Life Away from Social Media

I have been thoroughly enjoying my time away from social media. Not only am I getting things done I didn't realize I had time to do, but also I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my own skin. I'm not constantly critiquing every little thing about my life. I'm not constantly unfocused on the people in front of me. I'm actually present. I'm actually experiencing life and realizing how blessed I am.

New Agent (Pending)

While away from social media, I found out that my literary agent was fired. I was crushed because my manuscript had just been sent out to editors. I figured those submissions would be cancelled, and I'd be sent back to the beginning of the publication process. I kind of felt like giving up.

Thankfully, that's not what's going to happen. I will be represented by another agent at the agency and my submissions will be continued. I don't know who my new agent will be, but I am glad things are still moving forward.

New Skill

Today, Joel taught me how to use our espresso machine. I learned a lot about myself as I disappointedly dumped my first attempt of a latte down the drain, and Joel asked, "Do you want to try again?" Half of me wanted to say yes immediately. The other half of me hesitated. Why would I try again when I had clearly failed? It wouldn't be right to waste coffee for a second failed attempt, would it?

In the end, the yes won out. After all, this is my year of trying new things. This is my year of learning new skills. If every time I tried something new I gave up after one failed attempt, I'd never learn anything.

As I sipped on my second latte (still not as good as the lattes Joel makes), I realized that a lifetime of striving toward perfection has crippled me. I stick with the handful of things I know I'm good at, and I miss out on the rest. But the only reason I have the skill set I have now is because I wasn't afraid to try new things as a kid. I tried everything, I committed to the things I liked most, and I learned to be good at those things by failing many times along the way. Learning requires failure, and that's okay.

Baby Steps

Book of the Month

I've completed one book so far this month: A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.  From the moment I started the book, I could hardly put it down.  I was kind of surprised about that because the book doesn't fall in the typical genre I read.  Honestly, I probably wouldn't have read it if it hadn't been gifted to me several years back.  I know, I know.  I should've read it a long time ago, but I overlooked it as I grabbed a Harry Potter book yet again.

There's anything wrong with reading Harry Potter an infinite amount of times.  I won't lie and say I'm not currently reading the series.  I'm actually reading the books aloud to my five-month-old.  But I'm not counting any of them toward my one book per month.  I can't keep letting other good books collect dust because I am perpetually drawn to Harry Potter.  I'm already thankful for branching out because I would've missed out on a great story otherwise.

New Destination

Today I went to two new places: Bigfoot's Little Donuts and The Little Gym.  The donuts at Bigfoot's practically melted in our mouths.  Joel and I nearly finished both boxes of them.  Part of me wishes we had finished them because I could use another one right about now.  The other part of me is glad I stopped when I did because boy am I going to regret them when I get started on my cardio workout for the day.

The Little Gym was an absolute blast.  Emerson got to try so many new things: forward rolls, assisted walks across the balance beam, bounce time.  She even experienced bubbles for the first time.  She seemed to thoroughly enjoy everything with some slight mixed feelings about the bubbles.  She had her "Moses is about to lick me on the mouth" face whenever the bubbles floated toward her, but there was definitely a bit of awe and wonder mixed in.  I've come to really appreciate that aspect of her little personality.  Life is an amazing adventure to her.  She's constantly filled with wide-eyed curiosity, full-bellied laughter, and smiles that light up her entire body.  She has a true zeal for life, and I know she's only five months old, but it makes me want to be more like her.  Life is too short to be bored.  There is so much to be amazed by if we could just look up from our phones long enough to see it.

New Activity

Last night before bed I was thinking about my last blog entry.  I claimed blogging would be my new activity for the month of January.  I don't know why I made that claim because blogging is not a new thing for me.  I've dealt with blogs for years now.  Even though blogging is not a new thing for me, I'm going to stick with it for this month in hopes that it can resurrect my passion for writing.

2019

I have always been a very goal-oriented person.  If I make a New Year's resolution, I tend to stick with it.  This year, I want to do things a little differently.  Instead of choosing a list of things I want to fix or change about myself, I want to be more open.  Openness isn't really a measurable goal so I had to sit back and think for a while about how exactly I was going to accomplish that.  This is what I've come up with:

First, I plan to remove one thing from my life each month.  That can be a shirt I haven't worn in 5 years, the stack of books that no longer fits on my bookcase, or the time vaporizing act of scrolling through social media.  The older I get, the more I've realize that consumerism and popularity do not bring happiness.  Trying to keep up with others is an endless cycle that often leads to bitterness and frustration.  Trying to achieve goals without having a passion for those goals leads to burnout and exhaustion.  Both routes replace confidence with doubt and zeal with hollowness.  That's not the life I want to live.  For the month of January, I've decided to eliminate social media.  I look forward to relearning how to live where my feet are planted this month instead of constantly seeing what other people are doing (and sometimes envying them for the adventures they are having).

Second, I plan to spend each month committing to a specific activity.  I have a tendency to try something one time and then never do it again so I want to devote a full month to each activity I choose. For the month of January, I am going to blog.  I don't plan to blog for extra money. I don't plan to blog to teach others about a skill that I've learned.  I don't plan to blog because I want others' attention.  I am blogging for me.  I am blogging because I enjoy writing.  I enjoy looking back at old posts and seeing how much I've changed over time and what lessons I have learned or am continuing to learn.

Third, I plan to learn a new skill.  Some months, the skill I learn will correlate with the activity I commit to.  Other months, the skill may be something as simple as learning how to start a fire.  I have always wanted to learn survival skills, but I have always let others take care of me while camping or backpacking.  This year, I want to change that.  I want to be able to help on camping trips.  I also desire to learn a few signs in sign language to use with Emerson.  I'd like to learn how to help with house projects and how to do more DIY projects.  Typically I get overwhelmed by all the skills I want to learn.  But this year, by spreading them out through the months, I have the ability to learn at least 12 new skills, which is very exciting!
 
Fourth, I plan to read a book each month.  I used to read regularly, but that was before social media.  Because I let it, social media shortened my attention span and stole all my time.  I found it a lot harder to focus on books.  I kept wanting to stop reading so I could see what was happening on the internet.  But honestly, I was happier when I spent my free time reading.  I want to get back to the adventures that reading provides.  I have a feeling I will end up reading more than one book a month, but you've got to start somewhere, right?

Fifth, I plan to go to a new destination each month.  Some months this will mean a vacation to a place I've never been.  For example, in January, we are going to Oahu for the first time.  Some months this will be a day trip a couple of hours away.  Some months this will be something as simple as going to a local place I've never taken the time to visit.

All that being said, this year should be a journey out of my comfort zone.  It will probably hold many moments of fear and hesitation, but I'm determined not to let fear and excuses hold me back from truly living any longer.  2019 will be a year for the books.  I'm sure of it.

My Pregnancy & Birth Story

Pregnancy

I did not enjoy pregnancy. I was ecstatic to know Joel and I were able to have a baby, but pregnancy was not fun. Almost a week after I took a pregnancy test, nausea hit hard. Nausea is my kryptonite. I can handle tendon tears and broken bones. Nausea not so much.

The last few weeks of school before Christmas break were rough. I ate half a saltine cracker between each class period and sipped on ginger ale throughout the day. I ordered Preggie Pop Drops, but they didn't help much. I went from being a totally engaged teacher who never sat down to one who sat in a chair at the front of the classroom only giving directions. I sat more in early pregnancy than I sat after either of my ankle surgeries (and I couldn't put any weight on my right foot after those surgeries). My relationships with a lot of my students dwindled in that time. Looking back, I truly hate that. But in the moment, all I could think about was not throwing up in front of them.

Over Christmas break, I cancelled almost every plan I made. I have a Christmas obsession, but I couldn't get off the couch to enjoy the lights, the concerts, the gingerbread houses, or the plays. I was too nauseous. Thankfully, at my first prenatal doctor's appointment, I was able to get a prescription for Diclegis. It was a life saver, and I was able to participate in Christmas Eve and Christmas Day festivities without horrendous nausea.

I had heard great things about the second trimester, but for me, it was filled with allergies. My nose bled every day, and I couldn't breathe out of it at all. My asthma got bad too. I used a humidifier nightly, but I kept a pretty consistent cough and sore throat in that phase of pregnancy.

I felt the best and the most like myself in the third trimester (aside from the big belly and major acid reflux). When school let out for the summer, I started exercising daily. I got up early enough to beat the heat and walked my dogs for 30-35 minutes each day. I did yoga, pregnancy ball exercises, the squat challenge (where you do 300 squats a day), and I kept up with my garden, flower beds, and house work. Each day, I drank a gallon of water, drank 3 cups of red raspberry leaf tea, and ate 6 dates. I felt great as far as pregnancy goes. I had hardly any swelling and no stretch marks. I was certain I was going to have an easy birth and be back to myself in no time. I was also certain that I was going to have Emerson early because of all the prep I had done and the fact that I had started having intense Braxton Hicks contractions every night from about 36 weeks onward. I hoped she would come before my dad had to fly out of town for business.

Emerson had other plans. She didn't want to come early. At my 39 week appointment, my doctor scheduled me for an induction. Even though my dad had already left for his trip, I was excited to finally meet my little girl. I was also more than ready to be done with pregnancy.

The Birth

The night before my induction was scheduled, I started having contractions every 10 minutes. They never got any closer than that so I ignored them as best as I could and waited for my induction. Joel and I checked into the hospital at 2:00pm on July 25. A nurse asked me questions about my medical history and hooked me up to a monitor. She gave me Cervidil to help soften my cervix. I was scheduled to get Pitocin, the actual induction drug, the following morning. Emerson was predicted to arrive sometime the following afternoon. I expected to have a boring night in the hospital, but the Cervidil made my contractions stronger and more consistent. Sometimes I barely had a minute to breathe in between them. When a nurse came in to check my cervix, she broke my water. They called my doctor and let her know, and things got crazy from there. I requested an epidural, thinking Emerson would probably make her appearance in the next couple of hours. I was afraid to miss the epidural window.

Once I got the epidural, Emerson's heart rate dropped. One minute the nurses were putting an oxygen mask on my face and helping me rotate from side to side, hoping to get her heart rate back up. The next minute I was being rushed down the hallway for an emergency c-section. A doctor I had never met before introduced herself. It all happened so fast I don't even remember her name. I was pretty overwhelmed by all the nurses in the room with us, including the NICU nurses who were ready to take Emerson if need be. The doctor cut me open and had Emerson out in no time. She was healthy and perfect. 7 pounds 2 ounces. 20 inches long.

My doctor arrived in time to sew me back up. Joel brought Emerson over to me so I could see her. My arms started twitching, and I got incredibly nauseous around that time. That's the last thing I remember before waking up in ICU. Joel told me I'd had seizures, and no one knew why. My doctor later informed me that I'd gotten anesthesia toxicity because my epidural had been placed too close to a blood vessel. I hadn't had a brain seizure. My spasms were muscle related, and the lipids they gave me made them stop.

I spent the night in ICU. At first, I was upset because my birth had turned out so totally different than I'd expected. I didn't get to have skin to skin time with Emerson. I didn't get to watch her first bath. I didn't get the window of special time just me, Joel, and Emerson. I didn't even get to be with her other than a few minutes here and there to feed her a bottle because she couldn't stay in the ICU without a nurse from the mother-baby floor.

The next morning my mom sat with me so Joel could be with Emerson. We didn't want Emerson to be in the nursery without either of us. I watched Joel change his first diaper through FaceTime, and it was actually quite hilarious. While he was wiping the meconium (the sticky newborn poop) off of her, she peed a fountain of pee. Joel said, "I thought you said girls didn't do that." I laughed so hard, even though laughing was incredibly painful after my c-section.

Around noon, I was transferred to the mother-baby floor. It was a long and exhausting experience with a much longer recovery than I'd anticipated, but in the end, all that matters is that Joel and I were blessed with a beautiful, healthy baby girl. I wouldn't trade her for the world.

How I Got an Agent

For those of you who follow me on social media, you already know the exciting news that I now have a literary agent! What you probably don't know is how amazingly orchestrated my journey to finding an agent was.

It all started with a decision that had nothing to do with writing whatsoever.

Joel and I decided we wanted to find a new church. There was nothing wrong with our old church, but I felt that it was time to branch off from the church I grew up in, the church where so many people knew me as my parent's daughter rather than as me. I had spent many good years at that church, and I loved how many of my students I got to see on Wednesday nights. Because of that time, I was blessed to build deep, meaningful relationships with so many of them. Where I struggled, though, was that I had given so much of my time and energy to teenagers that I had neglected friendships with people my own age. Joel and I had so little time to invest in other young married couples because I was always serving teenagers. We felt it was time to step back from serving so that we could build the friendships we needed to hold us accountable and to go through life with us.

Changing churches led us to seeking out a small group. Instead of going about joining a small group in the traditional way, I messaged a friend of mine who I had met while I was in graduate school. She encouraged us to come to her group one Wednesday night, and we have been going ever since.

That small group is where I met Laura. Like me, she is a teacher and a writer.

Back in February, Laura messaged me about a writing conference (The Alabama Writing Workshop) in Birmingham, AL. At first Laura didn't plan on going to the conference, but it seemed like a great opportunity so I signed up to go by myself (something I usually would never do because I'm awkward).

At that point, I was a little discouraged in terms of writing, and I was hoping to break free of that mentality. I had just recently heard back from an agent who loved my novel but turned it down because he didn't typically work with the fantasy genre, and he thought it would do better with another agent's representation. I was thankful that he liked my novel, but it was discouraging to hear the rejection after checking my email no less than 100,000 times as I waited for his response. At the ALAWW, I hoped to move forward from that rejection and to make some connections with other agents.

Laura ended up deciding to go to the conference, and it turned out to be a nice day (even though we ate lunch with a group of people who talked about eating humans and cannibal recipes, haha). Laura pitched her picture books to Marisa Corvisiero and was signed on the spot. YAY! :)

In August, I signed up for the writer's conference put on by the Corvisiero Literary Agency (the agency run by Laura's agent). Laura gave me a shout out on Twitter for signing up, and that is how I was first introduced to Justin. On Twitter, Justin and I talked a lot about my job as teacher, my students, and writing in general. It was nice to have those conversations with him before I pitched my novel to him at the conference.

About a week after pitching my novel, Justin offered me representation, and I gladly accepted. Now Laura and I get to be church family and agency family.

It amazes me how the decisions we make in life, whether big or small, can lead us down paths we were never expecting to follow. When I look back on signing the contract with Justin, it's not just that one moment that stands out to me. It's all the little details and decisions and people that placed me in the right place at the right time.

In reflecting, I'm reminded yet again just how perfectly God orchestrates our lives. Not only does that comfort me, but also it fills me with joy. I can trust that God has given me a vision for the future, and I need only follow Him in my day-to-day life decisions. He will get me where He wants me to be exactly when He wants me to get there. I can't think of a greater comfort than knowing that God is working behind the scenes of our lives.

Faith of the Skydiver

Years ago, I made a bucket list. It holds the normal things like skydiving and traveling to other countries and the less normal things like riding in a Smart Car (I'm still holding out hope for that one). My parents offered to pay for me to skydive as a birthday present not long after I made that list. But Barnes & Noble happened. I walked out of B&N with a stack of brand new books, justifying my book addiction by convincing myself that the adventures on those pages would far outlast the short-lived adventure that was skydiving. And for a time, I suppose they did.

As time passed, I grew more and more comfortable with reading about other's adventures in fiction rather than experiencing my own adventures. It was safer to live that way. There's no impending danger when you crack open a book. No chance you'll fall out of an airplane and land flat on the pavement, never to get back up again. No chance you'll vomit your guts onto that pavement either (a far greater fear for me than the first).

Being the Type A person I am, I knew I couldn't avoid skydiving forever. The idea of it grew scarier with time, but still, I had written it on my bucket list. It had to be checked off. Lucky for me, I married an adventure seeker. Before I could talk myself out of skydiving a second time, he had my skydiving adventure scheduled and paid for. You can't walk away from that.

I think my fear level the moment we pulled into the parking lot that day paralleled my fear level during the April 27, 2011 tornadoes. I wasn't surrounded by total chaos, but I just knew I was going to throw up. Yes, you read that correctly. My greatest fear wasn't dying. I'd run a marathon without properly training and listened to the potential death announcement that warned non-trained participants not to attempt such a brutal beast. It wasn't even getting injured that scared me. I could deal with that. Two ankle surgeries practically made me a pro at injury recovery. Vomiting, not so much. I'd rather die.

I begged Joel to let me back out, to let me just wait in the car for him to go. It didn't work. I was in the building signing a waiver before I could even process where my attempt to back out had gone wrong.

A man approached us, asking if I was afraid.

"Yes," I gulped.

He assured me that it was normal to be afraid. Most people were afraid to skydive on their first time. I assured him that I, unlike most people, was not afraid of anything but vomiting. He laughed at me and then convinced me that skydiving was nothing like the rides at amusement parks that make your stomach drop.

"Are you sure I'm not going to throw up?" I asked for the fifteenth time.

After he explained that his very pregnant wife had just recently gone skydiving, I was sure that I had nothing to worry about.

Heart racing, I suited up and walked outside with Joel. We took a picture to keep me from focusing on what was about to happen. Really, we took a picture because in this day and time, you haven't experienced anything until you post a picture of it on social media.

Getting on the plane is kind of a blur. I don't remember much until I was straddling a bench in front of a man I'd only just met. He was attaching himself to me. I had almost convinced myself that it wasn't going to be so bad until the plane door opened and we began inching our way towards the hole. The experienced skydivers jumped out the door and were just sucked into oblivion, or so it seemed. The only comfort I had in that moment was the man who was attached to Joel. For some reason, he was talking about Harry Potter, and I knew these men had to be trustworthy if they were Harry Potter fans.

When my partner and I sat at the edge, ready to fall out of the plane, I'm glad I didn't have time to look down. My partner simply rocked us back and forth three times and then we were tumbling through the air.

I thought skydiving would be a huge adrenaline rush, but it just hurt my ears. The good news is I didn't throw up, and my students think I'm either really cool or really crazy because I jumped out of a plane by choice.

Looking back on the skydiving experience, the thing that stands out to me the most is probably the insane amount of trust involved in tandem skydiving. I had never met the man who was attached to my back. Sure, we traded a few casual sentences and sure, he liked Harry Potter, but I put my whole life into his hands, trusting that he knew what he was doing with our parachute. Even though my biggest concern at the time was not throwing up, it still amazes me that I could sit there and trust a complete stranger.

I sometimes wonder why it was so much easier for me to trust a stranger with my life than it is for me to trust the God who is nearer to me than my very heart. In all honesty, my experience skydiving is what my faith should look like. Me and God, sitting at the edge of what is unknown to me but fully known to Him. I cannot look back because looking back leads to comfort and the avoidance of adventure. I cannot look down because I'm not meant to see the full picture. The full picture would be too great a burden, and I would cower in fear, never taking the leap of faith. I can only look straight ahead at the beauty that's right in front of me and thirst for the adventure that's ahead. And when He tells me that it's time to take the leap of faith, I don't have to do it on my own. I don't have to sit frozen in fear with my feet dangling over the edge of the adventure He has planned for me. I simply have to lean back and let Him rock me back and forth, trusting that His gentle nudge will lead me down the path I'm meant to go, and He will keep me safe and afloat all along the way.

The Day We Took No Notes

This is a true story.

It seemed like an ordinary day, and I suppose it was until late that afternoon. My students were taking notes on grammar. I was checking attendance. As I said before, ordinary day.

I read over the last few names on my attendance sheet, and I just so happened to look up in time to see a boy approaching me. He was struggling to say my name because his mouth was filled with a reddish-purple liquid. His teeth were stained by the liquid. My first thought: He's bitten his tongue off. Oh my goodness! I have no idea how to handle this. They don't train you for stuff like this in school. I can't believe he bit his tongue off.

I suppose I was in shock from what I thought had happened, so I directly asked the student, "Did you bite your tongue off?"

The student mumbled some more.

Oh no! Oh no! He really bit it off. What am I going to do?

"What is he saying? Did he bite his tongue off?" I nervously asked a nearby student, one who had been sitting in the same group as the ink-filled boy and who had quite possibly witnessed the whole thing.

The student quickly shook his head.

"No," he said. "His ink pen busted in his mouth. He was chewing on the end of it."

Relief flooded over me. I wouldn't have to deal with the trauma of a lost tongue after all.

"Go to the bathroom," I encouraged the ink-filled student. "Stop trying to talk. Go rinse your mouth out."

The student nodded, his cheeks on the verge of explosion from all the ink and accumulating saliva. He rushed out the door, and I called the front office, requesting that an administrator check on him. As soon as I hung up the phone, another student called my name. I looked toward him. His dark skin was pale as it could be.

"Ms. Shirley," he said, his eyes wide with sheer terror. "I think he's going to die."

If I'm being honest, all I could think was, Why do you care? You told me yesterday that you hated him. Of course, being a teacher, you can't say those kind of things out loud. Instead, I went with, "He's not going to die. An administrator is checking on him right now."

"No," said the kid, shaking his head. "You don't understand. There is poison in ink. He has that poison in his mouth. If he swallows any of it, he's going to die. Ms. Shirley, I don't like [insert student's name] one bit, but I don't want him to die. I'd rather hate him while he's still alive than have him die."

"He's not going to die," I repeated.

"Can we pray for him just in case?"

"Yes," I said. "If it would make you feel better, you can pray for him."

The student smiled and clasped his hands together.

"Everyone," he said, looking at his peers. "Put your hands together. Ms. Shirley is going to pray for him."

All of the students but one clasped their hands together and looked at me.

"No," said one of the girls, her hands clasped together. "Ms. Shirley can't pray for him. She'll get arrested."

"I won't get arrested," I assured her, "but you're right. It would be best if you prayed individually."

"Yeah, I'm not praying," said the student with the non-clasped hands. "I'm atheist."

"Okay, okay," I said, trying to calm the chaos. "How about this. Those of you who want to pray, pray silently. Those of you who don't want to pray, don't pray. Will that work?"

All of the students, the atheist included, nodded. I looked over at the student who had originally requested the prayer. He seemed fine with my suggestion and put his hands together once more. He looked up at the ceiling tiles, took a deep breath, and smiled.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, still looking up.

"Um, that was not silent," I said, trying not to laugh.

"Oops," he said, looking at me with a sheepish expression.

At this point, I could not help but laugh. The rest of the class followed in suit. Almost instantaneously, the student with the ink-filled mouth returned. The ink was gone, but his mouth was now filled with toilet tissue.

"Good news," he said, his voice barely audible through the toilet tissue. "The administrator said I'm going to live. The pen was non-toxic."

The whole class cheered. My non-silent prayer warrior nodded his head.

"I knew he was going to live," he said, confidently. "Jesus told me."

"Did he?" I asked. "You never even finished your prayer."

The class filled with laughter, including my non-silent prayer warrior. In the midst of the laughter, another student's hand shot up in the air.

"Ms. Shirley, can I get some water?" he asked. "I accidentally ate a piece of paper."

What in the world is going on? This is 7th grade, not kindergarten. What's with everyone eating school supplies?

"Yeah, go ahead," I said, having totally given up on taking notes for the day. "Does anyone want to eat a glue stick?"

The entire class erupted into laughter, and moments later, the bell rang to dismiss the craziest, funniest, most memorable class period of my life.

Mini Update

My blog entries have been few and far between.  It's not because I've been neglecting my writing; in fact, I've been doing quite the opposite.  I've spent the last few weeks working diligently on the revision process of my novel.  It's amazing how far it has come, and I cannot wait until it is completed this time around.  I truly believe it is becoming the story it was intended to be.  It has been quite helpful having my husband around.  He has started to paint the map to the kingdom I created in my novel.  I tell him where certain things belong, and he paints it out to help me visualize what I'm saying.  It's the most incredible thing to see something you've created with words painted onto a coffee-stained canvas.  Every writer needs an artistically talented husband!

In other news, my awesome map-painting husband and I will be attending the ACFW conference in August.  At that time, I will be pitching my novel to a few literary agents for the second time.  This time, unlike last year, I feel more than ready for that step in the process.  It's nice to actually know what I'm doing now.  

I look forward to seeing what God has in store for my writing, and I am more than thankful that I have a husband who is willing to stand beside me as I chase after my dreams.  It'll be fun to introduce him to the world of writing firsthand; it'll also be fun for us to meet new people and form new connections. 

So here's to finishing up my novel revisions!  I'll update again once I've finished that (unless of course another crazy/exciting story comes bubbling up inside of me that needs to be shared right away as a blog entry).  I hope to have more exciting news in my next entry.  I just wanted my readers and supporters to know that I haven't forgotten you. :)

The Stories God Has Been Writing

Wow, it's been so long since I last updated my blog that I almost don't even know where to begin.  Okay, I don't at all know where to begin.  But that's the thing with writing (and I guess life, too), you don't always have to know where you're going to get going.  You just have to get started and see what happens.

On March 12, 2016, I got to marry the man God made for me.  We were married in the church where I grew up by the pastor who once served as my youth pastor and currently serves as our contemporary service's pastor.  Like every other girl in the history of girls, I had a wedding planned out in my mind from the time I heard my first fairy tale.  But let me tell you, my wedding far surpassed anything I could have ever dreamed up.  You see, in my imagination, my wedding was going to be all about me (and a little bit about my husband, too, if I was feeling selfless enough - kidding, of course), but in reality, it was all about God.  Joel and I put a lot of thought into the scripture that was to be read in our wedding ceremony.  So often, weddings use the traditional 1 Corinthians 13 verses, and don't get me wrong, those verses are absolutely beautiful and more than suitable for a wedding, but we didn't feel like those verses fit with what we wanted our wedding to portray.  Because while it is important to know that love is patient and kind, not self-seeking, and so on, love cannot happen without humility and sacrifice, and salvation cannot happen apart from Christ, the most humble and sacrificial of all.  Therefore, we chose Philippians 2 as our wedding verses.  Those verses not only describe what a relationship centered in Christ should look like, they also tell the gospel story.  And what's more important than sharing the gospel story?

  First dance as Mr. and Mrs.

Then there was the fact that I got to wear my aunt's wedding dress.  I can remember thinking my aunt looked like a princess on her wedding day.  I was just a junior bridesmaid back then, and I adored her dress.  In the back of my mind, I always hoped I could wear her wedding dress one day.  We arranged for me to wear her wedding dress, and a couple weeks later, I found out that my aunt was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of breast cancer.  Wearing her dress in my wedding became so much more special to me because it gained a whole new level of significance.

I cannot help but praise God when I think about my wedding day and my life thus far with my husband because it's all God's doing.  God is the One who took a girl who swore she'd never come back to her hometown and brought her home.  God is the One who took a boy who lived in Oregon and led him to Alabama.  God is the One who set up the first encounter of that girl and boy, and were it not for Him all throughout their lives, the girl and boy would have never met.  God is the One who began orchestrating their love story long before it was ever conceived in the minds of the girl and boy.  I think that's pretty clearly shown in this slideshow:

Joel and I spent our honeymoon in Kauai, HI.  We went hiking, kayaking, ATVing, coffee tasting, and more.  We even saw a chicken cross the street using a crosswalk.  Unfortunately, that chicken was headed to KFC.  Not a good plan!  Amongst all these great adventures and experiences, it was amazing to me to be married to someone who was willing to read the bible with me and pray with me every morning, even on a vacation to Hawaii.  We came back from our honeymoon super sick.  Joel had a terrible sinus infection, and I was so severely dehydrated that I got to spend a few hours in the hospital getting an IV of fluids.  I don't think we got off the couch the next day for anything other than to get another Gatorade or water.  Welcome to married life, right?

One of the many waterfalls to which we ventured.

Softball season was going strong by this point, and I had my first ever student teacher.  At first, I was a little frustrated having to sit behind my desk every day and watch someone else teach my class and interact with my students.  Having nothing to do may sound like a dream come true, but not for me.  Interacting with my students and building relationships with them is the whole reason I teach.  So to see someone else taking over my classroom was hard for me.  But, in the end, I realized how blessed I was to have my student teacher in my classroom, especially in the middle of softball season mixed with wedding planning (she really kept me from drowning).  Looking back, I see how God refined my heart through that time.  I learned to step back, let go of control, and give someone else a chance to do her thing.  In doing so, my students lost nothing.  Instead, they gained a role model, and I gained a new friend.

Throughout the school year, my students and I had been working hard to come up with some kind of community service idea to be the focus for our organization, #ProjectRippleEffect.  We made banners and collected toys for kids in the community with cancer.  We collected and distributed water bottles to the homeless.  We wrote encouraging quotes and distributed them to every single child in the school.  But, soon, it became too much.  There were too many ideas.  Good ideas.  But still, too many.   Our focus was all over the place, and with too much momentum and not enough direction, the students' passion for #ProjectRippleEffect fizzled.

Then came socos.  The word "socos" comes from the combination of the words "socks" and "Chacos," but we expanded the term to encompass any sock and sandal combination so that the kids who don't own Chacos can still be a part of soco day.  Originally, we wore socos to be goofy.  Instead of the whole Mean Girls "On Wednesdays we wear pink," we decided we'd go with "On Fridays we wear socos."  From there, we decided to make socos an anti-bullying campaign.  We wore socos every Friday to "soc[out]" bullying.  But, for some reason, it just didn't seem like an anti-bullying campaign was our organization's purpose.  We continued to wear socos anyways, brainstorming all the while for what our real purpose could be.  Then, a few weeks before school ended, it came to us.  Socos would be our way to raise awareness for cancer.  On Fridays, we would wear socos to "soc[out]" cancer.  Instead of simply leaving it as a sock and sandal combination, we decided that the color sock you wear should be representative of the type of cancer that has affected you or a loved one.  The idea was that we would be held together by the straps of our sandals and fight together as one against cancer.  Socos grew rapidly from there, and we were able to start a few videos, write a soco rap, and sell soco shirts to raise money for local cancer organizations.  It's been an incredible journey, and I can't wait to see how soco day continues to grow in the future.  

 The first unofficial soco day last year.

 Representing the many types of cancer with #PRE drops.

On Fridays we wear socos to "soc[out]" cancer.

Recently, I had a second ankle surgery.  I've been on crutches for about two weeks now, and I have 6 days to go.  It's been interesting to start out married life and end such a passion-filled school year on crutches, but God has blessed me beyond measure.  As frustrated as I get not being able to run or get my own cup of coffee or play efficiently with mine and Joel's new husky puppy, I know that God is continuing to refine my heart as He teaches me that I was never meant to rely on myself.  We were not created to be self-sufficient.  We were created to be God-sufficient.  Sometimes it just takes a few weeks on crutches to remember that and to truly appreciate the help that is offered by others.  After all, this life really isn't about us.

Still wearing socos because cancer is worse than ankle surgery.

Introducing Baby Moses to his big brother, Bryant.  Our little family. :)

New Year, Old Prayer, Continuing Desire

When you come across old prayers and realize you still want to live out that same thing.
Written December 31, 2014

In a few hours, it begins.  "It" being the start of something entirely new, and no, I don't just mean a new year.  In a few hours, well actually I've already started the process, I will be surrendering my life to God in a whole new way.  I'm letting go - of control, of people pleasing, of the desire for human approval.  You see, I'm being made new this year.  I'm dedicating all that I am and all that I'll be to my Lord and Savior.  I'm re-finding my first love.

This is the year I jump in with two feet, despite the fact that one is still in a cast.  This is the year I find my self-worth.  No, it's not in a new diet.  It's not in a new marathon record.  It's not even in finishing a novel.  My self-worth is in Christ, and He thinks I am just marvelous and beautiful the way I am.  He loves me despite my shortcomings.  He's even willing to be the strength in my shortcomings.  His love has changed me and is continuing to change me.

I have nothing to offer Him but my very life.  My goals, my desires, my aspirations.  And that is what this year, for me, is all about.  Wherever He leads, I'll go, and I'll carry with me a heart full of love.

No more, "Woe is me."  This year, Lord, HERE I AM.  SEND ME.

2015 New Year's Resolutions 

(I think for 2016, I'll just keep working towards these):

1. Let the Spirit lead me, not the flesh.

2. Stop overthinking and simply do.  Stop overthinking and simply love.

3. Expect miracles. Believe in miracles. Witness miracles.

4. Stop chasing my dreams and start chasing God's dreams.

5. Align my will with the will of the Father.

6. Stop being "strong" and place my weaknesses at the foot of the cross.

7. Replace the idol of human approval with a desire for God's approval.

8. Cherish quiet times and take them to heart.

9. Live in the moment, not the past or the future.  Wherever I am, be ALL there.

10. Don't let the things I don't have steal my joy.

11. Wait with patience and hope for God's timing.

12. Don't wait to have "true love" before truly loving.

13. Find contentment in Christ alone.

14. Plant the Word deep within my heart by memorizing and living out Scripture.

15. Let go of what I cling to so that God can work.

16. Stop being a people pleaser and start being a people lover.

17. Listen more.  Speak less.

18. Hear what others are saying.  Don't drown their words with my thoughts.

19. Communicate my true feelings and stop faking them to appease others.

20. Talk TO people, not AT them.

21. Stop living a life of checklists, rules, and schedules.

22. Find my value in the One who created me.

23. Give my heart fully to the One who created me.

24. Find a spiritual mentor.

25. Find a woman of God older than me to pray with and for.

26. Challenge my spiritual mentee to be more than ordinary.

27. Practice hospitality.  Welcome guests into my home.

28. Seek out the last, the lost, and the least.

29. Work harder.  Complain less.

30. Journey into nature and pause to take in its beauty.

31. Take the Sabbath for what it is and actually REST!

32. Plug into a Sunday School class and/or small group.

33. Minimize phone time and focus on real people.

34. Learn to pray with absolute faith and reckless abandon.

35. Hold nothing back when it comes to my God.

36. Lift my hands in worship.

37. Let go of my control so that God can perform miracles.

38. Love with all that I am, expecting nothing in return.

39. Climb mountains to pray.

40. Experience a sunrise on the mountaintop.

41. Spend a weekend in nature, worshipping around the fire and glorifying God's name.

42. Have Saturday morning breakfasts and prayers with friends and family.

43. Help shoulder the burdens of my friends.

44. Be more than a roommate.  Actually do life with my roommate.

45. Carry the light of Christ in my heart, eyes, and smile.

46. Use my artistic talents for God's kingdom.  Don't let them rust.

47. Wear the armor of God daily so that Satan's attacks are futile.

48. Use my money for the kingdom's purposes.

49. Make a bigger effort to know and love my brothers and sisters at church.

50. Keep in constant contact with old friends.

51. Reconnect with friends with whom I've lost touch.

52. Step out of my comfort zone without hesitation when God calls.

53. Do something radical for someone that leads them to the foot of the cross.

54. Learn new skills for the kingdom's purposes.

55. Rid my life of excess and clutter.

56. Have devotion/prayer time before work.

57. Help those without a family find a sense of family.

58. Help my best friend prepare for her homeless ministry.

59. Let my coaching time be for God's glory.

60. Live above circumstances.  Mountain high or valley low, praise God!

61. Make someone else's life just a little easier, even if it's uncomfortable to me.

62. Make time to see my brother and his family at least once a month.

63. Write often.

64. Serve weekly.

65. Find new places to serve.

66. Strengthen my Spanish for kingdom purposes.

67. Share the story of the gospel near and far.

68. Return to my first love, and find a passion for Him that is contagious.

69. Pray thoroughly and consistently for my Compassion kids.

70. Pray thoroughly and consistently when decision making.

71. Pray thoroughly and consistently in day-to-day life.

72. Pray for the world (all the countries by name).

73. Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is holy, if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.

74. Seek first the kingdom of God.

75. Pour out love and living water beyond what makes sense.

76. Believe in the impossible.

77. Don't patch over pain.  Cry out to God.  Shed tears.

78. Take care of my body for God, not self-image problems.

79. Don't stay cooped up inside.  Be where people are.

80. Refuel with Jesus - nothing else.

81. Stay positive.  Remember perspective.

82. Stop overanalyzing people's words and actions. 

83. Greet and leave people with a hug.

84. Show my students a real example of a Christ follower.

85. Help my students prepare for the future.

86. Be spontaneous and surprise people for no reason other than to spread a smile.

87. Be an encourager.  Speak life, compliments, kindness, and love.

88. Make sacrifices for love.

89. Set aside differences and let love shine.

90. Exercise to be equipped for kingdom purposes.

91. Learn to walk away from unhealthy situations while still showing love.

92. Pray for my best friend and her ministry in Costa Rica.

93. Pray constantly for fire to burn in Joel's heart so that God can use him to set the world ablaze for Christ.

94. Pray for Joel's family and a daily increase in their love for God.

95. Pray constantly for my family's faith.

96. Pray that God will send out workers to do His kingdom's work.

97. Carry my cross daily.  Be made new daily.

98. Write out my prayers.

99. Learn that love conquers all.

100. Keep a prayer/spiritual journal.

No Matter What the Future Holds, We Have God

Life doesn't always turn out the way we want, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.  It took me a long time to realize that.  Being such an imaginative person, I've always had a tendency to let my imagination rule my future.  What I mean by that is I would plan out my future in these elaborate ways, and in doing so, I was never quite content with where my future fell.  When my imagined future became my real life present, I would always find myself in the midst of disappointment.  The crazy thing, though, is that my imagined future was never as great as the future that God had planned for me, but still, I was not happy with it.  I simply refused to accept what God had planned because I wanted what I wanted, nothing more and nothing less.  Pretty selfish, huh?

Well, through time and a great deal of maturity, I've started to see how letting go of those selfish expectations and future imaginings can lead into a life of adventure and true thankfulness.  I'm sitting here right now, nowhere close to the place I thought I'd be at my age, and I'm thankful for that.  I'm thankful for the route my life has taken to get me from the person I used to be to the person I am today.  I'm thankful for the future that God planned for me so long ago and the future He continues to plan for my life.  But, I'm also thankful for my present, something that is very easy to lose sight of when one obsesses over the future inside of one's own imagination.

Last year, around this time, I had surgery on my ankle, and I hated it.  I hated being still.  I hated being trapped, feeling trapped.  I hated not being able to run, to compete, to be in the middle of everything going on.  I hated being such a hassle for everyone.  I hated feeling weak, and I hated losing my ability to be independent.  But, God smoothed out a lot of the rough edges in my heart during that timeframe.  He taught me just how independent I was, even in terms of my faith.  I was planning out my life, claiming I wanted God to be the biggest part of me, yet I was refusing Him a place in my planning process.  My life was void of faith and totally about my own works.  Through that time, I began to refocus.  I let go of my own hopes and dreams, and I started hoping and dreaming with God.  I started living in the present and trusting that God was enough for me in each and every moment.  No matter what the future brought, I had God, and nothing else mattered.

Of course, as my life became more normal again, my independent nature returned, and I found my old imagined goals and dreams resurfacing.  Pride and selfishness started to creep back into my heart, and I found myself wanting once again what I wanted, nothing more and nothing less, whether or not that was what God wanted for me.  My present began to grow clouded by my imagined future successes.  My full focus went from glorifying God in all things to figuring out how I could become more popular and successful as a writer.  It went from pouring God's love into other people to seeing how fast I could get back into marathoning.  Don't get me wrong.  I do believe that God has placed the desires for writing and running in my heart, but apart from him, those two things are meaningless.  I have no purpose as a writer the moment I forget the One who wrote my own life story.  I have no purpose as a runner the moment I forget the One who runs before me, beside me and behind me.

More and more, I'm learning that perfection and achieving goals are not the sources of my greatest testimony.  My greatest testimony comes in the moments of my greatest weaknesses, the moments where I literally have nothing to cling to but God.  The moments that don't make sense in my human understanding.  The injuries, the losses, the tragedies, the pains, the sicknesses, the stories of despair.  Those are the moments where I let go and surrender with all that I am to God because those are the moments in which I know I cannot do this life on my own.

So, sure, in my imaginative planning for my life, I would not have planned out a second ankle surgery.  I would not have planned out a lot of things.  But, I know that God's plans for my life far surpass my own.  I also know that God said, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  So like Paul, my response to whatever trials come my way is this: "Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.  For when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Corinthians 12:7)

But also, in my imaginative planning for my life, I would not have been able to plan out all the incredibly overwhelming blessings and gifts that God has given to me.  When I take a moment to stop and count my blessings, I realize that it would take all of eternity for me to thank God for all that He's done for me, and I realize that my greatest testimony does not come in my moments of weakness alone; it also comes in my moments of thanksgiving.  It comes in all the moments in which my sight is on God, not me.

I say all of this as an encouragement to you, reader.  We tend to fear the unknown because we like to know all the answers, which is why it's so easy for us to plan out our own futures and neglect God in the process of that.  But, what do we really have to fear in the future?  Why do we really need to mentally plan it all out and feel disappointed when things don't go our way?  No matter what the future brings, no matter what hardships or great blessings come our way, the future will be good because no matter what the future holds, we have God.  That in itself is enough to be thankful for every single day of our lives.  But even then, God gives us so much more than just Himself.  He surrounds us with blessings, day in and day out.  In the midst of our hardest times, if we just looked around, we'd see that He's constantly showering us with many great things.  In the midst of our greatest moments, if we just looked up, we'd see that our Heavenly Father loves us so much more than we could ever imagine.

Maybe your life isn't turning out the way you want.  Maybe your plans are constantly be trampled upon.  Maybe your like I used to be, where you get disappointed when your plans turn out different from what you expect (even if they're better than what you expected).  But maybe, just maybe, there are plans so much bigger than those plans that you've made for yourself.  Maybe there's an adventure waiting at your door, and all you have to do is wake up and step into that adventure, knowing that every step of the way, you have a loving Father's hand to hold.  That's where a life of true thanksgiving begins despite the surrounding circumstances; that's the abundant life we were called to.

A Shift of Focus

I don't know if it is just me or not, but it seems that social media becomes more and more discouraging and argumentative by the day, and with this generation being consumed by social media, people are becoming more and more discouraging and argumentative by the day. What could be an opportunity to spread love, to show grace, to live in harmony with one another is instead a common source of dissension. Negativity and snide remarks are constant, and sadly, the one who is tainted is not the one who is producing the words. It is God's name that suffers when we fail to represent Him. As Christians, we are supposed to be the hands and feet of Christ. We are supposed to go out into the dark world and shine light. But how can we shine light if all we do is add to the darkness?

I say this because I believe the Body of Christ has a powerful potential that is too often shrugged aside. It breaks my heart to see people turned away from God by those who claim to be His children. Believers become Atheists. Churches split. The list goes on.

Why do we try so hard to tear each other apart? Jesus says, "If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand" (Mark 3:24). Is that what we want for His church, to collapse it? We sure act like it sometimes. But we are here for one purpose. The church is here for one purpose. Until we see that, God is not going to receive the glory He so deserves.

We need to see each other not as competitors, but as brothers and sisters united by Christ. Sure, we're all different and we may not all see eye-to-eye on all things, but if we quit focusing on our differences and began focusing on Christ working within each other, I think we would be much more likely to act as the Body of Christ. The words we say would not be aimed to cut one another down; they would be carefully chosen to build one another up. Rebuking would be done in gentleness. It would not be a means for judgement but an opportunity to humble ourselves and help someone else overcome the sin that entangles him/her (while they could come alongside us and do the same - true accountability).

Pointing fingers does no good. Instead, maybe we should consider going alongside our brothers and sisters and helping them carry their burdens. We're not meant to go at this life alone so we need to stop making each other feel all alone in this world. When we see our brothers and sisters falling, that is not a signal to attack. It is a signal for us to "get up" as Jesus so often said and pull them back to their feet. The change we wish to see in the church might just happen then. The Body of Christ would overflow with love and grace, and destructive criticism would be replaced by constructive criticism (the two are quite different). We would become quick to listen (genuinely carrying for others), slow to speak and slow to become angry (less self-absorbed) like we are told to be in James 1:19.

So, if we want to see God's name made famous, if we want to see our brothers and sisters lifted up, if we want to see non-believers come to Christ, we must not forget this: "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another" (John 13:35).

Patience Isn't Waiting

At night, I let my knees hit the floor and I bow my head in prayer.  I pray for the people in poverty in Africa.  I pray for the lost people in England.  I pray for that broken person who I walk by every day.  I pray for opportunities.

In the morning, I open my bible and read.  I read about people in poverty.  I read about lost people.  I read about broken people.  I read about opportunities.

It is crazy how blind I have been all these years.  I keep waiting for God to reach down and take me to Africa or England.  I keep waiting on God to force me to speak to the people I pass as I walk through life.  I keep on waiting, waiting, waiting.  Guess what is happening while I am waiting?  You got it.  I'm missing opportunities.  My waiting is not an act of patience.  It is an act of selfishness.  It is an act of fear.

God has really opened up my eyes lately to see that I am perpetually in an opportunity.  Everywhere I go, everything I say is an opportunity.  I can choose to share His love through my words and actions or I can sit back and watch the broken world keep on breaking. 

In Mark 6:37, Jesus had compassion on the five thousand.  Rather than letting the five thousand go find food as the disciples had suggested, Jesus told his disciples, "You give them something to eat." Jesus could have fed the five thousand without saying a word to his disciples, but he wanted them to partake in his plans. 

Jesus says the same thing to us.  You give them something to eat. You tell them about me.  You go.

If I Die, Will You Write Something About Me?

Seven years ago today, my best friend, Caroline Hartrampf, took her last breaths and stepped into eternity.  I never thought I would experience the death of my best friend so early in life, but when I look back on our times together, I'm not so sure Caroline was as unprepared for the end of her life as I was.  It's strange because Caroline was not suffering from an illness or a disease.  She didn't even have the slightest trace of a cold or allergy problem when she left this earth.  But still, somehow, Caroline seemed to know her time was limited, and she lived the limited time with an unparalleled passion for her Heavenly Father.

Caroline once asked me, "If I die, will you write something about me?"  I always thought that was a weird question coming from a perfectly healthy eighteen-year-old, but now, I see the greater purpose in it.  Caroline's story is not just Caroline's story.  Her request for me to write about her has been so much more than me simply putting words down onto paper because the words I have written are not really about her, and they're not really about me.  They're about God.  They show how mighty and perfectly orchestrated His plans are.  Let me explain.

Earlier in the year of Caroline's death, I had considered moving home from the University of Alabama.  My older brother was struggling through some life choices, and I wanted to be there for my family.  Caroline begged me not to leave her.  Her parents were going through a divorce, and she felt that similar desire to return home and be there for her family, but she felt like God had a bigger plan for her than simply returning home.  Caroline felt that way about me too.  She didn't want me to run away from the place where God had placed me, looking for some other purpose than the one He had right before me.  It only took one serious conversation with Caroline for me to agree with her.  I knew she was right.  God had me where He wanted me so I stayed at UA.  In my mind, that meant Caroline and I would have three and a half more years in Tuscaloosa, AL to glorify God and do His kingdom work together.  I was ecstatic.

Naturally, Caroline and I, being the best friends that we were, decided to sign up for all of the same classes.  At that point in time, I was pursuing dentistry.  I wanted to be like my retired granddad and my aunt.  I'm not really sure what Caroline wanted to be.  She wasn't really sure either.  Well, I take that back.  Caroline wanted be married more than anything.  But in the waiting process, she didn't so much care what classes she took or what major she settled on.  Caroline knew that she had a bigger purpose than that.  She was sold out to God.  She cared about one thing and one thing alone: glorifying God with her whole life in each and every moment.

I remember sitting by Caroline during a sermon one time.  The sermon discussed the present.  The speaker talked about how we so desperately yearn for the future when God has given us the present to live out His love, to be His hands and feet and to do His kingdom work.  He went on to tell a story about a lady in a restaurant.  A waitress.  This waitress was absolutely miserable.  She seemed to hate her job and everything about it, including the people who sat at her table.  Well, this speaker decided that this waitress was just as important in the Kingdom of God as he was.  She wasn't just a waitress with a bad attitude.  She was a woman who was broken, just like the rest of us.  So the speaker waited in a long line every single day of his vacation to sit at this woman's table so that he could shine a little light in her life.  By the end of the speaker's vacation, the woman's spirits had lifted, and she was a new woman entirely.  Had the speaker been too focused on his future, he would have missed the opportunity in each day of his vacation to see that woman for something more than a waitress with a bad attitude.  Sadly then, that woman would have never been able to separate her identity from what it was as a waitress with a bad attitude.

In closing, the speaker asked us to pray for an opportunity to live out our faith in the present.  He encouraged us to not get caught up in what our futures would hold because in all honesty none of us our guaranteed that future.  We only have that present moment.  We only have the present day.  Sure, it's important to work towards future goals, but when those future goals consume all that we are and cause us to miss the moment that we're in, that's when we have a problem.  That's when we miss the doors that are open right in front of us.  I prayed that I would not miss that opportunity, and in that moment, a face came to my mind.  It was clearer than any face I've ever seen.  There was no denying to whom that face belonged.

When the prayer was over, I turned to Caroline, and I said, "We have to make the Smoothie Lady smile."  Caroline looked at me.  As a great big smile crept across her face, she said, "I was thinking the same thing."  You may be wondering who this Smoothie Lady was, so let me fill you in.  At UA, there is a place called the Ferguson Center (UA students refer to it as "the Ferg") where you can eat at a variety of restaurants and socialize with your friends.  It's like a college version of a mall food court.  Well, at the Ferg, there was a Smoothie King, and there was a lady, the Smoothie Lady, who worked at Smoothie King.  The Smoothie Lady was the saddest, gloomiest, most depressing looking lady I have ever seen in my entire life.  I used to order smoothies just to tell her that I hoped she had a good day, and her response time and time again was a simple nod with the same sad, gloomy, depressing expression that she'd worn every other day.

Caroline and I knew that we were up for a challenge.  I mean, how do you make someone smile when you're nice to them every single day, and they don't respond at all?  There's not bitterness or hatred there.  There's apathy, and that's something so much harder to overcome than the worst bitterness or hatred.

If you must know, Caroline and I were a duo of weirdos so our plan to make the Smoothie Lady smile came a little more quickly than we had intended.  We were eating lunch, and it hit us.  We'd sing and dance for her.  In the middle of the campus food court, two girls who knew nothing about singing or dancing planned to sing and dance for the purpose of a smile.  The funny thing was Caroline and I never doubted our ideas once we'd come up with them.  We simply knew what we were supposed to do, and no matter how weird or uncomfortable it seemed, we were confident that God had a purpose for us that far surpassed that momentary awkwardness.  So we carried out our plans.  We lived in the moment.

Already laughing, we walked up to the Smoothie Lady.  We asked for her name, which just so happened to be Natasha, and we asked her what her favorite song was.  Natasha didn't know what song was her favorite, but we had her attention right there.  The sad, gloomy, depressing expression faded away the moment we stepped past the surface level attempt to brighten her day and actually tried to get to know her.  She wasn't just the Smoothie Lady.  She had a name.  She was Natasha.  Her life wasn't about serving us smoothies.  It had a purpose just like ours.  The moment we saw that, we burst into song.  Caroline and I sang Chris Brown's "With You," complete with our own made up hand motions.  The entire Ferg watched as we made fools of ourselves, but we didn't care.  We didn't care because Natasha didn't smile.  She laughed.  And I'm not talking a simple sympathetic chuckle.  I'm talking a full body laugh.

From that day on, Natasha remembered us.  Every time we walked into the Ferg, she smiled.  Caroline and I were never so excited about another single moment of our friendship.  We knew with all of our hearts that God had a plan for us in that present moment, and it went beyond making a lady smile or laugh.  We were sharing God's love with someone who could've been a perfect stranger our whole lives.  The gospel was our heart's cry, and we didn't need a fancy degree or a life planned out on paper to share that story.  We shared it as we were - two imperfect friends with no idea what the future was going to bring.

I think it was about a week before Caroline's death when we decided to give Natasha the copy of The Purpose Driven Life that I'd just finished reading.  That was the last time either of us ever saw Natasha, and that was one of the last few times I ever saw Caroline.  You see, Caroline's story is the greatest story of friendship that I know.  It's not because she was perfect.  It's not because her life was void of mistakes.  It's not even because she had it all together.  Caroline's story is the greatest story of friendship that I know because Caroline lived out the gospel with every breath of her life while she still had the opportunity to do so.  She knew she wasn't strong enough or good enough on her own, and she was okay with that.  She let God shine through her in such a way that people are still touched by her life seven years after her death.  You see, living in the present moment for Caroline was not just the present moment.  It was her whole future, too.  

Caroline was more than a best friend to me; she was my sister-in-Christ.  A real sister, too.  One with whom I could be vulnerable and honest.  One who loved me despite my failures and mistakes.  One who taught me to love God more than anything that this world has to offer.  One who taught me that the present is the greatest moment that we have because it may be all that we have.  Caroline's friendship forever changed me.  It made me see God in a whole new way.  It made me see people in a whole new way.  I am forever grateful that God allowed for our paths to cross in the short time that they did.

A Perfectly Imperfect Fairy Tale

A fairy tale is not a fairy tale because it is perfect.  A fairy tale is a fairy tale because it transforms imperfections into the kind of magic we call love.  And there's only one way that can happen - with God.  So, here's my fairy tale, imperfections and all.  To God be all the glory.

Once in a lifetime, you meet someone who changes your life in a single glance.  That someone for me was Joel, and that glance happened on New Year's Eve, 2013.  I liked Joel the moment I first saw him - the moment he lit my sparkler.  I would have never admitted it at the time, always having been my own personal love story's greatest critic.  But it's true.  There was something about Joel that I liked right away.  Something that made my heart smile before I even really knew him.

I remember standing around the fire with friends, freezing cold and wondering if Joel had a girlfriend.  My heart actually skipped a beat when he said something about an ex-girlfriend of his.  If he was bringing up an ex-girlfriend, he had to be single, right?

New Year's Day I added Joel on Facebook.  Of course, I added his sister and his sister's boyfriend (among other people) to be a little more conspicuous.  I can remember how excited I was when he accepted my friend request.  A real middle school-like emotional high.  But, that high only got higher when he started liking my Facebook statuses.  I even went so far as to show my mom his profile picture, telling her about the "cool, funny, nice, good looking, perfect" guy I had just met.

Joel and I started talking through Facebook messages, and then one day, he asked for my phone number.  Not long after that, we went on our first unofficial date.  Hiking.  I think I knew Joel was a keeper when he asked me if I wanted some trail mix.  I said no, and he said, "I think you would really like this kind."  I agreed to try the trail mix, and he pulled a baggy out of his backpack with a mixture of Froot Loops and Goldfish.  For those of you who don't know, that is my absolute favorite snack (and I'd only ever mentioned it in passing)!

As the weeks went by, I would take coffee to Joel and sit with him in between his college engineering classes.  Joel sent flowers to me, and he wrote me one of the most beautiful poems I have ever read to this very day.  Everything seemed to be going so perfectly.  I mean, how often in real life does the man of your dreams walk out of your dreams and into your life?

Around that time, I stopped talking to Joel.  I'm talking absolute silence - no responses to his texts and no answers for his phone calls.  I ignored him 100%.  Crazy. right?  And the reason for that?  Well, I couldn't tell him.  After all, how do you tell your perfect person that you're not perfect?  How do you tell him that you have a past that is currently invading your present?  That you have made mistakes, and they have come back to haunt you?

Joel refused to let me have the easy way out with my silence.  He showed up at my house and waited across the street in his car until I finished my run.  At the time, I didn't realize that he'd already talked to my parents and that they had told him I was outside running.  In my mind, all I could think was that I'd come across a real life stalker.  (I probably watch too many scary movies.)  That night, Joel asked me if I wanted to go on a real date with him, and I said no.  After all, at this point, I was fully convinced that my stalker theory was correct.  Mainly that theory was a cover up for the fact that I was deathly afraid that Joel would turn out to be a jerk hiding behind a nice guy mask, and if he really was the nice guy, I was deathly afraid that I wasn't worthy of his love.

Time passed, and I realized that Joel wasn't really a stalker.  He really was the nice guy I had met on New Year's Eve.  I also realized that I owed him a big apology and not just the kind of apology that says, "I'm sorry I thought you were a stalker."  I'm talking the kind of apology that says there's a lot more to my story than what I've let on, and you need to know my full story, as uncomfortable as it is for me to share, to understand why I gave you the cold shoulder.  I think it took me at least four months to muster up the courage to give a real apology with full details.  I'll never forget Joel's response: "I've really missed you.  No hard feelings."

Joel and I dated for several months.  He ended up taking a job that caused him to work every weekend, and I ended up having ankle surgery on my right ankle (meaning I couldn't drive at all for six weeks).  Being a quality time kind of person, I quickly grew frustrated with our relationship.  It felt worse than a long distance relationship because we never got to see each other, and we lived in the same town.  I hit breaking point and broke up with Joel.  Of course, I regretted that decision the moment I carried it out.  I didn't want Joel out of my life.  I wanted him in my life more.

Apologizing a second time isn't so easy as apologizing a first time.  After all, it's hard for someone to fight for you when you're always running from them.  Apathy begins to take root.  And that's what happened to Joel.  I had pushed him out one too many times, and he wasn't eager to jump back into working things out.  In retrospect, I'm quite thankful Joel didn't accept me so readily because God used that time to grow my heart for Him.  I gained a burning desire for missions, and I signed up for a mission trip out of the country - a mission trip to Costa Rica.

Despite the apathy in our relationship (or whatever it was that we were), Joel and I still hung out 24/7.  I prayed for weeks that God would reveal to me whether or not Joel was the one for me.  It wasn't that I was desperate to have Joel in my life.  I just didn't want to be consumed by something that was not in God's will for my life.  New Year's Eve 2014 (the one year anniversary of the day Joel and I first met) was coming around, and I prayed that God would use that day to give me my answer.  I asked God to make it simple so that I couldn't manipulate circumstances or meanings to my own liking.  I prayed that Joel would spend New Year's Eve with me (without me manipulating circumstances) if God wanted me to be patient and wait on Joel to get over his apathy.  If I didn't spend New Year's Eve with Joel, I would know that we didn't have a future together, and it was time for me to move on.

New Year's Eve rolled around.  Joel had plans with his friend, and I had plans with my friend.  I assumed that I had my answer.  It was time I closed that door and trust that God had another someone out there for me.  But, around 8:30, Joel sent me a snapchat saying that he was bored.  I asked why he wasn't at his friend's party, and he said that the party hadn't started yet.  I told Joel that my friend and I were going to grab some coffee before our party, and Joel decided to join us.  While we were having coffee, my friend invited Joel to the New Year's party we were going to, and Joel decided to come with us (despite the fact that he already had other New Year's plans).  And I knew that was my answer.  I was to be patient and wait.

The being patient and waiting process was incredibly hard for me.  But God used it for His glory.  One day after church, God placed on my heart a strong desire to tell Joel in person just how much he meant to me.  That was a really bold move for me because I really struggled sharing my true feelings, being so afraid of rejection.  My words weren't the magical fix I'd hoped for.  Joel appreciated what I had said, but he didn't want to pursue a relationship.  I remember getting in my car and saying, "God, why would you want me to say that if I was just going to get rejected?"  I remember even more what God said back to me, "Do you really love him?"  I thought for a moment.  "Of course I love him."  That's when it hit me.  I loved Joel because I wanted Joel to love me.  I didn't love Joel because I wanted him to grow and develop in his relationship with Christ.  I loved Joel selfishly, not sacrificially.  It wasn't love at all.  Not real love.

I made the decision at that moment to be Joel's friend.  I wanted to really love him.  Not for what I could take from the relationship.  Not even for what I could offer to the relationship.  I wanted to love him because I wanted to be a vessel of God's love in his life.  Believe me when I say all of that was a lot easier said than done.  My patience ran thin more times than I'd like to admit.  But in my heart, I knew Joel was the one for me.  Deep down, I felt a peace about it, and the more I prayed, the more at peace I felt.

I don't remember the exact moment when our friendship transformed back into a relationship.  It just kind of happened one day, but once our relationship was restored, I knew that my love for Joel was no longer about me.

Just when we were getting our relationship back on track, I left the country for Costa Rica.  In Costa Rica, I met a girl who was on staff with YWAM at the Guatemalan base.  She asked me how I'd heard about YWAM, and I told her that I had heard of it through my best friend who was on staff at the base in Costa Rica (this just so happens to be the same friend who invited Joel to the New Year's Eve party) and through my boyfriend who had done a DTS with YWAM in Belize with his outreach in Guatemala.  The girl asked me what my boyfriend's name was, and when I told her she couldn't believe she was meeting me.

Apparently Joel and this girl were friends when Joel was on his outreach, and they'd had a conversation about future relationships.  Joel had told the girl that he wanted to be devoted to God and not worry about dating, and the girl's response had been, "Whatever girl you end up with is going to be one lucky girl."

My time in Costa Rica made me realize two things: one, I wanted to follow God with my whole heart for my whole life, and two, I wanted my adventures with God to include Joel.  I was not at all ready to leave Costa Rica when the end of the month came, but Joel helped me to adjust back to Alabama life.  He encouraged me to see the mission field in the here and now - the mission field that I'm a part of every day of my life.  That is when I started praying every day that God would show us how we could do His kingdom work hand-in-hand.

That prayer was answered when my former students started coming to church.  With Joel's help, it was easier for me to get my male students plugged in; whereas, my focus on my own had been on getting my female students plugged in (simply because males need male leadership and females need female leadership to grow).  Seeing Joel with my students made me love him all the more.  There's just something so special about seeing the man you love surrounded by the kids you love.

At the beginning of this month (October), Joel took me to his home state (Oregon).  I was so excited to meet all of his old friends.  Not to mention, we had plans to stay a couple of nights with a best friend of mine from my time in Costa Rica, who just so happens to be from Oregon and just so happens to have a brother-in-law who does worship with one of Joel's friends from college.  Crazy, I know.

Well, on this trip, Joel and I went backpacking with his cousin and her husband.  Underneath a waterfall (he chose the location because I like fantasy novels and have a very vivid imagination), Joel got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.  Of course, I said yes.

I could not be more excited for the lifetime of adventures to come for Joel and me.  I know that God has amazing things in store for the two of us, and even if the road isn't always easy, I know it will end with a beautiful story - a fairy tale that glorifies God and reveals His perfect orchestration in the midst of our insanely imperfect lives.

He's Gone - The Loss of a Hero

I was in the 7th grade when my hero passed away.  I remember sitting in my history class that year, 2001, and watching the Twin Towers collapse before my very eyes.  I remember thinking how horrific it must've been to be a part of that, but even more so, how heart-wrenching it would be to lose a loved one so suddenly.  With no warning or preparation.  Just a simple one minute they're there, and the next, they're gone forever.

Little did I know, that heart-wrenching feeling was one I'd come to know all too soon.  On September 30, 2001, my hero breathed his last breath.  There was no warning and no preparation.  Frenchy (the only name by which I ever knew my uncle Jean-Marc Plante) was out playing street hockey with his friends, and he had a heart attack.  He was 30 years old.  Much too young to die.  Much too young to be gone from this earth.

I remember the moment I heard the news.  My grandma told me two simple words: "He's gone."  At first those two words didn't make sense to me.  Gone?  Where did he go?  Did he get to leave the hospital?  Then, it hit me.  Those two simple words were not so simple.  They were the two of the most loaded words I would ever hear in my life.  And with those words, my whole world, everything I'd ever known, collapsed.  In my 7th grade mind, I feared that I, too, might be dying of a heart attack.  I remember trying to swallow back the knots that kept forming in my throat and trying not to cry because I wanted to be strong for everyone else.

Frenchy was more than an uncle to me.  He was my friend.  My big brother.  My favorite person to hang out with.  He was always taking me somewhere fun - rollerblading around the neighborhood, ice skating, out to lunch, the list goes on.  Frenchy had even promised me that he would take me rollerblading on Halloween because then we could get double the candy.  Though we never got to do that, I know that Frenchy's impact on my life did not stop at his death.

Frenchy's death set off a chain reaction in my life that ultimately led me into becoming the person I am today.  When Frenchy died, two things happened.  One, I realized that Frenchy was the kind of person I wanted to be - someone who walked about this life always making others smile and always making others feel loved.  Two, I realized that writing was more than a hobby for me.  Writing was something that was as crucial to my life as breathing, and whatever it was about writing that was so important to me, I would make it my life's ambition to find and tell that story.

At age 12, I set out to write my first book.  I called it Seventeen in honor of my uncle's hockey number.  In the book, I planned to tell my life's story (more so for my ability to overcome tragedies and hardships than to actually share my story with others).  I worked on the book for years.  Each year, I added a new chapter with new life events - the good ones, the bad ones, the ugly ones.  By college, I had reached seventeen chapters, and I'd found myself at a stopping point.

My best friend in college, Caroline, stumbled across my writing one day.  We were probably supposed to be doing homework, but you know how college kids are, as unproductive in terms of homework as they come.  But, Caroline read my story about Frenchy, and she said this to me: "If I die, will you write something about me?"  I didn't realize it at the time, but those words would become as loaded as the two words: "He's gone."

For today, though, with it being the 14th anniversary of his death, my focus is on Frenchy so I will stop my story here - the place where my story all began.