That time I told my niece Mary was an attention-whore

I didn't hear the tornado sirens, but I did see the pack of five moms running in unison and that's kind of the same thing, right? That's right. I survived my first Missourah tornado.

Consequentially (not really, the storm has nothing to do with it) I am having immense writer's block. I read a blog today that really struck a chord with me when the writer said that blogging forces her to be more present in the moment and drag things out. Because really, our life is funny and it is adventurous, but so often we're waiting for "the next big thing" that we miss it. So, while I'm here, I want to remember being here. And a huge part of my life here in good ol' Missourah has been the kids I get to work with in the nursery. I recently realized that perhaps my sass has gone a little too far, especially when it comes to children. I imagine their not listening...but they could be...So for now, until my writer's block heals, enjoy the following sample of my sassy-child interactions.

12-year-old: hey! hey! hey! 

me: WHAT

12-year-old: i got a lunchbox (he has been repeating this for about 30 minutes, 

and I finally catch on)

me: yeah? did you get the velcro too? 

*12-year-old's mouth drops open in utter horror*: how do YOU know that song???

*church choir singing*

6-year-old girl: this music SUCKS

me: HEY. That is the music of the LORD. 

Israel (the special needs boy I watch, who has absolutely no sensory perception) has developed a new habit of whenever he's in a crowd, just putting his arm straight out (Hitler style, no joke) and pushing through into anyone in his way until they move. So of course, he does this to a 60 year old woman, and of course, his hand comes to the height of her butt. Which he proceeds to push on. For a few too many seconds. 

Me: Israel! If you're gonna touch her butt, you could at least say hello!

Creepy 70 year old man behind me: Heh heh, he's just starting early. 

And now...the grand finale. Throwback Thursday...to Christmas...me...and the love of my life...re-enacting the Christmas nativity story. Please enjoy the key parts where I teach her that:

 +Mary was "big and fat and pregnant and this made her very tired"  

+Jesus's "first friends were other animals in the manger, who he sometimes slept with but surprisingly never crushed him" 

+Mary loved all the attention she got when the three kings came bearing gifts

And yes, she does jump in shock when I sneeze at the end. Seriously. Best 5 minutes you'll ever spend.
(Also, sorry I'm not sorry I'm not a professional videographer and at one point my fat fingers cover the mic for like...a minute. But just turn your sound up, it's still gold!)

Like I said...I should watch what I say more...

Day made? You're welcome.

I'm a Tree Fairy!

The other day, I was sitting on my ass couch watching TV when a commercial with the typical adorable child came on. Instantly, I started bemoaning "childhood is wasted on children. wouldn't it be great to be a child again...just for one day?" I thought of all the things I would do as a child again for just one day: not pay bills, not complain about whatever my mom cooked for dinner--just be grateful I wasn't cooking it, get a bunch of hugs, spend all day outside just playing. Remember when we were kids and we just went outside without having anything to do? As an adult, I feel like I can't really go outside without something to do. I need to be playing a specific game, taking a specific walk, or reading a specific book. But when I was a kid I would just go outside without any specific activity in mind most times...but four hours later I was dirty, tired, happy and content.

This weekend, winter visited Missouri.

I enjoyed laying on my couch for hours...but around 4 o'clock I wanted to start ramming my head against the wall. I caught myself whining "I can't even go to my gym classes because there's so much snow. Ugh." And then I saw my neighbors outside, building a snowman. My roommate thought they were crazy and I thought they were brilliant. They wanted to be outside, so they did. I wanted to be outside, so I did. At first, I took a walk. But that can only last so long. And then...I spied it. We had already had one tree fall, and my roommate and I were waiting for others to snap from the weight of the snow.

That's cool, I didn't need to get upstairs anyways.

I was desperate for a way to stay outside. And then it came to me. I could be the self-proclaimed tree fairy of my apartment complex. I could prevent other trees from snapping by ridding them of their too-heavy snow! So I ran around and shook all the branches I could find.

It hit me. Literally, and metaphorically. Metaphorically, my wish had come true. I was a little kid for a day. I didn't have a care in the world. I ran from tree to tree to tree, up hill, down hill, across the parking lot. Just shaking branches. Letting it avalanche onto my head. Sometimes pulling the branch back like a sling-shot and using it to hit the snow off the branch ahead. Unburying some branches that were already buried completely under the snow. It was wonderful. I know it sounds simple but--no, no buts. It was simple. And it was beautiful. It was fun and simple and thrilling. Each time I shook it, shrieked, got pelted by snow, and then got to watch the branch swing two feet up in the air, snow free again I felt a huge rush.

While I was swinging away, I was reminded of this quote.

I couldn't be a kid for a day then, but I could be a kid for today. When I wanted it, the answer was "not now." As a human, I oh so often assume that means "not ever." But today was a great reminder that our God is an awesome God, and he never forgets His children--down to their littlest desire. How beautiful.  Think of everything the Lord has to keep track of. Politicians, starving children, single moms, Pope Francis running away from his body guards (again) to go bless some homeless people. All these people and burdens and prayers...and yet He remembers me, a little ol' girl in Missourah, under a tree full of snow. Out of all of the requests and prayers and petitions He gets every single day, He remembered my one, thirty-second thought, "I want to be a kid again" and He made it happen.

Some of you are probably rolling your eyes. It was frickin' snow, get over it you may say. But to me, it was more. It was a reminder that "not now" doesn't mean "not ever." And I needed this reminder, desperately.  I've been stressing over everything--money, job, Missourah. And today, I got my answer. Not now. That doesn't mean He's forgotten me or that my life is over and I just have to deal with where I am. I'll get where I need to be, when I need to be. And along the way, I'll learn some cool things. Like today, I learned the coolest way to enjoy snow as an adult. And hopefully, I saved a branch or two.

Love,
The Tree Fairy

Now that's a rosy-pink shade of exertion that even my Bar Method teacher would approve of. Brought to you for free from the great outdoors.

You're bored? Do something. You want to get off your ass?  Get up.
You want to go outside? Go outside. Is it hard? You bet. Worth it? Absolutely.

I ran from tree to tree like a total moron. Do my neighbors think I'm crazy?
Who cares. I'm fabulous.

The 5 Assholes You'll Date In College: Part One

Note: this post originally appeared on my Wordpress site, but since I am switching to Blogger I wanted to bring some of my more favorite posts with me. Enjoy!

1: THE OVERLY RELIGIOUS ONE

 Otherwise Known As: The Homeschooler, The Innocent One, Prophet of our Time

Potential Characteristics: attended a homeschool co-op, only listens to Christian music, carries his Bible everywhere, instead of a date asks you to church, thinks he’s at college to convert people not study, thinks he is God’s favorite man but is too ‘humble’ to admit it, attends a liberal arts college, Mama’s boy, wants to be ‘different’

Most Common Heard Phrase in this relationship: You really believe that?

Average Length of relationship: 2 Weeks

Average Length of time to get over breakup: 2 minutes

Here’s how this relationship works. You usually start out as ‘just friends.’ This self-described JF (short for "Jesus Freak," which he pulled from the same title DC Talk song--stop, we were all fans you know it) will inevitably use his friend group as the browsing grounds for potential mates. He will hide behind the phrase ‘I just want to be friends’ until he is has found his prey and is ready to pounce. Your first ‘date’ will most likely be a walk around campus.

From this relationship you will learn that any and every topic can be related back to Jesus and your moral stance. Once,  a JF I dated convinced me that going to see the political satire "W" was actually supporting abortion and showing my moral relativism. Like I said, mind spinning. 

You’ll go on a lot of group dates during this time. And you’ll get in a lot of theological arguments that unfortunately never lead to hot makeout sessions (boo). The good side of that is that you’ll be forced to think on your feet, and you’ll have a permanent store of answers for the next time you’re trapped in a theological debate.

Now, the most important person in this world to Homeschooled JF will be his mother. This is a hurdle for most of us girls. Unfortunately, that mother will always see you as the enemy. There is really no getting over this. Until the day you pop out a perfect blond-haired baby that looks just like hers on, she will doubt whether you are of any use to her son. My advice on dealing with mamma’s boys is just not to bring the topic up. Should you ever be in the same room as her, just always picture her as a pastor’s wife and your decorum will be sure to be appropriate.

Fortunately, this relationship will come to an end. 

Signs this relationship is ending: “I was talking to my mom….” “How do you feel about homeschooling our…your children?” “I think God put you in my life for a reason.”

Classic Homeschooled JF break-up line: “I just can’t be your Jesus.”

Fast ways to get out of this relationship: Carry a Catechism around

Break-up song to help you get over it: Just turn on the radio to anything but the Christian station and you’ll instantly feel alive again.

***

2. THE OVERLY INVESTED PUPPY DOG

Otherwise Known As: The Stalker, The Well-Meaning One

 Potential Characteristics: Health condition, lack of male friends, lack of father figure, mamma’s boy, Methodist, drinks Sprite, owns more polo shirts than a sorority girl, Velcro wallet, missing balls, stalker

Most Common Heard Phrase in this relationship: “I can change.”

Average Length of relationship: Too long

Average Length of time to get over breakup: .2 seconds

It’s a sad, sad time to be dating in this world. I know that most of us are mourning the lack of jobs, the lack of reliable political figures, or the lack of religiosity, but let’s focus on what’s really important. The lack of men.

Now I have a tendency, it’s true, to accidentally run over people who don’t have spines (metaphorically, dipshit. I’m not running over handicap people with my car). I just can’t help it. They’re just so whiny and annoying and they never stand up for themselves. It’s so annoying. That is the OIPD in one word—spineless.

The most annoying part of dating an OIPD is just how much he’ll actually love you. His very smiles will begin to annoy you. You’ll wish he didn’t think everything you did was so perfect and cute. You’ll actually begin to purposely try to do things you would never, ever do just to piss him off. He will call you non-stop to check on where you are, but not in the overly possessive way. It’s like an unexplainable soft, overly-possessive way. Like a stalker wrapped in glitter wrapped in tulle trying to give you a lollipop way. If he calls and you’re out with your girlfriends, he won’t even be jealous. He’ll just ask if there’s anything that you guys need. More wine? A DD? A chick flick? Starbucks? Tampons?

A classic sign that you’re dating an OIPD is his high level of involvement with your friends. When you skip the cafeteria dinner, he will still sit with them. He will know their boyfriend problems, their best friend problems, and their girl drama before you do. He will be their go-to male opinion.

When you try to break up with him, he will convince you that he can change—just give him another chance! 

Before you know it, you've been won over by his puppy dog eyes and are dating for another two weeks. Girls, if you’re in this relationship, just end it. Let him go be a good boyfriend to someone who will appreciate his mushy heart.

Signs this relationship is ending: Whenever one of your friends says “I’m just gonna text your boyfriend and ask him his opinion on ________. He always knows what boys are thinking!”

Classic Overly-Invested Puppy Dog break-up line: Girl, he will never break up with you, therefor he doesn’t have a classic line.

Fast ways to get out of this relationship: Just end it. Quickly.

Break-up song to help you get over it: “I’m Still a Guy” by Brad Paisley


Be sure to check back for Part Two tomorrow! And if you enjoyed, please help show the love by clicking the GFC button =) What do you think? Have you ever dated one of these two types of boys?

Overwrite the Lies

Today I'm linking up with the women of the Overwrite the Lies project--a week-long social media campaign to help combat the young lies women listen to in their heads, so they might hear the truth written in their heart.

When I was in high school, girls went through a phase of calling each other a lot of negative words 'playfully' disguised as nicknames. Slut. Whore. Bitch. Anyone who has been a girl knows what I'm talking about. Girls try to say it as a joke or a passive-agressive commentary, but it still stings. It's not true. It's a lie, but it gets in your head. And your heart.

Especially mine. When I was in sixth grade, I learned that I was what I like to affectionately call a doorstep baby. My birthmom had left me on my dad's doorstep without so much as a see you later. I grew up in a loving home with devoted parents and four beautiful sisters. I was never treated any differently than any of them, and the circumstances of my birth were never dwelled on. But in high school, doubt, fear and evil crept into my mind. I started to wonder. What was the role of my birthmom in my life? Did I inherit anything from her? Would parts of my life be out of my control, simply because they were her genes? The names girls threw around carelessly in highschool--slut, whore, bitch, tease--they were all things I had once heard said of my birthmom. Was I destined to turn out like her--a bitch?

Through the grace of God, it was at this time that my junior english class was reading John Steinbeck's East of Eden. The story works its way through two brother's internal struggle after they learn their mother is a prostitute. One fears that much like the Old Testament says in stories of generations of offspring being cursed due to one ancestor's sin against God, he is condemned to be a sinner like his mother. The other finds his answer in the grace of Jesus and one word: timshel. This is the original word in the Bible, located in Genesis, that gives the first sign of the most defining characteristic of our relationship with God in comparison to other deities: free will. I've posted a short clip of the passage below:

Samuel said, “[...]Why is this word so important?”

Lee’s hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. “Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?”

“Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?”

“Ah!” said Lee. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I am well prepared. Any writing which has influenced the thinking and the lives of innumerable people is important. Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, ‘Do thou,’ and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in ‘Thou shalt.’ Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But ‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.”

(For a longer snippet of the novel, please click here).

And in those paragraphs, in the words of the Lord, I found the truth over the lies. Because our God loves us, trusts us, and wants the best for us: He has given us free will. The choice is ours. Jesus died to break the rules of the Old Testament and continue this free will. We can be great, or we can fall. But we are not predestined to either one.

The beauty of the Lord is this: He doesn't just take your sins away. He takes whatever shame, sin and ugliness you may have in your past and turns it into something beautiful--something for His glory. I never in a million years would have thought I would have once been a camp counselor using the story of my birthmom for His glory, or blogging about it to strangers on the internet. But that's what the love and forgiveness of Christ can do. I no longer feel trapped, scared, hopeless, helpless, abandoned or ashamed. Because I have found the truth.

So, since this week is focusing on overwriting the lies we hear, let me wrap up with this:

I am my mother. 

I am my father.

My path is set. 

Once I've fallen, count me down.

The choice is yours: timshel.