Showing posts with label Friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friendship. Show all posts

Friday, June 5, 2015

Anne & Joe

          These last few weeks, I have been interviewing residents at the retirement home where I work, seeking to know their stories. It has been a privilege to hear each story, and a few residents have given me written permission to share their stories with all of you. This is an exercise in writing for me - if you have any questions, comments, or critiques, please let me know!


            1930. Life was difficult in Brooklyn, New York in the depth of the depression, but his mother made ends meet. She worked hard to support her young son after his father left her for other women. They never experienced the hardest parts of the depression, certainly not to the extent that the folks in Oklahoma and other places did, but they knew hardship all the same.
            As Joe got older, opportunities opened up for him. He attended a military school in West Virginia for a few years in the late 30s-early 40s. Joe’s mother remarried, and she, Warren, and Joe moved to Montreal before Joe graduated high school. While they were living there, WWII broke out. Joe returned to the states, to Burlington, Vermont, to complete school before enlisting in the Army. He went through basic training in Florida in 1944 and then was shipped overseas where he served in Europe for 6 months, in the 10th Armored Division right after the Battle of the Bulge. “Boy, was I lucky to miss that,” he says, looking back.
            Soon after he finished his service in the military, Joe’s mother died. He returned for her funeral and then sought an education. Although he had been considering becoming a doctor or dentist, he instead began college in Vermont, studying agriculture and economics, and ended up in the insurance business, a job that took him around the country. He met a girl and got married, had two boys and one girl. 25 years later, he and his wife divorced, and he subsequently began night school at Fort Steilacoom Community College. It was at night school that he met Anne.

            1936. She was grateful for the bed and food the nuns offered her. Goodness knows she was better off here in the convent than she had been at her aunt’s house where she was just another mouth to feed.  She remembers with a grimace the clothing lines and the fact that they could never afford new shoes, although the soles were loose on her old ones, and all that just a year ago. At the age of 12, one year prior, she had run away to her 6th grade teacher at the Chicago, Illinois convent, where she would be taken care of for the remainder of the depression era. Although her cousins, who also attended school at the convent, told her that her aunt wanted her to return, her aunt held no legal authority over her, so she remained at the convent.
            Anne’s parents had immigrated to the US from Croatia in the early-mid 1900s, just before the depression struck. When Anne was 6, her mother passed away. Although she was young, Anne holds on to memories of her loving mother, especially her beautiful blue dress with the gold fleur-de-lis design, which she wore to church ever morning. Her father, unable to care for her, gave Anne to his sister in Chicago, Illinois. Anne attended school at the local convent, where she lived in her later schooling years. When she started high school, she decided she wanted to become a nun and was sent to the motherhouse in Colorado for two years. During her sophomore year, she changed her mind and came back to Chicago. In high school, she met her future husband. She wasn’t everything he hoped she would be, so she changed for him and compromised herself, something she regrets to this day.  He didn’t believe in the education of women, so she finished high school and stopped attending school. She had dreamed of a man of high ideals, with a love of his faith, and a positive outlook, but settled for what she had instead. Anne helped put him through med school and moved to Tacoma for his internship. During their marriage, he had affairs, and, after 8 children, they were divorced.
            After the divorce, she went back to school at Fort Steilacoom Community College to pursue her dream of becoming educated and here she met Joe.

      It was in a Human Potential Class that Anne and Joe met. This was a class that impacted both of them deeply, focusing on Personal Responsibility and Emotional Development, a phrase they both still remember 40 years later. Outside of Human Potential, however, it was their shared loved for the Lord that brought and kept them together. The Lord has never abandoned them, and, in Anne’s words, the last 39 years have been a fairytale. They traveled together, to Europe twice and to other places. Anne went to Europe twice more on her own, to discover her family’s roots in Croatia. She was searching for herself and she found it in the town where she was immediately recognized as her mother’s daughter. Walking along a street in Kaštela, a woman called out “You’re Maria’s daughter!” and Anne knew she had found something special. Her self-esteem had been knocked down to zero after her divorce, and between Human Potential, Joe, Kaštela, and the Lord’s grace, she began to be built back up. Joe and Anne continued their education, Anne continuing on to Evergreen Community College. Anne focused on the three children she still had at home, co-owned a bookstore, and then got into real estate. Joe can be described as a poet, painter, and romantic.
      Now, they sit across from me, both in their rocking chairs, both smiling brightly. For the last several months, they have never failed to inform me that they are praying for me. They ask after my schooling and my plans for the future, and I am honored that they have taken such an interest in me.

      Joe’s words to me: “You’re doing okay. You have your life figured out and the smarts to pursue it. Not many have that.”

      Anne’s words to me: “Don’t ever compromise yourself; remain true to you. Retain your individuality.”

Thursday, April 23, 2015

(Temporarily) Satiated Wanderlust

     Just over a month ago, I was itching to go, to travel, to explore. I've had that desire fulfilled now and I'm at least temporarily satisfied to remain at home. In the last month, I've spent time in Canada, South Africa, and Zambia, as well as the US (of course) and stopovers in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and Rome, Italy. I don't know if stopovers count, especially when they occur from 3am-4am, as the Rome stopover did, but I was still in those countries for a short time.
     I drove into Canada (7 hours of travel), camped in very wet conditions, explored Vancouver, drove home (3 hours of travel), drove to La Conner (2 hours of travel), experienced the Tulip Festival with my wonderful mother, drove home (2 hours of travel), flew to South Africa (28 hours of travel), spent a fantastic week with friends, flew to Zambia (6 hours of travel), spent a weekend with my other family, the Taylors (http://robandjennifer.wordpress.com/ go follow them!), and flew home (36 hours of travel). That last part of was especially taxing. I had an amazing time... but, yea, I'm liking my bed, my mom's food, and a more relaxed schedule. I didn't ever think I'd call calculus relaxed.
     Until I moved to South Africa, I was never a wanderer. Short trips, sure, that's fine. But I intended to grow up and live right where I'd always lived, maybe even in the same house. Now...the whole world is open to me. I've spent time in different lifestyles, and the term culture shock isn't foreign. It would be hard to live elsewhere, but I could do it. I might even want to... More than anything, though, I want to live where God puts me. The opportunities He's given me at such a young age have broadened my horizons and made me consider differed places. What is He preparing me for, I wonder? I can't wait to find out.
     While these last few weeks haven't resulted in culture shock since they were short term, they have been full of experiences. International travel on my own, especially, was new. I had to navigate airports, luggage, visas, customs, and vaccinations (or lack thereof), all on my own. There were times when I was nervous, but now I've done it, I can do it again. I hope to, in the future.
     Each trip has been different and each has been good.

It was good to make new friends while camping in thunderstorms, good to explore the gorgeous forest around Golden Ears provincial park, good to laugh at crazy circumstances.


It was good to spend time with my mom, good to have my camera out and take as many pictures of tulips as I wanted, good to have a schedule that allowed me to wander La Conner, read by lamplight on the porch with the stars above me, and sing hymns in the morning.


It was good to be surprised by special girls with a special birthday dinner, good to have a busy schedule of seeing everyone, mini golfing, watching movies, playing board games, eating good food, good to work on relationships that I want to keep for years to come.



It was good to be part of the Taylor family, good to spend a little time in a second world country, good to talk to Mr Taylor, Mrs Taylor, and Matt.



It was good. And now it's good to be home with those I love.

Saturday, January 3, 2015

The Average American

According to the New Strategist, the Average American...

  • makes $735/week
  • has a landline telephone
  • says he/she is in very good or excellent health
  • is overweight
  • believes the effects of global warming have already begun or soon will 
  • is currently married
  • lives in one of the top 50 metropolitan areas
  • lives in a house built before 1975
  • watches 2 hours and 49 minutes of television a day
  • drinks alcohol regularly
  • pays his/her credit card bill in full each month
  • has been to college, but does not have a college degree
  • believes in God without a doubt 
  • favors the death penalty
  • believes in evolution
  • wants the government to spend more on education, health care, and the environment
  • does not know which political party controls the House of Representatives
  • The Average American Household contains 2.6 people, owns 2.28 vehicles, 1.6 dogs, 2.1 cats, and 2.3 birds, and is $75,600 in debt (including the mortgage).
  • The Average American Man, between the ages of 30-39, has black hair and a BMI of 29 at 5'9".
  • The Average American Woman, between the ages of 30 and 39, has brown hair and a BMI of 26.4 at 5'4".
     Right. Enough statistics.  You don't even have to read all of those to see where I might be going with this post. I fit... let me count... 3.5 of those. That's 17.5% if you want another statistic. No, I didn't just choose statistics that don't match me. I guess I'm not an Average American. In fact, I don't think I know a single Average American. That's interesting, given those facts are based on us.  Where are all the Average Americans described above? I daresay nowhere.
     Each person is an individual.  Each person has passions and hobbies, history and personality.  That is something that no statistic can capture.  Yes, 52% of the population might enjoy scrapbooking (I'm making that up), and that means the enjoyment of scrapbooking is a trait of the Average American, but even that number means very little. One person's scrapbook looks completely different from another person's because each scrapbook reflects the individual who spent time creating it. 
     The Average American is a bunch of numbers that eliminate our uniqueness. Whatever it is that makes me, me, can't be captured in the Average American because it's me, and I'm not Average.  I'm more than Average.  Yet... we still seem to be chasing after this American Dream of keeping up with the Average American (commonly named Jones).  We want to fit in, to be like everyone else. Everyone else, in my opinion, is boring, impossible, and even contradictory. 
     God created each and every one of us. We simply have to look around at creation to see that He has an abundance of creativity, and He applied that creativity to us as well. Psalm 139:13-14 is an oft-quoted passage, but it comes from one of my favorite Psalms and is beautiful each and every time it is used: 
For You formed my inward parts; 
You knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are Your works;
my soul knows it very well. 

     You are not average. You are uniquely, wonderfully you, and you are loved by the One who created you as an individual. 

     Now, I do want to note that I wrote this Average American post from an American point of view mostly because it was easiest to find American statistics. The same message applies, though, to South Africans to Germans to Venezuelans to Malaysians and to any person anywhere.


References:
https://www.avma.org/KB/Resources/Statistics/Pages/Market-research-statistics-US-pet-ownership.aspx
http://press.experian.com/United-States/Press-Release/new-study-shows-multiple-cars-are-king-in-american-households.aspx
http://www.census.gov/prod/2013pubs/p20-570.pdf
http://www.newstrategist.com/store/index.cfm/feature/57_15/50-facts-about-the-average-american.cfm

No, I'm not going to write them up in MLA format. 


Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Nostalgic Christmas Cheer

     As school ends (last exam was today!), I have more room in my head to focus on the more enjoyable things... like Christmas! And reading, and music, and photography, and crocheting, and selling Christmas trees, and family... all those things, too.  Christmas... it's been in stores since October, and in full swing for a couple weeks now.  Normally, by the time December 25 rolls around, I'm really kind of ready for the whole Christmas season to be done, especially the commercialized part of it. This year... not so much. I found myself singing carols before Thanksgiving (something I make a rule of not doing) and I haven't stopped yet. I'm enjoying the lights and the cheer and everything. We still haven't put up our tree, but I think that's happening this weekend. The Christmas concert is this weekend, the culmination of months of handbell practice. I decided a while ago what my presents would be, so I don't have to worry about that. I still don't like the whole presents vibe... gift giving is not my love language.  What to get, will they like it, what if they don't, what should I ask for, what if there's nothing I want, pretending I like it when I really don't... ugh. And that's self-centered in a way, but it's also not. I still give gifts. I would simply be okay if Christmas were less about boxes under the tree and more about family and Christ.  But! Back on topic! Christmas will be here before I know it!
     Before I know it... part of the reason I'm enjoying this season so much is because it's my kind of last. In nine months, I'll be in college. Sure, I'll come back to visit for the holidays, but there will be a different feel in the house.  This is my last year for really belonging to the traditions.  Childhood... is slipping away. Hence the hesitation in my thoughts. I've been mulling over memories the past couple weeks, pulling out old journals and family photo books, remembering the years and experiences I've gone through. I have not had a perfect life - far from it, with adoption and moving halfway around the world - but I have a had a good life, full of wonderful memories. I slowly turn the pages of the picture books, watching my documented years slip before my eyes. Even amidst pain, I have had a life of laughter and love. I have been given a perspective on life where I can know that struggles pass and contentment is possible as we suffer. And a lot of those memories are coming, not to the end, but to an end. To a beginning as well, but to an end, where my past shifts further into my past.
     I have just a few more months living in this household. A few more months of late night conversations with Teresa, a few more more months of building deep relationships with my siblings, a few more months of being part of this family's day-to-day life. I have to make the most of it. When Jonathon asks for help finding a tree or putting up lights, I need to drop what I'm doing and participate. Even when I should be studying for chemistry. What is an hour of chemistry to an hour of relationship? I want my siblings to look to me as their big sister, ready to talk to when needed, who loves them always. I want to build relationships that will last through years of both pleasant and tough times.
     So I participate whole-heartedly. I take them shopping when they need to buy gifts. I help blow tinsel on the tree. I bake chocolate peppermint cookies. I join them in singing random Christmas carols. When school starts again, I'll again be occupied by other things, but I hope I can do enough now and then to last through my leaving for college. I'll be back next year, but it'll be different. None of my siblings want me to leave.  They're all excited for me, but sorrowful, too. When I come home for any holiday, I'm going to brace myself before I knock on the door. It will be necessary.
 






  Life. Memories. Cheer. Happiness. Sorrow. Christmas. 
     Joyful Nostalgia.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The Choice of Love

        This post took a long time to write and a really long time to start writing.  It’s a long post dealing with a large topic, one of which I can only barely brush the surface.  It’s such a big topic that even with the little part I’m trying to touch on, I’m not sure I represented in the most organized manner.  It’s controversial, in many ways, and open to much discussion.  Love is such a huge part of the Christian life, yet we tend to shy away from in depth talks about it.  I really don’t know why.  Maybe it’s just me and that’s an inaccurate reflection.
        Over the last year and a half, one of my main topics of meditation has been love. As a child, I knew love more as others loving me.  I grew up knowing the Bible verses: God is love, 1 Cor 13, love your neighbor as yourself.  While I would say I loved my parents, my siblings, my friends, it was never a truly deep love.  Love is unselfish, caring only and fully for the other person, and I’ve never lived up to that.  I still haven't (how could I, an imperfect person, experience perfect love towards others?) but I've gotten closer through practice and God's grace.
I want to start with a definition of love that has influenced a lot of my thought processes these last months.  Love: intentionally and intelligently choosing what is best for the other person.  This is the definition given at Oasis last year, and it stuck with me a lot more than I expected it would.  It’s a definition that can be applied to all relationships: friends, enemies, romances, and family.  It crosses great distances, differences, and divides.
First I want to go through some of the qualities of love that have stuck out to me the most, either by example or by study.  By demonstration, a good friend has taught me that love is unconditional – it is caring and understanding, it listens without judging, without thinking less, without disapproving, and it is so because it is full of God.  Love is patient, and, often, that patience is only possible with God’s help.  Love is also not always spilling-over-joyous love, the gooey love our culture associates with romance; it is often a deep-seated honoring love.  As Paul wrote to the church at Corinth, we love by being patient, kind, not envious, not boastful, not prideful.  By honouring and looking to the other’s good before our own.  We try not to be angry and irritable, and we keep no record of wrongs.  We forgive and forget.  We always protect, always trust, always hope, and always persevere.  These qualities we choose to try by God’s grace.  But love isn't always easy.  Just because you hold knowledge of what it's supposed to look like in your head doesn't necessarily mean your actions will always reflect that.
Now I’m going to expand on something I’ve touched on a couple of times in the past two paragraphs: love isn’t a feeling, it’s a choice.  Josh McDowell defines love this way: to nurture (bring maturity to) and to cherish (care for and protect).  His definition is probably the result of many years of study and reflection – it’s certainly much more developed than mine is.  Maybe 50 years down the road I’ll get around to defining love.  For now, I’m starting with the idea that love is a choice. Society today has really tried to alter love to only include the feeling part of it, and that definition is probably a cause of many of our problems.  How can we love our coworker if we really don’t like him?  Well, my parents always told my siblings and me that we always had to love each other, even when we didn’t like each other.  In fact, I’m going to paraphrase C.S. Lewis here.  I’ve just been reading his book Mere Christianity, and I think he explains this much better than I ever have.  I am told to love my neighbor as I love myself.  Well, how do I love myself?  I certainly don’t love myself because I’m always nice, always good.  In fact, I love myself in spite of being a rather awful person at times.  So love isn’t based on liking a person.  C.S. Lewis says love is wishing your neighbor good – I say love is a choice.   Choose it or not.
What does this choice look like?  Because love is a choice, it applies to those whom we don't want to love as well. Even when we carry hurt against someone, we cannot abandon him or her in favor of a grudge.  Love is about the other person.  What is best for him?  How can you best serve her?  What does the other person want and need?  It is with the Lord's help that it can be all about the other person, from our hearts to our heads to our actions.  Even through hurt and distance and separation, we can and should still make the choice to love.
Love, in many ways, is simply deciding to put the other person first.  This journey of love started for me first by observing love in others, then by deciding to choose to love one person, then by gradually applying the concept of love as a choice to more and more people.  Some people have been harder to love than others; some people I haven’t gotten there yet.  I ask God to change my heart, show me how to best love a person, and a couple of times He has done so in bigger ways than I was expecting.  In other instances, He’s still working on my stubborn, sinful heart.  I imagine, though, that He has great works of love in my future, in one way or another.




Monday, August 25, 2014

Talking To My Phone

     I've noticed lately a habit that I don't like.  It's a common habit, I think, resulting in some unseemly conduct, especially among younger generations.  I have termed this habit "Talking To My Phone."  When I'm texting someone, or messaging them, or commenting on something, I've taken to simply talking, rather than talking to him or her, to that person specifically
     Now, this does mean each of my messages very accurately conveys my thoughts and, in a way, my tone of thinking.  Actually, it's very similar to the way I write on this blog.  For other people, who perhaps don't have a cordial "tone" of thought, this may produce rather nastier texts.  I think this is why we're always warned to conduct deep conversations, or conversations that are possibly hurtful, in person, because it is so much easier to say rude things over the internet.  Rude messages, in my opinion, arise from people not censoring their thoughts as they would in person; people don't censor as they would in person because they aren't in person, they're talking to their phones.
     However, I would go even farther than "make sure you don't say rude things over the internet."  I would say we need to consider how we're talking to each person using our electronic devices, even when the conversation is light and pleasant.  When we speak in person, we alter our behaviours depending on the other person's personality.  Not that we wear masks, simply that we may be more talkative with one person, more reserved with another.  Yet this gets lost when we aren't face to face.  Perhaps that's a good thing - we get to see different sides of one another - but I think it takes with it some of the individuality of each relationship.  
     I've decided to try (no gaurantee on success, this is only a few weeks old) to imagine each person as I text him or her.  I can often visualise a person's facial expressions, even call to mind what someone would sound like in speaking the words of the message.  When I remember to do this, it has, thus far, made a significant difference in my final sent message.  Perhaps it's also because I'm taking more time to devise each text, but I think I'm responding more to the person than to the words on my phone.  And I think that's a good thing. 

Thursday, August 7, 2014

The Best Vacation Ever


     So I'm about halfway through my summer vacation, now, and I've pretty much decided that this is the best summer I've ever had and that this summer probably will hold that record for a while.  I'm not saying it's perfect, with every day better than the last, but I seem to have struck the balance between busy and relaxation that works for me.  Below is a list of what I think makes this a beautiful summer:

     1. Get a job/be productive.  One of the things I think ruins a vacation is boredom.  Vacation boredom is why I love the South African school schedule we were on: 3 months school, 1 month holiday, repeat.  However, if you can keep yourself busy with a good summer job (especially if it's one you enjoy) that boredom will be a lot longer in coming.  As for being productive, this is around-the-home stuff: college/scholarship applications, cooking, cleaning, organizing, community organizations, etc.  
     2. Be lazy. That said, vacation is supposed to be relaxing.  Only allot yourself so much to do that when you feel like being lazy, you can be lazy.  Obviously, this is in lesser amounts.
     3. Exercise.  You should do this year round, so don't slack off in the summer.  Much.  For more than a couple weeks at a time.  And have fun with exercising!  Don't use that machine every day for 30 minutes... borrrrring.  Pick up a new water sport, or run outside, turning down whichever side street you come to!
     4. Spend time outside.  Summer, unless you live someplace ridiculously hot, is a great time to go outside.  I've pretty much taken over caring for my mom's herb garden, and even the normally tedious chore of weeding is made 100x better when I'm out soaking in the sun.  Read outside.  Nap outside.  Work outside.  And exercising outside is so much nicer than exercising inside.
     5. Do what you love.  Spend time really filling yourself up; for me, this means I take my camera and play.  I read good books (this summer our family is reading classics), I paint, and I spend time in the kitchen.
     6. Build relationships.  This means seeking to hang out with friends, to spend time with siblings, to connect with parents and peers.  Be sociable.  I'm an introvert, so sometimes this is difficult, but it just means sometimes I need to have a day to be antisocial. 
     7. Keep traditions.  For as long as I can remember, my extended family has congregated at a cabin on a lake in northern Minnesota.  I know each of my cousins and aunts and uncles because of this, and I love the lake.  I wouldn't trade this time for anything. 
     8. Start new traditions.  Just because you have good old traditions to keep does not mean you can't start new traditions.  I always wonder when people say one mustn't do something because "it's not tradition."  Tradition had to start somewhere.  So, once a week, have a game night.  Rent a jetski and visit a local body of water.  Something.
     9. Explore.  Going hand in hand with starting new traditions, summer is a perfect time to find new places.  Visit a new restaraunt.  Hike unknown trails.  Take a road trip to wherever you end up.  Or, explore your own town a little bit more. 
     10. Spend time with God.  Most importantly, as always, spend time with the one who set an example for resting, who created the places you'll explore, who is a working, hands-on God, who wants a relationship with you. 

     This summer does have a bittersweet aspect to it.  I turned 18 back in April and, looking back over the last few months, it's almost as if I can feel childhood slipping away.  It's not something I can stop, it's not something I wish wouldn't happen, it's not something I want to hurry up.  People say my entire life is before me, but, more accurately, my entire life is behind me.  The rest of my life is before me.  This may very well be the last summer I can spend in the way I've just described.  That aches, but I've a restless excitement for what comes next, what God will do next.  



Note: it does help to speak to the weatherman and ensure that the summer weather is spectacular.  I've hardly had one ugly day in the last 8 weeks and 3 states.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

On (Okay, after...) my Graduation Day

      I really meant to post this a week... two weeks ago.  You know, right after graduation.  Definitely before I left for my week at the US Air Force Academy.  Did that happen?  Nope.  So anyone who actually reads this blog is left with a month between posts.  Not ideal, but what's done is done.  Better late than never?  Back to that cliches thing....
     Anyways, although my technical "what year am I in school" definition is way more complicated than "Senior", suffice it to say that I walked a graduation ceremony this year and will (likely) not next year.  I walked with 7 other seniors at the homeschooling coop that I was part of for a few years before moving to South Africa.  It was such a nice ceremony, just family and friends, but the small graduating class (many who used to be in our class graduated from the local high school) meant each and every one of those graduating had to give a speech.  I probably knew about this 3 or 4 months ago, but did I write it?  Noooo.... It was okay, though, the speech-writing and -delivery went fairly well.  Below is the product of that hurried 15 minutes an hour before showtime.  As the M.C. said, perfected procrastination is known as inspiration.  Keep that in mind.
     
     Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start....  it was a spring day in North Carolina when I was born on April 9, 1996.  The first born, I was to be my parents' guinea pig, as they have so lovingly called me, for the next several years of my life.  Indeed, probably for the rest of it.  Thankfully, my parents are relatively ethical with animals, and I think I turned out okay.
     My mom jokes that she started homeschooling me because she didn't want to take me to the bus every day, and I am certainly thankful for that decision; buses almost always smell bad.  Thus began my homeschooling journey, with many different teachers, friends, and experiences.  I tell people I love homeschooling because I can finish my work at noon and have the rest of the day to myself, but I also love working at my own pace, avoiding the drama of public school, and forging a strong relationship with my parents, especially with my mom.  She has taught me so much outside of academics - to cook, to sew, to be independent, to serve those around me.  I am so thankful for her. 
     I am also thankful for my Dad.  he is a strong father who loves me deeply, who wants me to figure out everything, including how to change the car radio, and who is always ready with a hug when I need one.  I love you Mom and Dad.
     And although at times it may be hard to see past the annoying outsides, I love my siblings as well.  Esther, I love your laughter.  Ivan, your cheerful heart.  Becca, your smile is beautiful.  Jonathon, I do (most of the time) love your goofiness.  Teresa, I love the way you listen to me in the night as we discuss how to solve the problems of the world.  Or how you put up with me when I fall asleep in the middle of the problem solving. 
     My whole family has supported me as I've grown.  It hasn't always been easy, goodness no, or even always good, but it has been a family for which I am so grateful.  Now, as I look to the future, I don't know where I'm going, but I know they'll be with me every step of the way.  
     Although I have been class of 2014 my entire life, my 2 years overseas "messed up" my school schedules, so I am actually only a grade 11 in the eyes of the government; I dropped back a year to take full advantage of the Running Start program.  I am acting a senior in most everything else, but I'll finish up my Associates Degree next year. 
     From there, who knows where God will lead me?  I'm considering the air force, or going into chiropractic.  I'm interested in photography as well, I want to raise a family, and I sense the call of God into the mission field.  Wherever I am, my Lord will be with me and my family behind me.

So yea.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Shapes and sizes, silver and gold

     Lots of teachers diss cliches, but I think there's value in them. Over-usage might be a problem, but when a certain phrase has been around long enough, it starts to gather connotations, same as a word would. So sometimes cliches more accurately express a concept better than a long train of words meticulously pieced together. That's not really what this post is about, but I'm about to use a couple cliches and now you won't immediately dismiss my thoughts because I'm not being "original" enough.  Although I'm sure you wouldn't have done that anyway.
     Friendships come in many different shapes and sizes; "one is silver and the other's gold"; opposites attract?  No, that last one probably doesn't hit the nail on the head.  I've had many friends and many chances to see how those friendships last through different circumstances and this has caused me to reflect on those different types of relationships.

  •      Your childhood best friend whom you gradually drift away from.
  •      The relationship which is based mostly off of joking, silliness, and plans for the next moment of laughter.
  •      A friend who you knew for two years, who you saw every day in school, who you were close with, but with whom you won't stay in touch when you leave the school.
  •      The friend you met when you were young, who has been through everything with you, who you consider as close as a sibling. Who you know, no matter how often you talk, you will always consider your best friend.
  •      A person you sat next to for one class and got along well with, but you won't talk once the class is over.
  •     One you see from a distance and put on a pedestal. You wish to be friends, but never have the guts to talk to that person. Or you do talk, but it's limited because you see the person so far above you.
  •      The chance meeting of someone who you can look up to but are equal to, you understand each other in almost every way and can always be supportive of each other.  You stay in touch, but no matter how infrequently you talk, you pick up right where you left off and nothing has changed. You can see being friends for a very long time.
  •      A friend you aren't extremely close with, but when you leave you stay in touch constantly.
  •      Your everyday friends who you easily laugh with and chat with and share experiences with. You look up to them in varying degrees for various reasons and care about their joys and frustrations.
     I obviously didn't include names, and some of these are more general, others more specific.  I didn't include every relationship I have - that would be too many. Maybe you can identify with these or identify who I'm describing.  Maybe not.  The pictures don't match up, if you're thinking of using that as a clue.  I don't think you should even try to match people with descriptions.  And this isn't a scientifically researched list of carefully evaluated relationship types, this is just my reflections. There are so many types of friends, depending on the people interacting and the environment they're in.  Each relationship is as unique as the people forming it.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

The Different Snapping Points

     I really like colors. And certain designs.  And for things to flow a certain way.  And I've realized that whenever I get an idea for a piece of clothing or a pair of earrings or some other accessory,  the designers who get paid all the money haven't yet been inspired to create my idea. Come, now, that's your job! No, I'm kidding,  they have lots of other ideas, but this lack of my ideas being produced has led me to learn to sketch and sew and bead. I've done my own dresses and I bead quite regularly (also brought on by my inability to wear any metal but gold), I just haven't figured ot the shoe bit yet. I'll get there... maybe. I'm not aiming to be a fashion designer at all, I don't get inspirations that regularly,  I just know how to create and fulfill my dreamed up items.  
Anyway, one of my more recent projects, since I started driving, was to create a key chain for my keys. I knew I needed something long, something that would stand out, but I didn't feel like spending money. So... I created it. A bunch of colorful, textured, unique accent beads, all strung onto a wire and attached to my key chain. Pretty!
It didn't last very long before that wire snapped and all the beads tumbled into the cracks and crevices of my car. Okay. I can solve this. Three wires! After all, three cords cannot be broken, right? That lasted about twice as long. Two of the wires snapped, and I set the beads aside for a couple weeks until I could have time to repair it. 
This time, I've used a single wire and a single piece of string. Alright, I've not been using it for as long as the other two took to break yet but I have my hopes up. It got me thinking... when it's three wires, those wires will all snap under the same circumstances. Bend the whole thing too hard, and it all breaks. String,  on the other hand, breaks when it is continuously rubbed.  So if the wire is combined with the string, they'll be stronger together both because they are two and because they are different. 
Same thing works with people. Put two people who work the same way and put them both in a difficult situation, they'll both break at the same time. But put two differently-minded people together, and they can support each other through the different snapping points. That's why we need friends and family who aren't the same as us. 
Anyway, I'll let you know if my key chain breaks. 

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Now and Then

     One of the questions people ask me when they discover I enjoy photography is "What do you like to photograph?"  Macro photographs?  Portrait?  Landscape?  I always hem and haw when I answer that... oh you know, I like closeups and I take pictures of my siblings, and kids are adorable...  My photographic style, much like my taste in music and, okay, the rest of my life, seems to be varied.
     I love capturing the beauty of the Earth, both in landscape and in macro.  Every day God gives us a painting spread out across the entire sky or just close up on a single flower petal.  Water slowly dripping off of a frozen waterfall as spring thaws out the ice.  The mountains, stretched out behind the water.  I love taking pictures of that sort of view!
     Some of my favorite people subjects are those who are new to the idea of a camera - young kids. Kids don't realize what I'm doing, so they just act natural in their cute kiddy way.  There's no "I'm not photogenic" excuses or camera nerves.  When the kids are fascinated by the sound the camera makes, or the many buttons they can push, it results in poking and blurs and curiosity photos.  Children are curious!  I love it.  Or, if the kids have started to realize when big people hide behind a small black box those big people can show them a picture of themselves, then they tend to play peekaboo or some similar game - also cute.
     That's a general idea of what I like to take pictures of.  Now, if I really want to make photography a serious hobby (or even a career?) part of my goal is to get my pictures noticed.  Think back to the pictures that you love the most, or the ones that have made the most impact on society.  Is your favorite photograph the one of your family in matching outfits sitting in a row smiling, or is it the spontaneous one your sister took at the beach where you're everyone's laughing and legitimately happy?  Okay, maybe that sounds cheesy, but my point is the photos we love the most are the ones where real life was happening and so the ones we have memories associated with.  Yes, your cat is pretty, but she's prettier when you're playing with her.  Similarly, the photos that most affect society are not the gorgeous mountaintop views or the classic family photo but the photos capturing something that happened, be it exciting or horrendous.  Think of photos from the Vietnam war or West Berlin.  Almost anyone can think of some photo from those two historical occasions, places.  Now, that flower is gorgeous, but then you'll choose you and your brother playing, then people will want to see pictures of people and memories and life happening.
     That's what I love capturing, what it's my goal to capture.  Life.  Laughter.  Mourning.  Tedium.  Work.  Friendship.  That's part of why I take pictures of small children - they're full of life.  Even if that life is crying because the vacuum cleaner was taken away from them.  But their smiles aren't plastered, their eyes aren't dull - they're vibrant!  It's gorgeous!  I want to have pictures of me and my friends, all dressed up, taking turns with the camera, making faces.  The photos in my photo album should contain my family, me and Mom, my Dad tickling me, my annoying (but loved) siblings.  Life is a word that encompasses a lot; I guess I should keep my camera handy at all times.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Overcomplicate

     My post today was inspired by this image on Pinterest:
      I think we're all instigators and victims of an overcomplicated life. I suppose this has been on my mind most lately as it relates dating, but the basic principle can be applied to most relationships.  We seem to think something means more if we don't ask for it, if we don't start the ball rolling. Yes, okay, in some aspects. Surprises and gifts are wonderful and they show thought and care. And sometimes the other person needs to make the first move.  But when I see girls trying to suggest something to their boyfriend and then get all pouty because he didn't pick up the hint, I don't think that's fair to the guy.  In general, boys and girls don't always speak the same language. In fact, every person has his or her own language because each and every one of us is a unique individual who only sees the world from one, personalized point of view.  
     Would it not be better to be lovingly up front and honest? I think it would change our relationships for the better.  When you need a hug, ask for it.  When you miss somebody, tell them. Of course, this is in general and as with everything there are exceptions to this, there is a balance. If you've tried to talk to somebody 10 times and they aren't responding, you may want to take a break and not nag them.  But that's not my point.  Bottom line is: don't overcomplicate. 


Friday, October 25, 2013

Hold your tongue!

I had a soccer game two days ago.  In said soccer game, we were tied 0-0 until the last five minutes.  Soccer being what it is, some rough playing was happening.  The ref wasn't trying to give us talking to's or anything, no one was getting hurt that badly, he was just calling it out when he could.  
How-eeevvverrrrrrrrrr........
the parents didn't agree
the players didn't agree
the coaches didn't agree
our team didn't agree with their disagreement
our team didn't agree with the ref
our team didn't agree with the other team
and so everyone badmouthed.

I find it so frustrating.  Please excuse any bitterness in this post and try to listen to my message - why can't we just hold our tongues?  We hurt people with what we say and think nothing of it.  We are quick to judge without knowing the person, and even quicker to express our judgement, whether it is a positive or negative one. 

In James it says "the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness.  The tongue is set among our members, staining our whole bodies, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell...no human being can tame the tongue.  It is a restless evil full of deadly poison.  With it we bless our Lord and Father and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God." (James 3:6, 8-9 ESV)

This is so true.  SO true.  But that does not make it acceptable.  It is not an excuse.  We still need to strive to say nothing that is not pure, helpful, uplifting.  That's my challenge: hold your tongue.