WWOOF

 So I recently heard about the existence of WWOOF. If you don't feel like clicking that link, it's World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms and it's awesome (theoretically). This past Saturday morning before I left Molly's house, she brought up WWOOF in conversation, recounting her friend's awesome experience with it. My verbal reaction to the topic was, "I WANT TO DO THAT."

My mom likes to suggest that I become a farmer on occasion, and I've been off and on working with plants since the summer after my sophomore year of high school. I know there's a lot more to actual farming than what I'm used to doing, but oh how I long to do all that stuff, too. It's easy to romanticize farming. Molly was pretty jazzed about doing WWOOF herself until her mom said, "Molly, you hate soil." The routine of daily farm tasks can become a dread, and unfruitful seasons can be terribly discouraging and economically damaging. Nonetheless, I've kind of put WWOOF into next summer's slot as an if-I-don't-have-a-real-job-yet placeholder. The coolest thing about WWOOF is that it's worldwide. That means I can go farm in Africa or South America or the UK or even just about anywhere in the US. But I'd ideally like to go up to Canada. I have an unexplainable attraction to Canada, and this seems the perfect opportunity to finally get myself up there. Lord willing, I will go.

Gifts and Abilities

13 days ago, I discovered that I know how to paint. 12 days ago, I started wondering if anyone can pick up a paintbrush and produce a lifelike painting. The last and only art class I ever took was in 8th grade, the year I painted the now infamous shirtless dude in black pants that I found in a sports magazine. He didn't look like a real guy in my painting, though it is quite apparent that I focused a lot of attention on the detail of his abs. I also tried my hand at a painting of my two older sisters when they were about 4 and 5 years old. The little girls I painted look nothing like my sisters, and I remember my frustration over not getting it right. I really enjoyed painting people, but I wasn't good at it. I didn't have the eye and my patience wore pretty quickly. I didn't paint anymore after 8th grade, because I was pretty sure my attempts proved I didn't have the natural gift. I was never one for working hard to become good at something I wasn't naturally gifted at doing. I was naturally athletic, which carried me through about 9th grade, and then others worked harder and surpassed my abilities. That still didn't motivate me to become a better athlete than I naturally was. I got straight A's through high school and continued to do well in college until about halfway through my sophomore year when I didn't bother trying to make myself a better student upon realizing that my study skills were severely lacking. My life is a book about a kid with gifts she took advantage of and boosters she didn't build upon. "Free-spirited" as my grandmother may say I am, I don't take a challenge head-on.

As of right now, I have finished one painting, I'm doing touch-ups on another, and I have a third one in the beginning stages. Somewhere over the course of these past seven years since 8th grade, I somehow acquired a gift for painting that I definitely did not used to have. I don't know what sort of developmental pattern brought me here, but this has been the coolest and most fun discovery I've made about myself in a while.

I'm not sure why this gift has suddenly sprung to my attention, but it has got me thinking about how much I'm like that little greedy girl with a mound of gifts. Once she opens one, she tosses it to the side in anticipation of the next, and once the stack is gone, she's finished with every gift and waits for the thrill of the next great holiday that'll bring more gifts. So I figure being gifted by God in a certain area isn't something you're truly grateful for until you use that gift and develop it for the glory of God. At least that's true for me. It's something I mull over while I'm painting.

Here's a painting I did Friday morning before I headed up to Stafford for my friend Molly's birthday party. It's of her brother and her the day before she went off to study abroad in Hong Kong. :)

Two Gardens

Actually, there aren't two gardens. There are two over-sized houses that are partially bordered by Chesapeake Bay waters and are more eminently bordered by several different gardens each. Flower gardens, vegetable gardens, herb gardens. The owners of each of these homes have called for my services in maintaining their numerous gardens. I water, weed, trim, spray, dead-head. It is enjoyable work, and I've expressed how very appreciative I am of the work I have.

This morning it was already sweltering hot when I headed over to the Parkers' house at 8:00. By 10:00, I was dripping in sweat, but I had to drive across the peninsula to water some flowers over at the Dingledines' (yes, that is their last name) house. I watered everywhere, and in the process, I used five different hoses. I'd reached yet another flowering plant with its insignificant label poking up out of the soil in front of it when I decided to sit down for a breather. I thanked God for how beautiful a day it was despite the heat, and I thanked Him again for giving me a job to do. But then I looked down at the water pouring out of the hose and realized my thankfulness isn't reaching outside of just God and me. What I mean is that I sat there watching water, something you can get in a cup for free at most any restaurant, and flashed back to my freshman year of college when a man came to speak at The Gathering, trying to recruit college kids to head over to Africa and build wells. I remember really wanting to go, but of course the cost of the trip was like paying a semester's tuition at college. My point here could be that I take advantage of stuff a lot while others are without some of life's necessities, such as water. That's something we generally try to remind ourselves of as frequently as possible. This time, though, in context to the water--the very very abundant supply of water, I couldn't just sit there feeding an aesthetic plant without feeling a pang of guilt. I wanted to stick the hose into a huge container that I could ship straight across the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean to Africa.

Sometimes the advantage we take becomes a guilt we bear, and I'm praying about when it becomes a step we take. I don't want to pray prayers of thankfulness for *my* beautiful day. I want to pray prayers of thankfulness for yours, too.


This post is part of ShoutLaughLove. :)

Things To Do And Such

As if it matters at this point, I had a discussion with my dad today about all the reasons I dislike the math major I am getting at my school. There are a lot of reasons, and they got brought up again when my mother entered the car. Her immediate response was, "You should still stay dedicated to it because God has you doing math for a reason." That is true, though I can't help but assume God has me doing math for the sake of getting a degree. It's so hard not to be pessimistic about these last four math classes I have to take in order to graduate in May. Sometimes I dread going back to school in August because of these classes. I also dread the college challenge of time management, especially now that I'm a senior and my time there is running out.

At the end of last semester, I felt convicted to do more ministerially next school year. With a strong desire to see others as well as myself feel purposeful, I applied to lead the freshmen Bible study at the Baptist Collegiate Ministries. God has inspired me with a lot of ideas for it, so I felt pretty secure in this calling from the moment I met up with Jc to tell her my general plan. That sense of security is even greater now that my pastor has asked me to teach the youth Sunday school class for a few weeks in July at my home church, and he was absolutely thrilled when I told him my game plan for freshman group and how much I'd like to use that for the youth as well. So now God is even being gracious enough to give me a better sense of how to approach this before I even approach the freshmen, and that is pretty awesome.

Also at the end of last semester, I got together with Mike and Missie Dudley, a couple who walked onto campus my freshman year with an awesome Bible study, and they even started a Sunday evening service right in the middle of campus my sophomore year. The service didn't happen anymore my junior year, much to many attendees' dismay. I thought it'd be pretty sweet if we could pull it back together and start up that service again next year. Mike and Missie seemed pretty jazzed at the idea, but over the course of this summer, I've been getting the sense that this probably won't happen. The Dudleys have their hands full with Mike's job as youth minister at their church, so they haven't responded to any messages I've left them about the service on campus. I realize I could go on without them and get all the contacts made myself, but that got me feeling pretty conflicted. See, I know that God wants me to suck it up and work my butt off in my math classes this coming year, and I also know that He is preparing me for freshman group. If I were to take on pulling together an entire service every Sunday evening on campus, I am quite sure I won't be either the math student or the Bible study leader God has clearly called me to be. Not to mention the (at least) 12 hours I'll be working on campus each week, as well as my tutoring job.

I don't want to back down from the daunting task of starting up a service on campus single-handedly simply out of fear or doubt that I can't do it. I want to back down because it's not where God wants my focus and my energies to be. In a lot of ways, this coming year already looks daunting to me. I don't know how to prepare myself for it mentally and emotionally, because I know how much college has screwed with me in both those areas already. I've just gotta trust that God has me there with a purpose and obey Him by doing these things I know I have to do. I pray to be a better friend, student, employee, roommate, daughter, sister, and whatever other roles I fill while I'm there. I mean, I've still got two months to live before this happens, but I want to make sure I'm seeking God before I'm seeking tomorrow, two months from now, or even a year from now.

"About Ecclesiastes" Revisited

I recently told my sister Rebecca that I almost always go straight to Ecclesiastes whenever I'm feeling spiritually dry or apathetic. Like most others, she thought my choice in spiritual boost to be interesting if not odd. I began this entire blog on the foundation of a post I wrote a year and a half ago about Ecclesiastes. I didn't really know why I had started up another blog to write that business of my heart down, but it felt absolutely refreshing after a rather immature, superficial blog I kept up in late middle school-early high school. I also wrote that post when I was living with my first college roommate, Gilmore. She's not a Christian, which at the time of meeting her was a huge appeal to me. We were both cynics to the maximum coming into college, and her judgements, questions, and general attitude toward life mirrored mine so beautifully that I moved into her room a month or two into my first semester at college. It became expected that we'd pretty much engage in deep philosophical conversation almost every time we were together. Whenever she went to class, I'd do my homework waiting for her to come back. We got so wrapped up in our own little world and our own amazing thoughts and ideas, but eventually I realized I had already made a choice about a lot of ideas about purpose in life that we so frequently discussed. I remember admitting to Gilmore in Seacobeck during orientation week that I was a Christian, and I grimaced a bit in anticipation of her reaction. I figured she'd hate me because I for sure knew that I couldn't stand the American Christian stereotype. She dispelled my fear, though, when her reaction was a simple, "Oh, alright, that's cool."

And so I figured Christianity was fair game to talk about with her. The only problem was that I realized how much I really did not know about the Bible. I started studying it more for the sake of teaching it to her, and when I thought to go to Ecclesiastes, my heart swelled at the thought of introducing her to Solomon, the man of wisdom. I read part of Ecclesiastes to her one day, and she stared at me open-mouthed, then said, "That is in the Bible?" Yes, it is, and sometimes that fact shocks me, too.

I bring up my past with Gilmore and this period of my peaked cynicism and skepticism to say that I'm not really sure how to fit into Christianity. As stated, I had an issue with the American Christian stereotype a few years ago, and it can still sometimes irk me or make me uncomfortable even today. I've learned to accept that different people are going to have different relationships with God, so they'll have different ways of worshiping Him. Just because something is mainstream Christian does not mean it's insincere. That's a lesson that just keeps getting drilled into me, and I am so incredibly thankful because it is what has allowed me to love people in ways I never would have dreamed of my freshman year. I wrote "About Ecclesiastes" during my second year of living with Gilmore when I started needing a roommate who could encourage me spiritually rather than continue to question things that had already been made known to me by the redeeming grace of God. Little did I know I would go back to questioning those things once I did get that roommate I needed, but I thank God that Sadie is way more than I ever could have imagined a roommate could be.

As for still not feeling sure about how to fit into Christianity, I do realize that's not the goal here. However, I still have to do it in some sense in order to keep in fellowship with other believers. The key to figuring all of this out has been trusting that the things God teaches me about Himself really are enough to make my faith worth sharing not only with my fellow believers but even with the Gilmores out there. Likewise, I have learned so much about God through other Christians, even the ones I might have pegged the mainstream fakes. Right now, my encouragement is looking back and seeing how many layers of hate and cynical judgements God has peeled off me so that He may be glorified and that I may find the joy in that. Sometimes I really dislike falling into using Christian speak, but I know Christian speak can be either insincere or entirely reverent, depending on delivery and perspective. I also know that living to judge between the two and to condemn the insincere only makes me insincere in my calling.

Now I'm going to let you know how happy I am that this post exists, because I have been so spiritually constipated. I needed to regain perspective. In a way, I needed a fresher perspective. My life with God gets pretty dull when I fail to realize how dynamic it can be. He's done a lot of Good for me this summer. It's realizing how Good is Good that'll kick out the apathy and make for an even more fulfilling summer. I know it's mainstream, but it will probably even require some Scripture and prayer. ;)

Ah Okay, What's Really Going Down...

Although my now-notorious-to-this-blog right knee is quite the theme of this summer, I'd be lying if I said it's hierarchically ruling my cares. Truth be told, I've been using it as an excuse. It has excused me from working and helping out around the house. It allows me to lay around on a couch, melting in paralyzing lethargy as each day slowly ticks by. It has even given me permission to go deep-sea diving into my thoughts instead of into God's Word, where I know I should but won't seem to let my thoughts reside. It's put me on an almost month-long journey that I inadvertently took to the desert. It's made me dry. A month of rest has been far from it, and God did a bit of His waving His hands in my face and snapping His fingers to get my attention today.

I sat down in the front row at church like I do every Sunday alongside Rebecca. Unlike any other Sunday, though, my pastor came over to me before the service started and conversed with me a bit about the status of my knee. After I let him know basically what my last post was about, he changed the subject to his upcoming vacation and how he'd like for me to teach the youth Sunday school class in his stead. I immediately said I would and he mentioned he'd send me an email with more details later. But, saying yes is what surfaced the realization of how dry I've become. It's not like I haven't been here before, and I've seen the signs along the way. I thought of how badly I want the youth to keep growing while the pastor is gone, but I can't want that for them yet deprive it of myself. I don't know why it is I so often hold myself up to some different and strangely distorted standards sometimes when it comes to God's grace, but I do. I thank God that He isn't letting this summer mushroom into yet another semester when I'm doubtful and completely self-absorbed. Those doubts can't be afforded, because God's got some work to do in me and some glorification to be had in Him.

More Knee Stuff

I crashed a high school grad party today with a few friends I graduated with, and I consequently told and retold the tale of my knee to several people since the huge brace on my leg is a bit conspicuous. While being expected to field simple questions like "How long do you have to wear that brace?" I realized how little I know about my recovery and also how much I seem to be expected to know. I don't have an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon until June 29th, and he hasn't told me anything about my recovery. Whenever I go to physical therapy sessions, I wouldn't know anything about how well I'm doing and what I'm now allowed to do unless I harassed my physical therapist with questions. My knee has been feeling so much stronger lately, so I've been under the impression that I will soon be able to go out for a run whenever I feel like it again or even play basketball and baseball with Kasper when I start taking care of him in July. But when my physical therapist realized my ambitions, she decided she'd let me know what *really* is going on with my new ACL. That is, apparently the tendon that was used to replace my ACL is very strong, but my body is breaking it down to become a "seatbelt" so it's actually getting weaker during recovery time. It'll be at its weakest between 8 and 10 weeks, but it will feel like it's at its strongest during that time. So even though I'll feel like I can easily run and play sports again, I will actually be stretching and potentially tearing the new ACL if I get involved in these physical activities. All of this was news to me. Disappointing news. I expected a month of recovery, not a summer of recovery. I mean, it's not a huge deal. But that's the knee update. It's now bending over 130 degrees. :)

 If

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,

And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie,

Life would be delight,--

But things couldn't go right

For in such a sad plight

I wouldn't be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,

And past was present, and false was true,

There might be some sense

But I'd be in suspense

For on such a pretense

You wouldn't be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,

And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee

Things would seem fair,--

Yet they'd all despair,

For if here was there

We wouldn't be we.

e.e. cummings

And that's that for "if."
Today marks three weeks since surgery. I'm realizing that although I never planned on getting a job for the summer, many hopefuls out there are still without summer jobs as well. Gotta say I'm glad I haven't had to fret over it like others probably have. Besides, "jobs" have been falling on my lap.

I have the Parker hook-up and the Sunday before my surgery, I was approached by Susan at my church about watching her 9-year-old son from the beginning of July to the beginning of August while her daughter is in Texas visiting her dad. This time frame just so happens to fit neatly between my recovery in June and some lake house vacation time with home friends and camp in August. Divine orchestration without any impulse toward stressing out about it. Divine indeed.

And the dogs they run in the good good morning sun

For some reason, I agreed to take care of the Parkers' animals while they're in Colorado for a week visiting one of their seven offspring. I've been working for this elderly pair during breaks pretty much since the summer before I went to college, and they are truly wonderful people. Our relationship has developed to the point of Jack Parker regularly saying, "You busy tomorrow?" "Not really." "Well, come on over. I'll find something for you to do." He finds excuses to pay me. It's pretty sweet. So, I usually take care of their pets whenever they're out of town, but this time I am obviously slightly incapacitated. I agreed to do the job even though I knew my mother would have to drive me over there three times a day, which is fine with her because we're "keeping the money in the family!" But then I realized I have a left foot and decided to give it a shot on the pedals, and it's been working so far. I just don't show mom my techniques...

This is when I tried a foot on each pedal without the brace on...

And this is pretty much all I could do with the brace...

Really, I would probably start laughing if I did get pulled over like this.

In other news, the "puppy" I'm taking care of snatched one of the old dogs' bottle of meds off the sink and ate all of the pills while I was gone between breakfast and lunch yesterday. Luckily, they were just antibiotics and there were only four left in the bottle. Nonetheless, my mom (the driver) and I took the puppy alllll the way to Toano (an hour away, outside of Williamsburg) to get his stomach pumped and to refill Lady's prescription. Now the puppy has his own pills to take for an upset stomach. -_-

If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits eighty-eight miles per hour...

Living in the moment is hard to do when this moment and the past two weeks of moments have pretty much had me laid up. During weeks of "nothing," my mind wanders a lot to what could be and what will be and sometimes even what should be lying ahead once the phase of "nothing" has passed. I spent the past weekend in Chattanooga, Tennessee, visiting my oldest sister Deb, her husband Jared, and their precious 8.5-month-old baby Leo. I mostly enjoyed (laying around) watching my sister love all over her baby. She's in such a good mood these days, even though she's working full time, working on her Master's in Accounting, and trying to spend as much time as possible with her baby. Girl is driven, and she always has been. It's admirable and infectious. She spent a lot of our visitation time talking to Rebecca and me about how we need to move on up to her level, too. She was telling Becca to take that leap in her job field (accounting) and push herself to do those jobs she doesn't think she can do, because chances are Little-Miss-3.89-GPA-Honors-Liberty-Graduate probably can do a lot more than she feels capable of doing. Along with that little push, Deb's decided she's going to marry me off to her best friend's little Army brother ("Leo needs some cousins!"). She's ready to see her baby sisters all grown up with her, but most of all, she's ready to be the loving sister to us that she didn't know how to be before. It's a beautiful thing. Almost brings a tear to my eye.

So I've been trying to have more of a focus in my future as opposed to a list of possibilities. It's like going through high school saying you might go to this college or that college until your senior year when you actually have to choose one and go to it. Now it's my senior year of college, and that next choice is coming. I've seen a lot of stressed out, directionless seniors since my freshman year of college, and I really pray to God I don't have to be like that this whole next year. I'd like for this next year not to be a year of anticipation during which I lie in wait for what the real world brings. I want to enjoy it for all it brings in each moment. I'm ready to be grown up like my big sisters but not at the expense of losing the joy of my final coddled year. A year of preparation is still a year to be lived in full.