to the world, I will always be beautiful to the Lord.
I’m still fighting that battle, the one that says that sitting on the shelf being carefully kept and free from breaking is better than subjecting myself to tough love, Real love. But my heart knows that ultimately, if He’s offering me the chance to become Real -to become like his Son, to allow the Lord to love me- than that’s all this little rabbit wants to care about.
I have tried to write this blog several times before, and somehow I just couldn’t get all my thoughts to flow in a coherent fashion. I could run with it in a thousand different directions. But tonight just felt like the right time to share that something about The Velveteen Rabbit resonates deeply within me, and I assume it’s because the Lord is trying to teach me something or some things. I have begun noticing that many times the Lord captures my attention through tales- fables, the parables, even a cartoon or two. Perhaps that’s why I love telling stories so much, because stories speak to my heart in such a relevant way.
At the heart of our story is this: the Velveteen Rabbit longs to be Real. But in order for that to happen, he must first be loved. This love is risky; it is not for the faint at heart. Like the Skin Horse warns, “it doesn’t happen often to people to break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept.” But the Velveteen Rabbit cares nothing of these warnings for the weak. He takes the risk, and at our story’s end he does indeed become Real- not just Real to the boy, but the Real that comes from being truly alive. And at our story’s end this rabbit, the Rabbit formerly made of Velveteen, visits the boy who first gave him to chance to become Real. And he is the most beautiful rabbit of them all.
I think I’m a lot like the Velveteen Rabbit. Not that I was fake before, I just wasn’t alive. On the outside I may have looked alive, I was living and breathing and maybe even smiling once in a while. But I’d be willing to bet that on certain days, if you looked inside, you’d see cotton batting in place of my organs. It was as if somewhere along the way I started to believe the lie that I didn’t have anything important to say. Maybe I never did believe. And with that, I shut off my heart to the world and at times to God himself.
It didn’t happen all at once- Satan was too smart to pull that. Surely I would have caught on sooner. But slowly and surely, over the past 10 months, my heart started to slip away. I bought into the lies that I was boring, that I was foolish, and that I certainly had nothing to offer the world or to the Lord. And so I kept to myself, not wanting to bore or burden anyone with my words, my hopes, my friendship. Until now.
As the Rabbit wants so badly to be Real, I too long to be Real. I want to choose the gutsy love, the love that is not for those who break easily or who need to be carefully kept. I know that in the midst of this difficult season, the Lord is offering me that love, His love. His offer has actually always been on the table; in fact, it's offered freely to everyone! But I'm just now starting to truly understand the value of his offer.
Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter.
Often times over the past few weeks I have compared myself to that little rabbit. At times I have felt pretty shabby; my smile and freckles faded, and sometimes I scarcely felt like a normal person. My heart and attitude were ugly. But I am reminded that no matter how shabby I look to the world, I will always be beautiful to the Lord.
I’m still fighting that battle, the one that says that sitting on the shelf being carefully kept and free from breaking is better than subjecting myself to tough love, Real love. But my heart knows that ultimately, if He’s offering me the chance to become Real -to become like his Son, to allow the Lord to love me- than that’s all this little rabbit wants to care about.
Friday, July 9, 2010
What Do I Know of Holy?
Lately I’ve been battling a faith crisis in a major way. I know it seems silly, that someone who is going into full-time ministry would fight to believe that God loves her. A lot of it has to deal with unmet and perhaps somewhat unrealistic expectations, but somehow I’m still not fully grasping it. My head gets it, but my heart is still wanting to rebel against the God I know I love. It’s a little embarrassing to admit that. But I know that if I confess my sin to Him, he is faithful and just to forgive me and cleanse me from every wrong. 1 John 1:9 makes that clear. With that confession comes another- that over the past few days, I’ve felt too weak to even pray coherent thoughts. So I’ve had this song on repeat in my little Hyundai, hoping that as I belt the words, that God would know what I am trying to say. It’s by Addison Road, and it’s titled What Do I Know of Holy?
I made You promises a thousand times
I tried to hear from Heaven, but I talked the whole time
I think I made You too small, I never feared You at all, No
If You touched my face would I know You?
Looked into my eyes could I behold You?
What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood, but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?
I guess I thought that I had figured You out
I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about
How You were might to save
Those were only empty words on a page
Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be
The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees
What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood, but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame?
And a God who gave life it's name?
What do I know of Holy?
Of the One who the angels praise?
All creation knows Your name
On earth and heaven above
What do I know of this love?
What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood, but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?
I made You promises a thousand times
I tried to hear from Heaven, but I talked the whole time
I think I made You too small, I never feared You at all, No
If You touched my face would I know You?
Looked into my eyes could I behold You?
What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood, but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?
I guess I thought that I had figured You out
I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about
How You were might to save
Those were only empty words on a page
Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be
The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees
What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood, but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame?
And a God who gave life it's name?
What do I know of Holy?
Of the One who the angels praise?
All creation knows Your name
On earth and heaven above
What do I know of this love?
What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood, but the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?
Friday, July 2, 2010
Rhythm is a Dancer
I love…
Waking up and not feeling the least bit tired.
Walking around the quad with my special friend who lives in Africa.
Getting calls from people I love.
Eating my weight in chocolate before noon.
Receiving personalized mail.
Not having to drive.
Spending time with fun friends.
Skating rink music.
World-cup themed cookie cakes.
Making people laugh.
Laughing really hard myself.
Chocolate reprises.
Days when I can’t seem to get that goofy grin off my face.
Dressing up.
Having Rachel do my eye make-up.
Thai food.
Taking glamour shots.
Knowing I’m delighted in.
Living carefree.
Being able to experience all this and more yesterday as a result of turning 25,
and the Lord, for loving me and blessing me with so much more than my fallen human heart will ever deserve. He gives such good gifts to his children, and I received so many of them yesterday!
After some very strategic stalling, I walked in on a "sweet" surprise!
This may be the most natural "action" shot of the night- trying to read my cake! There was a lot of icing to be read!
Confession: I may have watched one soccer game ever from birth to age 24. Then I fell in love with the World Cup this year. I can't get enough!
I told you I ate my weight in it!
I see you, Heather!
A few of my beautiful friends, from left to right: Alana, Elaine, me, Heather, & Rachel.
The favorite pose with my favorite friend!
Waking up and not feeling the least bit tired.
Walking around the quad with my special friend who lives in Africa.
Getting calls from people I love.
Eating my weight in chocolate before noon.
Receiving personalized mail.
Not having to drive.
Spending time with fun friends.
Skating rink music.
World-cup themed cookie cakes.
Making people laugh.
Laughing really hard myself.
Chocolate reprises.
Days when I can’t seem to get that goofy grin off my face.
Dressing up.
Having Rachel do my eye make-up.
Thai food.
Taking glamour shots.
Knowing I’m delighted in.
Living carefree.
Being able to experience all this and more yesterday as a result of turning 25,
and the Lord, for loving me and blessing me with so much more than my fallen human heart will ever deserve. He gives such good gifts to his children, and I received so many of them yesterday!
After some very strategic stalling, I walked in on a "sweet" surprise!
This may be the most natural "action" shot of the night- trying to read my cake! There was a lot of icing to be read!
Confession: I may have watched one soccer game ever from birth to age 24. Then I fell in love with the World Cup this year. I can't get enough!
I told you I ate my weight in it!
I see you, Heather!
A few of my beautiful friends, from left to right: Alana, Elaine, me, Heather, & Rachel.
Working my way to fabulous.
The favorite pose with my favorite friend!Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Do You Trust Me?
I’m really not good at trusting the Lord. So it’s kinda ironic that my job description includes trusting the Lord every day. Whether I am on campus meeting with girls or in the field raising support, I simply cannot function without Him. As a follower of Christ, I believe that not only are His plans for me good, but that they are better than the plans I have for myself. His plans for me are better than the ones I have for myself. Ouch. It stings my pride a little bit to write that, because to the world that seems foolish. And I have always prided myself on being a smart girl, not a foolish one. But claiming Christ means claiming that I trust him AND trust in him, despite what the world wants me to believe.
Raising support for 10 months now and seeing God come through in some pretty radical ways, you would think I would be a pro at trusting the Lord. Some days I deceive myself just enough to think that I am. I get into this groove of thinking, "oh yeah, I’m like a professional missionary. I’ve got this lesson on lock-down, Lord. Now that I trust you, can you quit punishing me and answer all my requests now so I can move on to much bigger and better things? Because clearly, I am ready. Thank you!" Yet the only thing that is made clear in those moments is that I am indeed not ready, as I obviously still have some pride issues that need to be ironed out.
And then there are those days like today, when I begin to drown in waves of doubt and frustration that the Lord reminds me of how little I do trust him. This afternoon I was outwardly preparing to run some errands, but my inner five year old was throwing a silent tantrum. I was grumbling to the Lord about a particularly stressful situation when out of nowhere this image popped into my mind. It was a very specific scene from a movie I have not watched in well over a decade, but I know the scene very well. And as silly as what you will read next may sound, I promise the Lord had a purpose for putting this into my brain…
Aladdin is not one of my favorite movies, but Aladdin himself is one of my all-time favorite characters. Maybe it’s because his character is way more developed than any other Disney prince proto-type. He’s got imagination in addition to his bravery. Or maybe it’s because I always thought that if he were real, he’d actually be kinda hot. Okay, so I had a crush on a cartoon. I digress. Cartoon Aladdin’s looks are not the purpose of this blog. But cartoon Aladdin’s actions are.
In this specific scene of the movie, Prince Ali (Aladdin) is perched on his magical flying carpet hovering above the balcony of beautiful Princess Jasmine. He offers to take her for a spin on the magic carpet and holds out his hand to her, asking, “Do you trust me?” Jasmine pauses and her eyes go wide, as if she has been asked this before. Indeed she has, at the beginning of the film by a young man in the marketplace (Aladdin during his pre-prince days). There is some familiarity in this prince’s voice now, enough to cause Jasmine to ask, “What?" as if trying to recall where she has heard this before. Her question prompts Prince Ali to repeat his question, almost insistently, “Do you trust me?” And with that same hinge of doubt in her voice but a look of curiosity, Jasmine trusts Prince Ali and says "yes." The second grader within you remembers what happens next- they sail around the world on the carpet, they sing “A Whole New World,” they fall in love, yada yada yada. Yet none of what happens after Jasmine said yes matters. The only thing that matters is simply that she said yes.
In the exact moment that I this pictured this scene, I felt the Lord whisper to me, “Do you trust me?” And in that next moment, I realized sadly that I don’t always. Some days I would answer that question with an emphatic, “Yes!”, while on days like today, I have more trouble channeling my inner Jasmine. Today the Lord reminded me that just as the viewers know that it is right for Jasmine to take Aladdin’s hand, it is right for me to trust Him. And even if it took a cartoon to open my eyes, I know that next time and every time the Lord asks me if I trust him, I want my answer to be “Yes!”
Raising support for 10 months now and seeing God come through in some pretty radical ways, you would think I would be a pro at trusting the Lord. Some days I deceive myself just enough to think that I am. I get into this groove of thinking, "oh yeah, I’m like a professional missionary. I’ve got this lesson on lock-down, Lord. Now that I trust you, can you quit punishing me and answer all my requests now so I can move on to much bigger and better things? Because clearly, I am ready. Thank you!" Yet the only thing that is made clear in those moments is that I am indeed not ready, as I obviously still have some pride issues that need to be ironed out.
And then there are those days like today, when I begin to drown in waves of doubt and frustration that the Lord reminds me of how little I do trust him. This afternoon I was outwardly preparing to run some errands, but my inner five year old was throwing a silent tantrum. I was grumbling to the Lord about a particularly stressful situation when out of nowhere this image popped into my mind. It was a very specific scene from a movie I have not watched in well over a decade, but I know the scene very well. And as silly as what you will read next may sound, I promise the Lord had a purpose for putting this into my brain…
Aladdin is not one of my favorite movies, but Aladdin himself is one of my all-time favorite characters. Maybe it’s because his character is way more developed than any other Disney prince proto-type. He’s got imagination in addition to his bravery. Or maybe it’s because I always thought that if he were real, he’d actually be kinda hot. Okay, so I had a crush on a cartoon. I digress. Cartoon Aladdin’s looks are not the purpose of this blog. But cartoon Aladdin’s actions are.
In this specific scene of the movie, Prince Ali (Aladdin) is perched on his magical flying carpet hovering above the balcony of beautiful Princess Jasmine. He offers to take her for a spin on the magic carpet and holds out his hand to her, asking, “Do you trust me?” Jasmine pauses and her eyes go wide, as if she has been asked this before. Indeed she has, at the beginning of the film by a young man in the marketplace (Aladdin during his pre-prince days). There is some familiarity in this prince’s voice now, enough to cause Jasmine to ask, “What?" as if trying to recall where she has heard this before. Her question prompts Prince Ali to repeat his question, almost insistently, “Do you trust me?” And with that same hinge of doubt in her voice but a look of curiosity, Jasmine trusts Prince Ali and says "yes." The second grader within you remembers what happens next- they sail around the world on the carpet, they sing “A Whole New World,” they fall in love, yada yada yada. Yet none of what happens after Jasmine said yes matters. The only thing that matters is simply that she said yes.
In the exact moment that I this pictured this scene, I felt the Lord whisper to me, “Do you trust me?” And in that next moment, I realized sadly that I don’t always. Some days I would answer that question with an emphatic, “Yes!”, while on days like today, I have more trouble channeling my inner Jasmine. Today the Lord reminded me that just as the viewers know that it is right for Jasmine to take Aladdin’s hand, it is right for me to trust Him. And even if it took a cartoon to open my eyes, I know that next time and every time the Lord asks me if I trust him, I want my answer to be “Yes!”
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Favorite Day
My favorite day (in Tuscaloosa) didn’t start off so favorably. It was hot as hades, and I just knew it was going to rain. And I was getting sick of the rain raining on my parade. But life goes on rain or shine, and after a quick stop at the bank Rach and I reluctantly headed off to Planet Fitness. Not reluctant to work out per se, but to step inside Planet Fitness itself. That place is sketch, and other highly reputable sources (Alana) have confirmed that it’s true. Maybe it’s because there is more standing around talking than working out at any given time. Or maybe it’s that feeling that someone creepy is probably scamming on you. Yesterday it was because everyone working out within a 5 foot radius of me smelled like moldy french fries. Regardless, we get our little 30 minute cardio in and high-tail it outside, only to find that’s it raining. Scratch that- pouring. And Rach with her I-Pod, and me in my oversized white t-shirt, are NOT stepping out into that rain.
So we decide to wait it out, walking down the strip-mall plaza to inconspicuously take cover away from PF. Guess we weren’t as incognito as I thought, because no sooner do we come to a stop than a door opens and a young man ( or teenager, not sure) steps out of the Chuck-E- Cheese’s! This sweet young worker guy then proceeds to ask us if we’d like some garbage bags to put over our heads so we won’t get wet. After a pretty long pause, we both accept his offer and follow him inside the pizza joint. (Which I immediately regretted because I started craving pizza. Probably coulda scored some free slices if we stuck around. Save that for another rainy day.) As soon as we step in the door, we encounter a little girl screaming her head off as another sibling struggles to hold her back. Apparently she was afraid of Chuck-E and bolted for the door. Yet not even this throws our new friend off his task. He promptly asks another co-worker for some garbage bags. Mind you, at this point I am expecting some small little bags to hold over our heads, maybe like a Publix bag. But oh no, this was much better, because out comes the other co-worker with two clear, industrial size garbage bags! After fumbling around for some scissors and coming up empty-handed, Chuck-E man decides to take it upon himself to bust holes through the bags and create ponchos for us. He even helps me slip it over my head! I’m not sure what Rachel is thinking at this point, but if my ESP is working correctly I know she is also dying on the inside. At this point I’m feeling really cool in my 4 ½ feet long garbage bag. But I can't laugh too hard, so I thank him while also silently thanking God that the bags were clear. Our new friend also searches for two zip-lock bags, and once successful in his hunt, helps Rach wrap up her I-Pod. No single layer for her, nope; he insists she double bag it. I’m not quite sure what inspired this sudden interest in sheltering the two us from the rain, but I figure it must have been a pretty slow day at Chuck-E’s.
At this point we’re feeling pretty protected and ready to roll. After a round of thank-yous, we bid Chuck-E and the gang good-bye, and get ready to make the mad dash to the car. So we take off, simultaneously trying not to trip over our full-length rain gear and laughing at our ridiculous fortune. Meanwhile, we are praying that no one we know recognizes us. (We could just imagine some students spotting us from afar and saying, Hey, who are those weirdos in garbage bags? Oh wait, are those the new staff girls?!) Then we plopped ourselves down in the car, super-fly garbage-bag ponchos and all, and cracked-up the entire way home.
I was retelling the story to my aunt and grandma today, and for some reason I don't think they thought it was very funny. I, on the other hand, think it was hilarious. Maybe it was just one of those you-had-to-be-there-moments. All I know is I loved it. It’s funny how God used something as loathsome as the rain to bring a smile to face. He's good at that, that being funny thing. And even if it’s something as silly as running through the rain in a garbage bag, I think he delights in seeing His children smile. So thanks for the laugh, God. And for my favorite day (in Tuscaloosa) so far.
I bet if this was a Hefty One-Zip we could have gotten away with just one.
I begin my career as a poncho model next week.
So we decide to wait it out, walking down the strip-mall plaza to inconspicuously take cover away from PF. Guess we weren’t as incognito as I thought, because no sooner do we come to a stop than a door opens and a young man ( or teenager, not sure) steps out of the Chuck-E- Cheese’s! This sweet young worker guy then proceeds to ask us if we’d like some garbage bags to put over our heads so we won’t get wet. After a pretty long pause, we both accept his offer and follow him inside the pizza joint. (Which I immediately regretted because I started craving pizza. Probably coulda scored some free slices if we stuck around. Save that for another rainy day.) As soon as we step in the door, we encounter a little girl screaming her head off as another sibling struggles to hold her back. Apparently she was afraid of Chuck-E and bolted for the door. Yet not even this throws our new friend off his task. He promptly asks another co-worker for some garbage bags. Mind you, at this point I am expecting some small little bags to hold over our heads, maybe like a Publix bag. But oh no, this was much better, because out comes the other co-worker with two clear, industrial size garbage bags! After fumbling around for some scissors and coming up empty-handed, Chuck-E man decides to take it upon himself to bust holes through the bags and create ponchos for us. He even helps me slip it over my head! I’m not sure what Rachel is thinking at this point, but if my ESP is working correctly I know she is also dying on the inside. At this point I’m feeling really cool in my 4 ½ feet long garbage bag. But I can't laugh too hard, so I thank him while also silently thanking God that the bags were clear. Our new friend also searches for two zip-lock bags, and once successful in his hunt, helps Rach wrap up her I-Pod. No single layer for her, nope; he insists she double bag it. I’m not quite sure what inspired this sudden interest in sheltering the two us from the rain, but I figure it must have been a pretty slow day at Chuck-E’s.
At this point we’re feeling pretty protected and ready to roll. After a round of thank-yous, we bid Chuck-E and the gang good-bye, and get ready to make the mad dash to the car. So we take off, simultaneously trying not to trip over our full-length rain gear and laughing at our ridiculous fortune. Meanwhile, we are praying that no one we know recognizes us. (We could just imagine some students spotting us from afar and saying, Hey, who are those weirdos in garbage bags? Oh wait, are those the new staff girls?!) Then we plopped ourselves down in the car, super-fly garbage-bag ponchos and all, and cracked-up the entire way home.
I was retelling the story to my aunt and grandma today, and for some reason I don't think they thought it was very funny. I, on the other hand, think it was hilarious. Maybe it was just one of those you-had-to-be-there-moments. All I know is I loved it. It’s funny how God used something as loathsome as the rain to bring a smile to face. He's good at that, that being funny thing. And even if it’s something as silly as running through the rain in a garbage bag, I think he delights in seeing His children smile. So thanks for the laugh, God. And for my favorite day (in Tuscaloosa) so far.
I bet if this was a Hefty One-Zip we could have gotten away with just one.
I begin my career as a poncho model next week.Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Anywhere But Here
Lately I find myself wanting to be anywhere, anywhere but here.
This struggle isn’t anything new- on the contrary. If I’ve learned anything about myself over the past almost 25 years, it’s that I don’t exactly thrive in new environments. I kinda just cope until this magical switch happens, and it always does. This is the story of my life: the Lord puts me somewhere, and the only place I want to be… is somewhere else. Where, I don’t usually know. But I do know that it happened when I first went off to college, when I spent a summer in Fort Lauderdale, while I was a new member in my sorority, my first summer at Greek Summit… the pattern recycles itself.
But praise the Lord, He always knows better than I do! And I was walking on campus yesterday, my heart was once again reminded of this. The setting sun and air too crisp for a May evening brought with them whispers of His sovereignty, and a sweet reminder of one of my favorite summers- the summer I spent in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
My story begins late in the spring of 2008. I was gearing up to spend three weeks in Destin, getting my bronze on and, oh yeah, staffing a summer project too. I was pretty pumped. Until, that is, I received some unexpected news. I would not be reporting to Destin after all. Instead I was asked to relocate to Jackson Hole, WY.
Come again? You mean Wyoming, the least populated state in the entire nation?! Now I’m normally a pretty compliant girl, sometimes known to be a little bit of a pushover. But not this time. No, I was determined to fight back and get my will, in the most polite and respectful way, of course. But alas, the powers that be (meaning Crusade’s regional team), were firm in their decision. There was simply a greater need for single female staff in Jackson Hole, and well, that’s where they were sending me. Little did I know that the Lord, by way of the regional office, was giving me of the greatest gifts I have ever received in my short lifetime.
Immediately upon receiving the final word, I did some research on this Jackson Hole place. I had heard rumors of its beauty, and how refreshing it would be for my walk with the Lord. I had also heard through the grapevine that a few UCF students were coming, so that made it seem a little more appealing. But still, the doubting Thomas within me was stronger than any belief that I could or would love this summer as much as I thought I would love being in Destin.
A few weeks later, I landed in JH nervous but kind of excited, having no clue what to expect but hoping for the best. Stepping off the plane immediately put a few fears at ease, as Jackson Hole is breathtakingly beautiful. I don’t know how to properly articulate the majesty of such a place. The splendor of God’s creation is so evident there. Everywhere you look you can’t help but be amazed. Even the Albertson’s is gorgeous! You laugh, but it’s true. Upon arriving at my new home away from home I met the rest of the staff team, all of whom I came to enjoy working with immensely. I found out I’d be sharing a room with the other single staff women, Ellen & Kelly. I had no clue how much fun I’d come to have with them over the next 3 ½ weeks. Their wisdom and encouragement spoke volumes to my soul, and I doubt they know how deeply my time with them impacted me and my decision to continue in ministry. All in all, the first four days in JH weren’t so bad. They were quite wonderful, actually. I had some time to get to know the lay of the land, cruise the strip, eat gobs of great food, do a little exploring (I looove to explore!) and prep for the students.
Those first four days were crucial for preparing my heart for the weeks ahead, and soon I felt ready to welcome 24 fresh new faces! But the night before the students arrived, I was up most of the night with one of the worst stomach aches of my life. I usually get stomach aches when I’m feeling anxious, but it’s rare that I can’t sleep it off. I wish I had been able to quiet my brain that night, because that stomach ache may have been one of my biggest wastes of emotion. I would soon come to find out that there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about, nothing at all.
The next day the students arrived, and I still recall seeing their anxious yet excited faces. Many of them were feeling the same way I had just a few days prior, I was sure. I remember the nervous energy floating around “the compound”, that same energy that had all but evaporated day two. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a group of strangers bond so quickly. Within days I grew to love each of the girls in my small group, and I wondered how I had been so blessed to have the group I did. Looking back, it is so clear the Lord had his hand over this place, and my heart. I don’t know if I can quite put into words the magic that transpired during the rest of project, one blog post simply couldn’t do it justice! But I’m sure you know how I felt when I say that those next 3 ½ weeks passed by in what seemed to be the blink of an eye. Before I knew it, I was leaving the airport in tears, so heartbroken to say good-bye to these precious students that I had grown to love so much.
To say I that I loved my time in Jackson Hole would be a gross understatement. Every second of that project, I never questioned being anywhere but there. The place I hadn’t wanted to go became the place I didn’t want to leave. Despite my initial refusal the Lord had prepared for me a most precious gift- a more rich understanding of the His sovereignty and grace in my life. It is because of my time there, in Jackson Hole, that I began to truly love ministry. It was because of that next year of ministry that I was convinced of my calling to join staff with Campus Crusade for Christ. And it was my because of my answer to that call that I was led to the exact place I am in now: Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
I don’t know where I would be now had the Lord not intervened that summer. I may have loved Greek Summit, or I may have hated it. I may have walked away from that summer in love with ministry, or ready to throw in the towel. To this day no one but the Lord knows, and who but him should care? I am so thankful for His change in my direction. Through all the valleys I have walked and in all the places where I wanted to be anywhere but, I have learned that the Lord’s plans for me are good. And although I’m still struggling with wanting to be anywhere but here this summer, I will obediently look with anticipation to the days the Lord has planned for me.
A summer in review: JHSP 08
This struggle isn’t anything new- on the contrary. If I’ve learned anything about myself over the past almost 25 years, it’s that I don’t exactly thrive in new environments. I kinda just cope until this magical switch happens, and it always does. This is the story of my life: the Lord puts me somewhere, and the only place I want to be… is somewhere else. Where, I don’t usually know. But I do know that it happened when I first went off to college, when I spent a summer in Fort Lauderdale, while I was a new member in my sorority, my first summer at Greek Summit… the pattern recycles itself.
But praise the Lord, He always knows better than I do! And I was walking on campus yesterday, my heart was once again reminded of this. The setting sun and air too crisp for a May evening brought with them whispers of His sovereignty, and a sweet reminder of one of my favorite summers- the summer I spent in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
My story begins late in the spring of 2008. I was gearing up to spend three weeks in Destin, getting my bronze on and, oh yeah, staffing a summer project too. I was pretty pumped. Until, that is, I received some unexpected news. I would not be reporting to Destin after all. Instead I was asked to relocate to Jackson Hole, WY.
Come again? You mean Wyoming, the least populated state in the entire nation?! Now I’m normally a pretty compliant girl, sometimes known to be a little bit of a pushover. But not this time. No, I was determined to fight back and get my will, in the most polite and respectful way, of course. But alas, the powers that be (meaning Crusade’s regional team), were firm in their decision. There was simply a greater need for single female staff in Jackson Hole, and well, that’s where they were sending me. Little did I know that the Lord, by way of the regional office, was giving me of the greatest gifts I have ever received in my short lifetime.
Immediately upon receiving the final word, I did some research on this Jackson Hole place. I had heard rumors of its beauty, and how refreshing it would be for my walk with the Lord. I had also heard through the grapevine that a few UCF students were coming, so that made it seem a little more appealing. But still, the doubting Thomas within me was stronger than any belief that I could or would love this summer as much as I thought I would love being in Destin.
A few weeks later, I landed in JH nervous but kind of excited, having no clue what to expect but hoping for the best. Stepping off the plane immediately put a few fears at ease, as Jackson Hole is breathtakingly beautiful. I don’t know how to properly articulate the majesty of such a place. The splendor of God’s creation is so evident there. Everywhere you look you can’t help but be amazed. Even the Albertson’s is gorgeous! You laugh, but it’s true. Upon arriving at my new home away from home I met the rest of the staff team, all of whom I came to enjoy working with immensely. I found out I’d be sharing a room with the other single staff women, Ellen & Kelly. I had no clue how much fun I’d come to have with them over the next 3 ½ weeks. Their wisdom and encouragement spoke volumes to my soul, and I doubt they know how deeply my time with them impacted me and my decision to continue in ministry. All in all, the first four days in JH weren’t so bad. They were quite wonderful, actually. I had some time to get to know the lay of the land, cruise the strip, eat gobs of great food, do a little exploring (I looove to explore!) and prep for the students.
Those first four days were crucial for preparing my heart for the weeks ahead, and soon I felt ready to welcome 24 fresh new faces! But the night before the students arrived, I was up most of the night with one of the worst stomach aches of my life. I usually get stomach aches when I’m feeling anxious, but it’s rare that I can’t sleep it off. I wish I had been able to quiet my brain that night, because that stomach ache may have been one of my biggest wastes of emotion. I would soon come to find out that there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about, nothing at all.
The next day the students arrived, and I still recall seeing their anxious yet excited faces. Many of them were feeling the same way I had just a few days prior, I was sure. I remember the nervous energy floating around “the compound”, that same energy that had all but evaporated day two. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a group of strangers bond so quickly. Within days I grew to love each of the girls in my small group, and I wondered how I had been so blessed to have the group I did. Looking back, it is so clear the Lord had his hand over this place, and my heart. I don’t know if I can quite put into words the magic that transpired during the rest of project, one blog post simply couldn’t do it justice! But I’m sure you know how I felt when I say that those next 3 ½ weeks passed by in what seemed to be the blink of an eye. Before I knew it, I was leaving the airport in tears, so heartbroken to say good-bye to these precious students that I had grown to love so much.
To say I that I loved my time in Jackson Hole would be a gross understatement. Every second of that project, I never questioned being anywhere but there. The place I hadn’t wanted to go became the place I didn’t want to leave. Despite my initial refusal the Lord had prepared for me a most precious gift- a more rich understanding of the His sovereignty and grace in my life. It is because of my time there, in Jackson Hole, that I began to truly love ministry. It was because of that next year of ministry that I was convinced of my calling to join staff with Campus Crusade for Christ. And it was my because of my answer to that call that I was led to the exact place I am in now: Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
I don’t know where I would be now had the Lord not intervened that summer. I may have loved Greek Summit, or I may have hated it. I may have walked away from that summer in love with ministry, or ready to throw in the towel. To this day no one but the Lord knows, and who but him should care? I am so thankful for His change in my direction. Through all the valleys I have walked and in all the places where I wanted to be anywhere but, I have learned that the Lord’s plans for me are good. And although I’m still struggling with wanting to be anywhere but here this summer, I will obediently look with anticipation to the days the Lord has planned for me.
A summer in review: JHSP 08
Home Sweet Home, The Rocky Mountain Lodge, aka- "The Compound."
With a view like this, I didn't mind waking up early every morning!
My first hike!
Hiking Jenny Lake.
Sticks n Stones at Inspiration Point!
One of my favorite drives in the rental car, the road to Wilson.
It was snowing the second to last day- in June!
A quick pit stop in the Tetons after New Staff Training last year... felt good to be back!
“In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.” Proverbs 16:9
80s themed dance party!
Yellowstone.
One of my favorite drives in the rental car, the road to Wilson.
Snapped this pic on top of a mountain, sitting atop my horse!
My girls from L to R: Kristin, Molly, Lindsey, Me, Heather, & Allison. I love you ladies!
It was snowing the second to last day- in June!
The whole crew: JHSP 08!
A quick pit stop in the Tetons after New Staff Training last year... felt good to be back!
“In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.” Proverbs 16:9
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