Top Ten Reasons Why I Hate Driving

(in no particular order)

1. Headlights. Is it so freaking hard to turn them off, people?! Do you really need them when the street you’re driving on has streetlights every three feet or so? Must you have them on while you’re tailgating me? That’s sort of distracting, you know. And! When you’re coming towards me -- TURN THEM OFF, for pity’s sake! Are you TRYING to blind me?!?! Good grief.
   
   
2. Squirrels. The blasted things must all be on death missions, I tell you. Seriously! Do they posses any common sense? Any at ALL? Shouldn’t they at least have some kind of survival instinct that tells them to RUN when big loud things come towards them? *I* am a big, loud thing coming towards them, and they either a) sit in the middle of the road and stare at me, b) wait until the last second to run away or c) run almost totally across the road, only inches from safety, only to turn around and run IN FRONT OF ME AGAIN to go to the OTHER side of the road.Nincompoops.
   
   
3. Speaking of nincompoops, the squirrels aren‘t the only ones. About ¾ of the other drivers out there on the road seem to be one. See #1 above. Why can't people just be GOOD drivers?!?! It would make the whole experience that much more FUN, you know, instead of stressful!
   
   
4. Drive-thrus. Ugh. It’s not exactly easy to manuever a minivan around all those cement barriers and tight turns and get close enough to the window to hand them your money and get your food without scraping your side view mirror on the building… UGH!
   
   
5. Driveways. The short, curvy, long, windy (that’s WINE-dee, as in, it winds around a lot, not WIN-dee, as it, blowing breezes. Although a windy driveway would probably be unpleasant, too, if the wind was forceful enough…) tight, narrow, hilly or unpaved ones in particular. I absolutely hate 98% of driveways. I don’t like having to turn around. I don’t like having to back out, either, which sort of makes it hard to get out of just about every driveway in America.
   
   
6. Pedestrians. I know, I know, you’re supposed to yield to them. I DO! That’s my problem! You can never tell where people are going (“is that woman going to cross the street? Is she waiting to cross or waiting for a bus? Is she walking down that road or going straight or turning?” etc, etc) so I always end up stopping when I don’t have to because it usually LOOKS like they’re going to cross the street only they don’t, and people behind me get mad.
   
   
7. Speed limits. Or rather, everyone else's inability to GO the speed limit. Apparently I’m the only person who follows them, and the rest of the world feels the need to tailgate me and wuite frankly, people, THAT just makes me go slower, so there! *sticks out tongue*
   
   
8. Toll Booths. Similar to the drive-thru issues, but toll booths also require intense amount of coordination and quick thinking. It’s multitasking while driveway. It’s insane! You’ve got to get in the correct lane (EZ-Pass? Or not? Cash only? Trucks only? Is a van a truck?!?) while avoiding all the other people who are swerving this way and that to get in THEIR correct lane. Then you need to slow down, roll down your window and not hit the car in front of you -- or the cement barriers, the “slow down” sign, or the toll booth itself -- pull up close enough to get the ticket, and then (after the gate raises, of course), accelerate back to a normal ramp speed and get into the correct lane to go where you’re going, all the while rolling up your window and setting the ticket down somewhere where you’ll be able to grab it quickly later. Don’t even ask me about the second half of toll booths, where you have to do all of the above and handle money, too….UGH!!!
   
   
9. Merging. Lots of cars going fast, me trying to get in the midst of them before the lane ends…need I say more?
   
   
10. Passengers. They talk to you, whistle, gasp, fiddle with the radio, make obnoxious comments, open their windows when you really don’t want to be blasted by air, make noise, ask you questions and certain people that I’m related to have a nasty habit of shrieking and bracing themselves on the dashboard in front of them everytime I slow down, as though they think they’re going to die. This is, as you can imagine, rather distracting as well.

And people wonder why I’d rather walk places!!!! SHEESH!

Blinded by the light...

My brother has been walking around the house for the past two days, randomly bursting into choruses of the song, "Blinded by the Light". I'm really not sure why, quite frankly. I didn't even know he liked that song. In fact, I didn't even know he knew that song existed, let alone knew the words to it.

Actually, I don't think he does honestly know the words to it. Because he just keeps singing the same line, over and over and over and over again, getting progressively louder at each repetition. "Blinded by the light...Blinded by the light! BLINDED BY THE LIGHT!! BLIIIIINDED BY THE LIIIIIIGHT!!!!!"

(Have I mentioned that the singing gene just doesn't seem to exist in our family? Apparently it wasn't just me it skipped. My dear brother didn't have any luck in that category, either. *sigh*)

And when this chorus met my ears for about the 7,402nd time, I realized that maybe, just maybe, this was something bloggable ( < new word. How much fun is that to say? Bloggable bloggable bloggable!)...that maybe there was a way to tie it in to today's post. It's worth a try, right?

While listening to the radio the other day, I heard a story...hopefully I can remember it:

A hurricane ripped across the coastline, pouring intense amounts of rain down on the inhabitants. Cities were flooding, the water was rising and people were crying out for help. One man climbed on to his rooftop to avoid the rapidly rising water in his house. He looked up to heaven and called out, "God, save me!"

The man had loved God all his life, and truly believed that God would reach down and save him from this disasterous situation. He watched for God's hand to come down from heaven; he listened carefully so he wouldn't miss God's voice when it told him what to do.

As he was listening so intently, a rowboat floated by with a neighbor in.
"Do you need some help?" shouted the neighbor. "Climb in my boat!"
The man on the rooftop shook his head. "No, thanks!" he yelled back. "God's going to save me!"
Rowboat man shrugged and rowed away.

Well, the flood waters continued to rise and rooftop man was growing impatient. He thought maybe God hadn't heard him the first time, so he called out again, even louder, "God! Save me!!"
He stared up at the heavens, watching and waiting for the moment when God would come and save him from the floodwaters.

While he waited, another boat came by; this one even bigger then the last. Half a dozen people sat in this boat, but there was still plenty of room inside. One passenger held out a life vest.
"Hey there!" called out the passenger. "You need some help? Here! Take this!"

But rooftop man shook his head and held out his hand. "No, thanks!" he shouted back. "God's going to save me, you'll see!" The people in the boat shrugged and headed off to another rooftop.

Now, the rain had started up again and the situation wasn't exactly getting any better. Rooftop man realized that God better hurry up and do something here. He was getting pretty nervous. "God!" he called out again. "Please, God, please save me!!"

The waters had almost reached the top of his roof. The man danced around anxiously, on his tiptoes, knowing that his miraculous rescue would come any second and not wanting to miss it.
Unfortunately, he was interrupted by the sound of a helicopter.

The helicopter came closer and the man heard a voice coming through a bull horn say, "You there! Hang on! We're sending you a ladder!"
"No!" the man shouted back as loudly as he could. He shook his head again to prove his point. "No, that's OK! God's going to save me!"

Looking rather surprised, the helicopter folks nodded and shrugged and moved off to go find another person in need of rescue.
Well, a few moments later the flood waters had risen so high that they swept the man off his roof. He tried his best to swim away, but in the end, the current was too deep and he drowned.

When the man got to heaven, he said to God, "God!! I've loved you and served you all my life. I've been a faithful follower of your Word. I trusted you to save me! I cried out to you and you didn't do anything! You ignored my prayer, God! Why didn't you save me??"

God raised his eyebrows and looked at the man. "Are you kidding me?!" he said, surprised. "I tried! I sent you two boats and a helicopter! What more did you want?!"

In this story, the man was so sure that God was going to save him. He had this expectation that God would do something totally, incredibly, earth-shatteringly amazing in order to complete the rescue mission. The man was expecting a huge-scale miracle! He was waiting for the hand of God Himself to reach down and save him; he was waiting for God's voice to command the waters to recede. The man cried out, "God, save me!" and trusted God to do so. The only problem was that he was so focused on the powerfulness and miraculousness of God, that he missed the smaller miracle right in front of him.

He was blinded by the light, so to speak. This man believed so strongly that God could and would make unbelievable, inconceivable miracles happen (the "light") that he was unable to see that sometimes, God delights in using the ordinary to do extraordinary things.

The point is that sometimes, we get blinded by the light, too. We get so caught up in reading Bible stories about manna falling from heaven or angels saving people from fiery furnances or the mouths of lions being closed that we forget about the everyday miracles, too.
The thing is, God provides for our every need. If we need it, he's already got it taken care of. He hears every single one of our prayers. And he answers them -- often in ways that we wouldn't expect.

We need to make sure that our expectations don't interfere with our vision. It's great to believe that God does amazing things -- He certainly does! But don't let yourself get so caught up in the extraordinary that you miss all the incredible things he does on a smaller scale.

The most amazing thing God's done in my life? Bringing my best friend into it. There were no lions, fiery furnances, voices from Heaven or manna falling from the sky. In fact, the very first time I met my best friend, I hardly even talked to her. It wasn't an extraordinary day by any means; it was a picnic. But it was the start of the most amazing and important and incredible and yes, miraculous friendship I've ever experienced.

Is there something in your life right now that you are praying for? Are you waiting for God to answer a prayer? Be careful that your expectations of HOW he is going to answer don't interfere with your realization that he HAS answered it.

Don't be so busy waiting to hear God's voice that you miss the rowboat and the helicopter right in front of you. Sometimes God might give you an incredibly obvious answer to an incredibly complicated situation. It's easy to overlook the everyday answers to prayers -- the best friend who called to say Hi when you were feeling low, the brother who started singing obnoxiously when all you wanted to do was focus on writing a blog post, the dog who barked continously for you to take him for a walk so you could enjoy a gorgeous day...

Be ready and waiting for the ordinary AND the extraordinary. If you EXPECT God to do great things, He will. But beyond that, you've also got to be looking for these BIG things -- sometimes in the smallest of places. Don't be blinded by the light of God's greatness -- let his light illuminate things you might have otherwise missed.

The Dinner Party -- a short story

I've read this story a million times and I love it. Just recently I stumbled upon it again, and thought I'd share it with you guys....For now, just enjoy the story :) I have some musings on this story, and a "lesson" to take from it, but I'm not posting that yet; I might rewrite that post first....

The Dinner Party
by Mona Gardner

The country is India. A large dinner party is being given in an up-country station by a colonial official and his wife. The guests are army officers and government officials and their wives, and an American naturalist.
At one side of the long table a spirited discussion springs up between a young girl and a colonel. The girl insists that women have long outgrown the jumping-on-a-chair-at-the-sight-of-a-mouse era, that they are not as fluttery as their grandmothers. The colonel says they are, explaining that women haven't the actual nerve control of men. The other men at the table agree with him.
"A women's unfailing reaction to any crisis," says the colonel, "is to scream. And while a man may feel like it, yet he has that ounce more of courage than a woman has. And that last ounce is what counts !"
The American scientist does not join in the argument, but sits watching the faces of the other guests. As he looks, he sees a strange expression come over the face of the hostess. She is staring straight ahead, the muscles of her face contracting slightly. With a small gesture she summons the native boy standing behind her chair. She whispers to him. The boy's eyes widen: he turns quickly and leaves the room. No one else sees this, nor the boy when he puts a bowl of milk on the verandah outside the glass doors.
The American comes to with a start. In India, milk in a bowl means only one thing. It is bait for a snake. He realizes a cobra is in the room.
He looks up at the rafters - the most likely place - and sees they are bare. Three corners of the room, which he can see by shifting slightly, are empty. In the fourth corner a group of servants stand, waiting until the next course can be served. The American realizes there is only one place left - under the table.
His first impulse is to jump back and warn the others. But he knows that the commotion will frighten the cobra and it will strike. He speaks quickly, the quality of he voice so arresting that it sobers everyone.
"I want to know just what control everyone at this table has. I will count to three hundred - that's five minutes - and not one of you is to move a single muscle. The person who moves will forfeit 50 rupees. Now ! Ready!"
The 20 people sit like stone images while he counts. He is saying ".... two- hundred and eighty...." when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the cobra emerge and make for the bowl of milk. Four or five screams ring out as he jumps up and slams shut the verandah doors.
"You certainly were right, Colonel !" the host says. "A man has just shown us an example of real control."
"Just a minute," the American says, turning to the hostess, "there's one thing I'd like to know. Mrs. Wynnes, how did you know that the cobra was in the room?"
A faint smile lights up the woman's face as she replies: "Because it was lying across my foot."

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

How God Is Like Ice Cream

Ok. Now bare (bear?) with me.

Today I had ice cream -- real, actual, honest-to-goodness ice cream, packed full of sugar and calories and a million other unhealthy and therefore positively scrumptious things -- for the first time in months. Perhaps longer.

It was, in a word, AMAZING!!!!

How was I surviving without ice cream, you might ask? The creation known as “frozen yogurt” (which is a strange name, really; it doesn’t taste anything LIKE yogurt. But whatever. The inappropriate nomenclature of desserts is an entirely different rant) Well, in my house, we eat “healthy”. Or at least, we try to. Which means that the only kind of ice cream we ever have is fat free, sugar free stuff..."frozen yogurt"...which is usually not...great; quite frankly. Yeah, it’s better then nothing. And at the time, it seems to hit the spot and quench your craving for that cold yumminess and it’s OK, really.

But it’s not great. It’s not the best. It’s not authentic. It’s not REAL.

And while you’re eating the fake stuff, you might almost be able to convince yourself that you like it. That it’s good enough. That it’s kind of like ice cream, really, just…not…
Frozen yogurt is a trap, you see. Eat only frozen yogurt for a long enough time and you'll find yourself thinking, "Huh...so maybe this isn't so bad." You might try to convince yourself, "This is good enough. I don't really need real ice cream anyway. Hmph.". You might start getting used to it; you might find yourself lowering your expectations and accepting something that's less then what you desire.

But in the end it leaves you feeling empty.
It doesn’t satisfy you.
It’s not what you crave; not what you desire.
It just doesn’t measure up.
No matter what you tell yourself, fat-free sugar-free frozen yogurt is nothing compared to true Hershey’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup ICE CREAM. There’s no comparison, really
And when you finally taste Hershey’s, you realize what you’ve been missing out on! You realize how much more there is to life! And you won’t ever want to go back.

So…go with this for a minute… there’s an awful lot of ‘gods’ out there. People “worship” and idolize celebrities, or money, or popularity or their own self-image. That’s the fat-free sugar-free frozen yogurt stuff. That’s the stuff that might seem nice at the time, but really, isn’t all that satisfying. That’s the stuff that you fill your life with because you THINK it’s good enough, but really, it’s not. It doesn’t fill you up.

God is the Hershey’s Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream. God is the real deal. In a world full of frozen yogurts that try to convince you that they’re just as good, God is the one who stands strong. God is the only one who can satisfy your heart’s desires and really “fill you up”. When everything else that you’ve invested your time and money into fails or falls short of your needs, only God will be there… true and real… and ready to supply everything you’ve ever needed; ready to give your life purpose and make you whole.

How sweet is that???

So...why settle for something that's fake? Why spend all that time trying to convince yourself that something's "right" when clearly, you crave more?
Wouldn't you rather have the best? Wouldn't you rather have the real deal??

Isaiah 55: 2-3 discusses this thought:

"Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live. "

In essense, he's really saying, "Why are you wasting your time with things that clearly don't satisfy your heart's desires? You crave more in life; you crave meaning! Come to God and your SOUL WILL LIVE." (Note that Isaiah also tells us to "eat what is good".....maybe he's telling us to skip the fro yo and get some good ol' ice cream, huh?!)

Paul reminds us that God is the only one who can supply us with all that we need:

"And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus."

In other words, He'll fill us up the way nothing else can. No subsitutes. No almost-as-good.

The real thing.

"Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. " -- John 17:3

Contrary to popular belief....

....Running is not about math.

Not at all.

In fact, it has nothing to do with numbers.

This is what I discovered today.

Now, I know. I'm sure some of you are taking a deep breath and geering up for a big argument that no doubt starts with something along the lines of, "Well, actually MMSG, the sport of running has an awful lot to do with math. You see, there's rather important concepts like oh, say, distance, minutes, seconds, miles, kilometers, time, calories, speed, the distance/rate/time formula...all of these, believe it or not, are related to math and have an awful lot to do with numbers. So you see, you are very wrong."

Ok, fine. You've got a point. Maybe I should word it differently...

Running should not be about math. Or, for that matter, numbers.



I'm a relatively new runner. I only just started running last month.

But regardless, in these last few weeks, running and I have gone through a lot of phases.

When I first started running, there were a whole bunch of feelings, though most of them centered around the general idea that, "This is great! This is the coolest thing I've ever done! I love it!". Week one was mostly made up of excitement about trying something new.

By week two, however, the novelty had worn off. Excitement was replaced by exhaustion and thoughts like, "Oh, man. Shouldn't it be easier by now?! Ugh. I can't do this. There's no way I can keep doing this!" dominated my consciousness. I was tired and wondering how much longer I could keep it up. Was this really the right sport for me?

Week three hurt, quite frankly. If nothing else, it tested my resolve and determination.

But week four dawned bright and I found myself redoubling my efforts. Motivation soared as I hit the I've-been-running-for-one-month milestone and I pushed myself harder than ever; determined to prove how much I'd improved. Week four hurt, too, but at least I was proud of myself.

Week five was much the same; in the midst of a million other commitments I crammed in time to run... because I had to, after all. I had to get in those extra 10 minutes; I had to do that extra mile, I had to run a fourth day. I had to push myself even harder; I had to beat my best time; I had to get better and do more.

And today is the start of week six. And today also happens to be the day that I've had an ephiphany.

Which brings me back to the statement: Running is not (or should not) be about numbers.

What it boils down to, is that I have finally realized that when I am totally focused on miles, minutes or m.p.h., I'm not having fun.

I started running because it was fun. Because it relieved stress. Because, in the midst of a totally crazy life it gave me time to think my thoughts without distractions. I thrived on the time I spent running on my little country roads, surrounded by forests and birds in the distances and cornfields. I loved the solitude. It was refreshing and invigorating and it made me feel good.

But I allowed myself to get caught up in getting better; doing more; going further. My motivations shifted. Instead of wanting to run, I dreaded it, because I knew I'd be pushing myself even further and becoming even more exhausted. Instead of looking forward to something that had, just a few weeks ago, relaxed and refreshed me, I found that I was instead dreading this thing that was, ironically, causing me more stress.

The over-achieving perfectionist in me dominated the dreamer in me. And I wasn't happy anymore! It took a deer, an icy wind and a drenching rainstorm today, during my run, to make me realize that in a few short weeks I had -- all on my own -- managed to ruin one of the few things that made me happy. I had allowed the numbers to invade!

Here is what I told my very best friend about my revelation-of-a-run earlier today:

....It was an interesting run. I decided to do my favorite route and I set out under the looming, ominous, gloriously dark gray storm clouds praying the rain would hold off til I got home, with the goal of beating my current record, if even only by a few seconds. The first half of my run was great -- for the first time in a month, I felt like I've made some progress. I found that I was running for longer periods without slowing to a walk and I felt really good. So I kept pushing myself and pushing myself and soon I was gasping for breath and every muscle in my body was screaming, "No! I can't take anymore!" and I felt like I was going to throw up. At that point, I realized that if I was pushing myself to the point where I was making myself ill then clearly I'd lost sight of all the reasons I'd started running and I needed to chill out and rethink my priorities (I think all those endorphins make me all philosophical-like. The strangest thoughts go through my head when I run!).

As I was arguing with myself about all this, I turned a corner and quite literally almost ran right smack into a deer, who was just as surprised about our meeting as I was. I think we were only about a foot away by the time it lept one way and I veered the other way. It was pretty cool! (And a pretty stinking big deer, too, I might add!!!)

ANYWAY, now, (in my continued philosophical state) I wondered if perhaps this was God's way of telling me to slow down and enjoy this run, rather then push myself to total exhaustion. And since at that point, I was nearly doubled over from cramps, I sort of had to slow down to a "brisk walk" anyway.

It was at this point that I finally realized it was raining 9and, unbeknownst to me, probably had been for quite awhile) and I was rather wet. Drenched, actually.

So -- here I am, two miles away from home, drenched, caught in a downpour; being blow about by an icy wind [it's only about 50 degrees today anyway], in pain from intense running and already exhausted, and what do I do??

What do you think? This is me, we're talking about.

I stopped and looked heavenward and, in a very Hollywood-movie-like way, spread out my arms and twirled around in the decending drops and said, "Thank you, God, for thunderstorms."...

Is there something in your life that you are dreading right now, even though you used to enjoy it? Maybe it's because, without you realizing it, your priorities have shifted. Maybe you're doing something with different motivations or for different reasons then you originally intended.

There's more to life then numbers and being the best and beating records. Sometimes, you've got to do something solely because it brings you joy and helps you appreciate life. Sometimes, you just have to dance around in a thunderstorm.

"Life isn't about learning how to avoid the storms. It's about learning how to dance in the rain."

p.s. I really REALLY like the title of this post. It's one of my favorite phrases! It just occurred to me that it might be a good title for this blog, instead of "Upon a Thought", which I don't really like. I might change it. Hmmm!

Meetings and deadlines and schoolwork, oh my!

Ok. So...well...I know I've talked about this sort of thing before. But that was months ago. And it's important. And I'm taking a different viewpoint on the subject, this time. :)


Yesterday I spent, with the exception of about 35 minutes in which I came home, ate lunch, and changed -- 13 consecutive hours away from home; at church and meetings. Which was GREAT, and all; it was a FANTASTIC day. It was just...long. And pretty tiring.

It's another one of those weeks. *sigh*

I have fours papers due. I have a meeting or commitment every single night this week. Today was the deadline for a few magazines that I needed to submit writing to (goal for tomorrow). There are two contests I really want to enter that MUST BE POSTMARKED NO LATER THEN SATURDAY. My room is a mess -- even *I* can see that. I need to plan a Sunday School lesson for this week. I have a million school assignments that I need to catch up on. Plus, I'd really like to go running three -- or ideally, even four! -- times this week.....

And none of this is a bad thing, don't get me wrong!
But it is a tad bit...overwhelming...I'm feeling like every single second (literally) of my life for the next few weeks is completely scheduled away.


One thing I’ve struggled with for my entire life -- I know, I know, that sounds funny coming from a high schooler, but bare with me -- is “me” time. You know, taking time to think without overwhelming myself; to breathe without hyperventilating. It’s always been a concept that just completely eludes me -- I’m no good at relaxing. Never have been.

I took a class once, and one of the women in it told me her “story”. A middle age single mom working two jobs, raising two teenagers, taking care of an aging mother, etc, etc. Obviously, she was incredibly stressed out with everything she was dealing with. “It got to the point,” she told me, “that I was so miserable, so exhausted, that I didn’t want to get out of bed. People would ask me how I was and I didn’t know how to answer them. How was I? What was I feeling? I had no idea. I was losing myself to all those I held dear. It wasn’t that I didn’t love them, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to help them. I did -- I do -- more then anything. It was just that I couldn’t do it all. I couldn’t be everything to everyone forever.”
It took her years to come to this conclusion, she confessed, and once she finally realized it, she was able to come up with a solution. She decided that every Thursday night would be “her” time. Starting at 7pm, she’d turn off her phones, she wouldn’t check her email, she’d take time for her. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted. “And there are days when it’s still incredibly tempting to schedule things on 'my' Thursday nights. But ultimately, I’ve learned that I NEED that time in order to function. If I don’t take a few hours to recharge, to unwind, to do things for me, then I can’t possibly do anything for anyone else.”
And it’s hard!! It was hard, she said, at first, to explain to family and friends what she was doing. It was so hard to stick to her guns and keep Thursday nights free.
“It’s a commitment I have to make every single week,” she said. “And it’s still a challenge. But it’s worth it.”

Wow. I so admire her resolve! I admire her courage!
Because it is an INCREDIBLY hard thing to do, to make time for yourself; to take a minute or an hour or *gasp* a whole day to not work. Whether you’re a junior in high school trying to figure out what the heck you want to do with your life or a mom with three kids trying to go in 56 directions at once or going through a midlife crisis or whatever…wherever you are in your life, it’s hard. It’ll never get easier!

But the fact is…God doesn’t want us to spend our lives trying to cram every extracurricular activity, every volunteer opportunity, every extra-credit assignment, every committee meeting, every commitment in to our lives. He doesn’t want us to be so busy that we’re miserable; so weary -- whether physically, emotionally, mentally or spiritually (or all of the above) -- that we can’t function.

Think about it logically. I’ve found out that hard way that I can’t do schoolwork when I’ve had a week’s worth of only-three-hours-of-sleep nights. It just doesn’t happen. I can’t perform to the best of my ability, and I truly believe that performing to the best of my ability is a way that I can bring glory to God.
You follow me so far?

Likewise, I can’t be an effective teacher at preschool if I’m consumed by stress or worry, because I can’t focus on what I need to.
I can’t take time to pray when I’m too busy to think my thoughts.
I can’t think my thoughts unless I take time to do so.

My fabulous youth leader made a suggestion tonight. Start with one hour, she suggested. One hour a week that you schedule into your life -- same as you’d schedule a meeting or a date or a study session -- and let it be yours. After all -- a week is 168 hours long. Surely you can afford to make ONE of those hours yours?

“Ok,” you might be thinking now. “So maybe I can handle that…but…what about when I feel guilty?
”Well, I deal with this all the time, too. I feel incredibly guilty taking time for “me”. I feel selfish-- "who am I to say that I’m more important? I could be changing the world right now. I should focus on THAT, not silly old ME…and think of all the things I could be doing right now,” I always argue with myself. “I could be studying for that Chemistry test or reading next week’s chapter for AP Psych or writing a letter to so-and-so or volunteering here or doing this or that or…” and that’s where you’ve got to realize that you don’t have to feel guilty about it!

Whoa. Foreign concept, I know. NO guilt? Really? I might be…allowed… to take a break? *gasp* To read a book that’s not required for school, to watch a totally pointless movie that makes me laugh, to sit down and call a friend just to say hi, to write a silly story, to play with my dog or go for a walk or do *biggest gasp yet*……nothing?!?!

Yup. That's what I'm saying :)

“Now may our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, and our God and Father, who has loved us and given us everlasting consolation and good hope by grace, comfort your hearts…” (2 Thes. 2:16-17).

God longs to comfort us when we are weak; to give us strength and hope and to renew and refresh our souls…but we have to allow Him. We’ve got to give God that space to come into our hearts. We’ve got to give ourselves the time to just be still.

One of my all time favorite Bible verses is Psalm 42:10: “Be still and know that I am God.”

It reminds me that I don’t have to be constantly moving in a million directions at once; obsessively working to glorify God. Sometimes all he wants me to do is be still…still…and just acknowledge his presence and his majesty. It’s then that I will find the strength, the knowledge, the peace, the courage, whatever I need, to keeping working for him.

Give yourself an hour this week to be still.

Do You Know?

Good Monsters
Jars of Clay

All the good monsters open their eyes
To see the wasteland where the home fires rise
And the people shouting, "Why, why, why"

Do you know what you are?
Do you know what you are?

All the giants wake from their sleep
And roll outside of safety's keep
And the pain makes them feel so alive

Do you know what you are; do you know what you are?
We are bored of all the things we know
Do you know what you are; do you know what you are?

Not all monsters are bad
But the ones who are good
Never do what they could, never do what they could

All the good monsters rattle their chains
And dance around the open flames
They make a lot of empty noise

While all of the bright eyes turn away
As if there wasn't anything to say
About the justice and the mystery

Do you know what you are?
Do you know what you are?
We are bored of all the things that we know
And we are forms of everything we love, we love..

If good won't show its ugly face,
Evil won't you take your place?
Nothing ever changes, nothing ever changes
By itself

We are bored of all the things that we know
Do you know what you are?
Because we are so in love with ourselves

We are forms of all the things we love.

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Do you know what you are?

You've all heard the famous quote, "All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for a good man to stand by and do nothing." (Edmund Burke).

I don't have to tell you how true this is. I don't have to tell you what pain and humiliation feels like when you're in the midst of a group that is harassing you, picking on you, making fun of you; I don't have to tell you what hope feels like when you see someone, standing off to the edge of the group, silent, not taking part. The one person who might be able to save you. I don't have to tell you how much it hurts when that one single person turns their back and walks away, leaving you to whatever humiliation you're enduring. I don't have to tell you because I'm sure you've been through it before.Betrayal. That's what it boils down to.

Do you know what you are?

Are you a good monster? The kind no one's ever heard of? The kind that just stands by and lets all the evil monsters ruin the reputation of monsters everywhere; the kind who doesn't dare to challenge the stereotype or defy the expected?

"Nothing ever changes...by itself." Are you standing by and watching evil triumph?Pick a situation in your life that you're currently involved in... without really being "involved in". Somewhere where you're standing by, helplessly; not getting involved but not doing anything to change it, either. Well -- I challenge you to change it.
Don't let evil triumph. Whether your goal is to end the turmoil in Darfur or to confess to your parents that it was you, and not your little brother, who flooded the bathroom... Don't just "make a lot of empty noise."

Do you know what you are?

Well then -- stand up and tell the world.
Show them what you are and what you believe.