living this adventure

Deep Breath

2007-09-21T02:58:00.000-07:00

Ok. Here goes. I've moved.
It is time for a change.
Room for creativity, perhaps?
I'm sorry for the inconvenience.
But it is time...

Introducing:
http://anniegroves.wordpress.com/

After 3+ years of blogging, I'm changing it up... Have no fear, however, because in case you wanted to read through archive posts, I've already imported every single posting I've ever made... So really, it's just a change in web address. That's all.
Hope you like it.

I need it...

Husband's New Love

2007-09-18T14:49:00.000-07:00

Four mornings out the week, JD wakes up to our alarm at 6:30 am. He gets up, feeds the dog, makes coffee & breakfast, and heads out to do this:

Grandma's Playroom

2007-09-15T15:53:00.000-07:00

There was magic in grandma’s playroom. The dust sat heavily in the air like specks of pixie powder; welcoming us children into a land of imagination and dreams only the youngest entertain. Within these four walls my cousins and I found contentment, beauty, and life.

The little wooden table with its four chairs sat us politely down to tea. We pretended to sip our teacups like little old ladies, holding our pinkies in the air with pursed lips while we chatted. There was nothing more important in the world than that very moment. The cookies were real, of course, lemon sugar cookies fresh from grandma’s oven. The eight remaining from the dozen sat in the tilted glass cookie jar with the corked lid on top of the refrigerator, anxiously awaiting the next tea party.

In grandma’s playroom was a play closet, with two beautiful gowns for us to wear while we sat to tea. I favored a blue, fitted gown covered in shiny lace. The other gown was pink, long, and flowy. We looked miraculous in grandma’s gowns.

Near the little wooden table was a small, carefully painted rocking horse. We didn’t know it was painted, nor made by a toy maker either, for that matter. The small rocking horse took us through surrounded deserts, along winding rivers, through the gold rush country, and atop steep mountains. After long rides, we’d climb off and ask grandma for more cookies, and perhaps some fresh-squeezed lemonade.

Always, in grandma’s playroom with the blue curtains and white bed, was the thimble. The thimble was the brightest treasure of all in grandma’s playroom. The tiny, shiny, silver thimble sat carefully on the shelf, waiting to be picked up for our favorite game. We spent hours taking the thimble off the shelf and hiding it somewhere in grandma’s house. Sometimes grandpa would play too. We counted to fifty while grandpa mischievously hid the thimble atop the third shelf of the long bookcase in the hallway, next to the book about Santa Claus. After what seemed an eternity, we found the thimble and begged grandpa to hide it again.

And so it went for hours… running around the house, hiding and looking, hiding and looking… always returning to the magical playroom to put the silver thimble back on its shelf.
We would close the door to the playroom after hours of playing, and in my child’s eye, if I waited long enough before shutting the door to a close, I could see the rocking horse give one last rock, bidding me farewell until our next adventure in grandma’s playroom.

The Greatest

2007-09-11T20:35:00.001-07:00

I think the Greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven live quiet, simple lives. The Greatest rest in the validation of God’s love; they don’t need their profession, wealth, or fame to claim their significance. The Greatest spend time drying dishes and making the bed. The Greatest don’t worry about their impact for the Kingdom or whether their life’s work is all it is cracked up to be. The Greatest rise early, bow on their knees in silent reverence, and then take the dog out for a walk. The Greatest serve their spouse, family, and friends in a matter of quiet humility. The Greatest delight in trusting God. The Greatest pray for the Least, those in the Kingdom straining their necks to be noticed and validated by what the World – or Religion - might offer. The Greatest take time for simple pleasures, like a cup of tea on a Saturday morning, or an early run in the park, or perhaps a tiny moment to listen to the whistling wind. They know these are worship moments. The Greatest look out for the poor and pray for opportunities to clothe, feed, and visit. They do this in secret. The Greatest aren’t Known in the World. They are like Children.

Drops of Water, an Oasis, and Writing

2007-09-03T13:15:00.001-07:00

These have been days of reflection. Change does that to me. So does the desert. When it's barren, the sun's imprint on sand forces concentration. As if my own, tiny, centered microcosm of the world can be found in the captivating white glare. Days like these are both frightening and liberating. The process leads to redemption, an oasis for the soul, that sometimes lasts only for ten minutes, other times days, weeks, and when God really gets at us, or at least, when we let God carve into the deepest of our hearts, this particular oasis might be a source of nourishment for a lifetime.

These are the rarest of times. Mostly because they are the culmination of liquid moments, life-giving truth squeezed into our hearts by something seemingly as tiny as a baby's medicine dropper. Eventually Jesus brings you to an oasis, a well of water filled with the drops of water you never knew existed... or at least forgot about. I think that's why God tells us to write things on the tablets of our hearts. Because when your tablet gets dusty and it's time to re-examine, small inscriptions of truth from previous sips of faith remind you of what is real. I suppose the goal is to never let our tablet get dusty, but, well, we keep striving.

Last night was a culmination point. A rather disturbing one - as I was confronted with myself - the dusty, dark, human flaws that I have the hardest time overcoming. I think Jesus loves our flaws - (and I'm not just talking about my forgetfulness, clumsiness, kitchen disasters, and sometimes scary driving) - because He knows the work of redemption through Himself that the Father brings. But death has to come first, and death is never fun.

I'll spare you the details, because this is a blog, but it has to do with something our sometimes stupid puppy brought out in me (I tried to convince JD that we needed to take him back last night after he bit me several times, peed in our house twice, and vomited on the carpet, but he said no), my innate challenge to finish things, and the piece of my heart I am wrestling with God over. Perhaps if I write a book some day, I will tell you the whole story. Not now.

On a completely different note, I have decided that if I were ever to write a book, I would liken my writing style to Anne Lamott's. Except I probably wouldn't use the F-word so much. I do like her awareness of her and others' humanity, however. Her writing is raw, brilliant, offensive, and liberating. More than that, her life is devoted to figuring things out and following Jesus the best she knows how. Right-wingers beware, she hates the Bush administration, but is trying to love the president. :) I underlined this piece of advice concerning writing last night: "Pay attention, take notes, give yourself short assignments, let yourself write shitty first drafts, ask people for help, and you own what happens to you." I now keep my journal with me at all times. A wise person told me that God wants our post-it notes just as much as the long, holiest of prayers. Ever since then, I try to use my journal as an avenue of giving God, well, everything.

Today we are going to the beach with some friends. We will bbq tri-tip, chicken, spicy sausage, corn, eat my uncle Allan's macaroni salad, potato chips, and fruit (my favorites), and play in the waves. Brother spent the night last night so he could come too - I do like having my brother on the island. Today is going to be a good day.

Real Simple

2007-08-29T11:52:00.001-07:00

Going on day 5 of owning a puppy, and I've decided that our newest addition to the family is, in fact, a good thing. In a matter of one day my life has necessarily simplified. For at least two hours of the day, my entire focus is concentrated on puppy. "No Rowdy!" "Good boy, Good sit!" "Down puppy" "Good potty!" Yes, you heard me right - "good potty." This bizarre, smelly creature forces me to be outside for at east one hour each day with absolutely nothing on my mind but puppy. There are few things I can do without thinking about five other things simultaneously. Painting is one of them. Swimming is one of them (surprisingly enough). And taking care of puppy is another. I think these are the things I must incorporate into my life every day, because, well, if you ever got inside my head you'd hand me a bottle of "calm down" medication within two minutes. For now training a dog keeps me from entertaining the crazies that pop into my head every now and then...

Three Introductions

2007-08-27T22:49:00.002-07:00

Allow me to introduce to you...

1) Our new set of wheels, a kicking 1978 VW bus named Glorious Gloria... which we LOVE

She came with some stickers... which we promptly removed and have now replaced with great LMB stickers (Love My Bus), a gift from the Palmers :). Driving with the George W. stickers felt like doing an interview with a giant booger in my nose.

Giant Steering Wheel - hello!!! Power steering? Nah. At least I get a workout while I drive...

2) Our new puppy, a 4 month old Hound mix named Rowdy. He successfully knows how to pee in the house, jump over the fence, and convince me that I might never want children. :) We picked him up at the Humane Society last Friday, and although he is quite rambunctious, he's very much a blast and a joy.

JD really enjoys his first dog - especially giving belly rubs and racing in the backyard.

Aside from the accidents and escapes from the yard, we are diligently training Rowdy to sit, stay, heel, and for crying out loud - use the yard, not our carpet for his toilet. I'm really not joking about the baby thing - waking up every four hours to take Rowdy out, checking on him every 1-2 hours to take him out of his crate when we are in the office, making sure he hasn't peed on our floor AGAIN, feeding, exercising, training, etc. ... well, let's just say I won't be buying any prenatal books for awhile... long, long, long while perhaps?

We enjoy our new companion quite a bit, despite the house training. Who wouldn't?

3) And finally, our new positions as Directors of Student Ministries. The church voted last night to instill JD and I as co-Directors of Student Ministries, taking over the daily tasks/programming/executing of both jr. high and high school student ministries. As of September 1, we will no longer be the apprentices!!! We are super excited about this new transition and the prospect of living in paradise a little longer than two years :) Mostly, we feel honored to be a part of what God is doing here at the church and on Oahu.

Aaah Romance.

2007-08-05T20:11:00.000-07:00

I am a romantic at heart. I don’t mean flowers and candy romance, although a bouquet of daisies is always welcomed, but life in general has always seemed to me to be somewhat romantic. I can remember watching You’ve Got Mail with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks and fantasizing about someday living in New York, owning a book shop and walking to work with a cup of coffee in my hand, a large overcoat for the cold weather, and a short, funky haircut with blonde highlights. If I weren’t a bookshop owner, then perhaps I would have some other sort of important job, like an editor or journalist.

As I got older, I dreamed of different jobs and lifestyles, always in my sub-conscience where my ideas were protected from the real world. A writer in Seattle, a professor at some college with some amount of schooling behind my belt… always with a cup of coffee in my hand and a large overcoat with a red knit scarf covering my bare neck.

My dreams consisted of me and only me. I never imagined kids or a husband, not because I didn’t want kids and a husband, but because those were separate dreams that took place in the real consciousness of normal life. In reality, I very much dreamt of who my husband might be and what he was like, but for some reason, this is a very different dream than my romantic fantasies that belong in my sub-conscience.

To be honest, it is my romantic, idealistic persona that drives me and keeps me sane. One might think I am only setting myself up for disappointment, but I have learned that quite the opposite is true.

Most of the time.

While studying in undergraduate school I romanticized being a great student. At the beginning of each quarter, while each professor handed out their syllabus and voiced their expectations, I would secretly envision myself working diligently at a coffee shop with my laptop, writing a brilliant paper with my headphones in my ears, and a table full of books blocking me from the rest of the world. Actually, walk into Westwood on any given Sunday of Ninnth Week, and this is what you will find at Starbucks, Coffee Bean, Corner Bakery, and the other Starbucks down the street. What I did not envision, and what mostly happened, was cramming to type my bibliography the last ten minutes before the paper was due, or, even more often, begging one of my roommates to type it up as I struggled for the concluding sentences because I happened to get distracted at Starbucks and ran out of time. This was college for me.

I loved it.

I am still a romantic. Living in the “real world” has not jaded me, yet. I still have fantasies about living in the Northwest someday, and I certainly dream of going back to school for a degree or two more… of course I will have more discipline then.

While living in Hawaii and working as a youth director is not a part of the aforementioned fantasies, well, it’ll have to do I guess. Just kidding. I love my life – my husband, my job, Hawaii… I am very blessed.

But real life happens here too. 13 hour days once or twice a week are common. Marriage is hard sometimes. I’m not a terrific housekeeper. Kids complain. Parents raise their eyebrows. I feel inadequate most of the time. Our office looks like a barrack. Etc. Etc.

This is where the romance comes in. No overcoat or red knit scarf, but I do have a cup of coffee on the way to work (my fifty feet commute) and I have learned to make my job (and life in general) romantic. For instance, I love writing my lessons at a coffee shop, so once a week (or more) I drive to Morning Brew or Starbucks for a few hours and type out the week’s lesson. I dislike running, but we live at the beach so my friend Jessica and I run at the beach early in the morning, and sometimes I stay after to read my Bible and journal at the beach. I discovered the local craft store, invested in some paints and canvas, and paint once or twice a week to let my mind settle and focus on only the brush stroke and liquid color. I learned to bake bread so we don’t have to buy it at the grocery store. My husband and I drive to North Shore once or twice a month to keep our marriage alive and fresh. Cleaning the house is always more fun with music playing in the background…

I function between a tension of reality and romance. Reality is, well, real life, and romance adds beauty to the mess. Because while I am a romantic, I am fully aware that life is messy and that I myself am a mess. But hand me a cup of coffee and a scarf and then life makes sense. I think Jesus walks with me when I walk with my overcoat on and sit in coffee shops and paint with acrylic colors and run on the beach. I think Jesus hangs out in the mess too, and makes himself known in grungy, chaotic, helpless situations, but I think and hope that the Kingdom is near when we understand that life is good and our Maker knows us and loves our secret little fantasies. I am not underestimating the cost of discipleship or following Jesus or solidarity with the poor or whatever else is necessarily connected with loving God – because those have a definite place too - I am merely proposing that Jesus likes to give us life, and life to the fullest so that we can rest and be free to enjoy a good cup of coffee on a brisk, cool morning walk.

Yum

2007-08-01T20:35:00.000-07:00

Writing seems awkward right now. Too much going on. Minimal coherent thoughts. So instead I'll post a picture. Of the CRUTON I baked a week ago.

A Pineapple Princess I am Not.

2007-07-31T21:54:00.000-07:00

I began taking hula classes with our neighbor-friend to establish a relationship with her and well, why not learn to dance hula? So every Tuesday evening at 4:45 pm Nicole and I trek over to the hulau to dance with the keiki (kid hula) for an hour, and then join the big girls for another hour. Early on I discovered that a graceful hula dancer was not in the cards for me, and so I merely suck in my breath, find my place in the back corner, and awkwardly dance hula with the local Hawaiian girls.

To give you an idea of my dancing background - well, there is none. My parents had enough awareness to know I was not suited for dancing due to my lack of coordination (rightfully so - they really were sparing me, not being mean) and encouraged me to do other activities, like swimming, which would not require as much coordinated grace. I tried a hip hop class in college and confirmed the fact that choreographed dancing is extremely hard for me. Really. I'm not being hard on myself, just being very honest. I'm ok with that.

Last night, however, was just plain embarrassing.

We had a special hula night to honor a five year old girl with cancer through Make A Wish Foundation. Her wish was to come out to Hawaii and learn to dance hula. The plan was to teach Julianne an easy hula called Pineapple Princess while the rest of us learned with her. Because of the special event, a few news crews came to report the cause. Which is all well and good and I'm so glad that precious Julianne, with her bleach blonde hair and bright blue eyes, was able to be honored and recognized... but, well, it was an absolute nightmare for me.

Before the grand entrance of Julianne, all the hula girls got into skirts and t-shirts to prepare for the dance. My neighbor-friend Nicole told me she wasn't bringing her hula attire because she thought only the little girls were dancing. Of course, I don't do anything without consulting my expert hula friend, and I leave my hula skirt behind as well. Instead, I sport a jean skirt, tanktop, and headband which looks nothing like proper hula attire. As the little girls and ladies get ready (because at this point the ladies are dancing too - glad I got the memo) I walk around aimlessly, looking for a place to escape when one of the ladies hands me a t-shirt and motions for me to get a skirt because the cameras are ready to roll. I'm absolutely mortified and rush to get dressed, pulling my hula skirt (which looks like cloth Aloha curtains cinched around my waist) over the jean skirt. Great. Now I look lumpy and sloppy. While we are waiting for Julianne to come in, I decide to try and take my jean skirt off underneath the hula skirt, because honestly, I don't want another ten pounds added on top of whatever the camera adds. Right as I am slyly doing a deck change, the camera lights turn on and the door opens to reveal the most beautiful five year old girl I have ever seen. She walks in with a shy smile on her face... and my hands are down my skirt trying to undo the zipper. This is not happening right now. Not happening. This only happens on TV. And now it's happening to me - on TV! In a moment of panic, I turn around, zip up the skirt and settle for bunchy hips as the hula instructor motions us to take position.

As our instructor begins teaching us the hula, a panic starts to wash over me. The camera pans the room, and I am one of maybe three hauole (white) girls in the room. Only I'm not born and raised in Hawaii, and I'm not five years old, so my awkward movements look extremely out of place. Escape now! I look for the nearest exit while the music to "Pineapple Princess" fills the room and the hula girls start dancing. Left? No right... Oh gosh they're going left and I'm going right. Lift arms. Oh, sooner. Dip lower. Let hips sway. Don't be awkward. Don't be awkward. "OK hula girls, let's try it again from the top." Dear God, please let me disappear. The entire church is going to watch the news tonight and see me moving opposite what I'm supposed to while wearing a frumpy hula skirt. Left foot, right foot. "Let's take a quick break hula girls and go over the motions one more time."

I know, you were all hoping I'd stick it out and just look goofy on TV, but that's not the case.

I bolted.

Literally.

In that moment of pause I ran across the room and out the door to watch the rest of the night with the smiling parents who came to see their six year old daughter dance hula with the sweet five year old Julianne. I avoided the quizzical stares the best I could and waited for the pizza party after. "Why didn't you dance with us?" asked the hula ladies after the dance was over. "Um, er, uh, well I was um just really awkward and the camera made me nervous. So I ran away." "But the hula was really easy, you could have done it." Not with bunchy hips and awkward arms. "Aw thanks, maybe next time." They politely smile and tell me they all started where I am today, except they were ten years old and not almost twenty three.

I did manage to make some new friends and I am so grateful for the experience, but from now on, I do believe I will stay far away from any TV cameras and live performances until I can get over the awkward white girl hula....

This Blog is Rated "G"

2007-07-18T18:19:00.000-07:00

In case you were concerned, or wondering... this blog is rated G and is appropriate for all audiences. If you'd like to rate your blog, click here.

The only red flag that came up was the word "dangerous," used once. I don't even know where I wrote that word... apparently somewhere in my blog. This is very amusing to me.

Writing

2007-07-17T13:20:00.000-07:00

I posted this on my writing blog, but I think that probably people don't check that blog often, especially since I rarely update it. And since I have nothing to write about right now, or at least I don't have the energy to turn everyday life into writing, I am just posting this to have something new and different. Partially influenced by Annie Dillard's "The Writing Life" which is both motivating and depressing at times.

Took two jr. high girls to the mall yesterday for three hours. I love that this is part of my job ;)

Writing sentences is like writing equations. Each word travels and carries and builds its way through a page, and it is the punctuation’s duty to surround and confine the words into formal structure. The effect creates an absurd, yet formidable mathematical equation. Literature and math, I think, possess the same limitations and opportunities. The laws of algebra, trigonometry, geometry, and calculus are learned and held fast – except, perhaps by the few who dare to rewire equations in an affix to defy mathematical laws. In literature, we are taught the value of the poetic license. In school we are taught the grammatical laws. In the writer’s hands is the opportunity to use her creative license… without being bound to laws of punctuation and structure. Few dare to defy these laws, however, just as few mathematicians venture outside the stable world of well-worn equations.

To the writer, this is both terrifying and exciting. Too much freedom releases the harness of the work and it dissipates before forming any sense of cohesion. In the opposite direction, structure breeds boredom and predictability.

I have begun many stories of prose. I have finished one. And I hate it, so perhaps it isn’t at all finished. The idea of reworking the story pains me. I have no interest in it any longer.

On most mornings, I am given a cup of coffee. My husband makes the coffee, puts one sugar in the raw and an inch of milk in the bottom of my mug, and fills the rest with bold coffee. Sometimes I pour my own cup of coffee. Regardless of who pours it or how it is made, I will only drink about four swallows of the dark, caffeinated liquid. My roommate in college used to fill my mug up to only two inches when she prepared the coffee. This is how she loved me.

Writing is like drinking coffee. I am overjoyed by the sight, sound, and taste of it, but when it comes to drinking it whole and swallowing the last ounce, I rarely follow through. Finishing is not my forte.

There are exceptions, of course to my coffee drinking delinquency. If I order a small, iced coffee with a half an inch of nonfat milk and one Sugar – in – the – Raw, I will drink the entire cup without hesitation. I will also finish a cup of coffee if prepared in a friend’s home. Not out of obligation, but because coffee tastes better to me if it comes from somewhere else.

If I sit down to write because it should be part of my routine and I feel the need to pursue its practice, I won’t finish. If I grab my laptop out of sudden inspiration and begin typing sentences, I will complete three paragraphs, maybe three pages, but I won’t finish. Somehow, there must be a marriage between the two to complete a piece of work. I believe this happens when inspiration meets discipline, and visa versa. My paranoid antics might just keep me from ever achieving my dream of becoming a writer. All because I can’t finish a cup of coffee. And coffee wasted is no good at all.

Getting in My Groove

2007-07-12T17:28:00.001-07:00

Things are starting make sense... I understand the weather moves fast through the Island, dinners taste better when prepared with someone else, and face paint makes any Jr. High activity better.

Not your Average Parade

2007-07-06T18:55:00.001-07:00

We attended Kailua's 4th of July parade this past Wednesday, and experienced a parade of interesting sights. It was amusing, to say the least, to watch Darth Vador walk the streets of Kailua carrying an American flag with his companions. Where do we live?!!!!

My favorite

2007-06-29T13:14:00.000-07:00

Heather Brown is my new favorite artist. She might also be my first favorite artist, modern at least. She hails from the North Shore and creates fabulous paintings of local surf spots. JD and I would love to decorate our house with her work one day. For now we go to the galleries in Haleiwa and gawk until the shop owner comes over and tries to sell us an original for over a thousand dollars. We're actually just fine with small copies, thank you. He prods further, mentioning that many young people purchase her paintings, that she is very affordable. Nodding and smiling we slowly back our way out the door and walk to Deep Ecology Surf Art Gallery (my favorite store in Haleiwa) to purchase a fifteen dollar 5 x 7 print of hers in their deep blue painted art gallery.

A bit homesick

2007-06-28T17:59:00.001-07:00

Stepping on the airplane for the second time to fly back to the Island was especially hard for me on Tuesday. Knowing that it will be a long time before we return to the Mainland (save Teddy's wedding weekend) sets a deep reality in my soul. And the disease called homesickness once again crawls through my skin and enters my bloodstream. Only this time there isn't a countdown. We've grown to love this island, its people, its weather, its culture. We sense a directional calling from God to remain until He moves us. It's my dream job, dream life, really... but 2500 miles away is no quick trip to friends and family.
I'm told it's normal.
It can take a year or two, they say.
When is being normal ever a pleasure?
But so I go, moving toward the normalcy of making our home on the island a daily reality that gives me both great joy and deep sadness.
In an effort to escape from sounding completely emo, here are some highlights from the past few days that make me glad about life...
1) an entire day devoted to watching season 1 of scrubs (a waste, you might say - but I beg to differ... a much needed break is more like it)
2) ocean swimming
3) swimming in Kailua Rec Center with Jill
4) the piano guy at Muddy Water's coffee shop
5) the high school girls I went to Muddy Waters with
6) Jessica Palmer
7) a break in the routine of office life to go to the beach
8) the brownies that are 10 days old in our refrigerator
9) talking to pastor brad about being homesick
10) jd.
11) tv and dessert every thursday night with the Palmers
12) calls home.
13) the steepest green mountains i have ever seen...
14) iced coffee
15) our new bamboo sheets

The abuse of The Call

2007-06-15T15:47:00.000-07:00

I believe there is a great misunderstanding amidst the body of Christ, er, the Church as a functioning community of people who follow Jesus as Christ and Savior. We toss around this phrase called "The Call..." The great, mystical, mysterious event in which an individual decides he/she has been asked by God to be responsible for leading the Church in vocational ministry. And those who haven't received "The Call" are put into an entirely different category all their own in the Church. There are those who are called, and those who aren't.

What the?!

What a dangerous hierarchy we've created in the Christian Church as the Called seek to lead the non Called... As the Called lead holy, mystical, righteous, and pious lifestyles while the non Called observe a nearly unattainable relationship with Jesus and measure their own spirituality by church attendance.

I observe a tragedy on both sides.

The Called (pastors, youth pastors, elders, leaders, etc.) experience a great deal of pressure to have all their ducks lined in a row... to boast of a neat and tidy spiritual life in which questioning and doubting God does not exist, and God's voice is heard on a daily basis. Furthermore, the Called are expected, by many an average church goer, to immerse themselves into Christian subculture, a world marked by the Jesus fish car decal and Christian music. No wonder many pastors are creepy (picture blank stare, fake smile, and extended hand).
On the flip-side, the congregation, or the "non Called," finds Christianity embodied in the pulpit, pointing to their pastor as the great spiritual instructor, often in place of Jesus. Church members don't get involved because they don't feel called. They say the janitorial role is just as important as the pastor's role - because that's what 1 Cor. 12 says, but I doubt many believe it (leaders and followers alike).

I find an imbalance.

I realize I'm not unpacking this all the way, but hear me out for now...

Jesus called Saul and He called fishermen. He called demon possessed people and prostitutes. He called tax collectors, tent makers, carpenters, homemakers, and doctors. He called children, the crippled, and the blind.

The Call is a Call to follow Jesus.

The Call that we think and know of today, is, in its manifestation, a gifting coupled with a passion for the Body (by the way, the gifting doesn't necessarily mean extroverted, bold, and skilled at the guitar - I've met many a shy pastor who is great at what they do).

Same word... two very different meanings.

I was once told by a college peer that they give me "an A + with God." Flattering to be sure, but I wonder if my stellar score with Jesus was matched with intimidation that I had somehow reached a level of spirituality that she could never have. I wonder, if she knew the questions, doubts, insecurities, and messiness that actually exists with my faith, that she would have still given me an A +.

I believe God is strategic with His bride. Jesus called a highly influential, zealous, and bold leader to lead the Gentiles into God's kingdom. Saul was gifted in leadership. He was also a murderer before Jesus encountered him.

Do we believe 1 Corinthians 12:12-40? Do we believe that all who are Called into His kingdom are responsible for the nurturing and function of the Body of Christ? Or do we roll our eyes and nod our heads when we hear this passage, secretly asking what gifts God has possibly given us to contribute to the furthering of God's kingdom?

I struggle with the word "Call." My relationship with God has never been so unstable in my entire life and I am in full time ministry. Does this mean that I'm not called, then? Or is God perhaps tweaking my eyes to see the Kingdom in its entirety... Yes, I lead students (and their parents) into a deeper relationship with God as a vocation, and I enjoy my job very much. No, I'm not all that holy. I'm a freak show really. I think the homeless man who lives in our parking lot and maintains the landscape is much more like Jesus than I am. Mel mows our lawn, pulls our weeds, takes other homeless men out to lunch with his pocket money, and gives his homeless friend his spare broken down van to live in so that he will be off the streets. Yet the jr. high students in our youth group turn away when they see him in his raggedy clothes, terrified expressions written on their faces because they've encountered a homeless man... and they run to us with open arms when they spot JD and me. Interesting.

There is a lot more to say about this... and to be honest, I haven't sorted it all out. There are a lot of things that I didn't say that maybe I should have, and probably even more that I shouldn't have said but I did.

I do believe in the Call. But I believe it has been misused, and even abused to unhealthily exalt church leadership, and in turn, confuse the people God has gifted to serve the Body through leadership by placing unrealistic expectations for their "spiritual walk."

And, as my friend Caitlin says, this makes me want to eat cookies. Double Stuf Oreos to be exact.

Tacos and Salsa

2007-05-24T20:13:00.000-07:00

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" JD asks as I recline in the lazy boy near the window, feet propped up with a Wendell Berry book in my hand. It's Saturday night, date night. And for us, date night means we eat dinner at home. "Ummm tacos!" I respond, eager to get started on tonight's meal. "OK, but we need to go to the store to get some tomatoes, onions, lettuce, tortillas, and hot sauce. Hey, maybe I'll make some salsa too," my gourmet husband answers as he grabs the keys. "I'm coming with you, because you need supervision when traveling to the grocery store alone." Our grocery bill may or may not be significantly higher if one of us doesn't keep the other in balance when meandering through the grocery aisles.

60 dollars later, JD and I leave the grocery store with two new beach chairs, and all the necessary ingredients for homemade salsa, spanish rice, and tacos. The beach chairs were only ten dollars each...

We take our places in the kitchen and at the grill, JD jokes that I am his little Latina wife (only not at all - have you seen how white I am compared to my husband? Light brown hair doesn't help either. The only thing going for me in that department is a curvy figure...) as I prepare the rice and taco meat. Apparently I have gained a knack for making rice, because it is now my dish of choice. At one time, JD even went so far as to say I prepared the rice just like his mom and aunt do (flattery or a tremendous compliment, I'm not sure which - but in this family, rice is not cooked in a rice steamer, so I appreciate the kind words). Rice and chocolate cake - dishes I can serve in confidence.

JD stands at the BBQ on our lanai and grills the vegetables for our homemade salsa. He has a talent and a gift when preparing food.

When my husband makes a meal, he doesn’t do it to check it off the list of household duties or to fulfill a task. Out of quiet necessity, my husband pours his love into his hands as he prepares our dinner. Each seasoning added is well thought through and deliberately placed. He worships God as he serves me with his cooking. It is second nature to him. I don’t think he consciously serves with the intent of worshiping God; he just does it because his life is flavored with the love of Jesus.

Preparing dinner together has become one of my favorite activities in life. We've created a rhythm in the kitchen as we take turns sauteing, steaming, cooking, chopping, and grilling. Almost like a dance, we move around our tiny kitchen space to create a meal that is experienced in the preparation much more than what sits on our table in complete form.

And so our date night, although spent inside the normalcy of our own home, becomes an experience of unity, love, and refreshment.

I like Saturdays.

And in case you were wondering... JD's salsa was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Created Ensemble

2007-05-21T11:52:00.000-07:00

I sit at the Heiau in wonderment of my new hillside escape. In reverent silence I observe the landscape before me. A tiny ant crawls near my foot and I watch as it busily scavenges for food. It's antennae is perked so as to alert the other insects that it is, indeed, on a mission. I watched for a while, until it found its way under a rock, hidden from my view. The boulder behind my back provides a relaxing recliner as I continue observing my surroundings. The branches to my left are gently swaying back and forth, as if a conductor is orchestrating a violin ensemble before my eyes. These tropical branches are none like I've ever seen before, but their movement is very familiar to me. I watch as their leafy arms wave in the air, praising their creator for His masterpiece. I shift my focus again. The marsh remains a huge, quiet expansion of tall stems and slow moving waters in front of me. It lays low, in perfect humility as if always it lay prostate before God. The stems gently sway as a breeze picks up, and the entire marsh moves as the Spirit hovers over it. Then the mountains... they provide a backdrop to the entire picture before me. Never moving, always standing. Peaks climb higher than others, and the skyline is broken with jagged points along its horizon. These mountains stand in perfect reverence. I relax deeper into the boulder and close my eyes, seeing the entire picture in my head as I had just experienced it. The ant scavenging for food so it might serve and feed its colony, the branches swaying in disjointed unison to provide corporate worship among the trees, the solitary marsh that lays in humility under the blue sky, waiting for a gentle breeze or harsh wind to bring life to its otherwise still demeanor, and the mountains... the mountains that keep all in perspective as they wait in salute for the coming of the King. And I think God must very much like this picture... All of creation as it contributes to the pleasure and praise of its Creator.

Shifts

2007-05-10T01:01:00.000-07:00

My dad asked me last night if I could write a "good blog entry." I told him I don't know what to write. But actually, I don't think I know what a "good blog entry" looks like. He meant that he is tired of me just posting pictures and little snipets to fill my page... but it got me thinking. I spent some time looking through my old blog entries - beginning with my xanga and then the entries during Europe... all the way through school, engagement, etc. My writing has definitely transformed in the past three years... I wore my heart on my sleeve in my early entries (post break up w/ the ex-bf of 4 years)... then got theological... then journalistic... and now - well - kinda random... almost newsletterish.

I'm more cautious now. Partly because my audience has expanded and changed, partly because I don't risk as much, partly because I've gotten off my soap box a bit, and partly because I have to be careful with what I say while working in a church (can't talk about the crazy conservative culture I've stepped into as much as I'd like).

This isn't an apology, nor an explanation - more just a glimpse into my thought process toward blogging right now.

All that to say...
Here's what's going on in my head/heart as of late:

I wonder if we often make idols out of our ideologies, theories, passions, etc... As if the issue of the heart becomes the focus of our life and the reason it became important in the first place is long gone. "I have a heart for _________" suddenly becomes our agenda and the Reason it was placed on our heart gets shoved aside. In trying to gain focus and perspective, we often lose the big picture... If we stare at a famous painting for hours and narrow our eyes to focus on a small detail of the picture until the small detail becomes either a blur or a splash of color - the entire painting gets boxed into the small detail we are so fixated on... I'm not talking about gifting or how we all play different roles in the Body, I'm talking about the danger of glorifying an issue/agenda/even theology to the point where we forget that it is merely a microcosm of the Kingdom. Enough ambiguity. Here is my confession:

I got stuck. Recently I found myself trapped in my own persuasions and convictions of 'proving' that women belong in leadership in the church. As you will recall from previous blog entries, this is my strife, my passion, my agenda, and so on. I even want to write a book about it - well, I did. Until it started taking over my life. I found myself walking to and fro the office convincing others (in my head) that women are, in fact, called to be a part of the ministry of the Church. I found myself volunteering to pray at staff meetings, not because I felt like Jesus had a word to say through my prayers, but because it seemed pastoral. I even found myself getting discouraged if I felt like a lesson didn't go well because I thought I needed to prove that women are capable in the pulpit. Now, of course, I do believe all these things still and I will still be the first to step up and question why we only have male elders guiding the direction of the church and why women at this church can't have the title of 'pastor,' but gone is my own personal ownership of this debate. I became so wrapped up in proving my point that my own worth, value, and sentiment became attached to it. Bitterness crept in, the chip on my shoulder slowly carved its way into my bones, and I became my own worst nightmare.

Hear my heart on this... I have not changed my beliefs or convictions - because I feel like God has placed a significant burden in my life to persevere through some very real stuff in the eyes of redemption and the role that women might have in the Kingdom - but not for the sake of proving a point - especially this point. Rather, God has chosen a crazy lady to speak some truth into the lives of His kids, and no matter what your view or theology might say, it fits into His plan.

This all came about as I was confronted with my own worst version of myself. A dear dear woman with an extremely beautiful heart spoke to me about her frustrations with the church and the lies told to women about their 'place' and so on... and as I was listening to her reactions and solutions to this problem, I actually became frightened. She was sold out to this cause - and it can't be helped because she's been burned pretty badly and she's seen women thoughtlessly cast aside - but I realized that her words didn't reflect her heart for Jesus and His kingdom, but rather for correcting some misshapen theology. And I guess there are probably times when this is good and important and necessary... but in reflection of this conversation, I found myself asking if I hadn't done the same thing. I didn't get into ministry to prove a point. I entered full time ministry because I love seeing Jesus transform His people and I feel like He's given me certain giftings to allow me to thrive in this setting. I don't need to prove what has already been approved.

I'm not sure if I articulated this very well at all... but I feel like God has shifted my heart back into a place of peace... life makes sense here. I feel free to pursue the heart of God and lead where He has placed me without the added sensation of pushing my agenda.

Maybe this makes sense for you, maybe it doesn't. I certainly don't mean to imply that people shouldn't be sold out for a cause or shouldn't spend their life working toward social change or necessary adjustments... because I think there are healthy passions and even causes to die for that God wires us to pursue... but if not done out of pure love for Jesus as an act of obedience... then my question is why.

Ugly Chairs

2007-05-08T23:16:00.000-07:00

"Honey I bought the chairs!"
Huh? I thought... "What chairs?"
"The chairs I was telling you about. At the Salvation Army. Four chairs for six dollars!"
"Oh... what do they look like?"
"Well, they aren't very nice."
"That's a good start," I said.
"They are patio chairs with horizontal vinyl stripes."
"Like beach chairs?"
"No. They don't fold up or recline. Oh, and they are pretty old so there is a little bit of red stained on the chair."
"Sounds amazing. Where are they?"
"We have to go pick them up, I can't fit them in the car."

The next day we drive over to the Salvation Army to pick up these chairs. On the way, I mention to JD that I am very nervous about these chairs. "They sound really ugly," I tell him. "Well, they aren't that great, but they aren't that bad either. I'm trying to make them sound worse than they are so that I won't build up your hopes." "OK," I said, and then we pull up.

We walk into 'the Army and walked past several pieces of furniture. That chair looks nice, I think as we walk past a white wicker chair with blue cushions. So does that one... a wooden chair with an oak finish. After what seemed like an entire store length of furniture, we walk up to a bundle of patio chairs, stacked on top of each other, with rusted seats and a sheet of paper reading "Groves, paid." Oh my goodness. These can't be them. No way are we taking these chairs home. What was he thinking??? "No." I said. "We can't bring these home. These are the ugliest chairs I have ever seen in my entire life. These are someone else's trash! They just felt guilty throwing them away since they are so large and awkward and so they brought them here!" And then I see the look on his face and pick up my foot to stick it in my mouth. "Honey, I know they aren't very nice right now... but I want to fix them up! A little spray paint will do them wonders." Half joking and half hurt, my husband insists we lug the four, most hideous chairs I have ever seen, into our car so that he might fix them up. I walk out the door a few steps ahead of him, still shocked that he saw potential in these chairs.

On the way to the hardware store I apologized for my words, "I'm sorry, it's just that... well... I think I underestimated their ugliness." He smiles and looks at me, "Just you wait babe. Just you wait." And then he says, "I just need to you to trust me." Well now I feel like the worst wife in the whole world but I still can't believe that he bought these chairs. "Just think of it like two drinks at Starbucks Annie, that's all we paid for these chairs," he tells me. "Now come help me pick out some paint."

The paint aisle is full of different colors of spray paint. I point to the neon pink can. "Really?" He asks. "No," I joked... "but if we have to buy ugly chairs we might as well buy ugly paint." JD smirks at me and points to a tan color. "That will be fine," I say, and we walk up to the counter and purchase spray paint so my husband can make ugly chairs beautiful.

I tell him that everyone must see these ugly chairs and take a picture of them with my camera phone to send to our parents. "Are you sending that picture so you can send after shots too?" He asks playfully... "JD, if your chairs turn out OK it will be a miracle. But yes, I will," and I agree to give his chairs a chance. "You are going to eat your words," he tells me.

And so here I am. Eating my words. Because my husband took a piece of garbage and turned it into something worth using. And I'm thankful that God has given him an eye for this sort of thing... because I think this piece of Jesus - the piece that wants to heal and restore and make things new - is in my husband and is used in a very real and tangible way... even with ugly patio chairs.

Annie Groves

2007-04-30T19:14:00.000-07:00

I'm not alone! I just googled my new name to see if the world wide web knows me as a married woman yet, and lo and behold - I discovered an established writer named Annie Groves who has published several novels, including the one on the left.

A few months after getting married, my friend Jen said to me, "Annie Groves... hey that is a great pen name!" I happened to agree and we had a small discussion of how cool it would be to see "Annie Groves" on the cover of a book (mostly just because we were excited about name changes) ... except it's already being used! Not sure what I'm going to do if I ever publish a book... are names copyrighted? Anne Groves... not so much I'm afraid. Anne C. Groves perhaps - though I'm not sure I will publish something scholarly anymore. Annie Burdette-Groves? Maybe I'll just become Hawaiian or Japanese or Spanish and go by Ana Groves or something.

Of course, this all falls under the assumption I ever sit down to write a book that might someday get published (chances slim I'm afraid)... But still! This discovery perturbs me a bit. I liked my romantic little fantasy of publishing a book someday with the pen name Annie Groves. Now I know the name is attached to girly fiction novels that look like the adult version of American Girls or Anne of Green Gables (my favorites growing up, by the way - can't knock Anne of Green Gables, my all time hero).

Ah well, now I can be a poser. When people look at my ID in the grocery store and ask, "You're Annie Groves?" I can proudly (or not so proudly, I haven't read her books) nod my head and smile, "why yes, yes I am. It is an absolute delight to meet you..." (isn't that what you think she'd say based on looking at her selection?) :)

Weird. This is all too weird. On a positive note, JD just bought a Weber BBQ and we're having tri tip tonight!!!

Dukes at Waikiki

2007-04-28T02:56:00.000-07:00

Touristy it's true - but great environment nonetheless! This taken when my parents were here a month or so ago...

Some happy things

2007-04-28T02:06:00.000-07:00

A snipit...

JD and I had a great half anniversary (6 months and we're still writing thank you cards)... We went to North Shore, spent a couple hours at the organic coffee shop in Hale'iwa reading Berry and Kerouac, walked around the quaint little town, and finished the day with margaritas and Mexican food at Cholos. We really enjoy being married. Aside from the occasional heated discussions about proper dishwasher loading, we have a blast together.

AND my brother is going to attend the University of Hawaii in the fall!

Turkey Bowling with a Dear Friend

2007-04-19T00:00:00.000-07:00

"I'm on my way to work and my mom asks me if I can take these turkeys to the Rescue Mission. I have time to spare so I say yes and walk into the garage to open the deep freeze. And then I see them. These turkeys are huge! I mean the biggest turkeys you've ever seen!"

My family and I listen to Cait intently as she tells us the events of her day. It's a few days before Thanksgiving and Caitlin is over for a family dinner at my parent's house, something we've done since our early years of high school.

Caitlin opens her arms wide to demonstrate the size of the turkeys. "Of course I can't carry all these turkeys by myself, so I start rolling them down the lawn in my front yard and then put them in the trunk, one by one."

We start laughing as we imagine the turkey bowling in Cait's front yard as she frantically tries to get these huge turkeys in her car in a timely manner.

"But that's not even the half of it! I get to the Rescue Mission and no one is there who can help me with these turkeys! But, I have to get to work soon and I can't just leave them in my car. So one by one I carry the turkey up a flight of stairs to leave at the doorstep. I'm carrying one of them that's super slippery and it slips out of my arms, rolls down the staircase and into Truxton Ave. Literally cars are honking at me as I try to recover this poor turkey that is now in the street!"

We all howl at Caitlin's story. So classic. Dad leans back in his chair and gives a great belly laugh. Mom sits in her spot with her elbow on the table and chin in hand with a smile on her face. Pat sits across from us grinning quietly. I sit next to Caitlin beaming, almost with pride, at my best friend. She's definitely part of the family. Maid of honor at my wedding and a true kindred spirit, Caitlin is my dearest friend.

Today is her birthday, and while I don't normally make birthday posts for my friends, I decided to write one for Cait because she is in Europe editing a book and I can't give her a present - or even a call for that matter - just now. And while a silly story about Caitlin might seem a little more like a roast than a sweet sentiment, I chose this story because it reveals Cait's heart a bit... Faithful. Servant. Honest. Joyful. Determined... Dependable. And let's be honest, I have waaaay more embarrassing moments that Caitlin has witnessed than I have on her. She's seen me through more than my share of "Annie moments" and loves me anyway. She is brutally honest and yet saturated with grace, she pursues Jesus' truth with ruthless endurance and she gives of herself endlessly. These pictures are taken from New York on a trip she treated me to just before I got married. Yes, she's that good of a friend. I guess there's a lot more I could say about her, but for the sake of not wanting to lose creativity and fear of sounding more sappy than I already have, I will end it here. Cait, here is my Happy Birthday to you... Sorry if I butchered the story a little bit, but I love you and miss you - and wish I could spend this birthday with you. Enjoy your day in Spain lovey...

Mattress Pads

2007-04-16T22:17:00.000-07:00

JD and I sit at the computer, looking at mattress pads online... Earlier, I purchased some mattress pads on target.com, but they never seemed to arrive. We discuss the proper pricing for these items in the following playful conversation:
JD: "See honey, this one only costs 26.00! The ones you picked were 50.00!"
Me: "But the ones I picked were comfortable!"
JD: "The ones you picked had bells on them."
Me: "Well, the other, more expensive mattress pads came with bells and whistles on them, so I compromised with only bells." :)

In case you wanted to know...

2007-04-12T09:53:00.000-07:00

So I haven't written anything outside of blogging in a very long time. However, this past week, per Leisel's suggestion of actually describing the sitcom of our lives for the previous 10 days and my own desire for creative documenting, I began doing a little writing and decided to post it on my writing blog - which hasn't been updated in nearly a year. The piece on my ma and gma's visit isn't complete yet, but I did a little writing this morning and decided to post it on the other blog. The difference between this blog and my writing blog being mostly that I write my other stuff in Word and might possibly double check it, whereas this blog contains daily musings, thoughts, glimpses, etc. that are often shorter... So hopefully I will update my writing more often, for now, there is a piece for you to read that will hopefully provide a bit of laughter for your day.

Quote of the day

2007-04-08T23:23:00.000-07:00

"These past ten days have been like living in a sitcom..."
- JD Groves
~ about life in paradise with my mom and gma visiting. Oh if only you knew...

Good Friday Highlights

2007-04-07T01:26:00.000-07:00

Tonight was probably my favorite night of ministry thus far... And one in which I felt the most unprepared, sicker than a dog, and completely overwhelmed - right up to the moment worship started and I stood up to speak.... After the message, we gave the students an opportunity to walk through some prayer stations we had set up: confession, joy & thanksgiving, feet-washing, and a station with mirrors that had a cross painted in the middle of them so they could look at their reflection through the lens of the cross. Here are some highlights of Good Friday:

1) My husband washed my feet
2) A dear 8th grade girl told me that she wanted to be a pastor some day but that she was worried because "our church doesn't allow women pastors"... you can't imagine the smile that crept into my heart just then...
3) A seventh grade girl washed my feet with a beautiful smile
4) JD and I adopted a girl, Oriana, from the Dominican Republic through Compassion International
5) I washed my husband's feet and prayed for him
6) Watching an older brother (a leader) wash his brother's feet and then vice/versa - and hug afterwards
7) One of our leaders obeyed a felt call to pray scripture over the entire group
8) Kids engaged in prayer and reflection
9) The cup of tea my friend Bethany made for me because I am sick
10) Grabbing coffee and smoothies with Jill this morning
11) Watching my grandma and mom laugh like school girls
12) Coming home from youth group at 9:50 pm and eating home made strawberry shortcake that my mom and grandma surprised us with
13) Looking at all the curtains and pillows my grandma made for us today
14) Having the opportunity to talk to 5 of my dearest friends from the Mainland in one phone call
15) Knowing that this day is the day the Lord has made and it is good.

Info about Pictures

2007-04-03T19:47:00.000-07:00

Just for you to know - I often update the photo albums on the right, so feel free to check them frequently for new pictures! Ma and Gma are here for a 10 day visit, Easter week brings busy days for ministry, I'm battling a cold, and the weather is improving by the day here in Kailua. That's my very small update for now :)

Grandpa Toad & Rad Night

2007-03-29T01:12:00.000-07:00

The prelude to 80s night (Rad night) looked a little something like this:

I was putting on the finishing touches of blue eyeliner and pink lipstick when I see my phone vibrating on the bathroom counter.

Hello?
Annie, it's JD. We are running a little bit late. Do you mind unlocking the youth room and turning on the lights? Oh, and can you plug in your computer and play 80s music until we get there? We'll be right there.
Um sure, no problem. See you in a bit.

I hang up the phone and quickly throw up a side pony with plenty of hairspray, grab the office keys, and dash out the door with my newly puffy-painted flats. One volunteer has shown up already so we get the room ready together, waiting for Sean and JD to show up with the BBQ. Again, my phone rings.

Hello?
Annie, it's me again. The car's on fire.
Excuse me?
Yeah, we saw a lot of smoke and then when we opened the hood there were actual flames. We don't have a fire extinguisher so the fire truck is on its way.
Wait, what?! Really?! No way!
(slight chuckle), Yeah. We'll be there soon. Do you hear the fire sirens?
Yes!!! Ok see you soon...

I hung up the phone and had a minor laughing fit as I relived the conversation with the rest of our volunteer staff. Our car was due any moment to turn into flames. We couldn't drive 3 miles without the hood smoking, regardless of how much fluid we put into the car. After seeing a mechanic, we were told that our car was the equivalent to an 80 year old man and would require a lot of TLC until it finally died. Well, driving it was like driving Mr. Toad's Wild Ride so we affectionately called the truck "Grandpa Toad." Apparently, Grandpa Toad croaked tonight...

The rest of the evening was spent listening to 80s jams, eating BBQ, and playing Tetris with our high school kids... All the while listening to Sean and JD retell their version of seeing Grandpa Toad catch on fire and calling the fire department, only to have the fire naturally go out before the fire truck actually arrived.

Despite the fact that we are now without a car, the night was pretty genius. Here are some photos to give you a visual of our radical outfits and fun:

Upper left: Jess and I in the kitchen
Upper right: Becca and Jessica in 80s attire
Mid left: Pete and Jeff rocking the air hockey
Mid right: Sean and JD sporting mustaches and heinous 80s get up
Bottom left: Me, JD, Sean, and Jess - youth staff and friends

Another reason I love my job...

2007-03-22T17:51:00.000-07:00

Tuesday and Thursday mornings at 10 am are particularly exciting for me. These are the times we as a youth staff have set aside to discuss the ins and outs of ministry... which often turns into hours of brainstorming and rethinking youth ministry. As we left our meeting today I couldn't decide if we should be called hippies or border line commies (jk) who are infiltrating the lives of homeschoolers and military kids of Kailua ;)... It could take years to put the ideas we tossed around today into action, but if they ever grounded into the institution of the Church, youth ministry would begin to look very different than it does today.

"Organic" was the word of the day as we thought of several different models of ministry that might work not only for our church - but that also embody the essence of the body of Christ and represent the Gospel of redemption. What if youth group was not just another program that fills up a night of the week with games and a message for our already over programmed kids, but if it served as a living, breathing microcosm of God's kingdom and the Church as Christ intended... What if we took a spiritual inventory of our kids (not through cheesy surveys or tests, but through the nature of relationships - and probably through small groups) and found out not only where their passions are, but how they might serve the kingdom and worship God with the gifts given to them by the Holy Spirit! And then, maybe, just maybe, we might actually put those to use...

Now, I know a lot of churches use their students for leading worship and probably some other areas too, but what if we took it a step further... And I'm not talking about making "teams" or "committees" (i.e. - hey I'm on the prayer team, or I'm on the welcoming committee), not that teams and committees are bad - because I think they can be good and are often used effectively... but what if students used their gifts simply because they're gifted, not because they've signed themselves up for another commitment. Before you think I'm nuts and dreaming out in far left field here (and maybe I am, but I don't care) - let me share an example I thought of this morning...

As I read my "Thinking Theologically about Youth Ministry" book in the comfort of our blue recliner, the concept of using our students and their God given gifts in youth ministry was threaded throughout the chapter and got my brain ticking a bit... I really want to go beyond the realm of meet and greet and worshiping through music as the focus points for using our kids' talents - because let's be honest, not only does it not fit for each teen (singing is not my forte, that's for sure), but it can also sometimes shape our idea of "church" into the box of singing songs and being hospitable (which are very good elements in and of themselves; please don't confuse me on this). But I think there's more we can be doing. For instance - one of our girls designs her own clothes. Another girl takes sewing classes. I myself have made a t-shirt or two... why not use our gifts in designing cute clothes (or not so cute clothes, whatever) and give them to the poor? Or perhaps we get a number of students who care about solidarity and as a people who love Jesus, learn to build relationships with the poor. Or maybe youth group on Wednesday night looks more like a united front of people growing in the name of Jesus rather than a bunch of kids who have every single Bible story memorized but lack true passion for Jesus... (speaking of apathetic teens as a whole, not slamming our kids)

Some of these ideas won't practically work... some of these ideas only work in small churches... and some of these ideas really should be at the heart of every youth ministry. As I write this (rather poorly considering the thoughts that are actually swimming around in my head)... I feel like the typical response to this post might be "wouldn't it be nice..." or "you're dreaming sister..." but I can't help but feel like God - the all powerful Creator of the Universe - has something more for His kids. I don't actually know how that plays out or what that looks like, but I do know that our youth staff is searching for it.

By the way, a lot of these questions and ideas stem from our ministry directly (high school, not junior high - jr. high is it's own little story). We have a group of extremely mature high school students who are natural leaders, and who we are trying to stretch and challenge beyond the model of ministry implemented at this point in time. Wacky and crazy games have their place in ministry, as does snack, corporate worship, preaching, etc., but as our culture shifts and the needs of students change, the old school model of youth ministry is rapidly losing its place and the church today finds itself at a critical crossroads in terms of how ministry is executed (which we will have to revisit for another day).

So maybe our students turn out to be hippies who make their own clothes and hang out with the poor because they recognize the sanctity of the Least of These, but hopefully they love Jesus in a raw and refreshing way because they've seen Him in a context that is real and tangible and goes much further than the doors of the church.

Love my Job...

2007-03-17T02:17:00.000-07:00

There is something to be said for seeing a middle schooler stick palm branches down his shirt and carry them over his head in attempts to remain "hidden" during an intense game of Capture the Flag... coupled with face paint and pitch black access to the entire church grounds... It was a game of epic proportions for these kids. And I'm not gonna lie, it brought back pretty sweet memories of my junior high youth group and the church-wide Capture the Flag games we played - anyone out there remember the RAD zone??? ;) Anyhow, off to bed after an exhausting but fantastic evening of ministry... Tomorrow brings North Shore with the parents as we cruise around the island to watch enormous waves, sip Hawaiian-grown coffee, and walk around quaint Hale'iwa.

Glory-filled Skies

2007-03-15T10:43:00.000-07:00

This morning caught me waking up to my obnoxious phone alarm at 6 am. My goal was to hit Morning Brew early, finish some reading, and hammer down my lesson for tomorrow night... all before 10 am and the craziness called Thursday. As I walked out of our cottage, a glance around the parking lot and then the sky beyond it caught my breath as I muttered a "thank you" to God for placing me in such a beautiful place. Really I think God was just showing off this morning - as if He woke up early and decided to design an extra special sunrise with extravagant pockets of rose, gold, gray, and aqua hues... all tucked beneath streaky white clouds surrounding the steep mountaintops that border our small world. A drive through sunrise caught me seriously considering a detour to the beach or the marsh near our cottage to sit and watch the sky transform. I thought better of it when I remembered I'm trying to cram two days of work into one (my parents are coming tonight so we're trying to front load our work day in attempts to spend more time with them). A cup of coffee has appeased me and the gray sky outside only holds memories of this morning's splendor. Must get back to work... Just checking in :)

A Discovery

2007-03-14T19:15:00.000-07:00

For your viewing pleasure, I have now compiled a few photo albums of life since the wedding - you can view them by clicking on the link to the right...

Dill Pickle and Peanut Butter Sandwiches... and Eggs

2007-03-01T19:24:00.000-08:00

I've been an experimenter since I was a kid. In elementary school I tried my hand at baking a cake from scratch - without a recipe. Had I used baking powder, the cake might not have been flat as a pancake. In junior high I discovered my love for dill pickle & peanut butter sandwiches... or, if I was feeling really clever, peanut butter with cake sprinkles sandwiches. Throughout high school my friends scoffed at my love for green olive & cream cheese croissant sandwiches which often frequented my lunch sack. A delicacy, in my opinion.

Along with my experiments & odd taste buds, I am also capable of being a complete disaster in the kitchen. On most days I can follow a recipe pretty decently... most days. There was the day when my cousin Julie and I put two CUPS of salt into the gingerbread cookie dough rather than two teaspoons (we were eight I think, and it was probably my fault - she is a fantastic cook). The lovable men with cute buttons who are supposed to have that sweet gingerbread taste came out of the oven tasting like they'd been immersed in the ocean. On another tragic occasion, I attempted to make low fat muffins which called for self rising flour. We had all-purpose - which means it functions with multiple purposes right? Wrong. The muffins looked like play-doh.

Then of course, there are the days when the recipe is followed closely, but my clumsiness (or stupidity) takes over and peanut butter is splattered all over the entire kitchen because I tried mixing the peanut butter with the wrong hand blender (my mom might still find some behind the refrigerator or in the lazy susan), or the ground turkey I've just made and put into a plastic container is suddenly sizzling because the plastic container, which I brilliantly placed on the previously hot burner, has now melted completely through so that the meat is reheating and a funny plastic odor fills the room (hey I'm getting used to electric - and yes, this did happen two nights ago. ground turkey everywhere).

Believe it or not... I do have my fine moments when experiments are a success and a recipe is followed to the "t" without any mishaps. For instance, I have been on an egg kick for the past few years. I love eggs - well, egg-whites - and one of my favorite things to do is create more ways to use eggs in my meals. In college, my roommate Jackie and I came up with the 310 Scramble: egg whites with diced ham, avocado, cheese, spinach, tomatoes, bell peppers, and garlic salt. This particular breakfast was served at least three times a week with either an english muffin or corn tortilla, and always with coffee. We also enjoyed sharing a large artichoke dipped in garlic butter sauce served with raspberry mochas (don't ask why - but for some reason the flavors really complemented each other)

With adjusting to our family economy (aka - dirt poor), we have discovered newfound creativity in the kitchen with leftovers. Lately, I have enjoyed fixing an egg white omelet filled with JD's Puerto Rican beans (which have green olives in them for flavor), rice, hot sauce, and plenty of cheese... the Groves omelet. JD prefers more of an egg bake: a bowl stacked with rice, beans, cheese, two or three fried eggs on top, and more cheese... eggs a la' JD . I might add, these meals may be served for breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner...

Now that you are probably completely freaked out and wondering if I do much of the cooking for the family, it will give you great relief to know that JD is the chef and we eat quite well when he wears the apron. If I do attempt to prepare a meal, however, JD keeps a close eye on me until he can't handle it any more and flees to the living room while he waits for dinner to be served...

Bon Appetit?

Tree reading

2007-02-22T19:03:00.000-08:00

The end of my day brings me as much delight as the beginning. Life at the church changes on Thursday evenings. There are no crazy Awanas kids, no high school group, no AA meetings... The staff picks up to head home and a new staff claims church property as the gardeners come to trim the bushes and Mamer comes to clean our offices. Neighborhood kids bring their basketball and start shooting hoops near the edge of the parking lot. The YMCA parking lot adjacent to ours is filled with people hoping to carve off ten more pounds... and our little cottage rests quietly in the corner. The door is propped open for a nice breeze flow and the sound of lawn mowers bring a serene sense of reality to church world. This is my hour of solitude. JD is coaching football and all of my tasks are completed for the day. Feeling inspired with Donald Miller's "Through Painted Deserts" in my hand, I walk outside the door, down our 3 steps, across the tiny lawn with the avocado tree in the corner, and I crawl into the perfect climbing tree. Donald's writing dazzles me for a bit and I feel my entire body slip into a peaceful trance of serenity. After a few chapters, I am daydreaming and semi-listening to the boys play basketball below me. They are my next project. Chocolate chip cookies for the basketball kids.
I close my book and hop out of the tree as the alarm on my phone tells me JD will be home soon. I whisper thank you to God for this peaceful day and scoot into our little cottage to prepare some leftovers ;)

Morning Brew

2007-02-22T11:04:00.000-08:00

Morning Brew offers a small sanctuary for my soul. As I sip my coffee and read Gladys Aylwards’ biography, thoughts of mission work amuse my mind. A bite of my scone and Dave starts playing through the coffee shop speakers. I am thankful for this blissful morning. The girl at the counter has kinky hair tied up in a head wrap. She wears funky clothes and adorns a nose ring. The color and texture of her hair indicate hours of surfing Hawaii’s shores. I plug in my earphones as some pop music spoils the mood. Thoughts of being in a far away place remind me of our trip to Colorado, my adventures in Europe, and the road trip to Seattle. In Hawaii now, but Hawaii is home. I reserve Morning Brew for special occasions; times when my heart needs revival and my soul craves creativity. I am working on my love relationship with Jesus. Exploring new ways of worship - the familiar quiet time has begun to dry my walk and God whispers that it might look different now. So I come here to rest, to read, and to write. My seat is prime for people watching. I enjoy the conversations buzzing all around me as I silently observe with music singing to my ears. I always wish I could wear funky clothes like the barista. But whenever I go shopping, I always seem to pick out the familiar solids. Today my shirt has orange splotches all over and I wear it underneath a green sweater… this is my only outfit that displays any flavor. I tried wearing a bandanna on my head the other day, but my husband looked at me a little funny and my self-consciousness got the better of me, even though he assured me it looked “fine” and I should darn well wear whatever I want. Another day I suppose… or maybe we’ll move to the North Shore where anything goes. Glance at the oh so Hawaiian paintings on the wall, a bit modern for my taste, and think about the painting class Anita told me about. Every Saturday I could sit in a class and learn to paint the palms, islands, and waves that now color my world. I’m thinking about it. For now I’m content with my coffee, laptop, and book…

Running with Rainbows

2007-02-17T12:32:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning at 8:20 am, an astonishingly early time for a Saturday considering the lack of sleep I've had this past month. Nonetheless, I woke up and it was go-time. My first impulse was to pack my computer and trek on over to Morning Brew, Kailua's only local coffee shop, for some good writing time. Then I looked over at my sleeping husband and felt like I'd exhausted my coffee shop privileges for the week, and if I went again, JD might start tracking the amount of dollars spent on chai lattes, americanos, and delicious scones.

The last thing I wanted to do was run.

As I lay there contemplating what to do, I asked God... This is how it went down:

What should I do right now... I should go to a coffee shop right?

Do you trust me?

Yes...

Go for a run.

No thanks. I'd rather not.

I tried to make myself go back to sleep, certain that God could really care less if I went for a run, but let's be honest - if God tells you to go on a run, you grab your shoes and go. After a quick bite of peanut butter toast to keep me from passing out on my run, I headed out the door, waved to Pastor Brad who was walking to the Elder meeting, and took off toward the Haeou (where they may or may not have performed human sacrifices back in the day).

I'm pretty out of shape so the first few minutes of the run were spent grumbling. But the sight of the marsh was breathtaking as I looked around at the surrounding mountains towering over my trail and the lily pads covering the water beside me. I live here?

Just enjoy Me...

Then appears before me a full rainbow with its rays spreading from one corner of the marsh to the other. The multi-colored display of glory was soon accompanied by a light sprinkle as I gleefully ran in the ran. Like a kid in an amusement park I started waving and greeting each stranger that walked/ran/biked past me on the marsh path (not afraid to get undignified sometimes). The following three miles (some which were spent walking, I might add) were such a sweet time with the Lord as I was finally able to have some intentional time with my Friend.

On the way back to the cottage, I looked at the ground and noticed a near perfect Hibiscus flower... which I promptly tucked behind my ear to wear for the rest of the day...

Swim to Flat Island

2007-02-15T18:10:00.000-08:00

I stand deceivingly confident in my old Guard suit at the water's edge. Goggles in hand, ear plugs in place. The guys are already used to the water. I'm freezing with my toes in. "Come in! The sooner you get all the way in, the sooner you get warm," they yell as I shiver on the shore. Not sure about this. Come on, I think to myself, you're a swimmer... this is no big deal. Years of getting into cold water... Just go. I dive in and immerse myself in the swells. It's a windy day so the current is stronger than normal. I let the guys do their thing, this is my deal. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. I take a breath and a mouthful of sea water reminds me this isn't lap swimming. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. I finally look down... into a tangle of rocks. The coral looks particularly intimidating as the swells lower me to only a few feet above the reef and then raise my body significantly as if I am weightless. Relax... My foot bumps into something suddenly, oh, only one of the guys. The next moment my body slams into him and I feel powerless to control my direction. Didn't they say they had to close a beach nearby due to shark sightings? The island is close but the water is more shallow. I can touch the coral with my hand if I try. I wish I had a snorkel mask... But this isn't snorkeling. No, the leisure of looking at fish in a shallow cove above still waters is not a luxury I have at this moment. Deep Breath. Mouth full of water. Panic sets in but I still my body. Keep going... The sandy beach awaits me as I doggy paddle just barely over the last bit of sharp coral below me. Ahhh... This is not so bad. The guys come in just at the same time and lay down on the soft sand of Flat Island. "What a workout!" They exclaim as one of them shakes out the water in his ear. My earplugs are shot. Both ears are filled with water. I can expect an ear infection any day now. Oh yes, I did this for my workout today. Running would have been much more simple. "Ready to head back?" No. "Ok, let's do it! Freestyle the whole way there," is my verbal response. I jump back in the water and start my swim to the beach shore. The mystery of the ocean is still intimidating and with each swell I fight for control... but this new world has an eery appeal, and I want to do it again. I want to conquer the swim to Flat Island.

FYI- this story is a combo of two swims to the island - one in which I made it, and the other in which I had to turn around... using my poetic licence :)

Redemptive Lens

2007-02-08T11:50:00.000-08:00

Sitting in the cottage next to the big window with the Book of Acts resting in my lap. What to say Lord? This historical narrative appeals to my history degree, but how to make it come alive in the world of junior high students... Sip of coffee, deep breath, anxious to get going.
Phone rings. Unrecognizable number - must be Cait in Switzerland. It is. I take off in the car for some peace and quiet ... and some Starbucks. We talk and talk... talk about what I'm learning here on the Island, and what she's learning in the Swiss Alps. Conversation gets animated as we share mutual passions and world views. Different perspectives offer necessary iron. Sharpened as we spur the other to see God's image. Redemptive Theology is our conclusion. Gives me renewed insight, a fresh vision. Order an iced grande nonfat Chai Latte. Ideas spinning as I reread Acts 1 & 2... Look through helpful texts, exegesis, commentaries, etc. This past week's learning still fresh in my mind, colors the way I see ministry. History lesson in the breakthrough of a movement of redemption that manifests itself in the body of Christ, the Church. Typing away. Drain the Chai, nearing 4:00, our meeting time. Pack up, step outdoors and the freshness of this world that Jesus redeemed greets me as I smile at the pink-haired teen with a lip ring and a frappuccino.

Sequel.

2007-02-03T11:51:00.000-08:00

Wow... thanks for your comments and emails. I feel encouraged and strengthened. My previous post rallied some great discussion and dialogue about empowerment, the female struggle, and ultimately, the Holy Spirit's role in leading, defining, and refining His children. Since my post, I have done plenty of thinking about my own beliefs, what this struggle has meant for me personally, and how ultimately, I will surrender to the authority of God. More than ever I hope to gain understanding and strength in my quest to see women who believe they are called to positions of leadership find peace in the God who burdened their heart for the body in the first place.

I find myself in a very interesting situation right now. I feel supported, encouraged, and loved by the body of believers who hired JD and I to shepherd their students into the Kingdom. I am content with my 'role' (as defined by the apprenticeship) and more importantly, feel relieved to be in a situation where I can best use the gifts given to me by my Creator. My heart and my focus is to make disciples of the students God has entrusted us with, and I have no agenda to 'let those Baptists know that women can be leaders in the Church too' ;) It doesn't mean I don't notice, however, that the leadership of the church is mandated by men (I realize my Presbyterian background is a bit shocked by this) and will most likely not change as I have heard discussion about such things already. So I store it in my brain, and I might write about it a little bit - but the discussion will be generalized. Stones are not meant to be thrown, but questions should be raised.

Leisel brought up a very valid point that really resonated with my heart. "Part of the Fall... is being reversed by movements started by people who are unafraid to step out and just be who they are-- regardless of what other people think." JD actually said a very similar thing the other day; "we were all created equally, and after the Fall, that equality got distorted and redefined - robbing us of the individuality and freedom that God intended." I like that - well, not that the Fall happened, but that God never meant for us to find strife in who He called us to be. I find freedom in those statements. Part of my struggle is seeking to find God's purpose for me in the confines of 'roles' and 'titles' that the church, society, professions, etc. have created - and to be honest, I just haven't found it. I do know that God has called me to preach the Gospel and freedom into the lives of those I come in contact with, either directly or indirectly, and that He has given me specific gifts and talents in which to do so. Another part of Leisel's comment (sorry Leis, but you just said a lot of cool things, hope you don't mind): "... as far as men and women's roles? Yikes. I don't even know what that is...nor do I think it's a blanket concept that can be applied to all men or all women. We're all designed uniquely and individually-- all loved and all created for purposes that do not all look the same." Thank you. Thank you for bringing restoration for my soul after a pretty hard week, and a really long struggle. Thank you, also, for speaking a truth that becomes so distorted when we simplify it into society's terms.

In His Aloha (much love),
Annie

p.s. - and J... go for it sister :)

Blustery

2007-01-31T19:51:00.000-08:00

Are we in a hurricane? Because it sure feels like it...

So call me whatever you want

2007-01-30T20:17:00.000-08:00

I edited this post a bit after Leisel's comment and some serious thinking...

When I began blogging, my primary audience was Calvin Crest folks, my high school friends, and the occasional college peer. My entries were sometimes more candid, more introspective, and perhaps sometimes too personal. When I discovered my blog base extended to family, friends, First Pres Bakersfield, and people who spend too much time on Facebook ;), I changed the way I write a little bit. Perhaps more conservative, definitely less threatening. And occasionally I want to write about things that perhaps the Bakersfield Californian would not be so interested to read. I am fine with all this, really - I am blessed to have a variety of readers. I feel like I understand vulnerability to a whole new level. I did, after all, write an entire blog entry about sex (for those of you new to the blog - ahem, my in-laws ;), the entry was about struggling with purity, not about having it) and I heard about it from my grandma later (who was actually very supportive)...

All that to say...

I want to write about something controversial, but not for the sake of being controversial. I pray my wrestlings would bring me closer to the heart of God and the truth of His plan rather than produce a clanging cymbal through the keyboard.

My thoughts lately turn to the age long controversy of the female role in the Church. Now, if you've read my essay on the Apostle Paul and the way he addresses women in ministry, you know that I believe both Jesus and Paul administered women to roles of teaching and leadership in the early church that were considered very radical. To be perfectly honest, I am very confident in God's call both in my life as a minister of the Gospel and in His call to other woman to be in positions of leadership in the Church. I wrestle no more in my own search to know God's heart for the other half of His Image.

And yet I find myself once again in a place where my soul is reminded that the way I see things (hopefully through Christ's eyes) and the way that Christian culture, some doctrine, churches, etc. see things at times, vastly differ. I don't see in motion that which I believe Christ encourages.

At the Sunday evening church-wide meeting, a new position is being discussed. An administrative pastor is needed to take the load off the pastoral care pastor. A woman raises her hand and asks, "Even though the title has the word 'pastor' in it, can a woman take the job?" My husband noticed my frustration as my hand clenched his tightly. I walk into staff meetings, and, save the secretaries & children's director (and, by the way, I LOVE this staff), I'm the only woman... as is true in most churches. When the youth pastors get together across the city, a congregation of men meet. The ballot for elders is men only (I forgot how "liberal" those Presbyterians could be with their female elders;)). This is our culture. Please note: I love these people. I am so very blessed to now belong to this congregation and the pastoral staff is Godly in the truest sense of the word. My frustration is not against specific people or the men who take leadership in the Church. The reality is - well, this is the reality and this has been reality... for a really long time.

I don't feel like God has given me a heart and a passion for the empowerment of women for no reason. Nor do I feel like He has led me into full-time ministry without Divine purpose. Even now I close my eyes and whisper that my heart would be His and that these words would reflect His character.

...

I plan to have kids some day. I don't know when. But someday (God willing), I will hold a small child in my arms, sing it lullabies, and rock it to sleep. I will be a mother just like most women in this world were created to be. To be honest, this desire is somewhat new for me. I think in my mind I always figured I would raise kids with my husband and live some kind of life being a mother and wife, and in the back of my head I always wondered, but God, what about ministry? What about grad school? What about these dreams? What about my desire to empower women and to reveal historical truths about your Word? And then the light bulb finally turned on as I watched baby Kana romp around with all of his drool spilling onto the hardware floor. Be the woman you want to empower. If I am to be a vessel of God as a minister to the Church, and if I want to advocate for female leadership in the Church (or whatever have you), then I am going to have to be a "normal" woman. Normal in the sense that most women on this earth, with the exception of some (who I do not consider "abnormal"), are mothers or will become mothers. What good am I if I expect to see change within the Church and I am not that change? I believe women are just as capable at preaching God's word at the pulpit as men, and I don't think they have to be women who choose not to bear children or get married.

Suddenly I find myself relieved. And blessed. I get to do ministry with my husband for two years. A husband who, on a road trip to the REI in Portland before we were married, listened to me sobbing my concerns and fears with being a wife and mother and desiring a Phd (which, let's be honest, who knows if that is still in God's plan for me) said to me, "You can do that. I plan on helping you get there." A husband who lets me taste what God had planned when he meant for men and women to be helpers. A companion. Yes I am blessed. I continue to work out my salvation with fear and trembling, and God continues to give me glimpses of His vision and of His Divine Glory.

p.s. - for all you wondering, no, kids are not in the near future unless God wills it and does some Divine intervention

We're all grown up now

2007-01-28T22:53:00.001-08:00

Guess what we get to attend now? Annual Business Meetings. WOO HOO! Well I suppose we would have to start attending sooner or later, but once on the payroll of the church, our attendance is mandated. ;) Not that it was bad, of course. We got free pizza and punch, hung out with some really cool people, and listened to the reading of minutes and people saying "aye."

We also got a very 'real' impression of the church... the formalities, government, and of course the one or two "nay-ers." I am thankful for the leadership of the church and Faith Baptist's heart to grow as a community in Christ. Thankful to see the dialogue, the patience, and the heart of the congregation. We are in the care of a congregation who truly prays. After the "business" of the meeting, we got together in groups of 5-10 people and earnestly prayed for the church... This church is shepherded well. Both Divinely and with the flesh.

Boric Acid it is

2007-01-27T20:26:00.000-08:00

We went to Hardware Hawaii the other day in search for the remedy to our roach problem (apparently our cottage was infested). Gary soon became our friend as he empathized with our troublesome roaches and claimed that only boric acid would get rid of them forever after just a couple days. Apparently, the boric acid kills the roaches; they crawl into the wall and die... and as Gary said, "those roaches aren't real humane and they will just eat the dead ones. This produces a cycle of dead roaches and then they are gone." Eileen, thank you for your advice - the boric acid is all over the crevices and cracks in our walls and we have yet to see another roach - which is a good thing, because I've developed turrets whenever I spot a roach... it's become a signal for JD. I told our pastor this and he thought it was quite humorous. We have a good understanding ;) ...

Ahhh :)

2007-01-25T18:27:00.000-08:00

Resting in His arms. Protected by His love.

Better is One Day

2007-01-25T12:14:00.000-08:00

We've entered the war zone...

Spiritual warfare looks a lot different in Hawaii. Because the root of the Hawaiian cult religion involve ancestor worship, wicca, etc. - satan's activity is a lot bolder here. On the Mainland, satan manages to deceive people by making it look as if he is not present. Apathy, complacency, disruption among denominations, etc. Judeo-Christian culture masks the enemy's seemingly subtle schemes.

In Hawaii it is not uncommon for spiritual warfare to look just like that - a battle. JD and I were in a staff meeting this morning and mentioned the lack of sleep we've been experiencing. Part of this stems from the fact that I have an imagination that could create Jurassic Park in my bedroom... nonetheless, visions of demons, fear of cockroaches and centipedes, strange sounds outside our bedroom, etc. have kept me from rest (which hinders my time in the Word since I usually spend my best time with the Lord in the morning). JD, because he shares a bed with me, also experiences lack of sleep. Anyhow, at the staff meeting this morning, we brought this up and our head pastor, Brad Barshaw, informed us that it wasn't unusual for spiritual warfare to be especially heavy on the island. He, along with other staff members, mentioned different occasions they've experienced warfare and how it almost becomes a way of life. Brad suggested we pray over the cottage later that day - so we did.

And stepped into the front lines.

Now, I've had experience with spiritual warfare before - both at Calvin Crest and UCLA, so I feel like God has trained me to deal with this - but that doesn't make it any easier.

Satan's pissed.

After praying through the cottage, JD and I were unsuccessful at putting together the game we'd planned for the evening, got in a ridiculous fight, JD got a speeding ticket, and we found two (oh wait... another just crawled out from under our bed) - three more cockroaches in our BEDROOM tonight...

We prayed together tonight (for like the 5th time today) - and agreed in prayer that we'd rather have a day like today than live a thousand days smoothly. God has shown us His mercy and grace, and we rest upon the promises of His Word to protect, sustain, and strengthen us through this war zone.

Please pray for us. Pray for protection and for peace. Pray that fear would not set in and that our cottage would be a place of rest and a sanctuary. Pray for our ministry - that God would be glorified above all. Pray that His Holy Spirit would rest on this place, and on His people. Pray that our kids and staff would be protected. Pray for God's protection in our marriage. Pray that God would send a spiritual force to destroy the enemy's work here. And please pray that this would not take over our lives. God is way bigger than this, and the enemy would love nothing more than to make this the focus of our lives.

Blessings, friends.

Paradise, Ministry, and Cockroaches

2007-01-23T18:02:00.000-08:00

JD and I flew to the Island of Oahu nearly two weeks ago and are starting to learn the ropes of life in Kailua, HI. Kailua is nestled on the southeast coastline of the island just next to a range of steep sloping lush mountains. Our tiny cottage, located on church property, boasts big window looking into our tiny yard of tropical plants (which we have nearly killed due to our lack of experience with plants - it's like a small child). We truly live in paradise. Each day we walk out of our house, look at the sky, the mountains, the horizon, and say to ourselves... another beautiful day. Hawaiian life fits nicely with our active lifestyle as well; we've adapted to ocean swimming, kayaking, surfing, and are excited to go on one of the beautiful hikes in Kailua.

We can't forget the reason we're here, however. In the midst of paradise let us not forget that we are here as commissioned by the King. Faith Baptist has done more than its part in welcoming us into the church community. We were lei'd in the airport by the entire youth group upon arrival, and since then, we've begun building relationships with the kids and their family. The congregation has blown us away by giving us the necessities of living (cleaning supplies, kitchen towels, food, etc.) and by remodeling our once trashy cottage into a place we are glad to call home.

Well... except one minor thing. Kind of minor. Not really.

The cockroaches. Yes. Big ones. Not small. They fly. They are in our house. We have taken extreme measures against them. Home Defense. The Roach Motel: where roaches check in but they don't check out. We meticulously check the bed and all the corners before snoozing (ok, JD does that for me). Here goes our first cockroach experience:

Me: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
JD (down the hall): What?! What's going on??!!?!
Me: (jumping up and down) EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
JD: (now in the room with me) Babe stop! What are you screaming at?!!!
Me: (pointing at enormous cockroach in bathroom and now on top of the bed) EEEEEEEE!!!!
JD: (deep breath.) Oh boy. I have no idea how I'm going to kill this thing
Me: (get massive willies) KILL IT!!
JD: Uh... OK. Grab me one of those large plastic cups and a piece of paper. Oh boy. Killing bugs is not my thing
Me: EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
JD: BABE. You need to stop screaming. You're freaking me out!
(slams cup on cockroach. cockroach splits in half. keeps moving).
Me: EEEEE!
JD: How is this thing still alive? Really?!
(slams cup on both parts, slides paper underneath. cautiously picks trap up and walks out the door. puts cup down. stomps on it as hard as he can. multiple times.)
Cockroach: dead.

Thank You Cards

2007-01-06T18:33:00.000-08:00

They're coming. But they're on haitus. So if you haven't gotten a thank you card (which is most of you out there), please be patient. We are extremely thankful. You will be thanked. I promise.

Janet

2006-12-21T22:42:00.000-08:00

My friend Janet is very courageous. She stands opposite the glaring eyes of injustice. But justice has nothing to do with it when it's family. There is no law or rule at stake, but merely the bond of blood. Human against human. Brother against sister. Yet it seems unjust, inhumane, and absurd.

Tomorrow she will come to work, most likely dressed in a Christmas sweater with a festive pin and a deliberate smile... a genuine one.

She should be going to her father's funeral. She should be dressed in black, with her hair neatly combed and groomed for the reading of the eulogy she carefully prepared. "Beautiful words" her friend called them. She should be in the presence of family and friends remembering and celebrating the life of the man she called daddy.

The blizzard came yesterday. The airport closed at 1:00pm, only to be opened again days after the scheduled funeral. All roads leading to Denver are closed. This blizzard is big. We prayed the wind would stop, but it didn't. She left work early on Wednesday, just after our Christmas potluck to try her luck at the John Wayne Airport.

We arrived this morning to find Janet at her desk, typing diligently at the computer. There was a box of Smith's donuts on the table, and a small jug of 1% milk in the fridge. Janet brought the staff breakfast.

Her brothers won't postpone the funeral so their sister can attend. We'll miss you, they say, but their words are empty. We can't change the date, they argue, someone might show up at the church and nobody will be there. Sorry. The blizzard roars 1100 miles away and the funeral must go on.

Everything will go as planned, as Janet planned. People will be in their places, scriptures will be read, the casket will be viewed... Janet planned it all. She and her father discussed it as he was dying. She was close to her dad.

The meticulously planned arrangements will commence at 10:00am in Colorado. Just as planned, minus the blizzard. But who can control the weather? Besides, the blizzard is mild compared to the storm which chills her family.

These are her chains. She wears them because she is faithful. She suffers but she believes. The Gospel is poured into this precious daughter of the King... her outflow speaks of nothing else. Jesus is her king and her heart is obedient. The command to forgive is the cross she carries. And when she is not strong enough it is carried for her by the body of Christ itself. And Christ is glorified.

This woman, this very courageous woman who does nothing but give, will find peace tomorrow in her Father's arms. She won't be present at the funeral tomorrow, but God has other plans and Janet knows this.

She told me so as I ate the Christmas frosted donut she brought this morning.

We Bought the Tickets, and They're One Way

2006-12-21T21:01:00.000-08:00

Saying good-bye is becoming the reality of our world. A couple weeks ago we bought the tickets to Kailua, HI for January 10, 2007. Now, as we pack up only about 1/3 of our belongings, the impending move is all we think about. "JD, do you think I should pack this book on the Reformation? What about the complete set of George Herbert's poems? John Keats? My climbing gear? Maybe I'll bring only 2 robes instead of 4..." Oh the joys of consolidating our simple lives into small boxes. I've now moved in to 'throw everything away mode' for fear that sweater will no longer be in style two years from now. It's very odd to put some of our belongings away for a couple years. I mean, I'm really excited about our wedding dishes, but let's be honest. They're not going to make it to Hawaii - they're going to sit in a storage shed. All moving obstacles aside, the move to Kailua is getting more and more exciting. We both feel like we're in a place of obedience and are ready to start the next adventure.

Life As It Should Be

2006-12-13T10:14:00.000-08:00

Bakersfield is a funny place according to its visitors. The air smells like farm animals (or a sewer as one friend put it). No matter where you go in Bakersfield, there is a small chance that in the morning or evening, you might get a whiff of the farm life that outskirts the city's borders. I like the smell personally. It's homey to me. When I step outside my parent's house on hot, summer evenings, the smell is particularly potent and rich. Caitlin and I talked about it one day. We agreed that we are somewhat fond of taking a deep breath of Bakersfield air on those nights. I doubt visitors to Bakersfield understand, let alone agree with our liking to the familiar scents.

Home to one of Bakersfield's finest breakfast dining experiences, Pappys exudes all that Bakersfield stands for. Being one of the most conservative pockets of California, parallel only to the Midwest and the South, Bakersfield flags its conservatism across the city, particularly within mom and pop joints such as Pappys. French toast and french fries won't be found on the menu. If you want the tasty treats, you'll have to order freedom toast and freedom fries. A picture of George W. on the wall smiles with you as you eat the defiant food on your plate.
Pappys also salutes the oil industry in Bakersfield with dozens of pictures of the oil fields, which, after awhile in Bako, begin to resemble a family portrait. Furthermore, the ceiling of Pappys sports stuffed heads of about every huntable animal one could think of. This morning the buffalo, coyote, and bear are adorned with santa hats to celebrate the upcoming holiday.

Despite its quirkiness, Bakersfield is home, and home to a community who loves each other deeply. I walked into Pappys this morning and immediately spotted 6 people I know at two different tables. I didn't think twice about it, but my companions who are from LA were shocked. This city feels a lot smaller than it is. People generally care about each other here... contrary to big cities where hustle and bustle is all people know. I think that's why people come back... to get a taste of community, stability, and the occasional whiff of the nearby farm.

The Flux of Writing

2006-12-09T08:30:00.000-08:00

My internal alarm clock woke me at 7:00 this morning. I looked over to see JD still sleeping, and nowhere near waking up, so I got out of bed and prepared myself some oatmeal with honey and a sprinkle of cinnamon. I've been bitten with the writing bug again so I decided to read some past writing - summer 2005. I scrolled through post after post of my blog entries in Europe, and fell in love with the experience all over again. I emailed Teddy just to remind her of the Charles Bridge, Ebel Cafe, our massages, Cream and Dream, and the 20 pounds I gained overseas.

Now I'm nearly finished with my oatmeal and JD is snoring softly in the other room. These moments of solitude are precious to me. I thought of driving to a coffee shop, but home is nice and knowing my husband is nearby comforts me. Besides, Bakersfield doesn't get much more original than Starbucks here, and buying drinks for full price at my previous place of employment is depressing.

Blog entry ideas have been floating around my head for days now. Just long enough for the novelty of the story to wear off and another new idea to surface. Time in my day does not often allow for the fruition of creative thought and so my ideas remain merely that - ideas. However, as I mentioned earlier, I've been bitten with the wriitng bug again. References to writing, stories, etc., literally flood my mind and enter my daily life throughout intersecting moments of each day. This frightens me. I owe it to God and myself to do something about it, but when it actually comes to sitting down with my laptop strategically placed and fingers hovering the keyboard, I feel as if I haven't a clue where to begin.

And then God says, "write for me."

Truth be known I haven't written in months. More than months. My blog entries and meager journal entries do not constitute the discipline of sitting down with the intention of compiling extensive creative thought into an outline and then something cohesive and tangible - a story or essay perhaps. Herein lies my struggle. My expectations for myself shoot through the roof, and my perceived expectations of others go nearly as high. Instead of settling with writing crappy stories, essays, and poems (with the possibility of improving this craft), I simply run away and occupy my time with something else. Like myspace or facebook. Just as productive.

But it's not about me. Or others really.

JD says, "just write."
"Write about what?" I ask.
"Anything. Just write." His candid, frank, and honest response.
He tells me Bakersfield will be very disappointed if I don't get a book published someday ;)

Another encounter with my writer friend, Jenny Hall, further prods me to get over myself and just write.
"If you don't like a story, just scrap it and start something new. If you see potential, work on it," She says after I ask her what she does with stories she doesn't like.
Jenny is going to start writing nonfiction again. I think I like nonfiction. It's easier to write. Anybody can write about themselves.

Do you see what I do to myself? I put all this pressure and emphasis on the success of my silly words. When really, I just like to write sometimes and if I am writing for God, truly writing for God, then it doesn't matter what I or anyone else thinks of it. God and I had this conversation the other day when He hit me with the epiphany that writing is worship and a discipline and it pleases Him. So do it because it pleases Him. (I'm dense. really dense sometimes)...

Oh, and another thing? It doesn't have to be Christian writing to please God. Obviously I will most likely incorporate Jesus into my writing, but for some reason I put this burden on myself to produce cheesy Christian writing when it still glorifies God to write about ESPN (which I might blog about to explain later). It's the craft not the content that brings Him glory.

Anywho... if you followed this nonsense all the way through - first of all, congratulations and thank you, and second of all... I'm going to start writing. I told my husband, and I am telling you. Once a week I will sit down for a few hours (to begin with at least) and write whatever my little heart contents and if it ever becomes something, fantastic, if not, fantastic - at least I wrote.

Stranger Than Fiction

2006-11-30T21:48:00.000-08:00

Saw a movie that changed my life. I don't yet know the significance of it; I don't know how my life changed exactly, but somehow, someway, a supernatual experience happened in the movie theatre last night. Perhaps it was just the innate, deep, clenching desire inside of my being to grasp the writing craft and hold it in my hand. Or maybe it was the connection made between my husband and I as we both resonated with the movie's use of literary devices and allusions. And then again, it just might have been the sheer brilliance of "Stranger Than Fiction" that kept me in awe long after the theatre lights turned on.

JD and I had the evening free last night so we decided to grab dinner and a movie. After Las Salsas tacos and taco salad, we bought tickets to the 7:25 showing of "Stranger Than Fiction." We sat in our seats with a medium diet soda between us and started to watch the movie. I was enthralled as I listened to the narrator begin her story - which, of course, is the premise of the entire movie. I won't go into details about the plotline so as not to ruin the movie for you, but JD and I had a blast reliving our past lectures from English professors and analyzing the several underlying motifs of the movie/novel. We literally sat in silence as the credits rolled with our mouths open in amazement. When the house lights went on we looked at each other and all we could say was "wow." JD and I both agreed it was the best movie we'd ever seen. And then we said no more. Literally, not a thing could be said about the movie afterwards but "brilliant" and "wow." In fact, I can't really say anything more about it.

See for yourself... but be prepared to think... it's not an "entertaining" movie. If you go with that mindset you'll miss the point completely.

From Quads to Football

2006-11-27T19:09:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was a whirlwind this year. From Bako to the cabin with my family and Andy & Darcy for Thursday, Friday, and part of Satruday, to a long trip to San Diego in order to make 9:00pm reservations at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse for Andy's birthday and an 11:00am tailgate at the Qualcomm stadium for field tickets to the Chargers/Raiders game and then back to Bako for a bedtime of 10:30pm. At work by 8:00 this morning and I'm still trying to focus my eyes. This is the life of the Groves family... we charge through the days with smiles on our faces. Yes, a little insane perhaps, but hey, tis the season!

We know no different

Now that I've mentioned the craziness of the last few days, let me unravel them for you a bit. At least the highlights anyway...

My favorite moment of the weekend occured over a three hour quad ride with my brother leading JD, me, Andy, and Darcy. Patrick took us through the serenity of a dense forest that rose above a blanket of clouds. As we scrambled over steep, rocky climbs up the side of the mountain, the five of us took turns yelping with delight at each next turn. Just before reaching our destination of the fire lookout, we drove our quads on a semi-open dirt road that wound its way around the mountain. Sunset was moments away and the gray-blue clouds which so divinely created a carpet over the mountaintops appeared a brilliant gold. We all stopped to take in the view; it was like none ever seen before. As we climbed back on the quads and took our turns in line, I remember feeling the sensation of pure glee. Almost like going to Disneyland as a kid or getting ready for Christmas morning... a moment independent from worry, stress, plans, work, a messy room, etc... Just enough time to take a breath and thank God for showing off His splendor for us - and then remembering that our lives are painted by the same God who so creatively makes each sunset glimmer across a once gray sky.

Our dinner was late, quiet, and completely splendid. Conversation was full of laughter, jokes, memories, dreams. Food was scrumptious (JD and I made the turkey - which means JD told me what to do and when), and sleep was needed. The next day the extended Roper family joined us for Thanksgiving dinner number two and we all enjoyed the bustle of more family members occupying the tiny cabin space.

After sleeping to grandpa's snores in the cabin, we headed to San Diego to celebrate Andy's birthday: a dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse and surprise Charger tickets to their last home game at the Q.

The pro football game was a first for each of us. Even JD, who played college ball, had never been. Needless to say, we were giddy when we found our seats at the field level on the 40 yd. line. After our tailgate of turkey burgers, kettle chips, grapes, carrots, Mike's lemonade, and beer, we headed into the stadium and into the heart of Raider Nation. Well, not really... we were in such good seats that most of the fans were merely obnoxious, something we were eager to take over the nosebleed seats which bred 7 fights over the course of the game. However, we were so excited to be at the game we just ignored the incredibly loud, obnoxious, and heinous Raider fan who was convinced that the Chargers had no idea the talent they were against. He shut up after Chargers went ahead in the fourth quarter. We made it out of the stadium safe and sound after a Charger win and into our car for the final stretch home to Bakersfield. Home Sweet Home.

Over Tortilla Soup

2006-11-21T21:56:00.000-08:00

We sat and visited like old friends. Caught up on life, relived memories, shared dreams and ideas... From one generation to the other... perspectives of new and old.
What a cherishable night. We forgot the garage door opener and knocked on the front door in order to get inside our upstairs apartment. Kathy was making tortilla soup so we sat down to a cold glass of iced tea and chatted about our days. Steve came home a while later and we were invited to dinner. Tortilla soup, corn bread, and delicious gourmet salad. An unlikely evening, as JD and I were planning to dine out and spend the night alone, we ended up being blessed by the loving, generous couple who hosts our temporary stay in Bakersfield. Though I've known the Salyers for 8-9 years, our contact has only been reconnected lately, and this shared meal - table fellowship according to Bartchy - was graced by the presence of Jesus.
Special special night... we are about to sit down to a bowl of popcorn and a movie. Celebration of one month of marriage! Yahoo!

Hitched, Honeymoon, and Hawaii

2006-11-14T20:20:00.000-08:00

Well, how in the world do you write about an event that completely changes one's life. An event thought about since childhood and brought into fruition at 22. An event planned out maticulously over five months. An event that is simply over in one night.
A wedding. Yes, a wedding. And not just any wedding, but my wedding.
It took place over three weeks ago, but I haven't had the time or stamina to write about it. I'm not sure I have it now, I'm just typing without any real plan in my head (despite the misgivings of my previous post). My husband is visiting with a friend this evening, and I have the apartment to myself for a couple hours. So here goes...

It was everything I dreamed it would be and more. The guests, the dress, the decorations, the dancing, the ceremony, the pictures... everything was simply lovely. And I embraced it all. I really did. I've been warned plenty of times and have observed myself the danger of letting the day fly by without ever absorbing the moment; so, I soaked it all in and loved every minute of it. I even remember RO's sermon and the four pursuits: pursue God, pursue love, pursue community, pursue glory. My favorite part of the day? The moment JD and I shared when we first saw each other. We met in the empty sanctuary with only photographers in the balcony above us. I walked down the aisle toward him, while he waited for me with his back turned. I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to me with a big gorgeous smile... my groom. We previously decided to exchange gifts at that time, so I handed him the homemade journal I worked on for weeks (in it are all the journal entries I wrote about him during the nine months I prayed that God would make him mine - some of my best and most vulnerable writing). He sat my down and sung/played a song he had written for me on the guitar - his best written yet ;). After prayer and a few seconds in the Word, we set out together to enjoy the rest of our day.... which was by far the best day of my life.

The day after our wedding we were supposed to head to Hawaii on a 1:30pm flight. However, due to some miscommunication about transportation, we arrived at the airport in a panic at 12:55pm. Too late. No, the plane hadn't left, but baggage check was closed and, despite the brilliant attempts of my superstar roommates (who graciously drove us to the airport), there was no grace. We were stuck in LA until 8:00am the next day. After a cry (on my part), JD and I set out to begin our honeymoon by quitting our jobs at Starbucks. Now, before you get any crazy ideas about us being irresponsible - I will just say that JD and I planned to live in LA, but, seeing as though our income consisted of a few days a week at Starbuucks, housing could not be afforded and we were offered an incredible opportunity to stay in an upstairs apartment of a friend's house in Bako. Thus, our plans changed and we needed to quit. SO we did, and were thrilled about it. We made up for missing out on the Hawaiin sunset for a day by going out to a nice dinner at the Stinking Rose and splurging on a hotel room at the Westin.

Once in Hawaii, we were exhausted and slept for four days. No really, we literally barely left the condo for four days and slept nearly the entire day. We joined the living only for food and then retreated back to the condo with our rented DVDs in hand. I might mention here that on day 2 we had the chance to visit a church in Kailua, HI - which was incredible and will be discussed further in this blog. Aside from resting in the condo, JD and I managed to venture out for 2 snorkling extravaganzas (which consisted of two terrified and inexperienced people out in the choppy sea by their lonesome), a couple of trips to Maui's finest beaches, a drive to Hana (which ended abruptly just 4 miles before the 7 Sacred Pools, due to the earthquake), and some of the most incredible dining experiences either of us have ever had. One restaurant even changed out our water to provide us with fresh, sweatfree water glasses! Our honeymoon was completely incredible... it really was. We relaxed, we enjoyed each other, saw beauty like we've never seen before, and made precious first memories as husband and wife.

Now for the Hawaii part. You thought the honeymoon was the Hawaii part didn't you? Well, actually, I mentioned Hawaii in the title because JD and I will be moving there mid-January. We will be apprentices at a church in Hawaii, leading the junior high group at Faith Baptist and partnering in the high school ministry with the Student Ministries Director, Sean. The apprenticeships require a two-year commitment so come visit the Groves in Hawaii sometime in the next two years! JD and I are both super excited about this opportunity to serve Jesus by loving kids. God has so faithfully answered all of our prayers and given us more than we knew to even ask for. We know that God has some incredible things for His children in Hawaii, and we are excited to be a part of it. I suppose more will have to be written on this subject, but for now, just know that we are most likely moving to Hawaii in two months.

As for now, I am filling in for an employee at my dad's office until she returns from maternity leave, and JD is working odd jobs everyday - sometimes a ranch hand, sometimes a Multi Business Systems employee, sometimes mover... whatever works! If you need labor done, let us know! We are happily living in a gorgeos one bedroom apartment in Bakersfield, enjoying every bit of the fall weather and proximity of the Burdette family. Well.... here is the update - as much as I can give of it anyway... from now on, I'll write from the present without playing catch up. Thanks for your faithfulness my dear readers.

Bloggers arise

2006-11-11T08:26:00.000-08:00

I'm so sorry for my lengthy inactivity. I realize some very significant events and changes have occured in my life the past few weeks - and I haven't written a thing about it. Hmmm. What to say except - trust me, it's coming, My writing brain is racking up the magnitude of the events and attempting to plan out a cohesive blog entry. Stay tuned. Some pictures will be coming as well. Again, stay tuned.

For some very important news... My HUSBAND, JD Groves, who is an incredible writer himself, has just began blogging. I never thought it would happen, but alas, he stayed up way too late last night setting up his first blog. You can find him on my links or here:

http://www.jdgroves.blogspot.com

And another thing... my dearest friend Caitlin Dizinno is up and at it again in the blogging world and I have since added her new link to her name (Rather than sending you to her old link) Check it out - another extremely creative and talented writer.

On my way to LA for a bachelorette party for a friend whose wedding takes place next week. Marks third wedding in 6 weeks - mine included. CRAZY

10 days

2006-10-10T23:56:00.000-07:00

10 more days until we tie the knot. Getting ready. Meetings, meetings, meetings. Appointments, fittings, shopping trips, tying bows, folding paper, phone calls, writing thank you notes, opening presents, displaying presents, praying for a place to live - anyplace, crying, laughing, nerves, frustration, pure joy, lack of sleep, no appettite... sound like I'm 10 days away? Powering through it.

This was a hard day - but in this hard day I had one of the sweetest moments in my entire life. I was sitting on the floor in the den, folding clothes. My dad came in to see if I had gone over the final draft of the program - which I had, sorta. He started asking me questions about order and such, and I realized I hadn't looked at anything really. So what do I do? Quiver my lip and let tears stream down my face (for time number 4 of the day). My sweet sweet 17 year old brother, who was sitting in the computer chair next to me, drops to the floor and wraps his arms around me and rubs my back for a good few minutes. Of course this makes me cry harder (As I am right now - good grief) so he just keeps rubbing my back and holding me tight. When I can finally breathe I said, "You're a sweet brother." He replied, "well, you're a sweet sister." More tears. What a tender moment that was... worth every tear spilt.

A Glimpse of Heaven

2006-10-07T18:25:00.000-07:00

I experienced today what I imagine Heaven will be like. Not pearly gates or golden paved roads (or whatever it is we imagine it to look like - I don't really know for sure), nor a Heavenly chorus of Angelic voices... but rather a glimpse of communication with our Father.
Lately I have asked God for glimpses of His love for me. I need this sometimes - just reassurances I guess. And, as He is always so faithful, today He reminded me in the sweetness of a bridal shower. As ladies of all ages and walks of lives shared around the tables their favorite memory of me, I was struck with the gift of Divine affirmation. Just as God will walk us through our lives [in Heaven] and say "well done" at our times of obedience and "my grace is sufficient" when our sinful nature takes over, these ladies gave me the gift of love, grace, and acceptance that is only offered through the love of Christ.
Perhaps the defining moment for me occured as Sandy Bergam shared a devotional with all of us about the adventure of living for God. In the middle of her talk, she began sharing a few quotes with us about this very topic. All of the sudden she said, "and this quote was written recently by another fantastic writer..." She began reading these words: Sometimes the Call is a radical, transforming spiritual experience. But sometimes it really just stems from a deep seated desire, instilled by the Holy Spirit, to do something... I thought about these words for a moment as she continued to read on, and I realized that she was reading the very words I wrote in my last entry. Two things stood out to me in that moment: 1) I need to listen to what I write 2) What an affirmation. Not an affirmation in the sense that I am a good writer, but in the sense that God affirms me. Me. In all my weaknesses and struggles and mess ups, God affirms who I am because I am a Daughter of the King.
Today was a beautiful affirmation of my life, of God's presence in and around me, and of encouragement for what is to come.
Again I say thank you for blessing me... Thank you to all the beautiful women (and Grover) who made today so special. May God's blessings pour upon you in abundance.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

2006-09-30T20:56:00.000-07:00

Shawn McDonald. Anne Lamott. Bubble Bath. Chai Latte.

Soaked in the tub tonight... put my book down and listened to Shawn's voice filling the empty apartment. "Somewhere over the rainbow..." he sings. Gets me thinking. What is beyond my rainbow? What am I waiting for? Dreaming of? Hoping for? I don't really know the purpose of the song - I stop listening after "bluebirds sing." But I do think. And pray. And contemplate.
My soul is incredibly tranquil right now. "Peace that surpasses all understanding." I think that sometimes means contentment in the midst of circumstances void of common sense.
When I first started thinking about "my rainbow" - if you will - I thought about the urgent prayer requests of my heart... Please Lord... can't I know now? Should I be searching more? What do I do? And then came the peace.

In three weeks I will be married to a man I never imagined I would find. My wildest dreams never included the man I will marry because I was convinced he didn't exhist. And yet God blew me away. He's not only the man who shares my dreams and passions... he's the man who twirls me around in Kento's because Natasha Bedding is blaring over the loud speaker. He's the man who brings me my favorite flowers on a consistant basis "just because." He's the man who is not satisfied with my short, terse, and foolishly false responses to "are you ok?" - the man who relentlessly asks questions until I spill. He's the man who encourages me to cry because it is good to cry. He is the one who prays for me when I can't - and lately I can't. He's the one who holds my hand and listens as I have my emotional outbursts (which, for obvious reasons, are nearly out of control as of late). He is the one who doesn't let me get away with stupid sensitivity. He is the man who made my chai latte tonight because he's working late at the Bux. My rainbow...

In a moment of panic and frustration last week, I asked JD to remind me why we decided to get married so soon (no - I wasn't having second thoughts or doubts - not at all... I just needed to be reminded, because in the midst of wedding plans I think I forgot). He patiently told me... "because we're madly in love Annie." Oh yes... love. Phew. There really needn't be any other explanation than that. Sometimes the Call is as simple as the Desire.

I remember Orientation Week of Calvin Crest summer staff my first year. People were sharing why they chose to serve on staff and some pretty crazy stories came up. Last minute decisions, rebellion and then return, etc. etc. I remember sitting in my chair feeling rather uncomfortable. Had I been called? I didn't remember having some elaborate spiritual experience where God shoved me toward the mountain. Did that mean I wasn't really supposed to be there? These questions and more like them swirled around my head for a few moments and then I remembered... I just really wanted to be there. For most of my adolescent life I longed to be on staff at Calvin Crest and there I was. The Call.

Sometimes the Call is a radical, transforming spiritual experience. But sometimes it really just stems from a deep seated desire, instilled by the Holy Spirit, to do something. I've wanted to do youth ministry for several years now. So I'm doing it. God didn't sit me down in a chair and audibly tell me to go into youth ministry... but He might as well have because every time I think I can run from it - He just brings me back to this place, and in this place I find peace. So here I am. At peace. Excited to get married. Resting in God's presence and trusting like a child who is tired of running around asking the question "are we there yet?" I'm here and I'm waiting. The harvest is plenty and the workers are few. So let me be a worker... He'll do the rest.

Enchiladas

2006-09-19T17:33:00.000-07:00

This post actually has nothing to do with enchiladas. My mom made some for JD, my roommates, and I because JD and I are starting to get skinny due to being poor. Such is this moment in life. Still unsure of what the day after the honeymoon holds, we treck on - trying desperately to trust our Heavenly Father. The thing about the Call - which Jesus warns his disciples about - is the fact that earthly comfort and treasures may never be the condition of our lives ("the Son of Man has no place to lay His head"). Jesus necessarily demands our willingness to give up our lives... to let go of earthly ambitions. And in the very same breath, Jesus speaks of the lilies of the field and the birds of the air and how they are dressed finely and fed heartily... Seek First. His Kingdom. I don't mean that everyone who follows Jesus will be poor... but there is something very relevant about Jesus' words. And so as JD and I daily surrender our plans, our hopes, and all the details of life to God... as we choose to obey and follow His call - we wait and hope for the glory of the King.
Logistically this means we wait for God to provide temporary and very affordable housing in LA (or elsewhere if He calls us), jobs in ministry in which both JD and I are equally involved, and whatever else it is that happens in between. Weee!

Enchiladas are done.

Season of Blessing

2006-09-11T16:52:00.000-07:00

To be honest I don't know if I've ever felt more celebrated or loved than in this season of my life. No doubt I've felt the grace and compassion of the body of Christ when I've gone through seasons of sorrow or sadness... but in this hour I just feel loved for who I am - not for the circumstances I'm in that might warrant encouragement, sympathy, and prayer - but just because God has placed people in my life who love me. Yesterday I attended my second bridal shower. Some of my bridesmaids and friends put it on for me in an adorable park nestled in the neighborhood just beyond UCLA. Old trees cornered the park and quaint paths weaved over mounds of well manicured grass. Our little corner was marked off with balloons, decorated chairs, flowers, tables with exquisite food (thanks Caitlin), a handmade bookcase for our book collection, and pictures of JD and I hanging from a tree. It literally took me off guard... all this work... in celebration of me and my upcoming marriage. And the people... old roommates, friends from out of town, current roommates, beloved high school friends... all there to bless me and send me in to this marriage with their love and support. The games were fun - not cheesy - just genuine good, personal, and relevant fun. Games that reflect who I am and who my friends are to me... Gifts were also fun - not too many details there... but oh isn't marriage exciting?
After the shower Cait, Jen, and I went to Novel Cafe and talked for hours over cranberry iced tea and lattes. Just like old times... Reliving moments, updating each other on new ones, laughing about each other's unique quirks that make us so fond of one another... Just sisters in Christ reveling in each other and in God's goodness.
This morning I opened up the journal that the girls made for me and wrote in - all the guests wrote on pages throughout the journal - and of course I peaked. Reading the reflections and well wishes of such precious friends just struck in me how little of who they see is me. My response to their words is to feel nothing short of amazement. God uses me, loves me, blesses me, and moves me even when I feel like I'm in the dryest of deserts. I am overwhelmed.
Words really can't say how grateful I am at this point. The blessings of my friends and family - both mine and JD's just seems to big for me. I am literally left speechless because I don't know how I can ever thank them enough for planning the wedding, showers, trips to New York, paying for our honeymoon, throwing me surprise showers, calling me to ask how they can help, taking over responsibilities of the bride just so I can spend more time with JD, making me bookshelves and rich food, writing notes and cards of encouragement with words that touch the core of my heart, and over all - just being super excited about this marriage that is so clearly ordained by the Lord. I can't help but just be excited about the fact that in 40 days, I will marry the man of my dreams and have the support of the world behind me. I couldn't have asked for a better wedding present or life gift. So thank you those who pray, those who encourage, those who teach me, those who give gifts, those who sing songs, those who are generous... thank you. May God bless you in His great abundance as you have blessed me...

This Time

2006-08-29T20:42:00.000-07:00

The empty apartments we left held many memories for us. Closing the door and turning in the keys to our old apartments meant the official end of college life. Each box carried down to our small sedans reminded of meals shared with friends, late night conversations with roommates, Pop Culture Trivial Pursuit with 101 v. 310, scooter rides and church meetings, all-nighters and exams, walks to Starbucks for hours of studying, precious and few solitary moments, midnight praise and worship, and everything in between.

Like an 8 page english paper due at 8 in the morning with only two pages written by 11:00pm, JD and I found ourselves in our separate apartments with barely anything packed at 4:00pm with a mandate to be out by 6:00pm (we both live in the same apartment complex). To top it off, our roommates had already left so we were on our own to trudge through the remaining dishes, trash, unclaimed linens, and food. At 5:00am we finished and drove to very temporary homes. JD is staying on the floor of a friend's place and I am living with my roommates on a couch. It was emotional for us... our eyes misted as we closed the door to the life we knew so well.

And for a couple months at least, in this very wierd transition time, we won't know anything really... Where we're going, when we're going... We find ourselves praying together daily, sometimes more than once, in our humble attempt to hear our God.

Today we polished our resumes and wrote a cover letter. Now it's time to send them out... send them to churches anywhere and everywhere. Our hearts and minds are ready for action - ready to be thrown into the world of youth ministry as more than just volunteers. With Chap Clark in our back pockets, hearts shaped with experience, and R.O. and Mindy's words of wisdom in our minds... and with the passion and desire given by the Holy Spirit, we seek to devote each day and night to serving the kingdom through ministering to youth. We love it. Never have either of us been more certain of the call and yet are completely unaware of the means or direction... In our attempts to discern, we have no choice but to surrender our own timelines, our biases and presumptions, and stand in this place - as awkward and hard and emotional and truthfully terrifying as it may be... we are called to patience and faith.

Please pray...

2006-08-29T13:06:00.000-07:00

Please pray for us as JD and I seek to hear and respond to God's direction for us in this hectic time... We are seeking to serve Him vocationally in Youth Ministry, and the search is baffling, confusing, frustrating, exciting, and terrifying. More to come...

My Crazy Cousin

2006-08-09T13:36:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to alert you all of my cousin's 2 year adventures riding the spine of the Americas with two companions. Starting in the Northernmost tip of Alaska and ending at the tip of South America, Jacob and two buddies are cycling endless roads with incredible adventures. If you want a good read that seems nearly fiction, go to their website: www.ridingthespine.com and read their stories... You'll read of wolf chases and raw egg nutrition, wrong turns and guardian angel truckers... I'm so proud ;)

Vernal Falls

2006-07-31T00:20:00.000-07:00

JD and I nearing the top of Vernal Falls on the family camping trip to Yosemite

Just gonna throw this out there

2006-07-31T00:17:00.000-07:00

It is a good idea to tip your Starbucks Baristas...

It must be messy

2006-07-28T08:45:00.000-07:00

Prayer must be messy. There is nothing clean or romantic or fuzzy feeling about getting on your knees (especially with someone else - as we are often caled to do) and exposing your soul to Him. Everything must come out. We like the idea of prayer - it sounds good - but when the Spirit summons you to prayer, it's bound to be painful, exposing, terrifying, humbling, beautiful, and healing all at the same time.

I feel like we sometimes romanticize the Christian walk. Oh how lovely it would be to wake up each morning, do a bit of journaling, prayer, and read God's Word... To have great "Quiet Times" with the Lord where we feel safe and warm and assured of His presence... And then perhaps we'll work at a Church or volunteer our time doing good for the community. And this lifestyle will make Him pleased with us....

I think this is all well and good - don't get me wrong. But after a while, something messy has to come of it. And I don't mean circumstances as if a loved one has died or there has been a painful breakup or something of that sort. If we really do as we say we want to do, the outcome must be complete exposure to one's sin - the depth of his/her sin where satan has hidden his bondage. And most likely that bondage has been there for a long time - perhaps our entire lives. But God must get at it if we are to be His disciples. It's not fun, it's not safe, it's not terribly exciting (though out hearts may know deep down that it has to be exciting because God is working in us)... but it's necessary. In order for God to get at us we must let HIm do the dirty work. And we have to be in it right there with Him - it's not some fragmented concept I once thought it was where God inserted His hand and made me whole. No... for Him to do the dirty work in our hearts means to be painfully exposed and alive, to be fully awake during a complicated surgery yet feel as if you are asleep because there might be numbness that comes with it. And God does His work until He is satisfied because He is a Holy God. I think this is a good thing. It doesn't feel like a good thing but I know it is a good thing. Because He is good... and our faith is more precious to Him than gold.

Learning new meaning of refinement...

Spiritual Poverty

2006-07-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of those days. Car broke down after work in the hot summer weather. Tow truck came. Car shop was closed... must wait a day. Nausiated because of antibiotics and ear infection. Very tired. Haven't a clue what October will bring... where we will live, what we will do, how we will sleep (no bed). Debt and financial burdens looming overhead. Spiritally poor too...

This is the place God has me. Must TRUST. Even if by a thread. Relying on what I know to be true about God rather than what I feel about God. I feel nothing. There is no spiritual hallibaloo. Spiritual poverty keeps me praying for mercy and grace and for God to be much bigger than me.

Expectations escape as they are never met. We must expect God but not "how" God. Felt the Call for years... now it's put into motion and I feel nothing. Is there something wrong with me or is there something Divine in the need to feel small, insignificant, dry, unworthy, and unfeeling... There are no fireworks in my heart - the romance gone from my vision... Yet I still trust because I know God. I know God and I know His call. Obedience and faith - His requirements.

Is this discouragement or real life. Is this attack or is it necessary to the Call. Is this the effect of sin or is it God's faithful silence.
...

I cannot do it on my own...

"The Two Shall Become One" means more than two people

2006-06-19T10:22:00.000-07:00

Talking to Fraser in the car and then Gladys over BBQ dinner opened my eyes to something last night. I am marrying into a family rich with spiritual heritage. I knew JD's family loved God - there was no question about that... but the depth to which their faith extended, I hadn't a clue. It started to hit me when Fraser, JD's dad, started sharing his journey of faith and the glimpses of God that the Holy Spirit had given him that I was joining a family that knew and understood and lived for Jesus. Fraser started talking about the formation of Virginia's (JD's mom) family and how he met Virginia and I was blown away by the process of which God so divinely inserted His hand. My realization that God was entering me into this family for purposes that surpassed JD and I was confirmed when I listened to Gladys' (JD's grandmother) story. Her experiences of life are truly marked by the Maker's hand, and though the road has been hard for her, God has taken her on a journey that could parallel one of the Old Testament heroes.

When I think about marriage, I think about the union of two people, in my case, - JD and me. And yet we are merely two people who are part of a much larger picture... With this marriage, God is joining two families - both of which have a remarkable spiritual depth and display of love. I am beginning to understand the Spiritual significance of this marriage, and it includes heritage and geneology. God loves geneology. The entire Old Testament outlines the geneological history of families of the faith (all the way until Jesus' birth - which came through the line of David). There is something that God does spiritually through families. I'm so excited to see how God works in our marriage, and how He uses each of us as individuals to add to the spiritual heritage of each other's families.

I feel like I've only brushed the surface to understanding what God is doing and what it means to marry into another family. I am still discovering more about myself, my own family's heritage, and my fiance's family history... And with each new piece of knowledge, I get more and more excited to marry this man and start our journey together as husband and wife. My desire is that together we would be a force for Christ in this world, because there is no doubt in my mind that His hand has ordained this marriage.

I'm an alumni

2006-06-19T10:20:00.000-07:00

I graduated. WOOHOO!!! I guess I'm still processing the significance of the occasion... Lauren's gone and Anna's leaving. It's Monday morning and I don't have class to attend or reading to do. Wierd. More later. The big new is, I graduated from UCLA.

A Little of My Heart

2006-06-10T22:14:00.000-07:00

I realize that I should be reading Shakespeare right now, and I probably will as soon as I am done with this entry. But sometimes there are occasions to write because the heart yearns to be heard...

This is a wierd season for me. Good, but wierd nonetheless. What does it mean that I'm graduating in a week? What does it mean that I'm getting married in less than five months? What does it mean that the dynamics of many of my relationships have and will continue to change? What does it mean that my ideas of ministry, that the longing of my heart for past ministries are no longer options? Why do I look forward to the next step so eagerly, and yet look at the shaping moments of my life with such fondness that I feel like I could go back to them in a second - not to stay, but to visit (i.e. Calvin Crest).

The truth is, I am His. I belong to no one but the Father. Not my parents, not my friends, not JD... but Him. I am His. He calls me and I go. Sometimes stubbornly, sometimes reluctantly, sometimes willingly, sometimes eagerly, sometimes fearfully... but I always go. That's the nature of my heart. In the act of being His, I am accountable to Him - to trust Him and to abide with Him. I am reminded of when I had a bone tumor my sophomore year of high school. My parents were devestated and scared, but they realized that I wasn't theirs. I was and continue to be God's. He does with me what He wants and the world has no say in it. Do I understand that? Do I live freely in that? Am I willing to understand that people are hurt by that? Do I entrust others to Him just as He has entrusted myself to Him? Do I realize that just as He is doing a work in me, He is doing so in others too? Or am I so self absorbed that I live my life pleasing people and worrying about their feelings?

Enough, He says.

Move with me, He summons.

I am on this path right now... this journey that is taking me somewhere. I know of some of His plans, I am confident of marriage and something to do with seminary... but I have no idea where He is taking me. I've stopped trying to figure it out - I'm trying to live in it now. I know that the cry of my heart is to live unreservedly for Jesus, to live 'radically' (as I so often used to say) for the furtherance of the Kingdom. And although my heart isn't always in it, although the desert of this faith keeps me wondering, I know that He shaped my heart first and claims it always.

More than ever I am learning to be confident of who I am in Christ... and it doesn't lie in my talents, spiritual gifts, dreams, relationships, struggle with sin, sins that I've committed, etc... Who I am rests solely in being claimed by Him. It is here that I find freedom.

Right now I smell a campfire. I realize I'm in the middle of the city - and it is probably just a BBQ or something - but it brings me back to a nostalgic place nonetheless. In this place I am sitting around a campfire with a handful of brothers and sisters in Christ. We're roasting marshamallows and singing to the strum of a guitar. We play hotseat, getting to know each other in our vulnerability. Plans are being made for the summer... and we laugh. a lot. I'm taken back there and then taken to the idea that there will be more campfires to come. More fellowship around an intimate circle... more laughs... I'm reminded that we go through seasons and that it is necessary. That our faith is not meant to be stagnant, but rather ever changing... So here we go in this thing called life... We go boldly into the next season because He is guiding us. We understand that our call is not to live comfortably, but to live willing to be stretched and changed and transformed.

It's late now, and this entry is long. It's a bit scattered I know... but in the midst of the cluttered words, there is a piece of my heart. Good night friends. Rest well.

HA HA

2006-06-10T22:04:00.000-07:00

So JD and I were just asked to be apart of the Middle School skit for Student Sunday at Bel Air Pres... what's so funny about this? Well... first of all, Bel Air is home to many professional actors and those striving to break through into the industry, and JD and I are nothing of the sort... Secondly, we act as a couple who gets divorced. Apparently we're getting divorced before we get married!

Grrr

2006-06-10T00:20:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like you have soooo much to do that you don't even know where to begin and so you do something else instead? That's the story of my life right now. I started working on a paper today, got sidetracked, and watched two movies instead. I'm going to bed. Tomorrow is a new day. Here's to hoping I graduate.

Something's Missing

2006-06-05T10:21:00.001-07:00

I am missing community. I put myself in too many communities, not ever fully experiencing the body of Christ in any of them. It was my attendance and not my heart that showed up. I will be glad when my responsibilities with some of these communities is over. Not because I don't value the ministry or the people, but because I did too much this year. Each day was filled with some sort of commitment and it drained everything I had in me to the point of feeling utterly empty. I didn't realize what it was until yesterday. I feel like I robbed my aparment of myself this year. I feel like I sometimes robbed JD of myself this year. I certainly robbed my family and close friends of myself. And I most definately robbed the ministries I was involved in this year. And I was robbed too. But lesson learned. This is not a lamentable entry where I regret my entire senior year... no. I learned. I am so looking forward to simplicity. I can't wait until I am able to rest in my own space, to spend time carefully and not flagrantly. To go wherever He calls me to. Jesus did nothing without asking the Father first. I need to learn this. So I press on to take hold of the prize... and I know now there is no rush.

Engaged!!!

2006-05-26T01:09:00.000-07:00

At noon today, Jonathan David asked me to be his wife. Here is the story...

I woke up at 7 am this morning, bright and chipper for a new day. On impulse, I called JD and offered to get he and Andy (his best friend from home who is staying over for a few days) some Starbucks. After I brought back their drinks and pastries, JD and I headed off to our Thursday morning class as usual. Class was good, nothing out of the ordinary - just a 3 hour seminar. After class was dismissed, I waited in the hallway FOREVER for JD to go to the bathroom (he had gone earlier in the break so I wasn't surprised that he needed to go again.... apparently it was nerves). However, unbeknownst to me, JD was attaching a microphone to his chest, underneath his shirt. He came out of the bathroom, I made some sort of remark about the length of time he was in there, and we walked out of the building.

Now, I normally have class after this, but I had already decided I would miss it in order to work on the paper that is due tomorrow... so we walked in the direction of home together. Our conversation was very normal and engaging as we discussed class. JD wanted to show me something that was written on the building of Royce Hall that actually pertained to our class, and so I was quite distracted by looking at the roof and enjoying the day. After walking through the corridor of Royce Hall, we started to walk by the fountain that sits between Royce and Powell Library (a gorgeous spot on UCLA's campus). He casually said to me, "homegirl, I have a question for you" to which I replied, "well I have an answer for you.? He then said, "so when are you going to marry me?" (He does this allll the time so it was nothing new to me. I gave him my typical answer, "whenever you ask me...." and at that moment, he dug into his backpack and got out a jewelry box with the ring in it. He got down on one knee and said great things and asked me to be his wife. Of course I said yes a bunch of times before he even finished and we hugged and kissed and then heard applause... As it turns out, we were being videotaped by Andy and RO Smith and his wife Mindy (middle school leaders at Bel Air). JD's mike recorded the entire conversation and one of my best friends even popped her head out of the crowd. JD had it all planned out and a few special people were there to witness the proposal.

After some more pictures and staring at the ring, we walked home and headed off for a day of fun activities. JD had prepared a wonderful picnic and we went to the Getty to eat lunch. Throughout lunch we started calling our parents and talking about the date, etc... After lunch JD took me to Bloomingdales so I could buy a dress for dinner. We had a great time picking out a beautiful dress and then, after a shower and getting ready, JD came into my apartment with flowers, wearing a suit, and Andy walking close behind with the camera. We took more pictures and then went to this great Italian restauraunt on Ocean Blvd. for dinner. The night ended with us watching the video tapes and talking with friends. It's been absolutely surreal.
So the date is set... On October 21, 2006, JD and I will become Mr. and Mrs. Groves. Ahhhh!!!! This has been such a special day. My ring is gorgeous (thanks to my amazing cousin who did an incredible job picking out the diamond), my fiance even more gorgeous, and God is so good. I can't even begin to tell you all of the details that God blessed us with throughout this process, but I can tell you that this day has been more special than I could ever have imagined.

Blessed be His Name

Because I haven't written in awhile

2006-05-08T16:00:00.000-07:00

It seems as if this time of the quarter always sneaks up on me. The first five weeks cruise on by with perhaps a paper or two, some quizzes, and reading... but all of a sudden I find myself running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Exam dates are approaching, papers are due, five more weeks of madness will ensue and then it will be all over. All over. Done. College as I know it will be finished. Of course more school is to follow so it isn't like my role as a student is over - not at all. But it will be different... grad school/seminary will be different I think. There are more responsibilities, more tailored studies, and college life will suddenly grow up. I can't wait... it's funny, I am sitting in Novel trying to write a stupid midterm that is haunting me because the reading for it is SOOO boring and yet I'm still excited that my life consists of reading and writing and attending classes and living a schedule full of bizarre hours. Wierd.

This is such a time where it seems like college age students are either still freaking out because they "don't know what they want to do with the rest of their lives" or are finally realizing the direction they want to pursue for the moment and are at peace with the fact that the next step is merely that - the next step. We get this notion in our head that we need to know exactly what our calling in life is, or how we're going to spend the rest of our lives locked in some career job wearing three piece suits and carrying a briefcase everymorning. We're 21 or 22 with the whole world ahead of us and the idea of being completely on our own (which is our perception) terrifies us, stiffling the dreams we dreamt in the first three years of college about changing the world and traveling and spending hours in coffee shops talking about whatever it is we talk about in coffee shops. I wonder what would happen if we slowed down for a second, forgot that we are still extremely young with endless options and really pursued our wildest dreams... Yes I guess I still am a dreamer. Call me an idealist or unrealistic or whatever, but I have to believe we're given this drive for changing the world and going crazy places for a reason. What would happen if we surrendered those dreams to God and then trusted Him with it... Oh the places we'd go...

I'm there. Pursuing something that grabbed a hold of my dreams about 6 years ago... Ready to take on the world... I love this.

Shaving Cream Extravaganza!

2006-05-03T12:21:00.000-07:00

Just got pictures back from our shaving cream war that I wrote about a while ago... oh those crazy college kids!!!

Thoughts for the Moment

2006-04-28T16:02:00.000-07:00

"...would you do for yourself what you have just done for your brother? Would you so eagerly and enthusiastically forgive yourself, accept yourself, and love yourself? ... 'If the Lord Jesus Christ has washed you in his own blood and forgiven you all your sins, how dare you refuse to forgive yourself?"
-excerpt from Brennan Manning's Signature of Jesus

When I read these words awhile ago they struck me - and now, as I flip through the book again and remember the impact, I wonder how often we believe them? Just thoughts for the moment - on my way to a busy and fun weekend, just wanted to share with you words that cleared my vision.

Saturday Morning

2006-04-22T12:43:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning at 9:58 to my phone buzzing with a number I didn't recognize. I pressed ignore and tried to keep sleeping, but I had reached the point where sleeping was no longer an option. I listened to my voicemail and discovered a job offer from Bank of America as a teller - they read my resume on monster. It was nice to know that if I was ever desperate for a job, monster was a good resource. I had already received two calls regarding my resume.

The sky looked overcast when I looked out my window and I decided reading outside would have to wait until later in the day. The next best alternative was to head down to a coffee shop in Westwood with my Brennan Manning book, journal, and Bob Dylan's autobiography. I called JD to see if he wanted to join. He sleepily agreed and we walked beneath a cloudy sky to one of our favorite spots in Westwood. Novel Cafe was busy this morning. We claimed the only two comfy seats that were open and ordered extra foamy coffee drinks and pastries. Double lowfat extra foamy latte with a bagel and cream cheese for me, and a double extra foamy latte with a blueberry muffin for JD. I opened my book, Signature of Jesus, and began reading - stopping only to sip my mocha and eat my bagel. JD read John Donne for our God and Intellectual Conversation in the 17th century seminar. We like to do this sort of thing. As coffee shop junkies, one of our favorite activities is to go and read in a cultured coffee shop (although we revert to Starbucks often because the 30% discount lures us in).. soaking in the atmosphere and engaging our minds with the small print sprawled out page after page.

While I was reading, I realized that I am constantly thinking. In class, while reading, while exercising, while sitting still, while driving, while talking... Sometimes I wish my mind would give itself a break. I wish I could focus on that which is before me rather than the million things that are impertinant but still entertain my mind each moment of the waking day. I'm still being told to be less busy. To rest. To be silent, still, and confident in His sovereignty. It's something that is contrary to my nature. I remember attending AIM the summer before my senior year and we had a lesson on solitude. I don't remember if it was Becky, Ryan, or Steven who gave the lesson, but I remember talking to Steven about it later during evaluations. I desperately wanted to be still and hear God's voice. I had tried a couple times before but hadn't really heard anything that resonated as the voice of the Almighty. I remember Steven told me it could take time, that the act of being still before God was a discipline, and that we couldn't choose when God would speak. He said it could take two weeks or twenty years. It only took a few weeks after that conversation to hear His voice and know it was His. I hear Him best when I am on my knees in a closed room, usually my closet or bedroom. Lately I hear this: "Trust and abide" and "I am well pleased with you daughter." Sometimes it is instructional, but the past 6 months have consisted of these words. And I must rest in these words, for my Maker whispers them to me, knowing me in a way I don't even know me.

I didn't realize this is where my blog was going this morning. I was only inspired by the serene moments in the coffee shop to write, but beneath the pleasure of reading books that cause my spine to tingle and goosebumps to raise on my arms because of who God is, there are thoughts begging to be released in writing. And so I wrote them - take them for whatever they are worth to you... they are merely glimpses of my heart and mind... both of memory and of present... and in writing them on this laptop that so often bears the depths of my ever wandering mind, I am at peace once more.

Carpe Diem

The Temptation of the Elite

2006-04-11T21:40:00.000-07:00

I bought into intellectualism. The appeal of the academic, the pull to the elite, and the desire to contribute something to the world in the way of scholastic thought finally got the best of me. I will confess to you now that in my present circumstance, I am aware that many of my academic goals and career plans have been tainted with the desire for elevated superiority. Pride is an evil thing, and when allowed to live and breathe and move nearly unnoticed (I say nearly because I am often aware of its existence), it becomes an instrument of destruction - one that prevents the child's cry of "Abba..."

There is an unsettling in my soul. Marred by low self-esteem (the very worst pride) in the academic world coupled with the desire to be something of a brilliant mind, I constantly find myself facedown with each self-proclaimed failure. And when I "fail," I fear my value has been depleted. As if my academic success could charter my worth in His eyes... And I say His eyes because His are the only ones that matter. But if I were to be honest with you, I would say that my perception of my worth as an individual has come to rest in this competitive, academic, small world of which I feel I am the least of... and I'm afraid someone will find out. I need to be honest with you because if I can't face my sin and confess it to others, it will fester and boil into something even more despicable.

I dropped a class tonight. My mom said I don't have to tell anybody if I don't want to, but for some reason I have no problem telling anyone and everyone my struggles (I am a paradox)... and there was a lesson learned in dropping this class, and so I will share. Dropping this class means I will not obtain my english minor. Many of you will read this and think to yourself, "she's only one class away - why give up now?" Believe me - I've asked myself the same question over and over again... but in this quest to eliminate hurry, to irradicate busyness, to relieve myself from stress... I just can't do it. I thought I could and I wanted to prove to myself and to others that I could do it - but I can't. And that's ok. There are several reasons I suppose for which my decision is justified, but none of these matter to my readers... I did it.

At the core of this struggle is my Savior's call to rest... to trust... to abide. When I asked God about the class, He was gracious in His response: "it's ok Annie. You can drop it. Doesn't change a thing about the way I see you or the plans I have for you." So I will trust this peace. My cry daily is to Abba, for this title seems appropriate. Even now I envision myself in His arms, in His peace, in His compassionate, loving, and utterly accepting gaze. Free from the burden of myself, I am utterly His.

I will not act as if the battle is over, or that any call to academia is now null and void... rather I believe my perspective has changed. Maybe I am growing up. Maybe I am realizing there is more to life than this microcosm of intellectual intensity that surrounds me at UCLA. Maybe I need a break... time away from school so I can listen without the screaming temptation of desire to scale the wall of the intellectual elite... not that intellectualism or academia is bad - no, this is far from my belief... rather, the stigma and appeal that coincide so neatly with pride rots my perspective on scholarly achievements. If I write a book someday with a PhD next to my name, I want it to be because God, in His infinite wisdom and grace, called me to the task, not because I decided it would be a good idea to change the world in this way. And may it be so... may the grace of God precede the calling and may I be ever sensitive to discern the voice that demands humility.

Because my dad said so

2006-04-05T19:47:00.000-07:00

Soooo it's been ages since I've written anything. I apologize, but due to the lack of innovation, inspiration, and being without a laptop, I have left the keyboard untouched. I type this as JD is preparing country peach passion tea for our much needed studytime (which for me will consist of mapping out the quarter and getting myself thoroughly organized). We just returned from an Athletes in Action leadership meeting in which the group sat around a circle of In & Out Burgers and shared our hearts with one another. It was a good meeting - like the ones you dream about when you think 0f the body of Christ meeting together... prayer, honesty, vulnerability, encouragement, praise, the Word, and food.

Earlier today was my roommate Anna's birthday party - possibly one of my favorites yet. A huge group of college students rallied up at Sunset Recreation Area on a huge grass field for some Ultimate Frisbee and shaving cream... The goal? A tag must include a handful of shaving cream and I must say that by the end of the game, we were a bunch of white ghosts walking around. Shaving cream was in our hair, our ears, swimsuits, eyes, and anywhere else you could think of. It was great... The afternoon also included volleyball, football, and a huge barbeque! Such a great way to begin the quarter...

And while I'm at it - I might as well add that this quarter will be the hardest. I'm taking 4 classes, 3 english and 1 history in order to actually obtain my english minor and GRADUATE in June - woohoo! This means I don't have to take another quarter; I will officially be done and officially a full time barista ;)! More to come...

Sleepyhead

2006-03-16T12:49:00.000-08:00

Chaucer got the best of me last night. Studied the Cantebury Tales until the wee hours of the morning and woke up with fog brain. The words were blury as I wrote my 7 page essay and completed my final at 10 am this morning. These are the times when I am not a fan of school. Anyhow, tonight will be a repeat as I study the heck out of West Africa and then onto British Lit from 1860- present for Monday. Nothing substantial to say except I sure hope my professors can sort through the bundle of words scribbled out on paper each time I take a final. Come Monday night at 6pm I'll be dancing in the streets.... Oh just counting down the number of sleepless nights to follow... Praise God for caffeine and Vitamin B supplements (that's for you dad).

Let's talk about sex

2006-03-09T21:49:00.000-08:00

Allow me to be vulnerable for a moment here. Now I realize my parents, grandparents, aunts, and perhaps uncles read this blog, and this is an awkward topic to address - but I can't act as if what I want to talk about has not at one point in time been a struggle for them as well. And if I want the Church to be real about it, I'm going to have to be real about it. So here goes...

It was my turn to talk tonight at Women's night for Athletes In Action. Earlier today, when I was thinking about what God would have me say, He gave me a glimpse of women being honest and open with one another - honest about struggles, honest about what God was teaching her, honest about whatever... and then praying about it together as a group. I saw this vision and wasn't sure what it entailed. I decided to share what God had been revealing to me about faith and future, english, prayer, etc - cuz that's what God is teaching me about. But I think God, in His vision for this night, almost dared me to take it further. I think He wanted me to be open with a struggle that so many of us face. I didn't really want to go there, however, and so I just prayed that God would work in spite of me and move the night according to the Holy Spirit's will. With that prayer prayed in earnest, I began by just sharing about how God's given me a peace about the future and how that whole process is unfolding (another story entirely, but I'm not really ready to blog about it yet). And that proved to be good. We had a good discussion about it and then I just opened it up to the girls to chat about struggles, lessons learned, etc... and wouldn't you know - the topic I wanted to shy away from actually came up... the S. word. That being sexual purity of course. Three women (small group tonight and I believe God ordained it to be that way) in the same spot, facing the same struggle that all couples in love face, and still desperately wanting to obey God through it.

Tonight we were real with one another. Finally. I hate to criticize, but I feel like the only training I got from the Church was - don't do it. Set boundaries, read books, have self control and you'll be golden. Nothing more. Nothing about the fact that it would probably be the hardest struggle I have faced thus far. No temptation has met me face to face as much as this one. And furthermore, it is known among the Christian community as one of the most taboo sins - the evil sin. The big one. Now, we know that's a lie - but let's face it, most of us in Christian circles - no matter how liberal or conservative they may be- believe sex out of marriage is the ultimate sin. Forget pride, spite, jealousy, selfishness, etc. No, it's sex. Now don't get me wrong - I agree that God is VERY clear in His word that sex is meant to be between a husband and a wife in the context of marriage, and furthermore, I made a decision very early on in life to remain a virgin until I get married - and I plan to stick to that decision. However - there are many things that bother me about the topic of sex and how it is being addressed within the Church today. And to be honest, a lot of it stems from guilt. Because if you are a Christian and you have sex before marriage - chances are you will either become numb, or extremely guilt ridden and feel as if you may no longer approach God. What a tool satan uses in that guilt. I know this because I've had conversation after conversation with dear friends and aquaintances who have "messed up" and who have felt as if they were too unworthy to even pray (that's why we need grace, but again - another topic). And I also know this because I might possibly be the most guilty conscious person alive on this earth and any time I mess up in this area of purity I feel like I'm a terrible person. Ok, not really but at one time I did. God's dealt with me severely on this issue and I can gladly say that I have never been more assured of my good standing with God because of His son than now.

Back to the topic of sex now. Sorry, this is going to be a long blog entry but it's a big topic and I am only going to brush the surface of it. Tonight as we were talking, we shared what helped us remain pure, why it's such a freaking hard struggle that makes me want to fight someone ;), what God says about it, where His grace is what we rely on, etc. And I suppose now I'm just going to share what I've been learning - because it's a daily learning process... So here goes.

Where I'm coming from: Ok. This is where it gets embarassing but I'm going to be real here. I'm super into this boy and have never felt this way before in my life about another person. Same from his side. Good thing. This relationship is good. God has so divinely arranged it that it really couldn't have been made clearer (once again - another story). The desire is good and it is real and it is God given. But physically, we have to control it. I'd like to think suppress it, but "control" is probably more correct and thus I will stick to that. So yeah, picture a couple madly in love, super physically attracted to each other, and committed to chastity. That's us.

What I'm learning: It's a daily thing. I cannot force myself to think about the fact that it will be awhile before we can get married (though that verse "better to marry than burn with passion" could certainly apply here)... because that just scares me and makes me think it's impossible. So I will focus on today. God's grace and strength for today. When we mess up, as Lewis says:
"You must ask for God'd help. Even when you have done so, it may seem to you for a long time that no help, or less help than you need, is being given. Never mind. After each failure, ask forgiveness, pick yourself up, and try again."
I've also learned a TON about grace and what it means to struggle with sin. I've meditated on Romans 7,8 numerous times and I feel like I'm learning a whole new side of God's character and love for us. He's amazing. Furthermore, along with what I was talking about earlier, struggling with sexual purity is not the sin of all sins. It is a sin of the flesh - and while it is certainly associated with spiritual sins, it is not, as Lewis calls it, a "diabolical sin" which is more concerned with spiritual sins including pride, jealousy, putting yourself before others, not loving others, etc... Not meant to justify it, but I feel like our perspective is so off sometimes.

There are more things to discuss here. I could fill a whole book with what I've been learning about this because it incorporates SO much of my walk with God and how I see Him and others. But for now, I think I will leave it as it is. Feel free to comment and discuss this area... and mom and dad, I know you're worried about me but please know that God is sovereign and even though it's a struggle, He gets the victory ;).

i heart papers

2006-03-06T16:54:00.000-08:00

There are circles under my eyes. A cup that once contained a grande nonfat sugarfree hazelnut latte sits to my left and a stack of books to my right. 3 cups of coffee later, I've become one with the computer screen and the keyboard knows my fingers well. A note of encouragement from Cait sits atop the now finished papers as I finally exhale. Done... 100 miles away my papers are being turned in by the hands that so often hold mine... Good news. I wrote 20 pages in the last two days and I can finally rest. Finals seem like a breeze compared to what I just went through.

Johnsonian style. Backloaded blog. Spirituality and English. Get it?

2006-03-03T07:14:00.000-08:00

Anticipating next quarter. Signed up for classes today at 6:50am. Taking four? 3 english classes and a history class perhaps? Question mark because I'm not really sure I can handle it, I just like the idea of taking on something huge - and maybe getting through it. Might dropp a class and am ok with that... Right now I'm sitting in a puddle of papers. 6-8 pages for an english paper due Monday and a lovely 12-15 pages for West African history also due Monday. Life is pushed back until Monday and these three days of my life will be dedicated to reading, writing, revising, and writing some more.

But the victory, I suppose, is my final decision to continue pursuing english despite the fact that for several moments in the past few days a senior spring quarter with only 3 easy history classes sounded extremely appealing to me... but let's be honest - not my style. I like to load up on as much hard work as possible - why should my potential but probably not last quarter at UCLA be any different? But back to english. Something about it pursues me even when I run. I've contemplated dropping the minor, dropping classes, etc. several times... but right when I need to make a decision concerning it - I am wooed by words... words written centuries ago, written 50 years ago, written yesterday... words that have no meaning to me, words that enlighten me, words that encompass me, words that I'd rather not read again because they confuse me (ie. "In Parenthesis")...

Something clicked for me yesterday while I sat in Chaucer and listened to my professory teach medieval Roman Catholic theology, while I analytically read "Happy Days" by Samuel Beckett and loved it, while I listened to JD describe the canonical satire of Mark Twain, while I prepared for my final paper in the 10 series (3 courses considered the "weeder" courses for the english major/minor) and realized that I had a cohesive argument in comparing Samuel Beckett's "Happy Days" with Elizabeth Barret Browning's "The Romaunt of Margaret" in examining the author's depiction of failing human love...

So I carry on. Thinking perhaps there is something divine in this pursual of english. My prayers about the future, prayers that God would make me fall in love with the things He loves, that I would persevere through hard classes, failings, disappointment, and frustration to know Him and know His will... That He would give me grace to see as He sees... trusting that this is happening and trusting that there is His Sovereignty in my passions... trusting that I am placed here to pursue until God directs me elsewhere... trusting that I've acknowledged I don't desire my will over His... I write this and realize that I'm not meant to decide where God may use me for His kingdom - choice, yes. But what I mean in that statement - is that God has perhaps called me to something higher and much different than I could have ever imagined, and even though I may think I know where I may best be used for the kingdom - the reality is that it's not mine to decide. As His servant, as a daughter of the King who longs only to do His will, I hand over the decisions to Him. He makes me move... And maybe it's just time to submit and realize anything less is settling. Being called to the higher road and I didn't realize it was in education.

2006-02-20T22:04:00.000-08:00

I don't have a title for this post. I don't even have concrete ideas to articulate in typing... but having Cait here today restored a vision that was being lost. A vision of God and dreaming and pursuing that which He calls me to. Learning about dreaming... wondering at what God wants to do with it, and yet hopeful all the same time. Sometimes it means closure. Sometimes it means movement. Sometimes it just means a change of heart. Anyhow, I'm thinking a lot. And while I am dreaming and thinking and pondering about God, I am praying this prayer: God make me tender.

2006-02-17T22:38:00.000-08:00

Just because it makes me laugh ;)

50's Housewives, roommates, etc.

2006-02-17T22:05:00.000-08:00

101 Girls... Annie, Hilary, Lauren (P-Tay), Anna

Because we aim to be domestic... oh wait. ;) Here is a pic of the roomies in our housewife garb, doing our respective chores as one often does in stilletos and pearls. Let me introduce you to the lovely ladies of 101:
Hilary- history major, jewish studies minor and will one day be profficient in reading Hebrew because of her many hours of homework each day dedicated to the language. She can always be seen at Maloney's on a Sunday, burps louder than anyone I know, and loves to bake. Hillarina, as we like to call her, is from the lovely town of Oakhurst (my second home for 3 summers) and shares a passion for needlework with me.
Lauren- now here's a girl whose sarcasm leaves us in stitches. Also a history major, Lauren freaks out if she ever gets a B and puts us all to shame with her GPA. From Simi Valley, P-Tay will work her way into the entertainment industry after graduating this June. She spent the fall in Spain and has finally joined us to make our home complete. Another fun fact about P-Tay... she plays lacrosse really really well and is progressing quite wonderfully with the art of burping.
Anna- English major, history minor and may always be counted on to use big words even when discussing climbing (and she uses them quite correctly I might add... she and Palotay might be competing for the best GPA). Anna joins the fun climbing and swimming workouts quite frequently and is a beast. When we hiked Mt. Whitney in the fall, Anna charged up the mountain with no sweat while the rest of us took frequent breaks... On Wed. she climbed a 5.9 rating on her third time climbing ever. She makes me sick, but I love her.

Anyhow, I hadn't written in a while and I figured I'd just let you know I'm still alive... and for those of you who enjoy a glimpse of my life here, here's a picture of the roommies:

Well, I mean... JD doesn't technically live with us by any means, but he does live upstairs (as he has for the past 2 1/2 years) and we affectionately call him the 5th roommate. P-Tay and I share a room; Anna and Hil share the other bedroom. It's a party all the time!
~Sorry for the randomness of this post - I just don't have anything pressing on my mind to share, but I do like these pics!

Happy National Ferris Wheel Day!

2006-02-14T22:18:00.000-08:00

Who knew but Feb. 14th is also known as Ferris Wheel Day. Here's to Ferris Wheels!

Check out writing

2006-02-08T09:35:00.000-08:00

Just an FYI because I know I don't update my writing blog much. At the beginning of fall quarter I was preparing a talk for AIA women's night on body image. While I was preparing the talk I started writing about the nature of the body, and in that moment God spoke to me. I recorded the conversation word for word as it happened. This conversation freed me from a 4 year struggle with my body and accepting it... So I posted the conversation (word for word). Enjoy. I pray you might see a glimpse of Christ in it.

Back Here.

2006-02-07T12:24:00.000-08:00

I remember attending her concert in jr. high. Just a gal with a guitar on stage, her presence was meek compared to Supertones and Audio Adrenaline, the big named bands that followed her. And yet years later it is her voice that continues to bring me on my knees in the reminder that I have a Savior who loves unconditionally. Jennifer Knapp's song "Martyrs and Thieves" has spoken to me at different times in my life, and has always shed light on a certain truth of our great God... there is peace and joy in the light. Whenever I am afraid to be on my knees with ears turned to Him, I am reminded that His voice and His will, whether hard, confusing, gentle, easy, etc... is always good. Whether the command is painful or whether it is a voice of reassurance, we bear the mark of the cross and are His. We ought not to fear the process of refinement that God calls us to - for there is peace in His call. Terrifying, awe-inspiring, joyous, redeeming, and wonderful is His voice.

Chorus:
So turn on the light and reveal all the glory
I am not afraid
To bare all my weakness knowing in meekness
I have a kingdom to gain
Where there is peace and love in the light, in the light
Oh I am not afraid
To let Your light shine bright in my life, in my life
Oh I... am, I...

I say this as I am being refined. "Do not conform any longer to the patter of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is- His good, pleasing, and perfect will." Romans 12:2. The verse that speaks to the state of my heart, of y whole being right now. There is no quick fix. There is no command. There is nothing but God renewing my mind. In totality and in completion is He making things new. The old is gone... The old pattern of my life, of my faith and the way I approach God, the way I approach school, work, relationships, friends... all being refined. Renewed by His holiness. 10 days of being in bed and knocked out from all activities, and God will have His way with me. I have no clue of the direction I'm heading. I don't know how or where I am being renewed. I have no answer for you... nothing concrete from God but this verse. And so I wait in expectation as He beckons me closer. Daughter of His that I am, I will not fear the process. It is His, and in it there is peace and glory and joy... Fear not the light - it is the absence of darkness.

Life and The Princess

2006-01-31T13:34:00.000-08:00

Lately I'm reminded that life is funny sometimes. It doesn't happen how you would expect. I'm not sure what I expected, but what is happening I didn't think would. I guess I'm sort of thinking about summer plans and how I don't have any yet, fall plans and how I'm unsure of those too, future plans and how I always thought they'd be significant and purposeful and profound and they might not be, current life and how I'm constantly a stress case and I hate work (there I said it. I'm quitting soon); I'm not sure how in the world I am going to finish my last two quarters succcessfully, let alone write the paper that is due tomorrow on Alfred Tennyson's "The Princess"... Sometimes it's just all too confusing to me. There are many complex things complicating life. Busyness. Too busy but can't cut anything out. Maybe that's why I've been sick with the flu since Wednesday and am bed ridden even now. Desperate for a break but the only way I rest is when I'm sick - yet that's not even rest because all I do is lay in bed and think about how behind I am in school (which instantly makes my body physically stressed). The quarter system was not made for the flu. End of story. And yet for some reason, my little mind likes to think on overload and determine to itself that school and grades determine my worth as a person (a common misconception and lie believed by many of my peers here at UCLA) and will determine my success or lack thereof in the future. What?! Where is this all coming from? Yet right now I am laying in my bed, frantically thinking of different options for future vocation/schooling/living situations/etc. Just write the paper. That is all I can do right now. Write about how gender roles are drastically altered in "The Princess" and the silly little prince faints several times when he sees the princess. Stimulating piece of poetry to be sure, I'm just not all that into it right now. And I'll stop rambling with awkwardly sructured sentences that genuinely reflect the fragments running through my mind at this moment...

Right where I need to be

2006-01-23T10:04:00.000-08:00

I woke up excited and refreshed about life. This is going to be a great quarter. I love my classes and have high hopes for a disciplined 7 weeks to come. My roommates constantly keep me just at the brink of peeing my pants because they're just so darn funny - and our late night talks about life can't really happen enough. I now have girls who attend CORE group (finally got those senior girls to meet once a week - at 7:30 AM on Sunday mornings), and AIA is in a new season all its own. All around me I hear stories of God's faithfulness, timing, presence, and power. I am in awe with the God I love and serve. He is well-pleased with me too - He tells me so everyday (literally). The other day I had breakfast with dear friends for the sole purpose of writing together. It was enrichening. Made me realize that I am just so blessed with my place in life right now. God has given me such a peace of contentment in this moment - and even though I know change is coming and is eminant, I'm patient. Right where I need to be, this day will be followed by the next and so on... and God is sovereign and faithful and in Him I place my trust.

The Gospel is for me too

2006-01-18T17:42:00.000-08:00

I have no problem giving others grace. Well, not entirely. But I struggle most with giving myself grace. Maybe I srtuggle most with actually believing the Gospel. Good News. A message of hope… that’s what Jesus came for wasn’t it? And isn’t that what He calls us to preach? Love, hope, forgiveness, grace = truth. Yet as much as I love to encourage others with this message, and sincerely believe in it for others as I speak it – I just can’t get it through to myself that this message is for me too. Call it elitist, call it pride, call it sin… I struggle with it. I’ve cried three times in the past week and a half. Why? I don’t believe the Gospel. I’m so afraid of disappointing people, disappointing God, and failing that when it comes down to it – I forget that “It is finished.” I’m not perfect and I never will be. I’m not going to do the dishes every time. I’m not going to plan trips home perfectly. I’m not going to please everyone no matter how hard I try. I’m not going to do all of my reading in school. I’m not going to love others the way Christ loves them and loves me. I’m not going to be perfect in the purity of my relationship with JD. I’m not going to get the grades I want in school. My writing will suck sometimes. I’m not going to be a perfect Christian. It’s not going to happen. And I’m not meant to. I’m not meant to do it on my own.
I heard truth today. It was raw and it was earnest and it was full of grace. “Annie, Jesus came because we couldn’t do it.” I’ve said it a million times. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it for myself. And this is what has been turning over in my mind as of late…
What if repentance was the acknowledgement of a Savior? Why do I feel so guilty and hopeless when I try to repent and just fail over and over again? Where is the Good News in that? I’m sorry but the Gospel isn’t good news if the focus is on repenting and turning from sin. Can’t do it. It’s Romans 7 all over again. I do the things I don’t want to do and what I want to do I don’t do. So why do we preach repentance? Is it possible that our perception of repentance is sometimes on the act of the sin rather than the state of the sinner? What if repentance really looked like the woman who was to be stoned acknowledging that she had been forgiven. “Go and sin no more.” What if the meat of that message is: Cling to Jesus. Believe that He does not condemn you and live free in that. Yet I often hear: Don’t do that sin. And it terrifies me. Because I will never be good enough. I will always sin. Where is the freedom of the Gospel then? “It is finished.” My problem? I don’t believe it. Only today I heard it for the first time directly spoken to me in a conversation that was meant for the healing of my soul… the Gospel. Good News. Hope. Salvation. Repentance. Grace. Truth. Jesus loves me and loves me no matter how much I read the Bible, pray, write, clean my room, act in selflessness, etc… He loves me and is well pleased with me – and even though that is what the still small voice has been whispering to me for weeks now (literally – and I have ignored it and disregarded it every time because I didn’t think that’s what He would say to me), I didn’t believe it until now. He is well pleased with me. And I can hope in that.

Writer's Block

2006-01-10T14:21:00.000-08:00

It happens.

fiction available

2005-12-23T22:29:00.000-08:00

FYI... I went ahead and posted my first fiction short story piece on my other website. It is still a second draft and in the works... but you get the idea. Note: it is FICTION. ;)

Rest

2005-12-22T14:10:00.000-08:00

It's amazing what a few days of NO responsibilities aside from family chores can do to a person. Each day is a day of possibility, creative productivity, and above all - rest. Whether it may be working out, reading, writing, shopping, lounging, talking on the phone, getting a haircut, upgrading my phone, scrapbooking, or whatever... there is no doubt that this time is so restful for me. I'm currently sitting in the local coffee shop, Dagney's, typing away at my laptop, sipping iced coffee, listening to James Blunt on my headphones and reveling in this moment. I love the freedom to read whatever I want and write whatever I want...
And let's face it- the family time is amazing, as always. I can't get over how incredibly close we are as a family. Last night daddy and I went for a run on the bike path by Cal State Bakersfield. The air was cool and clear, perfect running weather. We talked about so much in those three miles under the stars: theology, parenting, school, books, etc... It is so wonderful to have the relationships I have with my parents. Anything and everything may be shared at any time... so rare.
My soul is being revived each day that I am home. God has overwhelmed me once again with His faithfulness, the certainty of His call, His radical beckon for discipleship, grace, love, and hope... hope in what is unseen and yet so sure. It is well with my soul.