Getting my hands dirty

     The last two days,  as part of my gift to my mom, I've spent several hours working in the garden with her. This is actually a really fitting gift because it fits both my love language, quality time, and hers, service. So even though I don't normally find joy in weeding, it was enjoyable to work next to her in the sunshine, being productive, sometimes chatting, sometimes quiet, finding worms.
     As a college student, so much of my time is consumed by schoolwork, and I don't often have the time to really get my hands dirty.  Now, I've made it through the bulk of this term and I've got a little time to relax. Mother's day - perfect timing! So I weeded and planted snap peas, shelling peas, sweet peas, mint, and nasturtium.  And weeded some more.  And found worms.
     Good dirt is beautiful. If you've ever been a gardener, you know what I mean.  Rich, dark, mineral-laden dirt, nicely soaked with rainwater and full of stones, worms, and roots. You dig your fingers into it and crumble it together into a packed lump and then squeeze it back onto the ground. It gets under your fingernails and covers your hands, knees, and clothes. Gorgeous.

      You may have also picked up, I like worms. Obviously, I've been worm deprived for a while. They're cool! They can be long or short, fat or skinny. They regenerate if you accidentally chop one in half with your trowel (I did that a couple times). I'm pretty sure they can move backwards or forwards, and they feel weird slithering over your hand! And they're good for the garden. And they're pretty - dark purple and pink, not just a dull brown! Yes, I kind of enjoyed the worms. Mom laughed at my exuberance,  but I don't mind acting childish like that.  As my pastor is preaching, God is a working God who created this world and we are His working people, created in His image to enjoy what is good! I like getting my hands dirty!

Not the Fastest Driver on the Road

     It always seems like I'm the slow driver.  I'm very much a rule follower,  so I always go the speed limit, or one or two over. When I'm in a rush, I go 5mph over. Speedy huh? Not so much. Apparently few others think so, too. I drive 5 miles to work and cars gradually stack up behind me. The come up going 5 or 10mph faster than me and then are forced to go my speed, the speed limit. Or they pass me, that happens a lot, too. I rarely get stuck behind anyone, and I'm rarely not followed, which would lead me to believe I'm in the minority for driving right on the speed limit. Cause of other cars were going the speed limit, I would more often be not followed. Right?
     I live in a beautiful place (see For The Beauty of the Earth http://teenreflectionsonlife.blogspot.com/2013/12/for-beauty-of-earth.html?m=1), but everyone seems to go too fast too appreciate it. And driving over the speed limit is against the law. Maybe we can't smell the flowers, since we're enclosed in a box of shiny metal, but we don't need to go by them so fast the only way we're noticeable is the light breeze we leave behind full of our exhaust fumes. Take a lttlw time to roll down the window and ejoy the breeze, put some uplifting music on, not get a speeding ticket, take in the scenery around you. It's nice - I can testify.

Unless my car's speedometer is malfunctioning,  That's possible, too.

Too Highly

     I am prideful. Coming from that, I am perfectionistic, over-achieving, and sometimes vain.  As a result of these, especially the first two, I am confident and fairly successful.  Those might be looked at as positive characteristics, but I struggle with humility, am quick to judge a poor performance of myself or others, and consider myself entitled to high achievements. Lo and behold: I'm human. 
     I'm not proud of this (not proud of my pride?), but it will probably be a lifelong fight to overcome myself, something I know I'll only ever be able to accomplish by God's grace.  I find it ironic that I tend to be good at almost everything I put my mind to, that this has caused me to be proud, and that this pride is what causes me to be bad at something: humility.  
     Now, I said almost everything. I am capable of everything to some extent, but I definitely have some places where I don't have an inborn talent. For example, my sister, Teresa, is a way better athlete than I am. She does the workout videos with Dad and she can run a mile a lot faster than I can and she excels at soccer and track and netball. It always frustrates me when something reminds me that she's more athletic than me because I wish I could be like her, but I can't.  Another example is music; my lack of the ability to play an instrument doesn't cause as much frustration as sports do, maybe because I can sing, but it's still an area in which I'm not especially talented. I watch Matt play the guitar and I'm fascinated by the movement of his fingers, or another friend will talk about music theory and playing classical piano and most of what he says goes straight over my head.  I'm just not as strong in these fields as in others. 
     My frustration is the wrong reaction. Multiple places in the Bible it says the body is made up of many parts, and each has its own function. In Romans 12 it says
3 Because of the privilege and authority God has given me, I give each of you this warning: Don’t think you are better than you really are. Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves, measuring yourselves by the faith God has given us.4 Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function, 5 so it is with Christ’s body. We are many parts of one body, and we all belong to each other. (Romans 12:3-5, NLT, biblegateway.com)
     Um, message from the Lord to me at all? This has really been striking me as I've read through and memorized Romans this year for Bible Quizzing. "Don't think more highly of myself than I ought to think." A better reaction would be to support those who have talents different than mine and cheerfully accept help when they offer. 

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. 

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.

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. 

There's something in my shoe

     The other morning, I slid my foot into my sneaker and scraped over a small stone.  Habitually, I froze up and almost pulled my foot out of my shoe.  There's something in my shoe, there's Something in my shoe, there's SOMETHING in my shoe! No, it's just a rock.  But I have a very good reason for this instinctual reaction.
     A year and a half ago, getting ready for school. 5:45 am, dark, I'm half asleep, and I'm pulling on my uniform.  I pull my scuffed-up, thick-soled, black dress shoes out from under my dresser, pull the left one on. *Yawn.*  I lace it up, ensuring the strings are flat, not twisted.  Next shoe, now.  It's like the hokey-pokey.  I put my toe in, I PULL MY TOE OUT!  There's something pokey in my shoe!  I'm awake!  I'm pretty sure I screamed - you can ask my sister if you really need to know.  I ever so slowly grab one of the laces and tip the shoe sideways; out comes this:

     This is a parktown prawn.  They are ugly, very pokey, squirt ink, and impossible to kill.  I've been told it takes several phone books to stun them.  Of course, my mom doesn't like killing things.  I'm thankful she let us kill the mosquitoes.  Spiders, wasps, parktown prawns, they go outside.     Meaning someone has to pick them up and carry them there, and, when it's my shoe, that someone is me. Eurgh! 
     For the remainder of my time in Africa, I never failed to check my shoes before putting them on. And I still have the THERE'S SOMETHING IN MY SHOE instinct. 
     All this to say, be thankful you don't find parktown prawns in your shoes. 

I was freaking out too much to ever take a picture of one of these, so the image is from http://www.outdoorphoto.co.za/gallery/showphoto.php?photo=264444