and i was like, baby baby baby noooooooo!

*ahem*

Yesterday I held a baby.

Not just an ordinary baby….I held my friends Ryan and Anna’s baby, named Darcy. She’s a sweet little thing with pink cheeks and tons of dark hair. When Anna handed her to me I didn’t really know what the heck I was doing. She was like…….wiggling aaand I pretty much thought I was going to drop her.

You see…I am TERRIBLE with children. In my humble opinion. I mean, I don’t lose my patience or anything…I just don’t know what the heck to do with them! Especially 5+, they’re the hardest because…they talk…a lot. And they have the energy I don’t have even when I’ve had one of those handy double shot frappuccino things. I remember babysitting kids that age that would literally tackle me and pretty much beat me up. Or run circles around me until I was out of air and suggested nap time….but alas, 5+ year olds don’t take naps. The worst trick a 5+ munchkin can pull is hiding (when you’re not playing hide and seek) and not coming out from wherever they are when you call them. One time when I was babysitting a 2 and 5 year old, the 5 year old hid. The 2 year old was sleeping. I ran around the house calling and searching everywhere. I even ran around the woods with the baby monitor, looking. Then coming in exasperated and worried sick, I found her under her parent’s bed. So now whenever kids pull this, I talk loudly about leaving and going to the beach or something and sooner or later I hear the pitter patter of little kids running down the hallway.

Anyways, back to baby Darcy…..

Let me just say, that she is one of the most beautiful babies I have EVER seen. This is a big thing for me, considering that I’m not I was never the ‘baby type’. However, while I was holding sweet Darcy…I found that I actually WANTED a baby.

WHAAT?!?! MEEE???

Never. No. No way. Not Happening. This is insanity.

GRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And I keep thinking back to babysitting my Pastor’s sweet little girl Lily and I thought….”hey…maybe I’m not THAT bad with kids….” And I suppose I might be an okay mom someday…I mean, if I get sick of my kids I can always ship them off to live with my mom right? Ha, just kidding.

So now….when I see pictures of Anna and Ryan’s baby on Facebook, I get these foreign happy tear things….it’s weird. I think I need to go see a psychologist or something because I OBVIOUSLY have a MAJOR problem here.

the sucky smoothie...

In case you don’t know this already…I am a health food fanatic. However, I’m also a junk food fanatic. So my diet usually consists of three healthy meals with something terribly wonderfully hideously bad for me in between. And then I go and walk 2 miles. Like today…today I was EXTRA bad. I caved to the pressure of the glorious oh so lovely Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I couldn’t resist. Shame on me. AND plus I didn’t take my walk today…super bad.

So now I’m sitting here writing this and sipping a DISGUSTING smoothie. Oh don’t get me wrong, I LOVEEE smoothies. However, this one is grotesquely sourly icky and…blech.

Here’s what I put in it:

Yogurt, chia seeds, flaxseed oil, like 15 baby carrots, strawberries, blueberries, cherries, and honey…oh and ice.

Sounds amazing…usually it is.

However…SOMEONE (me) didn’t realize how sour the yogurt was (it’s like sour cream…only sourer) and ….its bitter okay? So I tried biting off the ends of a licorice stick (which is retarded because I HATE licorice) and using it as a straw….but it kept freezing closed. Stupid.

I know this is a really lame subject to blog about and I probably wouldn’t even be writing this except…I haven’t had my coffee today, AKA: I STILL HAVE NOT WOKE UP AND I CANNOT FUNCTION LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING.

Oh, and I have a headache.

*sigh*

twisted olives and shot glasses....

So yesterday...I had a choice.
Woodcutting with the family? Orrrr cleaning the house?
I chose cleaning the house and set off to work, dusting and mopping, and vacuuming. Thankfully my best friend Benny called while I was cleaning, and so we got to catch up on everything and it made the work go way faster.
About halfway through my house cleaning, my amiga Livvy texted me and asked me to meet her at The Twisted Olive Cafe behind Roast and Toast (Yep...we have a lot of coffee shops around here...), I had already had about a pot of coffee and figured another half wouldn't hurt me, and so I went. I had never been to the Twisted Olive, and had a heck of a time finding it, but when I got there I found I actually liked it more than Roast and Toast *gasp*.  Here are the pros and cons for both R&T and T.O.
Roast and Toast:
Has TONS of choices...........buuuuut their coffee is WAY too sweet
The building is really cool...........but its also really cramped
Their tea sucks (in my humble opinion)
The people there are really nice.
There's usually a lot of flies in the building
It's really loud in thereee X_X
They have comfy window seats.
The coffee is REALLY pricey

Twisted Olive:
The coffee is amazing......but not a lot of choices
The coffee is usually organic and cheap
The atmosphere is quiet and relaxing....but there's mostly old people there (not necessarily a con)
If you want a flavored coffee, they just give you the flavored syrup in a shot glass...this made me and Livvy (the "sheltered homeschoolers") burst into a fit of not-so-quiet-giggling.
Oh and their whip cream is totally phat for real.
They sell mini cheesecakes......but they cost an arm and a leg.....but they're probably worth it.
Everything is REALLY clean. And I love that.
They close at 3pm :( sad day.
I had 2 cups of coffee with syrup and whipped cream for $2.50 something

Anyways, I had a blast with my Livvy. We talked about everything from college to watching The Princess Bride in Spanish. I had a lovely time, and I put enough change in the parking meter for once. Sweet deal. =D

feeding the meter....

^{Today I finished a book called “The Ramsay Scallop”. It’s about a catholic girl [Eleanor] and her betrothed [Thomas] being sent on a religious pilgrimage to the shrine of St James. Now in case you’re not familiar with the term “religious pilgrimage” what it was in this book, was a chance for two people to make a journey to this shrine to repent for their town (earning their salvation). So basically…that would be like you walking for three months to this place to pray for forgiveness for you and every single person in your town, all the while fighting disease and hunger and living in complete poverty, etcetera.}

^{So, this book got me thinking……painful, I know…but thinking none the less. Do I try to earn my salvation? Do I try to be a good person because I think it scores me brownie points with God? Or do I do it simply because the Bible says to and because I love Jesus? Do I drop a few bills into the Salvation Army bucket in Wal-Mart because I genuinely care about suffering people, or because it makes me look like a good person? Am I on multiple worship teams because I love praising God and leading people to Him, or because I just like to play music?}

^{These are really hard questions to ask myself, but they’re even harder to answer. Honestly sometimes I just do the right thing because I’m afraid of the consequences if I don’t do it. Because, if I do this…or if I do that, maybe God will love me more. If I donate my time to this cause, or something……maybe that will make up for me losing my patience with my brother.}   

^{I guess it’s kind of like this…}

^{I have a dog. The dog has to eat. Do I feed the dog because I love her? Or because I feel an obligation to keep her alive and I want her to like me?}

^{The obvious answer is because I love her. I take care of her because she’s my baby (she’s curled up on my lap sleeping as I write this).}

^{So……do I serve God because I love Him and His people? Or because I need to “park my car in His parking place (aka heaven) and so I keep feeding the meter…”?}

^{In the past…I think I’ve been feeding the meter so I can park in the God parking lot (lame analogy I know…), but after reading this book and seeing how people were trying to earn their place in God’s kingdom, and how silly it is……well, it makes me want to be different. I guess it’s a “mask” (refer to my masquerade post) that I’ve been wearing and it’s high time I take it off. So here goes…}

masquerade....

So there’s this song by Sanctus Real, called “I’m Not Alright”. If you don’t know this song, you should go look it up before or after you read this, because it’s amazing. Anyways, this song really got me thinking…but it wasn’t just this song, I guess it was a combination of the song and the lesson from yesterday’s youth group. Our youth leader Matt was talking about masks we wear. Masks that tell people something about us, that isn’t always true. So I started thinking about what kind of masks I wear.

At first, I couldn’t think of any. I had deluded myself enough to think that I’m ALWAYS real with people about how I feel.

Well guess what you guys……I do wear masks. My favorite mask is (and by favorite I mean the one I hide behind most often) “I’m alright, you can’t hurt me and I don’t need you”. Funny, because when I wear that mask, obviously I’m not alright, you most certainly can hurt me and I do need you.

But my question is….how the heck do I get this sucky mask off? How do I NOT put it on when I’m around people that I feel I need to protect myself from?

If you have suggestions….feel free to comment. God knows I need help…..

Baby it's cold outside...

                             

       The last of the leaves are tumbling across the road; dodging speeding cars, roaring motorcycles, and obnoxious semis... Fall has been here and is packing his bags to make room for a new and rather frigid guest…

Winter.

      Did anyone else just shiver in remorse for all the days wasted inside chewing popcorn, watching movies, and Facebooking on the picturesque summer days?         

      Let me set the record straight for you, I do not hate winter. It’s um…nice? Yeah, we’ll go with that. I mean, if you forget about the bulky five layers of Weather Channel approved coats and scarves that are just about enough to make a rake handle look obese, and the numb fingers you get when you’re trying to wipe all the snow off the car windshield with your bare hands because your windshield wipers are frozen together and you can’t find your handy dandy snow brush thing, yeah…winter is great. Oh but I forgot to mention the hard glacial ice that attacked the Wal-Mart parking lot, I bet you’re reminiscing now about how last winter you were walking a little bit too fast for conditions and, *slip* there you go, sliding across the parking lot, dodging rusty cars and shopping carts. Oh crap, your shopping cart! Where’d it go? You guessed it. The decrepit old cart just slammed into some billionaire’s car, now they’re going to sue you for all your groceries.

Just kidding, billionaires don’t shop at Wal-Mart.

(Please excuse my grammatical errors while I paint you a picture of my agonizing trip to Winter Wonderland.)        

Me: Ahhhhhhhh!    (ßMicrosoft Word doesn’t have that word in their dictionary…apparently Mr. Microsoft Word hasn’t met ice yet.)

Friend’s Mom: Come on Holly! You can do it!

Me: Yeah right, ice hates me. Not to mention, the feeling is mutual.

Friend’s Mom (holding me up while I step cautiously out onto the ice in my rental skates): You’re going to be great at this!

Me: Okay I think you can let go now (I smile, totally taking ‘You’re going to be great at this’ literally.)…

So I begin to skate, first sliding with my left foot (Cuz I just do things backwards like that) and then my right. I’m now up to a speedy 0.000009 MPH. I so own ice skating. Yes, at last all was well and I was rocking this. What could go wrong? The skates weren’t killing my feet yet, my fingers showed no signs of the dreaded frostbite; the wind was at my back…it was a heavenly experience.

Friend’s Mom: Hey Holly, I wanna show you something…it’ll help you when you fall.

Me: Okay I’ll be right there—

But it’s too late, down I go flailing my arms and screaming (Which doesn’t help by the way), then I hear a crack, (my back wailing in protest) but that was all drown out by the pudgy little punk kids that were standing around laughing at my little rendezvous with the ice.

Okay, so that was like, five years ago. Yet my terror of ever stepping out onto the ice again sends shivers down my frail spine, though I didn’t suffer any lasting injuries (Other than my pride), I will never forget the pain of my ten years smacking the ice. And I know what you’re thinking, “What a wimp…” am I right? If I am right then so are you, I am indeed a wimp. I’m also a nerd, deal with it. If however you see me as a brave heroin (which if you do….you should really stop reading this kind of stuff and go watch some hockey) then thanks for your support, if only you’d have shown it way back in 2005.

So there’s my most terrifying winter experience…enjoy. And please…whatever you do, DON’T GO SKATING ALONE. Heaven knows, it’s so much better to have others laughing at your pain.

50 things that make living lovable ;)

Okay, so lately…I’ve found myself thinking really negatively….So I made a list. A list of things and people that I’m really thankful for. <3

v  Love

v  My Family

v  Benny

v  Autie, Zach, Bran, and Ant (aka the rest of Check Yes)

v  Ella, and the rest of the Durans ;) (This includes you too Livvy!! :D)

v  Leah and her amazing hugs!

v  The rest of my crazy awesome friends :)

v  Coffee, especially when Mrs. Duran makes her “special brew” <3

v  Music. Music. Music.

v  Harbor Light Youth Group =)

v  Laughter

v  Converse

v  Eyeliner

v  Chocolate

v  Dishwashers

v  Facebook

v  Hair dye

v  The sound of a coffee maker in the morning

v  Frogs

v  Cute puppies!!!! Which should be way higher up on this list…

v  Fall colors

v  Cozy sweaters

v  Warm beach days

v  Snowflakes

v  Umbrellas

v  Fire (Yeah…I’m kind of a pyro)

v  Snowboards

v  Ice-cream :P

v  Mom hugs

v  Dad hugs

v  Friend hugs

v  Hugs from cute little kids

v  Hugs in general

v  Shoelaces

v  Sharpies

v  Tattoos

v  Horses

v  My favorite pair of jeans

v  Cars

v  Muscle Cars ;)

v  Wind

v  Clouds

v  Shooting stars

v  Big stars that are probably planets but I choose not to believe it

v  Stars in general

v  Bunnies

v  Even ugly bunnies

v  Weird commercials

v  Sweet old people that talk to me in the grocery store

v  You.

Michigan State #FTW

What's that I hear? Ahhhh 'tis the lovely sound of The Maize and Blue crying their eyes out because MICHIGAN STATE WON!!!!!!!!!!!! WHOOHOOOOO :D
Y'all donno just how happy this makes me. And for those of you that didn't watch the game, it was close man. I was on the edge of my seat like, the whole time...but the Green n gold OWNED u of m and it was truly.....beautful. And it made my day. And I didn't lose the bet I made with one of my amigos. So, happy day. :)
#gostate<3

wacky cake and my great grandma =)

Today I've been thinking a lot about my great grandma...

Her name was Earldine Brown, and she died a few years ago. I always called her "Gramma Brown" and I loved hanging out at her apartment, watching with wide eyes as she'd bake her favorite Wacky Cake. Sometimes we'd put puzzles together, and then she'd sit me on her lap and make me read to her. I remember the two stuffed bears that sat on her bed and sang "all you need is love" when you squeezed them. And I remember the time that Gramma Brown took me down stairs to the apartment's lobby and made me play piano for all the old ladies, she bragged to all her friends about how good I was, even though I wasn't. My Gramma was a die hard Jesus Freak, she preached fire and brimstone, and she wouldn't play cards.

I remember well when Gram was moved into a nursing home. I hated the way it smelled, how all the old people looked up longingly as I'd hurry down the hall to Gramma B's room. The only thing that made me want to go in there, was Gramma and her twinkly ice blue eyes. By this time I had given up piano to pursue the violin. Gramma begged me to play for her, but I told her to wait. "Just wait til I get better, and then I'll play for you Gramma!" I said.
Then she got sick.
Really sick. And you know what? I never did play violin for Gramma, because she died.
Her memorial service was dreadfully sad. She was the first person I had lost that I was close to. I remember walking up to the casket, looking in and seeing a face perfectly made up. It wasn't real though, it wasn't my gramma. It was a dead body with too much makeup on. I cried a little. And then I focused on surviving through the funeral. All I remember is the April rain racing down the windows and the annoying sad music in the background. I also remember my mumma getting up and telling stories about Gramma. The picture she painted for us was one of grandma smiling, laughing, picking berries, baking. All the things Gramma loved to do.
After the service, I never went to see Gram's grave. Not until this summer.
I had driven up to Bliss (yes it's an actual town, look it up) to meet a few friends of mine, we'd been having problems and I thought I could patch it up. I couldn't. I started home feeling defeated, and then I began thinking about Gramma Brown. And then I realized I was driving past the grave yard where she's buried. So I pulled in and began looking for her grave marker. When I found it, I fell to my knees in shock. Suddenly Gramma's death was real. After all these years I finally believed it. And I cried. Hard. And I never cry. But boy, I did. And then I felt a sudden warm peace....like everything was going to be okay. I never did fix the relationships I drove up there to mend, I hope someday I can... but I did face my fear of going to see Grandma's grave....of knowing she isn't here anymore, and I know she'd be proud of me. Sometimes I swear I can feel her smiling down on me from heaven. Sometimes I imagine her walking hand in hand with Jesus, and it makes me smile. And I look forward to seeing her again someday.

Today, I made a wacky cake in memory of my Gramma....and I decided to share the recipe with you. The cake is pretty stinkin' good with or without frosting. My Gramma would put cool whip on it, a lot of cool whip. ;)

3 cups flour
2 cups sugar
3 T cocoa
1 tsp soda
2 cups water
1 egg
3/4 cup oil
2 T vinegar
1 tsp vanilla
3/4 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350 and mix all ingredients in a 13x9 pan and pop in the oven! It bakes for anywhere between 45 - 60 mins :)

Flames of Rome....

Lately in school I’ve been studying the history of Rome. Part of my history is this book called “The Flames of Rome” which is about Nero and what a perverted asinine dolt he was. I’m telling you, this is probably the hardest book I’ve ever read. By hard to read I don’t mean, “Where’s my dictionary? I don’t know what this means!” etc. What’s hard to read is the in depth grotesque details of every sickening thing the Romans did. I mean, they did a lot of things which I’ll list in a minute. One of them being that they killed Christians like we kill flies. And this left me wondering….could I die for my beliefs?

Now, here’s that list….

1.         They thought suicide was honorable.

2.         Ever heard of matricide? Infanticide?  Patricide?  How about uxoricide?

3.         Adultery was normal and encouraged as well.

4.         Their parties were so disgustingly perverted; I’ll spare you the grotesque particulars.

5.         Incest was outlawed, but widely practiced.

6.         Cutting was used to control one’s life span, a little cut here, and another in a few hours. I guess some people wanted to say goodbye before they killed themselves off?

7.         There was excessive drinking. *dodges tomatoes*

8.         You think crime rates are high now? Take a trip to ancient Rome…

9.         Homosexuality was “normal” but then….unfortunately I suppose it still is. Nero himself had not only two wives (one male one female) but he was one himself (in case you missed that, he was married to one woman and two men. That is, until he killed his chick wife and child.)

10.   (Now this one is the closest to my heart, and the hardest one to read/write about….) Christians were murdered. And I don’t just mean murdered, I mean, they were burned to death, crucified, beaten to death, eaten by wild dogs and lions…there’s more, but I’d rather not say.

While I was reading this book, I imagined I was one of those Christians. Could I die for the same God who died for me a few thousand years ago? Could I remain silent and peaceful as I was being torn apart by wild beasts and laughed at and mocked? Not that I haven’t been mocked for my faith, because I have. However, strangely enough...when people do make fun of me for what I believe, I feel sad for them because they’re missing out on something amazing.

But back to being tortured to death…           

Could I do it? I really wasn’t sure until I made a list of pros and cons in my head (I really can’t believe I had to do this…AND I’m admitting to it too…) and the pros outweighed the cons for sure. I guess I looked at it like, ‘God didn’t give up on me, so why the heck should I ever give up on Him?’ And also, the thought of dying for my beliefs was much happier than that of living out the entire rest of my life knowing that I denied the only Person in my life that never has and never will let me down. The Guy that thinks I’m perfect no matter what. The Friend that always understands….the God who made the universe.

And now I know for a fact, I would gladly die for Him. However, I couldn’t do it by my own power, because I have none. I know that the only way I could do it is if God met me there, and I believe with my whole heart, that He would.

So, I guess the point in all of this is….as America leans more and more toward the ways of Rome, if Christianity is ever outlawed….I will gladly except whatever fate I receive and I am not backing down, no matter the consequences.

The dog that just won't die......

Just a warning….if you’re a psycho animal rights activist person, you probably should not read this next blog post because it is slightly morbid. And also I would like to express that these are only the opinions of yours truly and does not in any way reflect the views of my household. And I take full responsibility for any hell that may break loose as a result of my grandparents ever finding this. However if you do report this to them….I know where you live. That is all.

My grandpa and my step-grandma have a dog.

Big deal right?

 Actually yes, it is a big deal.

This dog has tormented me since I was a mere toddler, ankle biting and growling at me for as long as I can remember. Every time I would try to go sit on my grandpa’s lap, she would try to eat me. Whenever I’d sneak through the hallway, there was my grandparents’ insane poodle “Jolly”, chasing after me with her gaping mouth full of needle sharp teeth, and beady menacing black eyes as cold as the South Pole itself. Every once in a while, my step-grandma would force me to pet “Jolly” and I would usually end up getting bitten. Personally I think my grandparents were just trying to kill me off.

Just kidding…..that is, about my grandparents trying to kill me.

However, they DO love the dog more than they love me. And don’t tell me that they don’t because they do, and it’s disgusting.

Speaking of disgusting, “Jolly” is now somewhere between 13 and 1300 years old. She’s blind. Mean. Diabetic. Mean. Can hardly walk. Mean. Stupid. Mean. Ugly. Mean. And a few other words I’m not allowed to say. Oh, and mean.

So anyways, the reason that I’m writing about all this is not just because I’m fed up with this decrepit ogre, but because the thing’s life is drawing to an end. Not because I’m going to kill her, although I have considered accidentally tripping her on the way down the stairs…or letting her feast on a nice big bowl of raisins. Or feigning brake failure when she ran out to attack me as I pull into the driveway. But alas, I could never bring myself to do it.

A few days ago though, my mother went over to my grandparents’, and informed me that Jolly was ALMOST (soooo stinkin’ close) put down, but as soon as the executioner got there…..she perked back up again.

*bangs head on keyboard*

Sad day.

My mom also told me that when the spawn of Satan (this is not what my mother called her, but rather what I refer to her as); dies….we have to go bury her because my grandfather is currently having shoulder pain.

Not happening.

I sighed long and hard and looked at my mumma and thought, ‘there is no way in heaven or hell or anywhere in between that I am going to that demon’s burial service.’ Then I told mom that I would burst out laughing in glee and pure happiness and that would make the G-parents cry, and goodness knows I wouldn’t want that. So, I don’t have to go. Praise be to God.

So now that Jolly’s existence is almost to a close, I’ve started thinking about what kind of cake I’m going to make to celebrate her life’s end. I was thinking a nice coffee cake would do the job quite nicely. Maybe I’ll even take some to grandpa, he loves it when I bake him stuff.

Now, before I end this grotesquely discourteous post, I must admit that I’m feeling much better now that I got all this out in the open. It feels good to finally get all this enmity out of me. However, on the flip side, I think I should be feeling some sort of despondency for talking about an animal this way. Save for, I can’t help but feel like, maybe God didn’t create this beast…..I mean, I really think that Jolly is like, one of hell’s furies or something. Or maybe she’s the devil himself. Who knows, but I’ll still sleep better knowing she’s underground. Hopefully grandpa and grandma will have better luck with their next creature.

Mi Amigo Benny :)

Whoever told me that there's a sad lack of amazing people in this world, obviously hasn't met my best friend.
Although we've only known each other for about a year (our 1st friendiversary is like...Nov 11 or something!) me and Benny have pretty much been besties from the start. Well, not the very start...see, I met him down at this youth conference thing and I really thought he was a creeper. Probably cuz the first time he saw me, he said, "Oh, dude! I know you from Facebook!!"
Really?
Never ever tell a girl that.
EVER.
anyhow, long story short: I got over his weirdness, and he got over mine, and now we're buddies :)
The thing that sucks about our friendship (the ONLY thing that sucks about it, mind you) is that we get so much crap for being friends. It seems like no one understands that we DO NOT LIKE EACHOTHERRRRRR!!!!!!
I mean, really, do you think we'd lie about it? No we wouldn't.
^That was my venting portion of this blog.
Anyhow, Benny is pretty much the coolest person ever. We watch Tangled together, try to speak Spanish, look up Bible verses about children getting eaten by bears (I think it's 2 Samuel 2:23 or something), and save baby narwhals. It's pretty amazing. And I love knowing that no matter what, he's always there for me. And he doesn't mind the fact that I'm totally addicted to coffee and have my moments of complete blondness.
Oh and if you ever meet Benny, you have to make him sing "the Sadie Hawkins dance" by relient k. Tis probably the most entertaining thing EVER.

A crying shame...

Headaches suck.
Am I right? Yes, yes I am.
What's worse is when you have a headache that you KNOW is caused from not drinking any coffee (God forbid) today, but it's too late to have any because if you drink it now, the caffeine will keep you awake all night!
^That was my yesterday. And so help me Santa Claus, I'm NEVER EVER EVER making that horrid mistake ever again.
Ever.

It's kinda like little kids swimming!

Okay before I start writing this I need to give some credit to my mother for inspiring it with her whole “it’s kinda like little kids swimming with those floating devices!” analogy.

I wish I could have seen your face when you read that.

I also wish you could have seen mine when she told me that.

You see, it all kind of started when me and mom were sort of lazing about listening to some good old Jack Johnson (if you don’t know who that is you better go look him up). Mom looked as if she was thinking about something really deep, and so I asked her what she was thinking about.

“Oh…just little kids swimming…”

Of course that left me with the question: Do I even WANT to know?

I took a chance and asked her to elaborate. Afterward I was glad I did.

Basically mom went on to explain that….how should I say this? Okay, picture a little kid with those silly balloon-ish things strapped to their arms and a floatie noodle thing underneath him/her. The kid just thinks this is the coolest thing since……goldfish crackers, I donno. Anyways, now you look over at the parents. Ah, the parents. They’re trying to coax the little munchkin to take those goofy balloon things off and learn to swim. But the kid has to trust the parents.

Or picture the same little munchkin trying to ride a bike with training wheels. Little munchkin is six now and his/her training wheels are worn down. Munchkin is too afraid to trust mom and dad to teach him/her how to ride without them.

Are you confused yet? Bear with me a second.

You see, it’s kind of like us with God. Or me and God anyways, I don’t know, maybe you’ve got it all figured out. I sure don’t, and I’m not ashamed in saying it either. Anyhow, right now I’m reaching this scary part in my life. I’m sixteen. Big deal? Um, yes and no. It’s only a big deal because I’ve reached this point where I don’t belong ANYWHERE. It’s like I’m stuck between child and adult.

“Oh she’s just being dramatic” you say.

Yeah. I know I am. I’m sixteen for crying out loud; I’m supposed to be dramatic.

Back to not belonging anywhere. Let me explain. It’s like, I’m trying to find my place in this world, I’m getting too old for training wheels, and more than ever I need to rely on God to direct my paths.

But it’s scary.

Not that I don’t trust God, cuz I do.

But am I right in saying that I’m not the only one who has moments of doubt?

No, I don’t mean that I doubt God exists. I KNOW He exists.

It’s just that…sometimes I’m afraid He won’t catch me if I fall for Him…you know?

Especially at this time in my life… God is about to do some big things with me. He already is. Now I know that sounds kind of conceited on my part. But I don’t mean it that way.  Mainly because I know its God doing all the good stuff, I’m just the canvas He’s painting. I feel so blessed because of what God is using me to do. I’m also amazed that He wants to use someone as messed up as I am.

Now I just have to let Him work in me. It’s hard though. Hard letting go of my worldly desires. Hard figuring out the difference between worldly desires and Godly ones.

Sometimes I’m afraid that if I give myself all to God, He’ll take me away from all my friends and family.

It’s just a lack of trust though.

I know deep down in my soul that He’s not going to take me away from something good unless He has something better.

Now I just have to take off my training wheels and let Him give me that push.

Oh, and pedal.

yay for writing...

I really enjoy writing.

    I guess it’s a way of getting my point across. I mean, if you’ve ever had a conversation with me then you probably know that I’m a relatively shy person. I know, I know, Facebook makes me look like a super social butterfly….unfortunately it’s not true.

    Okay, think back to the days when your mom would point out a little girl or boy about your age and say, “Now be a good little girl (or boy) and go introduce yourself to that little munchkin over there”.  Then you’d freeze up and give a “But I don’t wannaaaa” to which mom replies sympathetically, “Too bad.” Then you’d reluctantly fill up your penny loafers with a few ounces of courage and drag yourself over there to say hello. About the time you were three feet away, the little kid’s punk friends would skip over and they’d all walk away laughing at you.

   It’s true to say that I’ve never really been a great face to face communicator. I still rarely introduce myself to people, and when I do, I usually get loathsome looks or shy responses. Sadly I know that if I could just write a letter or email, I would be the bomb at introducing myself or telling someone my opinion of something.

Another thing I have problems with, is giving my opinion on clothes/hair etc. When my great grandma would hand me a size 16 (about a million sizes too big for me) sweatshirt that had fuzzy snowmen that dance and sing ‘Jingle Bells” and icicles that light up in time to the music, I would smile and say politely that however cute it was, it was way too big. Obviously I couldn’t tell the poor innocent woman that I would get beat up if I stepped out of my house wearing such an um, interesting piece of….artwork.

So yeah, I suck at vocal communication. Sorry. Feel free to write me a letter ;)

Blog Post Numero Uno ;)

Okay, since this is my first post I suppose I might as well tell you a bit about me...

1. I'm a die hard Jesus freak, and if that offends you....too bad.
2. I love love love my family and friends, and I'd die for any of them in a heartbeat.
3. Music + Coffee = the gist of my whole existence.
4. I don't date. I made a commitment to not date a long time ago, and I'm sticking with it. I figure, this way I can devote this time in my life to focusing on God, family, friends, music, and of course....coffee.
5. I'm in a band called Check Yes (no, not like 'Check Yes Juliet') you can ''like'' us on Facebook, if you're into all that ;)
6. Bunnies and penguins are the bomb.
7. I'm pretty sure pickled eggs are the most disgusting thing ever.

I guess I could sum this up and just say that I'm just a 16 yr old that loves life aaand, this is probably the most awkward sounding blog post ever. -_____-