Whoops!

I did something stupid.  I mean really, really stupid.  You see I just had to go and write a post that was apparently pretty good.  It got posted on Facebook.  And re-posted, and shared and shared again, and people I didn't even know were reading it and commenting on it.  Someone even said they wished someone had shared that letter with them when they were younger.  Overnight, it seemed, I had five times as many people looking at that one post as I had looking at any other post.

The problem is, now I can't write.  It seems I have nothing to say.  Suddenly the pressure is there to improve upon my work, even if the pressure is only coming from myself.  But I can't, not right now at least.  It must have been a moment of inspiration that led me to speak to a girl I don't even know and who will probably never know I even thought of her.  I can't fabricate inspiration. I'm not that good.

I write for fun.  Most of my life I've been writing for myself.  I have journals and journals full of pointless ramblings because I didn't have anything to say but wanted to say it anyways.  I have short stories and dialogues and a few poems as well.  I have stories in my head that could one day become a novel if I could just figure out what happens in the end.  Or in the middle.  Or the beginning.

Most of the stuff I wrote in order to impress people was pretty awful, I always thought.  Or boring at least.  Essays with five sentence paragraphs that begin and conclude thoughts nicely and neatly with just the facts and nothing more always were boring to me.  To read and to write.  The first time I ever had a teacher praise my work, and I mean really praise it, was when I was a senior in high school and I stopped caring about grades and simply sat at a computer and wrote what was on my mind. I don't think my teacher knew I was sarcastic until that moment and she loved it.  From that moment on, I stopped trying to follow structure.  I wrote for myself, and what I wanted to write about, with the occasional Greek paper as a partial exception. (I always seemed to find something I was interested in to insert into the paper.)

But for some reason I decided to write where others could see, not just my teachers.  I was still writing for myself, only others could read it.  Now, though, for the first time I feel the need to impress, to live up to the standard that I so foolishly set.  What a mistake!

I'm going to ignore that standard and keep writing for myself.  If you'd like, you may continue to read what I have to say.  If you don't like it, go read some C.S. Lewis, or Orson Scott Card, two writers who, in my opinion, always live up to their own lofty standards.

A letter to a stranger

Dear young lady trying on swimsuits today,

I wish I knew you so we could have this conversation face to face.  I heard you crying and the sound broke my heart.  Sometimes kids are just rude to their parents, but I know the angry words you said to yours today came from the hurt and frustration you felt as you tried suit after suit that was just too small.  You may not believe it but so many of us, maybe even all of us, have had our share of meltdowns in the dressing room.  One part of the body is too big, another to small, arms are too short, shoulders are too broad.  Trust me, I work in clothing, I've heard it all.  No one is runway-model perfect.  No one.  Not even the models.  They usually starve themselves to look the way they do and by the time you see their picture they've been tummy-tucked even more.

But I know a secret.  You are beautiful.  Truly you are.  You are fearfully and wonderfully made.  I don't know you, but I know the one who made you and I know he doesn't make mistakes.  The boys may not think it now, but you are a rare gem, a beauty beyond measure.  Your inner self is made in the image of the most beautiful being ever.  I know its frustrating to not be the way you want to be or to be the way the world thinks you should be but don't let that define you.  The girls who let that define them become obsessive, anorexic, fake.  The real you is too exquisite to hide.  I know many beautiful women.  Few of them have "the perfect body."

Being a teenager is so hard.  Every mean comment takes up residence in your brain, every heartbreak feels like a black hole, every imperfection feels like its being posted on a big screen for the world to see.  I hope you know the truth, the author of the truth, because only he can really show you how valuable you are.  Don't let one bad day buying swimsuits influence the image you see in the mirror.

The Lord and Creator of all things loves you and calls you his child.  That is all you need.  He thinks you're pretty special and beautiful beyond compare.

Merry Christmas Ransom Church!

This weekend has been...well...hard.  Five years ago this weekend a good friend died in a skiing accident.  Four years ago this same weekend I witnessed someone die for the first (and so far, only) time.  On Friday a small private plane crashed taking off from the airport here and killed all three passengers and the pilot.  One of the men in the plane went to our church.  I didn't know him well but his family, members of my church family, are hurting right now, and my heart aches for them.  Logic tells me that there is nothing cursed about the second weekend of December, but still, every time it comes around, I find myself holding my breath just a little.

Despite all the negativity associated with this weekend, this year another significant chapter in my life begins.  This time it is something good.  Very good.  This weekend was the very last weekend that the Ransom Church will ever meet in a movie theater.  Several months ago we bought a building and next week we meet for the very first time in that building.  God's got such a great sense of humor on the timing of that one, doesn't he?  "Merry Christmas guys!  I got you a building!"  I'm sure I'm going get some fantastic gifts this year, but its sure going to be hard to top that one.

I can't tell you how unbelievably excited I am for this new building, but there is definitely a taste of the bitter mixed with the sweet. Even though it has been called "the fifth most ghetto place in Sioux Falls," God has done some amazing things from that movie theater.  He has changed lives.  He has brought new followers to him, brought runaways back, and given new purpose to those who love him but were beginning to forget what it was all about.  I began my time here in Sioux Falls fascinated by a group of people who dared to call a theater a holy place.  I stayed because, though imperfect, they love like God loves.  I know you can find that in many, many churches, including countless here in Sioux Falls, but it was this body of believers who became family.  So when I say I was a little sad to walk out of that place today for the last time as a church, you'll understand that it is because God was there.

Great thing is, God already parked himself at the corner of 3rd and Main long ago.  He had this place picked out long before we saw it, envisioned ourselves in it, or dreamed it would ever be possible to own.  He has a purpose for us here and I know I am not the only one who is ridiculously excited to see what it is.  Its a little sad to see the old place go, but it doesn't even hold a candle to how happy I am to call the new one home.

Christmas is Weird

The last few posts have been serious and I'm ready for a little fun.  So tonight I'm going to write about how absolutely weird Christmas is.  The Christmas tree is on.  The stocking is being raided early (yes, I already have candy in there. Resse's.  A gift from a sweet friend.  Get it? Sweet? Candy? Don't worry, its funny, because I am hilarious.)  The fireplace DVD is on.  So is the "Christian Contemporary Christmas" station on Pandora.  "Christian" to ensure I hear at least a few carols and in hope that I don't hear "Winter Wonderland" or "Let it Snow" in ANY annoying version again today.  I am officially being as Christmas-y as possible without actually breaking out the ugly sweater because that is way too good to waste on an evening alone.

So here we go, my top 7 reasons that Christmas is weird:

1. The word Yule.   I just don't get it.  And what even is a yule log? Or yuletide?  Or wassail?  Or figgy pudding?

2. Christmas music.  Obviously.  I work in retail, I'm allowed to be slightly Grinch-like about this.  Especially when we listen to the same 8 songs in 12 different versions every day! And especially when the people who made the playlist did dumb things like choose the 12 second version of the Dahoo-Dores song from the Grinch instead of the full song from the end of the movie.  (By the way, did you know its actually daHoo and not daVoo.  I didn't.  Until now.)  Maybe this is why my favorite song at work is "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch."  But even taking all Grinchiness out of it, think about how weird it is.  What other holiday has an entire genre of music?  Take Valentine's day. "But we need a little Valentine's.  Right this very minute. Roses at my doorstep. Chocolate wrapped in paper." It just doesn't work.

3. Romance.  Can somebody please explain to me how Christmas went from being about the salvation of mankind to how important it is to be kissing under the mistletoe?  We have mistletoe in our apartment and I can assure you it doesn't work, to begin with.  And what's so romantic about the cold anyways?  We sing about romantic sleigh rides but who has even ridden in a sleigh?  Do they even exist anymore?  I guess it would be romantic to snuggle up with the portable furnaces that men tend to be but seriously, when I'm outside in December, I'm usually not thinking, "Hey, let's stare into each other's eyes for a minute."  Its usually, "Get me inside before I learn that it actually is possible for eyeballs to freeze."

4. Presents.  Okay, maybe when we were kids it made more sense.  Kids don't make money, so giving them gifts is perfectly acceptable.  But what about when we are older?  Half the time we just give each other gift cards anyways.  Its like my dad said, "Why don't I just go and get a hundred dollar bill and give it to mom, who can pass it to one kid, to the next, to the next and so on and I'll get it back and put it back in the bank.  Merry Christmas!  In fact, let's just make it a thousand!"  That's kinda what gift cards are.  I know, I know, the idea is to give a gift that they wouldn't normally get themselves but how often do we put that much thought into it?  Maybe I'm just jaded by seeing so many lists where the child has cut out pictures and demanded that they get that exact one.  You wouldn't believe how many people come in only to find that the exact color requested isn't in stock and then get on the phone and ask the child who is getting the gift what would be an acceptable alternative.  Seriously?  Whatever happened to surprises and giving out of love and not obligation?

5. Increased Donations at Christmas.  I get its the end of the year and all that tax-deductible whatever, plus I'm sure many people give out of the generosity of their hearts from their Christmas bonuses and I know organizations aren't crying about the budget-boosting, but don't people know that people are hungry in January too?  That is all.

6. Fireplace DVDs.   I love my fireplace DVD.  Too much probably.  And I know its all in my head, but I do feel warmer when its on. And if you don't have one, you should get one. Check Walgreens.  Got mine for $2 there last year and its the best thing that's ever happened to Sunday Night Hot Drinks. But I admit it.  Its super weird.

7. Green and Red. Pink and red. Red, white, and blue.  Orange and Black.  Who picks these colors anyway?

Don't get me wrong.  I love Christmas. Sometimes I repeat that phrase over and over to myself between clenched teeth to remember that Christmas isn't about rude customers who snap their fingers at you like a dog, or who blame you for the fact that what they want isn't real or that it is real but costs too much.  I love Christmas. (almost as much as I love the song that just came on.  I Celebrate the Day by Relient K. Good job Pandora.)  I even love most parts of the things I talked about above.  Mistletoe may not create romantic magic, but it certainly creates hilarious moments.  As my sister would say, "You say weird as if its a bad thing."

I guess it makes sense though, seeing where the holiday gets its origins.  God as a baby, born to die?  Weirdest thing I ever heard of.  Awesome, but weird.

We'll face unafraid, the plans that we've made...

.....walking in a winter wonderland.

Now, I'm not really sure what facing the future with courage has to do with walking in the snow, but I must say, that of all the lyrics in all the not-really-about-Christmas Christmas songs out there, this line is my favorite.  The rest of the song annoys me, especially since the store apparently thinks everyone would just love to hear two versions of the same song back to back. (Seriously people I know that Christmas music isn't the biggest genre out there, but there are so many better, or at least more, options! I heard this song at least three times today. I think I'd prefer Suzie Snowflake.)

I like this line because it speaks of courage.  Some may say optimism, some may call it wistful thinking, but I like to think that it has a deeper meaning behind it, whether the lyricist meant it to or not.  See, I think that to say "we'll face unafraid" implies that the young couple knows that their plans are just outrageous enough that if they think about it too much they might actually be afraid to face them.  And so they decide to face them anyways, without fear.  The world may see that as foolish. I see that as courage.  Because isn't that a little bit what courage is?  Foolishness? Isn't it just a little foolish for that young man to risk his life in our military?  Isn't it a little foolish to run into that burning building to find the child that is still inside?  Isn't it foolish to rush to the aid of a stranger in need when danger could be just around the corner?  And yet we don't call these people foolish.  We call them heroes. Courage is looking foolishness in the eye and saying, "There is something that is worth more than my fear."

The opportunity to demonstrate courage that big and bold doesn't come to us every day.  I have many friends in the military.  Few are overseas at the moment.  Most likely they won't need to make the choice to risk their lives for another anytime soon.  Same with the rest of us.  A few have chosen professions that put them in danger often; firefighters, police officers.  The rest of us may one day have the opportunity to save a life.  We may witness a car crash or a heart attack and be able to rise to the occasion but that situation will come upon us suddenly, with no warning.  You can decide to be heroes now but when the time comes, you may forget how to unlock the car door and be rendered useless.

I wonder, though, what would happen if we faced every day looking for opportunities to be courageous.  What if we decided to ask someone who is clearly struggling if we could help even though it may be a huge time commitment?  What if we started saving money for our dreams now so we can see them realized later?  What if we saw an opportunity and took advantage of it, not in spite of being scared but because of it?  

Its funny how courage isn't really thought about until it is lacking or shown extraordinarily.  And when we do see it we realize how much we’ve missed it. Now, I don’t mean that we should go out looking for danger to prove that we are brave.  Courage can be shown every day.  For example I had a friend tell me recently that she'd been asked out by a guy she wasn't interested in.  Even though she was not attracted to him, she was very impressed that he had the guts to say something.  Now, I'm not sure if this was showing extraordinary courage of the kind to be likened to death defying feats of bravery, but it definitely stood in stark contrast to experiences that every single girl in the room had dealt with where someone had taken the easy way out rather than ask one simple question. 

It makes me think of the question that a junior high teacher once asked my class. "What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"  I’ve always thought about that question in the context of the big things, save-the-world kind of things.  But I wonder if we lived every day with that question in our hearts and just went for things what would happen.  I think the courage to face the big stuff would follow.  Should we experiment?  After all, failure isn’t so bad, as long as we keep trying something new.  Did you know that Edison wasn’t the first person to come up with the concept of the light bulb?  He was just the first person to have the determination and courage to try thousands and thousands of filaments until one worked long enough to be practical.  Everyone else took the easy way out and have been forgotten about entirely.

So here's my question to you: "What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"

Advice

Lately I've been trying to be intentional about seeing God's hand in the every day, which is quite hard when you are also trying to think on things that are true.  God isn't always obvious with his actions and sometimes they seem like coincidence, so its easy to say that its an overactive mind making connections that aren't there when this certain thing happens to be occurring right at this certain, ironic moment.

So on Sunday when the thought popped into my mind to ask Friend A for advice, I was aware that this might not be just a random thought but a thought from God.  I normally would not ask Friend A for advice.  In fact I don't really talk to Friend A for reasons that are entirely my fault (and for which I hope he knows how truly sorry I am).  So it was likely that this thought was not my own.  I thought "yeah, but..." and God answered my "yeah, but..." with an opportunity to speak to him.  And another and another.  I kept turning them down until finally as I was walking away the last time God stopped me and said, "Seriously?  You ask to see my hand and then ignore it when  I make it super-obvious."  So I turned around and marched right back in and asked A for the advice I needed.

Funny thing was, I knew exactly what he would say.  Not the exact words but the general idea.  I don't want to give too many details so forgive me for over-simplifying but essentially he said, "Suck it up and get over it." These were the words that I needed to hear and I knew it but for some reason I tried to argue with him once he said it.  In the middle of my sentence I stopped and said, "I should just stop talking and walk away and let you talk me out of doing something stupid.  I came to you so you'd talk me out of stupid actions and I'm not letting you do it."  He agreed with my sentiments about Friend B's actions and that should have been enough.

Isn't that the way it goes though?  We all want and seek advice but how often do we listen to it?  I catch myself doing this all the time.  I can't tell you how many times I've said or thought to myself, "If this were one of the girls in my dorm I'd tell her to..." but then not take that advice myself.  I believe my brother-in-law put it best when he said, "I am capable of making good decisions, the problem is that I just don't."  We all laughed at him because he was just so dang honest but I think that he probably speaks for the majority of humanity when he says that.  So often great advice is given but not taken and I will readily admit that I myself am guilty of letting good advice pass me by.




I probably should have made this post about things I'm thankful for seeing as its Thanksgiving today but this post has been working in my mind since Sunday and I took the first opportunity to write that I could.  Now the turkey needs to be put in the oven but I'll leave you with a brief summary of some things I'm thankful for today and everyday.

Family, friends, roommates, The Ransom and our beautiful new building, sunshine, turkey, days off, a job, a roof over my head, food to eat, clean water to drink, delicious teas including chai, Constant Comment, and a new favorite: Sleepytime.  I'm thankful for friends who say the hard things when I need to hear it and who lift me up when I'm down.  I'm thankful for a life group this past semester that was just simply rockin' and that there is a guitar sitting in my room right now and I actually know what to do with it.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Whatever is true...

Sometimes I get stuck.  Sometimes there's just one thing that won't leave me alone.  A thought or a quote, often its a Bible verse.  I'll be trucking along, reading when all in a sudden I can't go on.  I go back and reread a passage over and over again until it sinks into my brain.  Often I'll pick up my Bible the next day expecting to read the next chapter but I find myself fixated on the very same passage as the day before.  It won't let me go. This week that passage is Philippians 4:8:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true,

whatever is noble,

whatever is right,

whatever is pure,

whatever is lovely,

whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things.

Actually, I'm not even stuck on the whole verse.  As I reread I include the whole verse as well as 4-9 as well and everything in these few verses is absolute gold, but what I'm really, truly stuck on is three words.  Whatever is true.

I am told that men and women think differently.  Because of this I expect that most women who read this will sigh inwardly with understanding.  Perhaps the men will be slightly confused but I think not too much.  See, I've had multiple conversations with women about how what we are feeling so often becomes so strong and overwhelming that in our minds it becomes reality and it takes a whole lot of convincing to tell us otherwise.  So much of the running commentary in our brains is packed full of untruths:

"I'm fat"

"I'm ugly"
"No one loves me" 

"I'm no good at anything"

"I'm worthless"

"I'm hopeless"

We get these ideas into our heads and every idea we have is shaped around them.  We obsess over what we eat to be the "perfect body shape." (As if such a thing even exists.  Seriously, ask anyone, even the most beautiful person you know and I can bet they can pinpoint at least one thing they'd like to change if they could.)  We spend obscene amounts of dollars on makeup and clothing to try to look pretty.  We change who we are to try to fit in.  We try to do everything to prove that we can, or we do nothing so no one sees us fail.  We try to be important, to be needed.  We try to change who we are.

We also try to change the past.  We constantly obsess about what we would have done if we could have done things differently:

"If only I hadn't said anything, then she wouldn't be mad at me."

"If only I had made a different choice, then my life wouldn't be falling apart."

"If only I'd fought for him more, then he'd still love me."

We try to change the past by imagining how much better it could have been.  We ask what if, which is such a dangerous, dangerous question.  We also take small things and blow them way out of proportion, both good and bad:

"He smiled at me, that means he likes me and he'll ask me out and we'll get married and I'll name our kids after his great grandparents, I should probably figure out what those are."

"My friend just walked past me and only smiled. And it didn't look like a real smile.  I bet she's mad.  Probably at me.  But really, I'm the one who should be mad at her, because of that one time that she did that one thing.  How dare she be mad at me?"

And now you all are thinking, "That's totally me!" or "She is a crazy person!"

So when I read these three words, "whatever is true," of course I got stuck.  This false thinking permeates so much of our lives.  So, I tried an experiment.  I tried to not think things that were not true.  It turned out way harder than I expected.  But I learned something.  Its way better.  So many of the things that make me upset make me upset because of the untrue proportions I take them to.  

For example, at work right now, we are getting ready for the holiday season.  Soon, it will be getting South Dakota cold and people will be wanting coats and hats and gloves and they're going to want it all to be magical and weigh nothing but keep you as warm as a Jamaican beach in July when its snowing and the wind is howling and the river froze solid 35 degrees earlier.  And they're going to want a very specific hoodie that they knew we carried 5 years ago and they can't believe we don't carry that specific shade of puke green anymore and we ruined Christmas because we didn't have exactly what they wanted.  

Can I tell you something?  Those days and those customers will come.  And the week before Christmas is probably the least full of holiday cheer in retail possible.  But, its not even Thanksgiving yet.  Can I tell you what kind of people go shopping for Christmas gifts before Thanksgiving and coats before the first snow?  The really nice kind. The kind who are not in a hurry and who aren't going to blame you for the fact that their coat doesn't fit and its cold now but we just don't have their size.  So what good is it to me to become anxious about these hypothetical customers now?  Dwelling on the fact that they will come only makes it more irritating when they do.

I knew a young woman once who was convinced that a certain young man and her were destined to be together because they happened to be the only two customers in a coffee shop once and he said hi and they talked and it had to be God putting them together.  Was it any surprise that she was hurt in the end?  What if she had thought about what was true? He was a very friendly guy and a great friend.  She could have gained a wonderful friendship instead of being bitterly disappointed.  I do this to myself all the time.  Instead of dwelling on what I have, I think about what I could have and completely miss out on the joy of what  it was that I had in the first place.

What do you think?  What are some untrue things that we/you dwell on?  What kinds of truths should we be dwelling on?

$3, 3 days

I wish I had written this blog last week when it was fresh and before I heard the sermon.  First of all because the effect is not as strong as it was but also because I just heard Micah quote Pastor Phil almost word for word what I wanted to say.  So for those of you who heard that, I promise I am not just copying him.

Last week my church did what we called the 3 for 3 campaign.  We had three days where we were allowed only $3 worth of food per day to try to understand a little better what so much of the world goes through.  I checked the box and did it and thought to myself that the hardest part would be no convenience food.  Even McDonalds is too expensive for this if you want to eat more than once a day.  I knew that I would have to give up sweets. (A can of pop at work is $.65, more than half the cost of one meal.  A bottle is more than an entire meal.)  I knew I would have to plan, because I wouldn't be able to stop by the store on the way to work to pick up a salad. (More than a day's worth in one mostly unsatisfying meal)  I knew snacks like almonds were going to be off the list. (unless I could force myself to stop eating them after two)  What I didn't expect was hunger.  I know that sounds strange, to only have three dollars and not expect hunger, but I thought I could eat enough chicken and rice to be full. Surprisingly, that wasn't the case.

The first shock came when I figured out how much my homemade veggie soup cost per serving, almost $2!  This is the meal that I make for myself in large quantities and freeze in order to save time and money. Even my cheap food was too expensive.  If I had divided each of the frozen containers in half, I would have been okay, but I would have been hungry.  I planned out my meals carefully, counting pennies.  I had the three days planned out and was feeling good.

Until I ate lunch on the first day.  Spaghetti. I was hungry long before dinner, which was strange because this is a common meal for me.  I guess the more you think about food the more hungry you feel.  Oh well, dinner came soon enough.  Two slices of bread, two tablespoon peanut butter, ten carrots and sixty-five cents worth of salad.  Don't forget to count the dressing too.  I was hungry, but that made sense because I had budgeted some wiggle room for snacks.  Problem was, I didn't think to bring any.  There is a vending machine at work but everything in it would have put me over my budget. Snacks would have to wait until I could pick up some Ramen on the way home at 9:00.  Ten cents. Piece of cake.

Strangely enough I must have caught my manager coming off of his break because he held out a cookie and said, "Want a cookie?"  I accepted it without thinking but then reconsidered.  Of course if someone was actually starving they would accept this gift without calculating how much it cost, but the point of the exercise was to live like the other half lives, not to see how much free food I could acquire. How much does a cookie cost anyways? I figured it was probably less than the forty-five cents I had left for the day and so I ate it, but I  was more grateful for that cookie at that moment than I thought possible.

I went to bed hungry.  Why is it that on any normal day a pb&j with carrots and a salad would have been just fine but the day that you are told you cannot have anything else is the day that you are suddenly obsessed with food?  In the morning I decided to skip breakfast so that I could have more food for lunch.  I've never done that before.  Okay well, I do every year for Thanksgiving I suppose, but that's only so I can be even more of a glutton by the time the turkey gets done.  I've never had to decide whether or not eating this food now would be better or skipping this meal so the next one could perhaps be big enough to be satisfying.  Reality check #1.

I became more and more aware of what other people have to go through when each meal became less and less satisfying.  Its one thing to have one meal that is slightly too small, but every meal?  That is something I've never experienced.  I've fasted before and so I've been so hungry that you can't quite see straight and your head begins to hurt, but to feel that way after three days where I could still eat, just not enough?  I never imagined I'd feel that way.  And then when Thursday rolled around and I could eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted I realized just how spoiled I am.  The people who have to live on less than three dollars a day don't have any clue when or if their hunger will ever end.  They don't always know when their next meal will be and they would be willing to bet their life that it won't be satisfying.  I was counting down the meals to Thursday while they are just trying to find something to eat today.

I don't really know how to end this post, only to say that if you want an idea what many other people go through, you should try  this challenge.  Just remember though, much of the world lives on even less.  Can you believe it?  Feel spoiled yet?

Action vs. Inaction.

Action vs. Inaction.  That's a question that I struggle with a lot.  Most of the time in my life I don't come to a fork in the road and have to choose between one direction or another, most of the time I have the choice to stay on this current path or turn off.  Does that make sense?  Sometimes I've hit that first option, where things cannot stay the same and you have a pair or list of choices to make.  Graduating college was one of those.  I could not continue doing what I was doing.  I had to leave.  Continuing down that road was not an option.  Even if I had chosen to continue my education right then and there, things would have looked very different.

But usually I find that this is not the case.  An opportunity comes up in life, or I have the chance to create an opportunity for myself and I have to decide; continue doing what I am doing?  Or chose this other thing?  Usually, the easy route is to do nothing.  A missions trip opportunity comes up?  Probably totally worth it to go, but definitely easier to stay.  Potential new job?  Still easier to stay, even if you hate it.  Less effort, less learning curve.

Now, those two examples are probably bad because the way that I colored them.  I made it seem like the action was more beneficial than the inaction.  In those examples any excuses you come up with to remain inactive are just that, excuses.  But right now I am struggling with some decisions that are not so cut and dry.  Not to me, not to anyone whose advice I've sought on this.  Can't you people just tell me what to do?  For example, I am trying to decide whether to talk to a friend about something.  If I say something, I can never take those words back and words get me in trouble.  A lot.  In fact I've already had to apologize once today for something I've said and I've only talked to two people so far.  So do I keep my mouth shut and continue going crazy or say something and make the whole thing blow up in my face?  In different situations, I've done both, and neither actually went well.

Or what about when following your dreams looks so good and wonderful and you have a million images of motivational posters of people on top of Mt.Everest cycling through your head but then when you sit down and do the math, it turns out that the dream may just be next to impossible.  Is it really worth it in the end?  Is it even possible?

I make, or fail to make, a lot of decisions in my life based on fear.  Which of these options is less scary? Which is more prudent?  It causes a lot of people to call me wise.  Little did they know that if you always act on your fears and blow it off as nonchalance, it appears to be wisdom.  Its not too hard to fake.  And its not always a horrible way to live life.  I am alive with never a broken bone because I've never actually acted on my dream to jump off our third floor balcony into the bank of snow below.  But it can be a boring way to live life.  And not always the best.  And I'm tired of making decisions based on fear.  So incredibly fed up with it.  But I still want to be wise.  How do I do that?  Is it wise to take a very scary leap and really, really hope that God catches me?  Or is it more wise to be shrewd?  Shrewd with my money, with my words, with my actions?  I know the answer cannot be found in the information I've given, or possibly even in the information I have but these are the things I wrestle with.

The thing that is so difficult about inaction vs. action decisions is that you can usually put off the decision for a long time.  You can unintentionally make a decision by refusing to make a decision and not even notice that you're doing it. One of my dilemmas does not need an answer for several months yet.  If I choose to act, I cannot act for some time so perhaps I should just delay the question until it needs an answer.  I am certain, however, that the other has a timeline, that there is perfect timing and imperfect timing with this one.  I just don't know what it is.

So if you're the praying type and you happen to pray for me at all, pray that I have the wisdom to know what to do and the courage to act on it.

This place is holy ground.

I know what you may be thinking.  "That looks like an old train bridge. It doesn't appear to be holy at all.  And its not even ground.  In fact you aren't even suspended above ground.  That's water, that is.  And please don't tell me that you actually walk on that thing."  You would have a point but the truth is you would be wrong.  This is holy ground.  This is where heaven meets earth and God talks to his people.  Or at least talks to me.  And the sun always, always shines here.

This sanctuary was discovered by accident.  One day I followed an old set of train tracks.  It is more difficult than you might expect because railroad ties are not spaced evenly apart, or at least these are not, and walking the rail takes more coordination than I have the patience for. As you take each, uneven step with care, the surroundings seem to slip away and the journey to the holy place begins.  Even in the midst of a park with baseball diamonds near, something feels different. 

Soon you come to a tunnel.  Its an underpass, really, and you can hear the cars pass overhead.  The metal walls and ceiling reflect the sound of your steps back to you and the tracks begin to sink into the mud.  At the far end of the tunnel trees and bushes seem to block your path until you spot the narrow footpath into the brush. You realize that you are not the only pilgrim who has traveled this way.  As you step into the bushes you feel as though you have stepped into another world.  The tracks have all but disappeared and the ground falls away on either side of you.

It seems that every step becomes more and more overgrown and difficult to navigate. Several times trees have grown up in the path and you are forced to circle around.  Finally you pass one last set of trees and it lies before you.  The bridge.  It is a place of peace, a place of rest, a place to commune with the creator.  It is not so far secluded that you cannot hear the cars on the road you walked under, but theirs sounds are muffled and distant.  Fish swim the water beneath your feet and deer occasionally come for a drink.  It is a place of stillness.  The air is fresh and each breath is full and begins to calm the pitter-patter of a rabbit-heart.

There was something about this place today.  Something so much more significant than it ever had been. Perhaps because I came here, alone, with the sole purpose of prayer.  I prepared my heart to meet with God on the way and by the time I reached the bridge, I felt the need to remove my shoes and feel the sun-warmed planks beneath my feet because this was holy ground.  Too often I talk with God without preparation and it seems rushed, unsatisfying.  Today was slow and as I stood up to leave, I felt filled.  I prayed for my church and our building; for my future and the decisions I need to make; for babies recently born and those still on the way; for relationships and guidance. I got no answers, but I did find peace, and a little Vitamin D, and that is enough for me.

Friendship

I think that one of the hardest things about leaving college was the lack of deep friendships here.  I didn't realize it at first because I was always surrounded by such great people and because I still had my roommate, but the truth was that no matter how much I liked my new friends or how much they liked me, we didn't share a history. We might have shared interests, or hobbies, or enjoying the company of each other, but we didn't really know what the other had been through.  We had never seen the other truly hurting, nor did we know what made the other deliriously happy.  For a time all these friendships were endlessly good, but lacked a certain depth.

In school, this depth came quickly.  When you see each other daily, it doesn't take long to get to know each other.  When you feel like you miss someone because you didn't run into them for several hours one day, you quickly learn to value them. When you live down the hall or across the pond from them, you learn to forget about the fights and forgive easily.  When you eat lunch in the same place, with the same people, every day, you begin to consider them family.  All this happens quickly.  Before the shininess of a new friendship wears off, the roots of a deep, meaningful relationship have been set.  Not so much in what we like to call the "real world."  In this world outside of dorm life, things take longer.  Sometimes the excitement of the newness wears off before unconditional trust kicks in. In that gap is where forever friends are won or lost.  Its harder to get past this point, and lonelier.

This weekend, however, I was reminded of something.  I know some great people.  And the great part about them is that I have realized that two years have passed and these friendships have gone deep.  I feel a sense of family-ness when I am around them, just like in college.  But unlike college, I also have ample opportunity to meet new people constantly.  The trip I went on this weekend had every stage of friendship imaginable. My roommates, who I trust completely.  Friends I've known longer that two years, but only since moving here have become close. Two year old friends who have become brothers and sisters.  One-year old friends who have passed the shallow-friend stage.  Months old friends who are a delight to be around.  Even a brand new friend who I met as we loaded the cars to leave.  My grandpa had the chance to meet these people and kept telling me what an awesome group of friends I have.  I have to admit that I agree completely.

So thank you to all my friends.  Whether you went on this trip or not, or if you are a stage 1 friend or a stage 47 friend, thank you.  You make my life so much richer and more wonderful and I look forward to seeing where our friendship will take us.

Strange Day

Today was a weird day.  I woke up this morning wondering why my alarm was going off on a snow day. That's right, I thought it was a snow day.  As I woke up, I realized that I had been dreaming that I was at home and my mom and I were cleaning out my room on our surprise snow day off.

I got to work and felt strangely energetic for that time of morning.  It probably had to do with the free pop we currently have in our break room.  So much caffeine is surging through my veins right now.  I worked on getting freight put out and apparently was having so much fun that before I know it I look at my watch and realize that its 2:00 PM and I was supposed to go on break half an hour before.  I never miss break.  Weird I tell you.

And then it got really slow and so the last two hours went so much slower than the first several.  And when I went outside it was 86 degrees.  I had a jacket on coming into the store and was sweating on the way home.

Okay, so three weird things happened and it wasn't a super weird day after all.  I just wanted to tell you that I dreamed it was a snow day when the high nearly hit 90.  In September.  In South Dakota.

Oh, and we also found one of these at the store today:

In unrelated news, I just found out that three of my best friends and I all get to go to Kansas City together in November.  Couldn't be happier.

So its midnight and I should be getting to bed if I want to try to maintain some sort of normal sleep pattern, but when the urge to write comes, it is not wise to let it go to waste.  And here I am.

I just read an article.  And I mean just.  Maybe thirty minutes ago, tops.  So my thoughts may be convoluted and not quite there yet, but here goes nothing.

This article was in Relevant magazine. (someone with better English skills remind me, are magazine titles italicized or underlined?  Or maybe neither.  I forget.  Italicized it is.)  It was an article about "How to prepare for your dream job without quitting your day job."  Or something like that.  Quotes are not exact.  Too late to go and look them up. Sleep beckons.

Anywho... this article discussed the challenges that we face when we think about, dream about, or go for, our dream job, our One Thing.  The article ended with the point that we often let the voices talk us out of doing what we dream of doing.  Now, everyone has voices, most have negative voices.  Some people listen to these voices, some don't.  So I'm not saying I don't have these voices.  I'm not even saying that I don't listen to these voices, because sometimes these voices win.  Especially the voice that says, "Why quit a job you are good at to pursue something you could fail at?  Why throw success away for a dream?"  What I'm saying about these particular voices is that I'm not quite there yet.  Meaning, these voices are not what keeps me from doing what I dream of doing.

The point previous to this one talked about fear.  The fear of failure, of not being good enough, of not being ready. (Also, this article said Ready is a myth.  No one is ever really ready because in order to do something that you've never done before you, well, have to do something you've never done.  Practice makes perfect but buying a guitar is the first step of practicing.  And that guitar may end up being a waste of money because it sits gathering dust in your room.  OR, you may end up learning that one song that you've been dying to learn and find yourself dancing with the guitar around the room singing slightly off key but you feel like you're in a rock band.  But you never know until that beautiful Mitchell is yours. Worth every penny.  Moving on  now.)

Aren't you all lucky?  I'm too tired to actually think through what I say before I type and so I'm writing like I think.  It makes me afraid to ever look back at any of my college papers knowing how many of them were written this late at night.  And back to the train of thought. Where were we?  Ah, yes, Fear.  Fear of failure, mostly.  And again, this is something I do face. I'm afraid of going for that One Thing and ending up flat on my face in the mud as people point and laugh.  But again, this is not what is holding me back. One day it might, but I haven't reached that door, that wall yet.

I realized, reading this article, that the thing holding me back is not simple fear.  Fear is involved, but not yet fear of failure.  I think I'm afraid I'll go for that One Thing and pursue it and get so invested in it that its pretty darn tough to back out and then realize that I don't really want to be that at all.  The thing that is holding me back is that I don't know what the One Thing actually is for me.  I'm 24 years old and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. (As another side note, is it weird that I sometimes still refer to people at the "next stage in life" (read that, married with kids) as "adults," even if they aren't even older than me?)  I think that if I knew without a shadow of a doubt what my One Thing was, I'd give up anything to get it.  I think I just want someone to tell me, because despite the fact that a certain friend of mine insists that she loves the fact that I'm decisive, when it comes to this, I'm not decisive at all.  I'm still a little lost.

Maybe its just like that guitar.  I spent hard earned money on that guitar and on picks, strings, tuners, stands, lessons and countless other things.  Maybe if I go for it, I'll end up letting it gather dust and "not-quite dirty enough for the hamper, not clean enough for the hanger" clothes.  Or maybe I'll end up a rock star on stage.  Even if the songs are cheesy, the stage tiny, and the audience third graders.

I think I'll take that chance.

Horror

I've never liked horror movies.  I hate to be startled, for one.  I can't stand the gore either.  I know its fake, but even when I know there is no way that the scene would be possible (think Monty Python when the guy gets his arms chopped off) it still bothers me.  Add to these reasons the fact that in horror movies, at least one good guy dies and the good guy is never supposed to die.  I just don't like them.  Never have and, especially after this weekend, never will.

This weekend I experienced a scene straight out of a horror movie.  My roommate and I were heading home Sunday night, driving down a road we often take when we see this lady on the side of the road waving her arms. She begins to run out into the middle of the street and stops in front of us.  I put on my brakes, locked my doors, and concluded that she must be drunk.  As we got closer, I realize that she may not be simply drunk after all, but that she is begging us for help.  It was dark and my memories are muddled but as my headlights shone on her, I realized that head to toe, this woman was covered in blood.  And I don't mean just a little.  I mean more blood than I would think would be possible to be on the outside of someone's body and that person still be alive, let alone walking.  I specifically remember it dripping from her face. I'm sorry, its gruesome, I know.

What happened next is jumbled in my brain.  It didn't last long, but I remember her pounding on the passenger window of my car, calling 911, fumbling with my door lock, and flashing my lights at the car coming towards us to stop and help.  We didn't even have any real time to react before the other car pulled over and opened the door for her to get in.  I look back at it now and realize that I never even thought to take her to the hospital.  I was fully prepared to grab the blankets from my back seat to try to stop the bleeding once 911 had been called, but it never crossed my mind that the hospital was only a few blocks away.  I'm glad that stranger was thinking a little more logically than I when he pulled over.  For all I know, she could have died as I waited for an ambulance.

They pulled away, leaving my roommate and I stunned and flustered for a few minutes before her boyfriend and his roommate arrived.  We had only just left their place so they made it there faster than the police did. Its a strange thing, waiting for the police to arrive, sure a psycho-killer is just around the corner.  I was glad the boys were there.  We stood off to the side as the cops investigated.  I kept trying to stand in a place where I couldn't see the blood dripping down the side of my car and also from the pool of blood in the street, but it was tough.  I've never seen that many police cars in one place before, never given a statement to police about a crime.  Let me tell you, it is nothing like any detective show you've ever seen.

They had to take my car to document the blood as evidence for the investigation, so we left and came back at three in the morning to pick it up again.  Did you know that the PD doesn't clean up evidence on confiscated items when they return them?  My roommate and I had to don our rubber cleaning gloves and fill a bucket with water and do it ourselves.  I stopped by the car wash on the way home as well.  The next morning I took some Windex to it as well, which I'm sure isn't good for the car but lets face it.  A few more rust spots isn't going to change the value of that thing much.

It turns out the woman will live, thank God.  She was attacked by an acquaintance, another woman, with a box cutter.  There was alcohol involved. She had emergency surgery as soon as she arrived at the hospital to fix the deep cuts on her face, neck, and back.  The woman who attacked her has been arrested.

Now this next confession is breaking down walls that I put up to look strong and put together, but I'll admit, the experience shook me up.  Being out when its dark is creepy these days and I lock the door to my car whenever I'm alone or someone is walking to close to my car when I'm stopped.  I've successfully avoided the road this occurred on because the blood puddle was still there when I went to get my car and I'm not interested in seeing how a week with no rain affects something like that. I hear someone say "box cutter" and I shudder a little.  I have no interest in seeing violent movies any time soon.

I know from experience that these affects will pass.  I did eventually get to the point where I could see a big white truck coming toward me on the road without instinctively wanting to swerve the other way, but until that point, I could be having a perfectly normal conversation while that moment replayed itself over and over again in my head.  That is how this, too, will be. Eventually I will get to the point that I don't think about this every hour, or even every day. Already, the shock is fading.

What struck me about this, what I can't get over, is how random it was that we were there.  If we had been heading straight home instead of to pick up my roommates car, we would have never even known that this had happened.  If we were there five minutes later, we would have come upon a police road block.  Five minutes earlier, we would have been oblivious to the horror happening inside the building next to us.  A whole string of events led to that point.  So why us? Was it random, or was there a purpose? That is the question that still haunts my brain.

Train Bridge

I believe that often, people become who they are expected to become.  The slightly sarcastic guy in the group becomes the always sarcastic guy because even when he tries to be serious, someone around him can't handle that and so they make a joke of his comment.  The blonde girl acts naive and dumb because she heard a few too many blonde jokes as a kid and now thinks that this is what is expected of her.  The smart kid in class sacrifices any semblance of a social life because he is always being told what a smart kid he is and he is terrified to learn who he might be without an A.  Its one reason it drives me crazy when people have such a narrow view of people that they seem to be surprised whenever anyone swerves outside their lines.  We put limits on each other so much.  And while it can be good, parents believing that their child can achieve their dreams, for example, it can also be bad, such as when a parent forces their own dreams upon their child against their will.

From here on out, there will be two anomalies to this post.  First of all is the fact that normally, when talking about this subject I would be talking about the negative parts of this concept and how we should be careful to encourage people to be more instead of putting them in a box. Secondly, the rest of this post is for one person and one person only.  I, of course, am making it public so anyone can read it, but my hope is that he will see it and read it and know I'm talking to him and that everything is okay.

So, to my friend,

I'm afraid we miscommunicated once again.  You saw that I was upset and I think you thought you were to blame.  I'm here to tell you that you weren't.  I was upset because I saw that I hurt you and that killed me. You compared yourself to someone else, someone who had hurt me and I hated that comparison so much, because it is so much not true.  I don't think I conveyed to you how much.  Its just that it usually takes some time for me to be able to put these things to words.  Even now I am realizing that this whole thing sounded so much more eloquent in my head.

I began this whole post with the concept of becoming who people believe we are because I find myself believing that I may just be the person you told me I was all along.  You treat me with such honor, such respect.  Every action towards me, every word tells me who I am. In your actions, you reflect the way that Christ sees me.  When I look in the mirror I see someone with worth.  I see someone beautiful.  I see someone with dreams that I am actually fulfilling.  I see someone funny, joy filled, who loves every moment of life.  Someone who can even look at the painful things with hope that they will be redeemed.  I have you, in part, to thank for that.

And now it is I who is on my knees every night, begging the God who heals that any pain I caused would be wiped away.

Priorities

Several weeks ago I went to a ladies prayer meeting and we talked about what we talk to our friends about.  We talked about a pastor who told the story about how he would call his mentor and start to talk about a situation and his mentor would interrupt him and say "Have you talked to God about this yet?"  Often the pastor would say no and his friend would say, "Go do that.  If you still need me, give me a call," and he'd hang up on him. More times than not, the pastor said, he never needed to call.

I was thinking about that during that time and I realized how true this is for me.  Granted, I am female, and if we are to believe everything people say about males and females and how we are different, then men are more concerned about solutions and females often just need to express emotion.  So, this particular pastor may have never needed to call back, but I usually still  need to talk through the emotions I'm feeling.  Still, when I think about how this concept plays out in my life, I am struck by how much truth there is in the concept of bringing things to God first.



I think of my friendship with my good friend and neighbor who lives just two floors below me.  We are lucky enough to talk now and then and she is a woman to whom God has given much wisdom.  I have found that when I talk to her, how I react to that wisdom changes very much depending on whether I've taken it to God first or run straight to her.  See, when I seek her wisdom without the peace that prayer brings, I often feel defensive and restless in spirit when we are done talking. But, when I have taken it to God first and then seek her wisdom, I often find confirmation of what God was speaking.  When I follow the correct order of things, she merely puts to words what God was speaking to my heart already and she gives me courage to do what I should.  It really is amazing what God does through other people when you allow him to.

Speaking of my good friend, I'm about to go hang out with her right now.  Aren't I lucky?

This post is dumb. If you don't read it, I won't even be offended.

Because I can't, or won't (you choose), talk about what is actually on my mind, and because I feel the need to write, I'm going to talk my opinion of four day weekends.  I love them.  Its like two weekends back to back.  Just for fun.  Sunday night comes, and that sad feeling that usually accompanies Sunday nights is wonderfully absent.  Because you wake up on Monday and its like going back in time and living Saturday all over again! Especially since with my job I only get two days off in a row every two weeks.  Four off is heaven.  Especially when Wednesday is not another day back in the store, but a fun-filled day learning about cold weather gear and getting cheap stuff.  Especially, especially when I do get back to the store I'll have lots of stuff to do, which after a slow summer will be welcome.

And that is all I have to say about that.  Its very possible that I won't have anything better to say until my addled brain gets some much needed rest.

Call me crazy if you must

I'm about to confess something that, here in South Dakota, makes me at worst a heretic and at best, a little bit crazy.  The end of August for us signals the beginning of the cooler weather of Autumn.  And of course up here, no one thinks about Autumn.  Its just the season that leads us into winter.  And so, when the day comes that the temperature doesn't get above 80 for the first time, no one is happy and says "What a nice day it is."  No, of course we have to start freaking out and think, "65 today, -30 tomorrow" and inevitably they sink into winter despair many, many weeks before winter actually starts and months before anyone will be feeling anything close to -30.

I, on the other hand,  have been looking at the onset of cooler days a little bit differently.  Of course I am enjoying every moment of the beautiful weather that I can, knowing they won't last, but here is my confession; I'm actually looking forward to winter a little.

Maybe its because of the nature of a job that gets so much more interesting in the winter.  (Not to mention more profitable)  Call it sick, but one of my favorite things about my job is helping people find a coat who have never before experienced a Sioux Falls winter.  Its just fun, okay?  I see the panic in their eyes as I ask them if they've ever experienced 30 below.  It reminds me of myself.  I had these horrible visions of how awful winter would be.  In my mind it quickly turned from a mere season to a monster with icicles for teeth and frostbite for breath.  I enjoy attempting to reassure people that the buildup to winter is way worse than winter itself.  Sure its cold, and long, but its not the end of the world and spring is that much more awesome because of it.

I had this family who just moved from South Carolina come into the store a few days ago.  They bought three coats off of me, as if they were afraid that one morning they would wake up and be snowed into their house.  The mom kept asking "Now, these are winter coats, right?  They'll keep us warm all winter long?"  How do you tell someone that in winter at its worst, nothing keeps you truly warm.  Nothing.  Not if you're cold blooded like me.  Not if the coldest thing you've ever experienced is 40 ABOVE zero. I just smiled and said, "Well, make sure you come back when we get all our hats and gloves in.  We have some really cute stuff that will match your new coats well."

But while the fact that it makes my job way less boring is a big plus for winter, I'm also looking forward to a lot of other things about winter.  Winter means hot chocolate, (add chocolate chips, milk, caramel syrup, and marshmallows and hot chocolate suddenly becomes heavenly) games with friends with only a ice crusted window keeping the wind at bay.  Winter means snow, which I still love, and the sound of shovels against cement, which reminds me of waking up as a kid to my dad shoveling our driveway.  That sound meant snow days! Winter means my friends quit traveling everywhere and we can just be together.  Winter means that you can go out to a park, or walk on the river, and experience the most exquisite silence that you have to hear to believe.  No birds singing, no bugs buzzing, no cars honking.  Even your own voice seems to leave your mouth and drop frozen to the snow.  Silence extraordinary.

I love the changing of the seasons.  Always have.  When spring comes around, I will be just as excited for that.  Probably more so, actually.

Oakley

At my work meeting last night, we talked about a girl who runs the Oakley shop in her store.  They showed pictures of her Oakley room at home.  Yes that's right.  Her Oakley room.  She has five Oakley cases, one of which probably costs more than I ever intend to spend on total sunglasses in my lifetime.  Each case is full of Oakley sunglasses.  If you know anything about Oakley you know that their sunglasses run from $100-$300, with the exception of some of their limited edition glasses which are priced in the thousands.  (Our store has a pair that retails at $1,500.  That's more than the value of my car.)  Even at the great discount she is getting through the store, that's a lot of money.

A few things went through my mind as I processed all of this is: how do we work for the same company and she can afford this?  I never could.  Secondly, if I ever become that obsessed with an object, kidnap me, steal all my stuff, and knock some sense into me.

Why I Stayed

While there are lots of amusing, frustrating, or insightful things that I could talk about right now, I think its good to begin with the basics.  Therefore this is a post dedicated to why I came to Sioux Falls and why I stayed, despite weather so cold that frost occasionally develops on the inside of window panes.

Why I stayed.  Of course the answer to this question begins with why I came in the first place.  In the summer of  2008, I traveled for my school.  For three of our camp weeks, we were stationed in good old SD.  I remember loving the camp and the youth pastors and just thinking that this was an all around great experience. The next summer I chose to be a part of what my school dubbed "church planing teams."  Not a very original name, but it got the job done. I heard that one of the youth pastors from the year before was planting one of the churches where we would be sending a team.  I hadn't spoken much to him, but something in my heart told me that South Dakota was where I wanted to be. I couldn't even spell Sioux and half the time I thought it was on the west side of the state, (south eastern, if you'd like to know) but I thought it'd be a great place to spend a summer.  I was pleasantly surprised when I was assigned to come here, along with my dear friend and roommate though college.

Long story short, I loved it, so I stayed, the end.

Wow, I wish it was that easy.  I did quickly find that I loved it indeed. (I was fooled by all the sunshine and cool summer weather.  Now my heart is set.) But it wasn't that simple. BD was staying.  She made the decision look easy. I however, had other plans.  I was going to go to seminary.  I had it all planned out.  I had the deposit down on my first class and was having my mom take trips to go check out apartments for me. This two month internship would end at the perfect time for me to get to school and settle in before classes started. But then something hit me.  I can't really explain it but I do know that whatever it is had me crying my eyes out in my pastor's office, torn between what my heart wanted and my plans.  I had no plans here.  No job.  No apartment. No goal.  Just friends, a church, and a heart that wouldn't let me think about anything else.  I sat, crying, as PT asked me a simple question, "Do you want to stay?" "Yes!" I blurted out before I thought about it.  He shrugged as though the answer was completely obvious, "Then stay." He should have just gone ahead and added "duh" to the end. I wanted to argue that it wasn't that easy, but I had already betrayed myself.  I had confessed my true wish and there was no going back.

But before you think it was easy, let me assure you it was not.  Aside from all the practical tasks on my "to do" list, I still wrestled with, well, everything.  I was convinced that God wanted me to stay, but for what? I had a plan and now I had none.  Have you ever jumped out of a plane?  I haven't, but I'm sure it would feel something like this.  A leap of faith, praying to God that he packed your parachute correctly, because there is absolutely no knowing until that moment when it either opens and you glide safely to the ground, or when it doesn't, and you are dead.

Its still confusing at times, but I'm confident that I am where I need to be.  I've been here two years and every once in a while I still think, "Huh, South Dakota, who would've thought?"  I love it though.  Preparing for my third winter here and I'm almost embarrassed to say I'm sort of looking forward to it..  Winter means hot chocolate, friends and card games, cute boots, (I'm a little obsessed) and our fireplace DVD.  I'm excited to see that on our new big screen.

Sorry about the long post. Taking questions from the audience.  What do you want to hear about?  I may need some inspiration at some point.

Disclaimer

It is my goal with this blog to be honest.  I have no intentions to make this an inspiring blog full of lessons to be learned in life, though I hope my story inspires now and then.  It is not a blog created in order to make you laugh, though I hope it does.  The purpose here is to share my life, selfish as that may seem.  In that light, I promise to never lie to you, but I may not share the whole story.  If I say things are good, it means things are good.  If I don't want you to know if things are bad, I just won't mention whatever it is that is upsetting me.  I expect, given the nature of the subjects I intend to discuss, that I am close to most of you who read these words.  If that is the case, I would probably share anything with you anyways, in person, of course.  Or even a personal FB message.  Does this seem fair?  Besides, discretion must be used out of respect for those who are the cause of my frustration. :)

Inspired

My sister is an inspiring person. Years ago I started this blog and never even told anyone it existed. I wrote things but never shared them. J started a blog and in the process discovered mine. I read her blog and have become inspired to continue my own and maybe tell some people about it this time around. I think the reason the last time was such a flop was that most of the people I knew were near or I had the ability to call them up. Now I have so many friends and family members spread so far out across the country that keeping up is hard. So here I am, writing again in order to share my life with all of you! Don't get to excited. It's bound to be pretty boring.

The most important thing that you need to know, if you don't already, is that I now live in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. If you are wondering why the heck I live in South Dakota, don't worry, I wonder that all the time. I never would have imagined that I would have ended up here, but if you think about it, it was sort of destiny. My mom, after all did get the inspiration for my name from the wonderful, booming metropolis of Chelsea, South Dakota. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am named after a town that, as of the 2010 census, had a total of 27 people. Destiny I tell you!

I started this post thinking I wouldn't have enough to say and now I have all kinds of this ideas, like explaining why I really am here, or why I've stayed, or about all the wonderful people here, or about my vendetta against the overuse of the word "yet," or how it actually felt the first time I experienced -30 degree weather. All in time, my little blog reader. For now I will leave you this and the realization that I need to take more pictures.

Isn't she beautiful?