Dorothy en Route

You know how when you're little, you sort of get attached to that one movie? For example, Luke watched Toy Story 2. Everyday. Sometimes twice a day. For a year. Me, I wasn't quite so extreme--though I could still probably quote The Little Mermaid...in it's entirety...complete with the French song. In fact, I'm inclined to think that my near-phobic fear of eels & octopuses (octopi?) has a lot to do with Ursula and her henchmen...but that is a story for another time. Today, I want to talk about Lindsay's favorite, The Wizard of Oz.
I've been thinking about Dorothy a lot today. As a writer, I'm constantly in search of just the right words that will communicate what's happening in my head. It's been pretty difficult lately...my life right now is a lot more conducive to prayers in a journal than thoughts on a blog. But I think I've finally found a way to explain myself.
I feel a lot like I think Dorothy must have felt just as she touched down in her flying house and saw Oz out her window. She had just been through a terrible storm, and instead of finding comfortable familiarity, she found she had landed in a place completely new and unexplored. And I don't care what you say. That is seriously scary.
In the past two years, I've had more in common with Dorothy than you might think. I've heard the winds of change, I've felt the floor fall out from under me and watched as my life spun around in a way I'd never experienced. I've cowered in the corner and I've stared out the window, wondering. I've waited, suspended in mid-air for a year, questioning whether or not we'd ever touch down. And now--I can see Oz underneath me. I can't make out the details yet, but I can tell we're rapidly approaching the ground. And of all things, I am terrified to leave the house. Or rather, was terrified.
I'm not now. Because you know what? Oz is beautiful. Remember how bright the flowers were? How blue the water was? Remember how when Dorothy stepped out of the sepia-toned house...she became colorful too?
That's not to say there won't be scary things. But it is a great thing to know that God is preparing a beautiful place for us. A place to live and love and put down roots. Because after all...(I have to say it!)...There's no place like home. :)

"The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Deuteronomy 31:8

PS--I was watching a video of the scene from the movie where Dorothy first lands when Lindsay asked why I was watching the Wizard of Oz. She's across the room...all she heard was the music. Gotta love good memories!:)

A Post Almost as Good as a Four-Leaf Clover.

And, in honor of the day, I give you 5 Reasons to be Excited About Being (even a little bit) Irish.

1. You get to be super annoying on St. Patrick's Day. Not that it makes a difference, since apparently "everyone's Irish." (I don't think that's very fair...)
2. You get to wear green...yeah this is a good thing I'm pretty sure.
3. You get to get to be mean to people who forgot to wear green and viciously pinch them multiple times, even if the only reason they weren't wearing green is because they'd just gotten out of the shower and were wearing nothing but their bathrobe, which was unfortunately blue...Yes, this happened to me this morning and yes, I'm pretty bitter!
4. You get to go around saying things like "Everyone loves an Irish girl!" and "Kiss me, I'm Irish!" without sounding arrogant or scandalous. (Well...that's my take. Dad still isn't thrilled with this idea.)
5. All in all, you just get to claim awesome status for a day just because your great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was born on the Emerald Isle. (His name was Patrick Finn. Awesome right?)

Someday I'm going to go visit "the homeland," even though I'm really just more American than anything else. But in this world of everyone being excited about their heritage, this is all I've got. So I'm gonna flaunt it today--with my Irish eyes a-smilin'!

PS--The story of St. Patrick is one of my favorite of all time. For a fun, informative take on it, I absolutely LOVE this video. Yes, it's from VeggieTales. Which in my book just makes it cooler. :)

"100 Years to Live"

Everybody says to enjoy your teenage years, because after all, "they're the best years of your life!" But personally, I'm inclined to think that statement is absolutely ridiculous, for a lot of reasons. I mean, think about it. At age sixteen, I regularly encounter struggles in just about every area: personally, spiritually, relationally, physically, even financially. Now throw in a tendency for embarrassment, very little life-experience, immaturity, peer pressure, the media, acne, and (shudder) boys...none of that sounds easy to me. I know that there are definitely great things about your teenage years--a lot of great things! But if these are supposed to be the best years of my life, I beg to differ. I hate to ascribe that title to any certain period of life...so many great things are going to happen in these few years God has given me.
Think about it!

The next two years of high school. The day I graduate and close that chapter of
life. The day I leave for college and become truly independent. The amazing
friendships I'll make there. The day I get married. The birth of my first
child. The births of all my children. Watching them grow. Loving them. Being a
family. Helping them as they grow up. Watching them become their own people,
loving life and loving Jesus. The day my own child let's me hold my grandchild.
Spoiling them rotten. Celebrating my 50th wedding anniversary with a man I love. Etc, etc, etc.

I know not all of those things are guaranteed, and there are tons more things that I haven't even imagined for myself yet! But God has. And that's the great thing. There are no "best years of my life." Every year is a God-filled, God-imagined year. And that will continue until my final year ends! How great is that...the only thing I have to worry about is today, because God has taken care of every other day before and after. Every day!
Anyway, that's just me thinking out loud. I'll post something sillier later that might be a little more coherent. I love you all...live enjoyably today!

Thoughts about Little Things...

...that I can't seem to get out of my head:

Sometimes the joy you find in the littlest things is the joy that can get you through the day. I think God made me--made all of us--to find joy in unexpected places. For example, my dad put up our Christmas lights Saturday afternoon. I can't tell you the rush I got from running out into the cold night in my socks to get a picture of our glittering house. It was one of those moments where I was pretty sure my face would crack if I smiled any bigger.

I believe in being thankful for little things too. Every year near Thanksgiving I try to take some time to think about all the things I have to be thankful for. To be honest, though, this year I'm having a hard time being thankful for big things. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm very thankful we have a house and a car and enough food to eat. But this year, I'm finding myself drawn to giving thanks for all of the little joy-giving gifts God gives me, for example:

• I'm thankful for little sisters who bring home chocolate cakes.
  
• I'm thankful for loud, stinky, obnoxious dogs who still manage to steal your heart as soon as they look at you with those big brown eyes.
  
• I'm thankful for long phone conversations with my best friend--I don't think anyone can make me laugh as hard as "Libby" does.
  
• I'm thankful for cozy blankets on cold nights and homemade hot chocolate from my mom.
• I'm thankful for snack cars on the Amtrak.
• I'm thankful for facebook wall posts from much-missed friends, reminding me that I am loved even from a distance.
• I'm thankful for singing along to the car radio...really loudly.
• I'm thankful for text messaging.
• I'm thankful for family game night--and never winning Clue.
• I'm thankful for little brothers who laugh at the exact same things you do...and help you dominate in Apples to Apples.
  
• I'm thankful for people who pass on compliments. Somehow that's just nice.
• I'm thankful for "the Ones", and how hard they make me laugh.
• I'm thankful for mixing pop to make toasts with every Thanksgiving, and the weird looks that "Rico", "Pedro", and I ("Esteban-ban") get from the rest of the family.
  

You get the point. This list could be three times as long. Thankful for the little things that bring me joy.

Enough

Most people who know me are probably about to be a little surprised. The few who really know me...understand me enough that I've admitted this to, won't be surprised one bit. See, the problem is, I have ridiculously high expectations for myself. In fact, in most areas I expect perfection, and this makes me massively insecure on many occasions. I actually spend more time worrying about myself--whether I look good, whether I fit in, whether people like me--than I do about anything else. It's pathetic, really. And many times, these expectations contradict each other. I want people to think I am a "good little Christian" (I am the pastor's daughter) and I want others to think I'm not "too churchy". I want to do well in school, and I don't want people stereotype me as the "little nerdy girl". I want to be an individual, and I want to blend in. I expect impossible things of myself, and secretly I know I can't do it. That frustrates me more than anything. It often makes me defensive, too. I can't accept correction because it's "one more thing" I don't think I can handle. So I don't respond well--which makes it all worse, which makes me even more frustrated with myself.
I had a long talk with my dad last night. (He's my hero.) He listened to all of it, and he showed me what was wrong with it, how it really doesn't honor God. God made me just like He wanted me and I should strive to please Him--no more, no less. If I focus on God and who He wants me to be, I don't have to get frustrated when I don't meet my own expectations. I don't have to be perfect. The most enormous feeling of release washed over me when I realized this. I don't have to be perfect. I can just be who I am and who God made me to be, and that is enough. I am enough. He is enough. I don't need outside approval, I don't even need my own approval. He is enough.

Ms. Cadoodlebob

My little sister is one of the most unique and wonderful people I know. She's one of the people you just have to know. To quote her, she "has her own ways." I love her to death.

The other night, we were in her room when I noticed something on the floor across the room that looked familiar. Two puppets she had made years ago. You know the type, brown bag bodies and red yarn hair. She laughed when I asked about them. "Yes, Ms. Cadoodlebob and Anna." I do not hold myself responsible for remembering all of her fun ideas, so I was still a little foggy. I asked her to elaborate. This is the story she told me:

Ms. Cadoodlebob is a Ms. , not a Mrs. She never married, but adopted 4 boys. Sadly, all of them died because she made them go swimming. Being paper bags, all of them perished. When I asked if she was sad about that, Lindsay said, "No, not really...you see, she didn't really know them."
I was a little surprised. "She adopted children she didn't know?"
She replied, "Well, paper bags don't have affections." I asked why she had adopted. "She was lonely," Lindsay said.
"So, she adopted them for her own benefit?"
"Yes. Ms. Cadoodlebob is quite abnormal."

So that story is funny, yes. But I realized as she was telling it that she had stumbled upon a lot of truth as she told it. Stick with me for a second...

I think some people think of God kind of like they would think of Ms. Cadoodlebob. They think that God doesn't know us, or want to. They think he asks us to do things we can't do. They think that , like paper bags, God "has no affections." God doesn't adopt us for His benefit, He adopts us for our own benefit. (Not to say God doesn't enjoy us--I believe He loves us so much He can hardly help it.) And God is in no way abnormal...we are. We put God in boxes...or paper bags. Thank goodness He loves us more than Ms. Cadoodlebob ever loved her children.

So I Have a Blog...

...and I'm pretty excited about it. It's a chance to share what's going on for me...so let me start with something that's been bouncing around inside my head all week.

My dad spoke on Sunday about "ReCalibrating"--getting ourselves realigned with God. (And may I say it was a great message...though I suppose I am a little biased.) One thing he mentioned fascinated me. God chose me to enjoy Him, and for Him to enjoy me. And no one else could take my place. I was created unique and special. No one else can love God in the same way I can. How awesome is that? To think that out of the billions and billions of people ever born...God wanted me. He loved who I was and what I could bring to Him. That just absolutely blows my mind. It's inspiring, really. I need to live up to all the potential God gave me, not because it's my duty, but because it's a way I can love God.

One more thought accompanies that. This means that I never have to feel like I don't measure up. (And let's face it, at fifteen, that's a big deal!) If God wanted me to have the same talent in the same amount, He would've given it to me. But instead He perfectly crafted me, giving me exactly what He wanted me to have, exactly what would make my life complete as I serve Him with it. That's awesome. I can let go of feelings of inadequacy, because God has given me exactly what is adequate! This concept has been a big struggle for me. Since one of the things God gave me was a desire for everything to be as good as it can, (a.k.a I'm sort of a perfectionist), I often feel like I need to be better...at everything. But this only messes me up. Instead, I'm learning to focus on what I have and how I can use that to God's glory. Maybe it's just me, but the thought that God created me especially, with all my quirks (and believe me, there are several!), makes me smile.