Today I have a heart
This was probably the most relaxing and yet fulfilling day I'd say I've had almost all of break. I got up around 10:30am I think it was. I got ready, grabbed my books and headed for the Dallas Starbucks.
See, I have this thing when I'm at home, that I can never really find a good place to read unless everyone else is out of the house. When I decide to read in the living room, someone will come and start watching television, or they will go and have a conversation (that I deem to be loud since I get distracted easily by others conversing) in the kitchen or in the dinning room that interrupts my reading. This or somone will listen to music with words, which is also distracting for me when I'm reading. And then there is the option of reading upstairs. In the summer or early fall, I can handle it. It's not quite freezing up there (since it [the upstairs] was added on, there is no flow of heat but the tiny little space heater) during that time and I can handle the cold, but currently, I go up there and I become a human popsicle and have to crawl under my blankets in order to keep a decent temperature. And when I manage to do so, I am incapable of turning pages as I am cucooned up like Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory, and then after not moving for awhile, and actually being warm, I end up taking naps while reading. Thus, no reading takes place, only naps which keep me up later and later into the night.
Okay, so back to me at Starbucks. The usual was ordered, Tall White Peppermint Mocha. I brought with me my Bible and Blue Like Jazz. Before beginning to read my Bible, I wrote a quick prayer in my prayer journal asking that God would show me anything that He wanted to teach me or just open up my eyes to something I hadn't yet noticed or I had forgotten. I really felt compelled to read the book of Romans, for Matt (a college group leader) had mentioned Romans 8 last night at our college group get together/birthday celebration, and I felt that I wasn't as familiar with it as he was referencing it frequently and I'd remember phrases, yet not the location of where the passage was drawn. I think it is good to meditate on Scripture and be comfortable when you're searching for a verse or something you read earlier. It's good for the land in which you are searching to be familiar territory, and I was beginning to feel a little lost when it came to the New Testament.
I sit there and I read. I honestly don't know how many hours I was there for. Somewhere between 3 and 4 I think. When I first got there I ran into a family friend whom his sister is who I call 'My Big Sis' and I said hello briefly to him. I saw a lot of familiar faces while I was there. My old middle school youth group leader, whom I was a small group leader for, a friend whom I ran into at the mall yesterday and her mom, and some others from high school who chose not to say hello to me. Amidst all of this, Romans hit me with grace. Grace. This along with a brief analysis of my fall quarter, which I told to my old youth pastor, it kinda hit me. I hadn't been living in Grace. This mixed with some of the writings of Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz made me look at myself.
This last quarter, I went in confident. Sure of myself. Ready to kick some butt, learn some stuff, and make great friendships with my residents and basically just be awesome. I was cocky. People had prayed with me before the term started, we prayed over the wing I was in charge of, and for my academics, I felt like everything would go smoothly. And it did, at least, it seemed it did. My relationship with God was great over the summer. Daily, in the word, praying multiple times a day, conversing about Him while living in Courtyard, life was peachy and I loved it. However, the transition was alright, but as time went on, I started leaning on myself and my abilities. I was working to earn the title of being 'awesome', 'doing everything with a smile on my face', and basically 'faking it til you make it'. Plain and short, I slipped, allowed my self-serving nature to take foothold, and then God served me up some 'humble pie' as I like to call it. He likes to remind me that even though I think I have the best things in mind for myself and I think that there couldn't be better, that in actuality, the things that I think are great, actually end up tearing me apart and separating me from God.
This, mixed with the message of Grace, and righteousness credited to one by a means of faith and believing the promises that God has for us, well it was wonderful way to spend part of my day. There were also several reminders that God just kinda nudged at me while I was reading.
Anyways, I came home eventually. And I continued to finish reading Blue Like Jazz. And boy was it hard to finish. My sister was listening to music with words, and it was all of this oldies stuff ; I loved it. I struggled to read each line. Mom and dad would discuss the songs, or the paper and I would become even more distracted. I can't tell you how many lines I ended up reading four or five times due to my lack of focus. Eventually I had done it. I finished my book. I was pretty happy. The book itself was a great read. It flowed and did a few overlaps as far as characters, which made sense. I believe it was a chronological (for the most part) story of how Donald Miller experienced Christ. I had been warned about reading it by my Big Sis, just due to the lack of Biblical back up. For there were a few mentionings of Scripture, and I know that they were taken in the proper context and people who had an impact on his life had groundings in the Word, they just never gave verses or anything and it appeared as though it was merely one's opinion. There was Truth there, but not all of it was the hard biblical truth. However, that is what you get when you read someone's experiences. It's not all from the Bible; it's through people, and not all people are grounded in the Word. I liked the lessons that he learned, and I've definitely been learning a lot of the same ones. It was funny how much he talked about love. It's such an interesting topic. How we can't receive love if we don't love ourselves, self-less loving of others, the accepting of God's love and grace for us instead of a means to earn it, it just kinda made sense to me.
Then once I had finished my book, I didn't really know what to do. Earlier my dad and brother had played a game of cribbage to decide whether or not my brother had to get a haircut. If dad won, he had to get one, if Alex won, he wouldn't have to get one. Dad has been drinking most of the day, I think since 2pm. To some people, this may bug them, but to me it is the norm. I thought to myself "Aw, what the heck, I have nothing else to do", so I sat myself down in a chair out back in 'Dad's area' and we began chatting.
Now chatting with my dad can go one of two ways. One, enjoyable, full of learning, him opening up and sharing stuff. Or two, politics, government, war, other unpleasantries that I'd rather not like to remember listening to. Happily, tonight was the first one. We talked about a range of things. I think we were talking about mom and dad and how even though they have their differences or 'scuffles' they still love each other. This was because dad stated that mom was happy. We had heard her doing the 'cackle' (this is the hereditary obnoxious laugh which females in my family end up getting) while watching television in their bedroom. And so I asked THAT question. Oh you know, the ever popular one, after dad said he just knew that she was the one.
Me: "Well dad, how did you know?"
This is one of those questions I was happy to have answered. I won't lie, its kinda cute when you see your (pardon my french) hard-ass dad get sentimental and show that he actually loves your mom. I RARELY see this. He told me of how they met in the air force and how he was the one who was training her, and they ended up having to switch her to a different group and such so that her and dad could be together. In some of our previous chats I'd heard of dads other marriages and how they were unfaithful, and how dad could never imagine doing that to someone. I kind of started comparing my dad to that of a loyal dog. That sounds awful, but in a sense, he is really faithful and works really hard. No matter what, he always sticks around and he isn't going anywhere, granted, he isn't always happy, but I know that when I come home, he is happy to see me and know that I'm doing well in college. I've just gained a lot of respect for my dad lately.
We played Cribbage too. He was waiting for some of his friends to call him back so that way he could go over there and play pool and drink some more beer with them. I enjoyed playing Cribbage. My dad taught me how to play when I was little. I remember I got really good. He would have me play against the neighbors, and would bet on me winning. Lets just say, my dad made some money. I'm good with numbers. I also helped dad do the dishes tonight too. And by the time his friends called him back, I was actually kinda sad that he was going to leave. I've never gotten sad about my dad leaving. I don't ever think I'd say that I've ever genuinely missed my dad. But I think I'm getting there. And it's horribly weird. I never thought I'd actually get to that point with dad.
I was talking with a friend just a little bit ago who related about the struggles of loving her father growing up. We recently were thinking about marriage, granted, I know that is far down the road for me, but after going to friends' weddings, when the father walks the bride down the aisle, has the father daughter dance; it's something special, and I thought this special moment that I got to witness, that I would never be blessed with such a moment, but now there is a glimmer of hope and I think it is plausible. Tonight even while talking with him, I told him about how when I was younger, that I didn't respect him and was even kind of bitter. I was sad how he never showed up to things like my soccer games, while other people's dad were at the game, and they even called me 'hija' which is daughter in spanish. I don't know, it was just something that bugged me, but now that I'm older, I understand he was working so hard, and put up with so much stuff in the Bureau, that this was his act of love. It just wasn't something that I saw. So I told him all of that, and that I really do respect him now. And how I'm proud of him for slowly stopping smoking cigarettes. (He got this vapor cigarette thing so it's not tobacco and it doesn't smell. It's pretty cool and I'm excited for him to not only save money, but not be smoking and get to put a few extra years on his life.)
So I feel like today, 'my heart grew three sizes' in the words of the Grinch. It's not like it was small, but I definitely hadn't given it much of a chance. I just like the fact that there is always room for improvement and that by just giving a little bit of love and time to a relationship can really go a long way.
Thanks for reading, and I think I may have gotten too personal... Meh, oh well. I'm in one of those heart-to-heart moods right now.
Have a Happy New Year!
-M.E.
See, I have this thing when I'm at home, that I can never really find a good place to read unless everyone else is out of the house. When I decide to read in the living room, someone will come and start watching television, or they will go and have a conversation (that I deem to be loud since I get distracted easily by others conversing) in the kitchen or in the dinning room that interrupts my reading. This or somone will listen to music with words, which is also distracting for me when I'm reading. And then there is the option of reading upstairs. In the summer or early fall, I can handle it. It's not quite freezing up there (since it [the upstairs] was added on, there is no flow of heat but the tiny little space heater) during that time and I can handle the cold, but currently, I go up there and I become a human popsicle and have to crawl under my blankets in order to keep a decent temperature. And when I manage to do so, I am incapable of turning pages as I am cucooned up like Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory, and then after not moving for awhile, and actually being warm, I end up taking naps while reading. Thus, no reading takes place, only naps which keep me up later and later into the night.
Okay, so back to me at Starbucks. The usual was ordered, Tall White Peppermint Mocha. I brought with me my Bible and Blue Like Jazz. Before beginning to read my Bible, I wrote a quick prayer in my prayer journal asking that God would show me anything that He wanted to teach me or just open up my eyes to something I hadn't yet noticed or I had forgotten. I really felt compelled to read the book of Romans, for Matt (a college group leader) had mentioned Romans 8 last night at our college group get together/birthday celebration, and I felt that I wasn't as familiar with it as he was referencing it frequently and I'd remember phrases, yet not the location of where the passage was drawn. I think it is good to meditate on Scripture and be comfortable when you're searching for a verse or something you read earlier. It's good for the land in which you are searching to be familiar territory, and I was beginning to feel a little lost when it came to the New Testament.
I sit there and I read. I honestly don't know how many hours I was there for. Somewhere between 3 and 4 I think. When I first got there I ran into a family friend whom his sister is who I call 'My Big Sis' and I said hello briefly to him. I saw a lot of familiar faces while I was there. My old middle school youth group leader, whom I was a small group leader for, a friend whom I ran into at the mall yesterday and her mom, and some others from high school who chose not to say hello to me. Amidst all of this, Romans hit me with grace. Grace. This along with a brief analysis of my fall quarter, which I told to my old youth pastor, it kinda hit me. I hadn't been living in Grace. This mixed with some of the writings of Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz made me look at myself.
This last quarter, I went in confident. Sure of myself. Ready to kick some butt, learn some stuff, and make great friendships with my residents and basically just be awesome. I was cocky. People had prayed with me before the term started, we prayed over the wing I was in charge of, and for my academics, I felt like everything would go smoothly. And it did, at least, it seemed it did. My relationship with God was great over the summer. Daily, in the word, praying multiple times a day, conversing about Him while living in Courtyard, life was peachy and I loved it. However, the transition was alright, but as time went on, I started leaning on myself and my abilities. I was working to earn the title of being 'awesome', 'doing everything with a smile on my face', and basically 'faking it til you make it'. Plain and short, I slipped, allowed my self-serving nature to take foothold, and then God served me up some 'humble pie' as I like to call it. He likes to remind me that even though I think I have the best things in mind for myself and I think that there couldn't be better, that in actuality, the things that I think are great, actually end up tearing me apart and separating me from God.
This, mixed with the message of Grace, and righteousness credited to one by a means of faith and believing the promises that God has for us, well it was wonderful way to spend part of my day. There were also several reminders that God just kinda nudged at me while I was reading.
Anyways, I came home eventually. And I continued to finish reading Blue Like Jazz. And boy was it hard to finish. My sister was listening to music with words, and it was all of this oldies stuff ; I loved it. I struggled to read each line. Mom and dad would discuss the songs, or the paper and I would become even more distracted. I can't tell you how many lines I ended up reading four or five times due to my lack of focus. Eventually I had done it. I finished my book. I was pretty happy. The book itself was a great read. It flowed and did a few overlaps as far as characters, which made sense. I believe it was a chronological (for the most part) story of how Donald Miller experienced Christ. I had been warned about reading it by my Big Sis, just due to the lack of Biblical back up. For there were a few mentionings of Scripture, and I know that they were taken in the proper context and people who had an impact on his life had groundings in the Word, they just never gave verses or anything and it appeared as though it was merely one's opinion. There was Truth there, but not all of it was the hard biblical truth. However, that is what you get when you read someone's experiences. It's not all from the Bible; it's through people, and not all people are grounded in the Word. I liked the lessons that he learned, and I've definitely been learning a lot of the same ones. It was funny how much he talked about love. It's such an interesting topic. How we can't receive love if we don't love ourselves, self-less loving of others, the accepting of God's love and grace for us instead of a means to earn it, it just kinda made sense to me.
Then once I had finished my book, I didn't really know what to do. Earlier my dad and brother had played a game of cribbage to decide whether or not my brother had to get a haircut. If dad won, he had to get one, if Alex won, he wouldn't have to get one. Dad has been drinking most of the day, I think since 2pm. To some people, this may bug them, but to me it is the norm. I thought to myself "Aw, what the heck, I have nothing else to do", so I sat myself down in a chair out back in 'Dad's area' and we began chatting.
Now chatting with my dad can go one of two ways. One, enjoyable, full of learning, him opening up and sharing stuff. Or two, politics, government, war, other unpleasantries that I'd rather not like to remember listening to. Happily, tonight was the first one. We talked about a range of things. I think we were talking about mom and dad and how even though they have their differences or 'scuffles' they still love each other. This was because dad stated that mom was happy. We had heard her doing the 'cackle' (this is the hereditary obnoxious laugh which females in my family end up getting) while watching television in their bedroom. And so I asked THAT question. Oh you know, the ever popular one, after dad said he just knew that she was the one.
Me: "Well dad, how did you know?"
This is one of those questions I was happy to have answered. I won't lie, its kinda cute when you see your (pardon my french) hard-ass dad get sentimental and show that he actually loves your mom. I RARELY see this. He told me of how they met in the air force and how he was the one who was training her, and they ended up having to switch her to a different group and such so that her and dad could be together. In some of our previous chats I'd heard of dads other marriages and how they were unfaithful, and how dad could never imagine doing that to someone. I kind of started comparing my dad to that of a loyal dog. That sounds awful, but in a sense, he is really faithful and works really hard. No matter what, he always sticks around and he isn't going anywhere, granted, he isn't always happy, but I know that when I come home, he is happy to see me and know that I'm doing well in college. I've just gained a lot of respect for my dad lately.
We played Cribbage too. He was waiting for some of his friends to call him back so that way he could go over there and play pool and drink some more beer with them. I enjoyed playing Cribbage. My dad taught me how to play when I was little. I remember I got really good. He would have me play against the neighbors, and would bet on me winning. Lets just say, my dad made some money. I'm good with numbers. I also helped dad do the dishes tonight too. And by the time his friends called him back, I was actually kinda sad that he was going to leave. I've never gotten sad about my dad leaving. I don't ever think I'd say that I've ever genuinely missed my dad. But I think I'm getting there. And it's horribly weird. I never thought I'd actually get to that point with dad.
I was talking with a friend just a little bit ago who related about the struggles of loving her father growing up. We recently were thinking about marriage, granted, I know that is far down the road for me, but after going to friends' weddings, when the father walks the bride down the aisle, has the father daughter dance; it's something special, and I thought this special moment that I got to witness, that I would never be blessed with such a moment, but now there is a glimmer of hope and I think it is plausible. Tonight even while talking with him, I told him about how when I was younger, that I didn't respect him and was even kind of bitter. I was sad how he never showed up to things like my soccer games, while other people's dad were at the game, and they even called me 'hija' which is daughter in spanish. I don't know, it was just something that bugged me, but now that I'm older, I understand he was working so hard, and put up with so much stuff in the Bureau, that this was his act of love. It just wasn't something that I saw. So I told him all of that, and that I really do respect him now. And how I'm proud of him for slowly stopping smoking cigarettes. (He got this vapor cigarette thing so it's not tobacco and it doesn't smell. It's pretty cool and I'm excited for him to not only save money, but not be smoking and get to put a few extra years on his life.)
So I feel like today, 'my heart grew three sizes' in the words of the Grinch. It's not like it was small, but I definitely hadn't given it much of a chance. I just like the fact that there is always room for improvement and that by just giving a little bit of love and time to a relationship can really go a long way.
Thanks for reading, and I think I may have gotten too personal... Meh, oh well. I'm in one of those heart-to-heart moods right now.
Have a Happy New Year!
-M.E.
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