Fun Facts

Here are some random fun facts that I pondered as I drove home from work today.

I love lightening. It is scary at times, and painful/deadly other times, but it is always beautiful. The way it can light up a sky or even just a portion behind a cloud. That's just plain beautiful and lightening makes me happy.

I hate mustaches. I think they're creepy and make men seem more sketchy than they probably are. That being said, there was once a guy (probably around my age) who came into the Apple store with a mustache that I adored. I don't know why, although it was kind of handlebar'ish. Anyway, I saw him in the mall as I was leaving today (creepy that I have started recognizing people solely because I work in a mall) and it was gone. I left the mall slightly depressed over that fact.

I am about to have 11 days to do nothing. I have no work. That is scary and exciting. My goal is to fall in love with running. (and go to the local city pool a lot) If nothing else, I'll just drive my self crazy because I still haven't heard about the stupid teaching job.

I really enjoy classical music in my car lately. I enjoy imagining what would be happening in a jane austen novel at each point in the song. I sometimes imagine myself in said jane austen novel with accompanying classical music.

It stinks when you realize you're a friendgirl. That's what I'm naming it when you know you'll never go from friend to gf. It also stinks when said friendboy says imagine we're dating to illustrate a point. Would it have been creepy if I said, I mean I've done that before, this should be easy. I think it would have been.

I'm exhausted and want to spend a week at the river. I just want a vacation from my completely non-hectic life.

I learned a lot about commitment last year. About being true to my word and persevering through things we don't enjoy. I have learned a lot about patience this year. I have bucked against this one a lot I think. Because I am never okay with waiting. I'm not satisfied knowing that eventually it'll all make sense. That someday, I'll see God's hand in all of this waiting. Despite that, or maybe because of that, he continues to attempt to teach me patience. Patience and trust. I think you can't have patience without trust; so maybe what I'm really learning is to trust. Trust that He really does have a plan, and it really is better. Even if it is slow. and not what I want. and painful to wait for. and painful to receive.

Taylor Mali

I had coffee with a friend today and we were talking about the relationship that parents have with education. I talked about a line from this poem. When I got home, I looked it up to look at the poem in its entirety. It's just a marvelous read (as someone hoping to teach) and therefore, I am sharing it. I'm also including a link to a video of him performing it, as it is slam poetry, which is best when viewed, not read. I don't love this necessarily just because of the teacher part, but he's just amazing to watch and obviously so passionate about teaching. And who doesn't want that?


He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.

I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.

Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.

"I mean, you're a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"

And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time wiht anything less than your very best.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why.

I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.

I make parents see their children for who they are and what they can be.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).

Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a g@#$@mn difference! What about you?


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxsOVK4syxU

Mountains

It's okay to be confused. She's writing about mountains again!? Crazy, I know. But I got home to Cincinnati late Sunday night, and at campaigners Monday, staring up at me from Kolia's handout, was a quote about mountaintops. With the "ink" still wet on the page of my thoughts about mountains and mountain top experiences, here was Henri Nouwen saying everything my heart was thinking. Therefore, I will share it with you.

Why is it so important that you are with God and God alone on the mountaintop? It's important because it's the place in which you can listen to the voice of the One who calls you beloved. To pray is to listen to the One who calls you "my beloved daughter", "my beloved son", "my beloved child." To pray is to let that voice speak to the center of your being, to your guts and let that voice resound in your whole being.

This made me groan at its truth and laugh at how it plays into my life. I got to the top of the mountain and all I wanted was to take pictures. I love that view, as earlier stated, and want to share it. However, after two quick pictures, my camera turned off. It was out of battery. And unfortunately, as cool as my mountain is, it does not have outlets. I sat there frustrated for a few seconds before hearing a small voice say this isn't for them. This is for you and me and only us. This isn't something I want you to share. It's here just for you. He took away what I was trying to distract myself with; even if it was unintentional.

This quote made me laugh because of the constant struggle I've been having with my darling mother about a tattoo I've been considering. A few years ago I thought about how I would love to have a tattoo under my wedding band. That my husband and I could each have something. I was thinking the verse about I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine. The more I thought about it, and the older I got, the more I didn't want it to be with my husband. That verse wasn't meant to talk about the relationship I would have with a man someday but with the relationship I already have with Christ. That led to me wanting it more and more before there was ever a boy in the picture. And all I want is beloved. I want to be reminded, just like that small voice tries to remind me amidst the noise, that I am the beloved of Christ.

Real Job

I applied today for the job opening at Finneytown. That is really exciting first off because there is an opening, and because I am applying. I got my stuff in a few weeks ago and the job was posted this morning. Better believe I was ready for that sucker and just had to hit apply.

While on the magical job website, I noticed a posting for Indian Hill. For those of you that don't know, Indian Hill is the really nice, expensive part of town. (Lets just say these kids don't want for much monetarily..and that's actually how you spell it) After much debate, a phone call, a text, and a few good friends' advice, I just applied for that job as well. (I can always say no, right?)

It's interesting the more I think about it. Because if Finneytown hires for the job that was vacated, then I have a shot at teaching seventh and eighth grade english. Not my preference, but a job is a job and I'd have my own class. The Indian Hill job is high school and I'm pretty sure either communication, speech, drama or all of the above. (those rich schools and their english electives) I would also have the option, maybe with a large shove behind it, to do the theater productions. And that may be my dream job. Downfall being, it's not Finneytown.

I've invested so much of my stinking heart into that school to just walk away now. Could the call really have been to invest so much in such a short period of time to end up somewhere else? And if not then why taunt me with this perfect job just for the not so ideal one (job wise) be the one that is supposed to be?

Why is it that even when it feels like everything is on the verge of working out, or even just one area is going to start working out, it doesn't. Instead it seems to pour confusion down on my head. Confusion without solution. I'm ready to sleep until the answer comes. Wake me up if you hear any news.

Blue Ridge Mountains

Sitting in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, I can't help but feel small. My favorite hike ends with a rock formation, jutting off of the side of the mountain. (It's what is in the picture) It is a magnificent view that, despite the pictures I take, can never be accurately captured or conveyed.

Life has been frustrating lately. It's as if no matter how much I write, I can't convey my thoughts. The words coming from my mouth aren't coming from my heart. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get enough oxygen.

And yet, here I sit in the Virginia breeze, with the sun on my face, working on my Chaco tan, and my sigh works. It's finally enough and I have caught my breath. The thoughts come effortlessly and the words flow eloquently across the page.

I could sit here forever. I could sit and stare at the view until my time was up. On this mountain, joy and peace seem attainable. As I lean back on the "rock chair", God is so real. I can't take in the view here and not believe. It would be impossible to look at this and not believe in a Creator who longs to woo our hearts.

It makes the walk down the mountain to the car so debilitating. With each step I feel the burdens pile back on. As much as the walk up was exhausting, because it is exhausting to climb a mountain, my load seemed to get lighter with each step. And the walk down does the opposite, which brings dread when you know you have to leave. Because who wants to walk away from a mountaintop?

Maybe that's why they call spiritual highs mountaintop experiences. Because up here, He's so obvious. Life is so peaceful and following Him makes so much sense. Makes me wonder why I ever chose to move away from these mountains.

Reset Prayer Experience

Crossroads, my church, did a prayer experience this week to go along with the Reset journey that we have been on the past five weeks. The journey focuses on resetting the assumptions that we have about Jesus. I have missed the prayer experience that went along with the past two journeys at Crossroads, and I was very hesitant about this one. Wow am I glad that I went. Here are just some thoughts I came away with because the last challenge was to share our story.

Reconciliation. There is nothing I want more. There is no one I desire to be closer to. Nothing that will fill my heart with more joy. And yet I protect my heart from the one thing that won't break it. Not only will He not break it, but He will restore it. Restore it to His glory.

He isn't afraid of the lies I believe in because He came to blow them away and replace them with truth. The truth that comes whenever we ask, that we are surrounded by daily. I callenge you to watch a sunrise on the Atlantic or fog lift slowly over the Blue Ridge Mountains and not know the truth it proclaims.

HE LOVES US. HE WOULD GO TO ANY LENGTH TO WOO OUR HEARTS. OUR REDEEMER LIVES. HE KNOWS MORE AND HE KNOWS BETTER. and the still, small voice in my heart whispers, it's all for you manderella.

He is the only one who can save me from this web of lies I live in. I am good enough for I am the beloved of Christ. And as a child of God the list of "I am"'s is endless. Forgiven, accepted, recieved, heir, defended, nurtured, companion, fed, child, protected, loved, redeemed, saved. All I have to do is recieve these things. I have to accept the gifts of His love and protection, the inheritance I have as an heir. These things are available to me, but I must recieve them. "This is for you, you only have to come and take it".

He will go to any length to assure that we have the ability to choose him. That's a line I copied down from the audio guide. I love that it is so honest about the fact that ultimately the choice comes down to us. A choice has to be made.

No title can suffice

I love having pictures to start off the blog. When it came to a title and a picture, however, I couldn't think of or find a single thing that would adequately describe or illustrate this past weekend. Last weekend, Finneytown (as well as the rest of Cincinnati, Dayton, and Columbus) went on Campaigner weekend. For those of you who don't know, although I don't know who those people could be, Campaigners is the "bible study" for Young Life. We took an impressive nineteen kids; a hodge podge group of kids that aren't all necessarily close, or friends. (Not that they didn't get along, but they didn't all hang out) The weekend went well. Rick Shaerr talked (I apologize, but I know his name is spelled wrong) and did amazing, as he always does. We had good talks in the girls room on Friday night as well as during our quiet time in the morning. Seminars went well and we even spent the afternoon all together with lunch and then bowling. After Saturday's campaigners, we had "cabin time" as a school all together.

I clearly am not going to list everything said, for many reasons, but if nothing else because there is no way to clearly write what transpired. I tried to take notes and remember details on Sunday after we got home, but it was all so emotional that I have no idea if I even remembered half of it. Basically, if I were to sum it into one sentence, it would be "He showed up". We ask for signs, we ask for His presence. Well, we got it. And it was unlike anything I have ever experienced.

I've been smiling for the past few days now. (The day after smile is one of those great things in life.) I cannot seem to get over the fact of how great my God is and how gracious He is to allow us to watch and be a part of things when He moves. Nineteen kids. They were vulnerable with each other, they were real about their lives, and we were all broken.

I wish I could tell you, because who wouldn't be excited about this? I wish there was a way to describe so that people could understand, could catch the vision, but it may just be one of those situations in life you had to experience for yourself or you'll never fully understand. I can tell you one thing for sure, He showed up and I wouldn't trade that night for the world because He is real.

Lackluster Banter

This is what often happens when I make jokes. People tend to think I'm funny. (I'm not bragging. In the clique, I was the funny one. It's just truth.) I have my lame moments, don't worry. Sometimes the joke works better in my head than when it actually comes out. I wish I could press rewind in those moments so that I can maintain my image of funniness, but maybe those moments make it all the more real. (or maybe that was an example of me failing.)

I have an interesting phenomenon, though, that I have been seeing run rampant through my life recently. If it is a relatively new friendship, I am not witty. I think it comes with the shy thing. However, if we are talking over an email or other such media, I can still banter with the best of them. I must be such a disappointment in person then. I have a friend I've been talking with through messages and I like to think I've come across as quite charming. In person, I flounder for words and am awkwardly quiet. Hopefully, I only come across as shy and not as if I have split personalities.

Maybe, one day, the banter will happen in real life. I know it's plausible. Now, if only it were possible.

Same Old

I haven't written much lately. Not only here, but anywhere. I have found myself in a writing dry spell and hadn't even noticed it until last night. I saw my lonely notebook sitting by my bed and decided to pay it a visit. Quickly I remembered, I haven't written much because all of it tends to grow weary when you write the same things over and over again. I have already written about how I feel like I'm in this transitional period that is lasting far longer than any transitional period should. That I'm just waiting for my real life to start; or at least one part of it to fall into place. And with that, I've spelled out life for the past 5 months.

It's weird to think I've been home for just under five months and yet today was quite similar to the second day home. Yesterday, much like the fourth day home. It all almost seems to blend together. I've come up with more interesting things to do than in the beginning (although I still visit the redbox rentals far too often), but life continues to be the same. But more interesting than the fact that my life remains on slow motion, is the odd fact that I haven't been back to Lexington since I left.

I was chatting with Kari the other day about my upcoming visit to Lexington. We both remarked how I hadn't been back. I realized this is the longest I've ever been between visits since before I ever did summer staff. It's been a four year "affair" and I seemed to have walked away cold turkey. Now granted, I've been spoiled by visits. I have had Kari visit twice as well as once with almost the whole gang. But I miss the foggy mornings in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I haven't been able to enjoy my old home since I took the long ride back to Cincinnati.

That all being said, I think I'm going to have to find some time, to sit on those mountains, perhaps by my river, and take up some writing. It might be repetitive but it'll be genuine. The words won't flow elegantly across the page, but slowly the story will be written, life will start moving, and I'll be glad to have those choppy sentences to look back on.

I think it's just over this last bridge

I'm tired of being patient. (even if I've never really been all that good at it to begin with) I am in this odd in between stage of life where nothing is really settled and everything is in the air. In all honesty, there is some excitement and fun in that. Without a full-time job, I can come and go as I please. I have yet to do that, but I could if I wanted to. (and if I could afford all that gas) I have freedom also, because I don't have a house that I need someone to watch. I don't even have an apartment for someone to watch. I have a bed, but that doesn't really need much watching. I also have the freedom of no significant other. If I decided to move to Colorado, I only have to consider Jeni (which is almost worse than a boy; he might actually be okay with living in the Rockies and rafting down the Arkansas) All in all, having things in the air isn't inherently bad.

I think that's where most people stop. They see all the advantages of the freedom. But, crazily enough, I want to grow up. I want to have my own place to allow others to visit and hang out. I want the full time job that I can really go all out for and invest in. I want the boy that expects dinner at night. I think it's just hard because I don't see the freedom in those. And maybe that's a slight nudge that I need to have a change of perspective, but I don't think that those desires are bad. I think that God planted those desires in my heart. The desire to take care of people comes out in every one of those aspects; whether through my hospitality, my teaching, or my loving.

I know that His timing is better than mine. I know that. Sometimes I just don't see it. Sometimes I just want to be a kid again because I want to pout and maybe even yell a little. He's big enough to take that. The only downfall is, much like when we were kids, throwing a tantrum doesn't change the outcome. It just leaves you with a wet face and a sore throat.