Gini Happiness Index

When the United Nations gets together to discuss human rights, they judge countries on human rights by different methods. They include social and economic equality. One method which I recently learned about is the Gini Happiness Index. This is an index which uses a nations happiness to indicate whether it is developed/developing.

One would assume that a nation that is happy is developed, right? Surprisingly, (at least to me) it's the opposite. The sign of a developed nation is a lack of happiness. According to this happiness index, the higher economic prosperity, middle class lifestyle, the more a person will want. It's the general, once you get something you just end up wanting something more. When a person sets a goal, reaching the American Dream (white picket fence, stable job, family, blah, blah) and they obtain it, then there is a sense of dissatisfaction. When we get something that we want, then we want more. When we reach our goals we are unhappy.

It is a cycle that is continual. You know, the definition of cycle, continuous. So I guess my question is, is anyone ever happy? Ever? I mean you set a goal, obtain it and then you are unhappy or you set a goal, you don't reach it and then you are unhappy and disappointed. And in this case I don't think that there is a median gray area. In most situations there are gray (or do you spell it grey? I NEED TO KNOW!) areas, but not with the Gini index, which in case you hadn't figured it out is a metaphor for life.

I just want to know if we are ever satisfied with the lives that we lead. Because this is what I've been feeling, I've been feeling a little tired of school, I've been feeling like what I'm doing now has little significance. So I am dissatisfied. The more I have, the more I want. So the Gini Happiness Index is true.

Now that we have that established, the next question is where do we go from there? If we know that we have a tendency to be unsatisfied, how do we deal with it? How will I deal with it?

The importance in life is to find a passion. To figure out what the heck we care about. Then from there we do things in order to put that passion into action. We find purpose and we dedicate our life to do what we love for the ones we love. So I guess I'm still trying to get through this stage in life. Which is actually your whole life.

And then once I am dead I will know that though it wasn't easy, I live my life for something that I loved. Even though there were moments when I was unsatisfied and craved more.

Those are my thoughts.

Why do we eat Judy Dolls?

I don't know if this is something that I should be ashamed of or not. I watch Grey's Anatomy. And I love it. A lot. It's the one show that has makes me cry. All the time. Like a little baby. Like a teenage girl. Like a pregnant woman. So I am all three ages and stages in one when I watch this show.  I am an emotional mess and it's probably the reason why I lose so many friends when they watch Grey's with me. And it's how I will know who my future hubby will be. It is at those Grey's watching moments that I am my worst. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But if he can stick it out through that, then he can stick it out through pretty much anything. So anyway, it's my obsession. I like it. A lot. And I don't just throw that around.

Moving on from my hysteria over the show. I am currently watching it while studying for finals that I will fail. I watched the Enough is Enough episode. In this episode there is a guy who eats judy dolls.

Judy is so cute. 

I mean I've eaten some things that could be considered weird. Pennies, dog food, George Mason food, just kidding George Mason food is good. But the things that I ate, I could swallow, easily. The guy in this show swallowed Judy doll heads. Like Barbie doll heads. Swallowed them. Whole. With hair. And if you think that it's just a show, it's not a big deal. You are so, so wrong. This show has meaning and depth. Put aside the senseless sex and sometimes lack of common sense and intense fear of relational commitment for just a second and you have a show that is an observation of the complexity of human nature. Or maybe you could argue that those things just add to the complexity. So there. The fact that this man swallowed Judy Dolls, is important.

Obviously the question at hand is why the h would he swallow ten Judy doll heads. I mean it can't feel pleasant. Have you ever tried swallowing a Barbie doll head? Not an easy task my friend. Not even in the show. So even the sex driven, common sense lacking surgeons question the motives that this man had to ingest doll heads.

Yummy right?

Toward the end of the show, after they had removed the doll heads from the man's stomach, he somewhat answered the question of why he swallowed those doll heads. Once his tummy was doll head free, he said that he felt empty. First of all, he feels empty because ten doll heads is a lot.

But it goes a lot farther than that. The reason why this man ingested these doll heads is to make himself feel full. To avoid the sinking sensation of being empty.

So what does being empty feel like? It's those moments in life when you are worn out and exhausted. When you are at your limit and you honestly feel like you can do no more. When you are running/living on absolutely nothing. That's the feeling of being empty. It's a scary feeling. A feeling that I would do anything to stay away from.

So why do we eat Judy dolls? The same reason that we give ourselves away, the same reason that we turn to other things that numb us from the world. Because sometimes we think that living with the guilt is better than living with the emptiness. But in the end this is a no win situation. The things that you take, use, eat to get away from the emptiness end up hurting you just as much if not more. The Judy heads may have taken the man away from the emptiness but they also put his life in danger. And the emptiness,  the Judy dolls themselves are just as scary.

The Judy dolls themselves are weird and uncomfortable and don't make anyone feel good. So this is what it comes down to. What we rely on, the Judy doll heads, don't make us feel better and the emptiness is too scary to deal with. So what the heck does that leave us with?

I'll tell you what that leaves me with. It leaves me with nothing. I have nothing to fix the emptiness. I have nothing to make it better. I am useless. And that has been a hard lesson to learn. So when I am not enough, that would seem like the end of a hard fight, right? But that's not the case, when we have nothing  what does that leave us with? It leaves us with the love of a forgiving and redeeming friend. A love that heals. A love that fills the emptiness. A love that we have never known. A real love.

Can you imagine that? Something so great that takes away the pain? Takes away the feelings of our inadequacies? So instead of ripping dolls heads off and eating them to feel full, what if we turned to this love?

And here's the hardest concept of all. We can. We have this love at our fingertips, we can use it to heal our pain. But we don't. Why? Why can't we use this love? What is this anyway?

This love is the love of our eternal unfailing friend, our passionate and caring lover, and our stable, unchanging, always loving, and forgiving Father. It is the love of God. So why can't we accept it? Why do we not turn to this when we are hurting? Why is it so hard to believe that we have a Father who always loves and forgives?

This is something that has been on my heart a lot recently. And no matter how much I think about it, no matter how much I talk about it, discuss it, question and search for an answer, I can not find one. Why can't we accept love that is being given to us? Why are we obsessed with hurting? I don't know that anyone really knows.

Maybe it's because it is so hard to love ourselves, that we find it difficult to believe that someone else could love us.

Maybe it's because we have been disappointed so much, that investing in just one more relationship is too painful.

Maybe it's because we are too used to being the only ones we can rely on, the fact that there is someone else is unreal.

Maybe it's because our lives have been fairly simple to this point. We don't feel a need for a loving Savior.

Maybe it's because the concept is too scary.

Or maybe it's just easier to not.

Whatever it is, the empty feeling will always, always be the most terrifying feeling. And whatever it is, the things that we use to solve the emptiness will never be enough.

So maybe the first step is admitting that we eat doll heads. We use other things to solve the emptiness. Are those things working? Are we aware of the emptiness? How much pain will we have to go through until we begin to consider love as a solution?

Confessions of a Teenage Homecoming Queen.

So the secret is out. People have found out. And I will never be able to go back. I was one of the girls who wears a crown and a sash in front of a football stadium. So judge me. So scoff at me. So walk in front of a moving car. Because everyone hates the homecoming queen, right Emily Osment?

And I get it. I understand where it all comes from. And I understand why people are surprised when they flip through a few facebook pictures and see the boutonniere that is bigger than my face pinned to my dress. And I get why it's funny to say, "So I saw that you were the homecoming queen."  Because I hate school dance and crowns too. My senior homecoming was the first school dance that I went to. And that was a little bit out of obligation.

Oh wait, forgot about eighth grade finals. But was middle school even real life? Don't think so.

Remember this?

In mid September I went back down to the Valley for my high school's fiftieth celebration. And I had some time to reflect on the time that I held the crown. It's taken me two years, but I'm finally aware of the way that my school and community loved me. I am humbled at the fact that I was chosen to be queen. Not in a the, gee didn't see that coming, I'm going to cry on the football field sort of way. But in a truly moving, the Lord is glorified sort of way.

Lately I've been learning the difference between oneself being glorified and Jesus being glorified. I truly believe that the reason that a crown was handed to me two years ago is because the kids at Fort Defiance are so attracted to the Love of an eternal, reliable, unwavering Father. Every community is yearning and hurting for someone to be kind, for someone to pour out love. They know that they want it, they don't know how to reach it. But out of instinct they turn to a God that they many times have never given any thought to. I am truly humbled. As believers of Christ we are called to be Jesus with skin on. Though we are far from being anywhere near that. We sometimes show some minuscule of amount of love that can transform a life. Because of our great love for our creator.

I grew up in the Shenandoah Valley, and though it may not be in the bible belt, it is a place where kids are raised knowing about God, but not really knowing about a relationship with God. People are placed in this area to show others what a relationship with God can do to a life. Two years later I realize that all Christians are called to be disciples. And I am humbled by the way that the Lord used me at Fort Defiance.

The year after I was queen, I came back to hand down the crown to someone else. That someone else was a beautiful girl, Kristy.

Kristy and Ronnie 2011 HC King and Queen

So from now on when people think it is humorous that I was homecoming queen, I won't have that small unsettling feeling. I realize now that whatever being homecoming queen may have meant in the past, it is different at Fort Defiance High School. At this school kids glorify things other than popularity and superficial beauty. They search for real beauty and the incarnation of a Jesus they don't even know they need.

So I was the homecoming queen. And I'm finally okay with that.

It's about to get real.

I didn’t realize that I had such self-confidence issues. But I found out. Big time.  The feeling of being inadequate is one that has been nagging at me very consistently lately. Poop. Like right now, and how I realize that I don’t have an art for taking words and making my emotions powerful statements conveyed through solely words. The feeling of inadequacy has partnered with a strange gripping fear of being lonely. Not lonely romantically, though that is inevitable as well, but friendship wise. I never feel like I contribute anything worthwhile to my friendships. And I always feel like gatherings/hangouts are better without me. I know, I know, no one wants to come to pity parties. But this has been something that has been nagging me for over a year now. I go through periods of time where it’s worse. But this past week has been really rough. Frustrating and tiring and I’m getting a lot burned out. And I know the answers and solutions. God loves me, He is my friend. Because I have this love I should not be fazed by other little things. But what I have come to learn is that community is such a huge, essential part of maintain a continually growing relationship with the Lord. And to this day I still feel like I lack an unwavering community. I just feel so out of place so often. I feel like a hindrance. I know that my place is here; my role is defined, not by myself, but by my Creator. It has just been so hard to feel comfortable lately. And it is exhausting to shake it off every time, of keeping this feeling hidden and hope that it goes away. Because I’m starting to learn that it won’t go away. I struggle with the need to be wanted and loved. This struggle is what pushed me first away from God and my family, and later pulled me closer to them. So this is something that I deal with. All the time. It’s not a temporary thing, and it’s not a small thing. I take things and blow them up, and cling to them, I view things as empirical evidence to my lack of good qualities, my lack of relevancy, my intimidating humor, as evidence showing that people get exhausted by me and don’t want to hang out. And it’s a small thing, really. But it is something that I struggle with. So though it is small, it consumes me. I am starting to learn this

 

Why I Would Clean Dishes Forever.

So much of my life is full of this ministry. Young Life is an incarnational ministry that focuses on youth. We go to where kids are and walk with them in hope that one day our efforts will allow them to hear and live the gospel. Young Life is composed of people who volunteer, volunteer to go to football games, to listen to kids, to drive around for hours, to care, and people who use their passion for Christ to overflow His love into sin-filled schools around the nation.

In high school I was befriended by my Young Life leaders. And I enjoyed and grew from their presence in my life. Once I graduated high school I confidently knew that Young Life would no longer play a role in my life. Going in to college I wanted something that would push me and allow me to grow in ways that I didn't in high school. I wanted a new community and a fresh start, and I had no room for YL in my new life.

The summer after I graduated high school I was accepted to do work crew. Work crew is when high school kids go to a YL property for a month and serve campers that come every week. Some of the jobs include: washing dishes, housekeeping, cleaning bathrooms and showers, laundry, cooks, bakers, servers, and people who maintain the landscape of the property.

YL Work Crew/Summer Staff  This shows a little bit about what work crew is.

It is hard work, and it is every day from early in the morning until relatively late. Not necessarily the most conventional way to spend a summer. I had only applied because my leaders had continued to ask me to. I figured once the application was complete, then work crew could be something that I could forget about forever. 

But once I found out that I had received a spot, I knew that I would end up going. I had a sense of obligation. That feeling, I now realize, was not my own, but the Lord pressing upon me. I went into work crew completely opposed to befriending new people. I saw that month as a month of service. My role was to serve well and nothing more. I would perform my job exceptionally well, and then at the end of the month I would return home. No new friends. That was my plan. Clearly I was optimistic.

The bridge that campers cross from cabins into the main camp. 

I had made arrangements to ride up to Lake Champion, New York with two other people also serving on work crew. Two other strangers. Two strangers that I judged. Severely. Oops, #didn'tmeantodothat. What I found from closely scrutinizing their lives (facebook pictures, same thing right?) only served to confirm my ill sentiment toward work crew. Some of my most damning evidence included pictures from a hookah bar and the presence of various solo cups. I named my road trip partner hookah boy. I took hookah boy to be the poster child for a majority of people who do work crew/young life/all Christians but me (small category right?). The other portion of participants were just overzealous and overwhelming.

The first day of work crew, after the car ride with my new best friends, we were put straight to work. Cleaning the dining hall that we would be working in for a month. My first interaction with these people is a story that Kelly John still loves to bring up. We were sitting at a table folding napkins into fancy shapes for the next day's meal. Every once in a while we would run out of napkins to fold and someone would run into a closet to replenish our stock. After the third time we ran out, I decided that I would be the one to go grab more napkins. I came back with table cloths and everyone laughed. Jerks. Hate them all. To this day. But really I just brought back the table cloths and then Kelly went back and got napkins. That's where our friendship started.

                                                                     Isn't that right Kelly?

                                                                           
Throughout the rest of the month I would meet lots of interesting characters. And when I say interesting, I mean freaks. Freaks and geeks. The first week of work crew was a little rough. I wanted to go home and spend time with my mom and my sisters and my friends before I left for college. Forever. I couldn't shake the feeling that Champion wasn't the place where I needed to be, where I was supposed to be. I knew that I didn't want to be friends with any of these people.

But it wasn't long before I began to question my strong conviction to be friendless. I mean when you live with people and see them every single moment of every single day, it's hard not to learn about each other. And to... care.

The second night we were at Champion all the girls in our cabin sat on the floor and ate puppy chow. The dog food. Kidding. The cereal snack. It was that night that Shelby Phelps/Morris gave us silly bands. She said that her mom gave her the silly bands so she could make friends. I got a light blue wand silly band. Taking one of those was like signing a contract. If you take a silly band you are friends. Those things are serious, you can't break them. In reality it was just a natural human reaction to crave friends and company. I was fighting my nature when I made a vow with myself to not make friends. Does that make sense?

The silly band Shelby gave me. Since it's broken, does that mean we don't have to be friends anymore?

Young Life camps have a lot of themed nights. The first one that we got to experience as a group was western night/hoedown throw-down/rodeo/everybody wears plaid night. And you know in middle school at the end of the year when there's the formal dance? And awkward pre-teens show up in clothes they wouldn't normally wear. And they all dance ten feet away because there are a ton of parent chaperones. And the chocolate fountain is the biggest attraction. You know what I'm talking about? That's what our hoedownthrowdown/western/southern/everybody wears pigtails night felt like to me. 

This is the attire one wears to western/BBQ/everybody rides bulls night. 

The rodeo/cornbread/everybody chew hay night goes like this. Kids come to a big field and play games that the cowboys used to play way back when. Like dizzy bat and shovel racing. Work crew is there to serve an authentic version of a western meal. This was the first meal that we could all sit not at tables. And where ever we wanted. Watch out world. 

Here's a little secret, an insight to the life that I live. I'm not good at making friends. I hate going through the process of making friends. It's probably a hidden emotional scarring from my preschool years. But the fact remains that I get extremely uncomfortable, extremely quickly. So I sat with Kelly (she just wanted to make fun of me again) and Aly, my side bunkmate. And you know in middle school when you get silent lunch because your forgot to get your test signed? When you sit at a table silently while everybody else laughs and eats? You know what I mean? That's a little bit how that meal felt. I know I made this whole thing up in my head, but it seemed like all the girls were sitting together and laughing and becoming best friends, while I kept dropping corn bread in my lap. So even though I wanted to not make friends, I really, really did want to. 

Here's the thing. Being at Champion was a combination of time going by really quickly and really slowly at the same time. So I can't pinpoint when it happened exactly, but we all became invested in each other. Maybe it was the night that everyone laid on the pavement and star gazed. Or the night that we all played fugitive. Maybe it was when everybody would chant Jessica! Jessica! and jazzercize at the same time. Or maybe it was the day that we were all saying good bye that we realized how important we had become to each other. And maybe some of us already had a loving heart and came to work crew ready to be invested in each other (not me). But what matters is, by the middle/end/beginning of our time together we became more than friends and more than family. We knew more about each other than most other people in our lives do. We became brothers and sisters in Christ, and we lived that out. So I don't know when I realized that I liked these people, even hookah boy. But it happened. When your hearts are set on Christ, Christ becomes the strongest bond. Stronger than silly bands. 

So basically after pistol shooting/western/everybody line dances night these people became my best friends. Just like that. Really. 

These are my friends. See what I mean by freaks?

Now that I had all these new friends, I also had all of these new stories/memories. Some of my favorite memories:

The best meal: The best meal I ever had at work crew had nothing to do with the food. But if you must know, it was chicken patty day. Chicken patties with waffle fries. The reason that meal was so great was because of the people. There was this kid from North Carolina (South? Not important). His name was Kurt. He had no friends. Kidding. Kurt had a strong character. What I mean by that is that he had a quiet, firm demeanor. He seemed calm and in control. But he never laughed at my jokes. So he had no sense of humor. And he wasn't funny. That is what I had gathered. And we all know how great I am at being a judge of character. 

Then there was another kid. He had his ears gauged. His name was Wes. Fun fact, at work crew Wes's ears got infected. At first Wes was a little intimidating. But in reality he was fun and funny and great. 

Then there was Kelly. She was extremely sassy. 

This is a picture of Wes. Taken yesterday. Or in middle school 

This is Kurt. He has bad eyesight.

And you know Kelly already. 

So we all happened to randomly sit next to each other during this meal. Just from the pictures can't you tell this is a hilarious bunch? I don't remember what was said, or what insults may have been thrown out by all parties, but this lunch was the hardest that I laughed. That day. Or maybe to this day. The great thing about this lunch, aside from the fact that it was a comedy show, was the realization that I belonged among these people who are pouring their hearts out into everyone around them, because they can't contain the love they have for Jesus. So maybe work crew was what God wanted me to do. And these people helped me realize that. 

Favorite activity: Another great memory was when Katy and I destroyed public property. 

This is Katy. She was the homecoming queen!

Katy and I were both servers. After we had finished setting tables for dinner everyone had some free time. Katy and I stayed back. She was taking pictures of the process for setting a table, and since my hands are so perfect in every way, she was using them. Then Katy came up with an idea. Wouldn't it be cool if the plate was broken and then the pieces were put back together? So we snuck back into the kitchen. (We opened the door and walked in). We took a plate and we went out to the woods behind the gym. There we attempted to break a plate multiple times. Who knew those plates were so durable? Finally we threw the plate against a rock and then it broke. We went back in the dining hall and took pictures. Then Nina, our dining hall intern, walked out. Nina could be a little bit scary. She wanted us to serve and serve well. She held us accountable. So is breaking a plate in the woods serving well? Nope, it sure is not. So we had a few options. My idea was to run to the boys bathroom and hide. Katy's idea was to tell Nina what we were doing. It turns out that Nina was fine our vandalizing activitites. Anything for art right? 

This memory is one of my favorites because of the conversations that Katy and I were able to have while breaking the law (or maybe just breaking a plate). This is also the moment when I realized that I am someone who judges harshly and swiftly. And when I judge I am so self-righteous about the judgement. When I first met Katy I didn't think that I could ever be close with her, but she was one of the people that I felt I got the closest to during that month. And when I saw Nina coming toward u, I assumed that we would be lectured. Nina had high expectations of us while serving because she knew that we were not serving her, we were not serving the campers, but we were serving Christ.

The tables that we cleaned, served, and set three times a day.

Favorite Days Off: Once a week, on the day that campers would go home we would get a day off. There are two days off that I hold near and dear. On one day we drove to a mall to go watch a movie. The mall that we went to had a curfew. People under 18 could not be out after a certain time. Our group arrived at the mall well after that time. Kids who do work crew are in high school. So a lot of us weren't 18 yet. Babies. Thomas was one of these babies.

This is our little baby, Thomas.

When someone is under 18 and there is a curfew, the only reasonable thing to do is make fun of them, right? And here's the thing, Thomas is great to make fun of. He handles berating rather well, and can even play along. So Katy and I viewed his age as a golden mocking opportunity. And maybe Katy was being a little loud. And maybe a mall cop was walking by. And maybe we got carded. And maybe Thomas was almost kicked out. Another fun story about Thomas, he dove in the lake and split his head open. And then on the car ride home from the mall everyone got car sick. So serious. 

My second favorite day off was our last day off. At Lake Champion we are surrounded by perfection. That day, instead of packing, Katy and I decided to take advantage of the lake. We took a canoe and followed people that were kayaking to the other side of the lake. We canoed over a small dam and pulled up to land.

Where we lived for a month. 

We had kicked our shoes off. Everyone wanted to go exploring. So we went on a barefoot walk through the woods. On our way back I shared the story of how I learned to accept the love of Christ in my life with Jake. Before everyone came to work crew, we were supposed to write down our testimonies and give them to one of our work crew bosses. I knew the moment when I had become a Christian, I knew the moment when my burdens were no longer mine. But I had never shared that moment. So I didn't write mine down. I felt that my story was mine, and that I didn't have to share it. I mean that moment was  between me and my Savior, it wasn't a moment between me and my mom, or me and fifty kids that signed up to volunteer. 

One morning I began to write down my testimony. I knew the story, the place, the time and the moment in which the way I was focusing my life changed. But I hadn't realized that there were so many things that led me to that specific moment. Until I started to write, I hadn't acknowledged that my family was what drove literally every single thing I didn't. Until I started to write I hadn't comprehended how much I idolized volleyball, how much it wholly consumed me. So it turns out that I didn't understand my full testimony until one morning at work crew. Because this was the first time that I had been able to process, my testimony wasn't something that I was keen on sharing. Maybe part of that was because of my reluctance to make friends. I had no problem hearing other people's stories. They wanted to share. They had basically memorized what they were going to say. And I hate sharing. Anything. Toys, food, clothes, happiness, memories. But really this story was the most raw thing that I had to myself. It is such a personal thing to share. Personal as in seeing someone naked, that kind of personal. 

During that hike was the first time that I fully shared all of my story. I had done a good job of avoiding the when people asked. That moment was when my heart was ready. Throughout the month I had been learning that my story is not really my own. The story that I am a character in belongs to someone greater. I was learning how sharing can encourage growth and can heal others. This lesson hit its' pinnacle during that walk. After that I was able to truly connect with others because I could share how God had worked in my life with my fellow work crew friends.

Worst serving experience: On the last day we were all cleaning the camp, getting it ready for another cycle of campers and another set of work crew. On that day the new work crew kids started to come, and many of them were helping us out. As a server I set the tables every day. I handled the plates everyday. I had not unintentionally broken a single plate all month. Until the last day. When I broke eight. All at one time. So this was my worst memory. This moment served to show me that even though my goal was to be this excellent server and nothing more, I was far from that. And all of my fellow servers didn't yell or chastise me for breaking the plates, they helped me clean. Funny how things work out in the end right?

These are all the servers. After a long, hard day of work. 

Favorite cleaning memory: On that same last day Katy and I (I promise I made other friends) were cleaning the girls bathroom. We thought that the center of the bathroom had a drain, so we dumped water on the floor of the bathroom to clean it. Turns out it wasn't a drain. Oops. While we were busy mopping up the pond we had created, Gretchen walked in to the bathroom to help. She brought us cereal that we ate. In the bathroom. Healthy and clean right? 

Our friendship was meant to be. 

I hadn't really gotten a chance to know Gretchen that well through the month. But while we were hanging out in a flooded bathroom I realized how funny and genuine Gretchen was. And though we were leaving that day, and though we hadn't gotten to know each other extremely well, I knew that Gretchen was a true friend. The Lord is so good for putting these incredible people in my life!

Each person affected my life in such a special way. I think about my work crew family often. It was at this place that I learned what community was. It was at this place that I learned that walking with Christ is hardly ever easy, but alway fulfilling, always right, always the only way to live a life. It was at this place that I had the most real conversations. It was at this place where the Lord called me to put away my obsessions and into ministry. So I think about my work crew family all the time. Because they gave me the strength to go back into a secular and hurting world. Because they encouraged me and grew me. Because they love the Lord. 

Vision Boards

Happy Endings is such a hilarious show. It's about friends who are all hanging out. Some have jobs, some don't. Some have direction, most don't. It just helps me feel a little bit better about my life. 

I just finished watching the episode that this clip is from. Because that is the most productive way to spend my time. And though Jane is a crazy, anal psycho, her vision board idea may not be that crazy, or anal. Lately I've been wondering what the heck I'm paying thousands of dollars a semester for, if I hate school and hate the classes I'm taking. And if the things I am dedicating my time to (like watching Happy Endings) are what I had envisioned before I began this year. So I obviously need to get my life together and figure out if what I am doing is what I would have put on a vision board, if I had made one.

*Side note: I will never make a vision board. That is too much work. But is so inclined, feel free to make me one. 

Penny has things like friends and a cute bartender on her board. I'll keep the cute bartender and add a few other things of my own. Get ready, get pumped, get excited for my vision board. 

I've been taking Arabic this semester. I plan to continue learning the language. I feel a push to travel to arabic speaking countries. (no I can't read the arabic. I'm failing)

Northern Virginia is an ethnically diverse place. I live in nova. I am diverse. Kidding, I'm pretty white. But one of my biggest visions is to create a latino Young Life community at the school that I lead at. At first I thought that it was simply my calling to work with the latino community as a career, but now I realize that my passion for this is immediate, it's now. Fingers crossed for a vida joven camp trip in the future!

I just need to figure out how to find the passion in my goals again. School has worn and burned me out. I need to feel like what I am doing is having an impact on myself and my community. Maybe that means changing my goals, maybe that means changing my approach. It's on my to-do list to figure that out. 

That is my vision board. Or more list vision list. Maybe I'll keep adding to it. But it probs stops here. Thanks for your inspiration Jane. If the things on Max's vision board can come true, so can mine. 

 

Today I miss my sisters.

If Words Were Medicine

I use writing as a way to heal and to maintain sanity. Writing is an outlet which allows me to sort through the half formed thoughts in my head and decipher how it applies to my life or even just figuring out what emotions are coursing through my brain. The lessons I learn, I need to log, otherwise I quickly forget that which took me so long to learn.




Writing brings me close to the Lord and helps me discover His greatness more and more. I learn His word and His story through writing about it, I grow closer to His heart this way. I gain the most minimal insight into the greatest wonder of the world. Through words on paper I can almost begin to describe the awe of the one who saved my life and continues to give me life.

So many times all that I have to offer are words. Words that are at times promises or condolences, insults, jokes, and occasionally a little wisdom slips out (where does that come from?). Sometimes words are all I have. When lives are shaken, when joy is overwhelming, sometimes all I can offer is a mumble or mutter and other times a grunt is all that there is. At times I feel like the only armor I have to go out into the world are the words which I have spent my whole life learning and perfecting. And at times words are the only medicine I have. Medicine to heal my own wounds, medicine to give to others. Medicine that I wish would clean and mend. But these medicinal words do not alleviate a broken heart, resentment, these words that I have cannot nourish and replenish. But these are the words that I have to offer up. If my words were medicine I don't know if I could heal, if I could hurt. But isn't that such a beautiful concept? If words were medicine? But even if I can't pour my sentences onto a burn to soothe, I can use my words to placate the wars within my life. And even if my words can't bond tightly to my skin to provide support, my words are a gift. A gift and a medicine that I treasure. That I keep here. Like a diary. Like a medical journal.

And even if my words don't serve, those of my Father, my Creator do. Does that even make sense? Can I even understand what that means. That the words of my Father have literally healed the flesh. These words are my treasure. But they are too much for me to understand. They transcend me. These are the words that have moved me, the words that I will continue to seek healing from. The words that I keep here. To remember. To remind. That I never forget that even if my words aren't medicine, His words are.




These are my thoughts, this is my life, this is my journey with the one who loves me with His entire being, and how great that is.

I am sorry.

I remember the exact moment when my relationship with my brother changed.

For many  years we were buddies, we were trouble makers together. We had a system. If something was found broken or a picture was drawn on the wall we would always answer with an I don't know when asked who did it. We would share the punishment, even when we knew exactly who was the culprit. But one day I changed this all. My brother and I had been having an argument, the subject so insignificant that I can't remember it today. My dad had extreme mood swings, ranging from dissatisfied to angry. He heard all the noise and came into the room asking what was going on. My brother played his role and said nothing was going on. My father asked why we were arguing. My brother said he didn't know. Instead of playing my role and answering with our go to responses, I said that my brother had done something wrong. My brother took the punishment on his own.

Later that day he was hurting, in order to take care of the pain he did what most little kids do, he slept. As he was dozing off I had asked him if he knew about some money that I had been saving up for the bookfair. He was my prime suspect, but he had always said he didn't know.

As he was falling asleep I asked him again. I remember distinctly saying, "Just tell me the truth, I promise I won't be angry." I said it with some conviction that even I believed it at the moment.

He sleepily and wearily replied that he had indeed taken the money. I didn't ask what he had used it for, I didn't ask if he still had it. I remember being so angry, so angry. Anger like my father so often displayed is what I was feeling. And instead of keeping my promise, I began to yell at him. I probably hit him too. This noise caused my father to again come in the room, not yet cool from the last confrontation. At that moment I wanted revenge, I wanted to be paid back for what was taken from me. I told my father what my brother had done. My father then continued to thrust my brother around and leave. My money was not replaced and I was not satisfied. My anger was still seething and I made sure my brother was aware.

The next day I went to his teacher and told her that my brother had taken money from me that I was going to use to buy books from the book fair. They then went to his desks and found that he had used the money to buy books for himself. Books that my parents could never give him. Books that satisfied his inner child, books that he loved. And I watched while the teachers told him he had to return them. I was handed back my money and I purchased books for myself. Books that I don't remember, books that I probably didn't even read. I hurt my brother. I continued to be angry at him and remind him of his failures. I hurt my brother, I hurt him and I didn't feel any remorse at that moment. I haven't felt any remorse for a while. Until today.

I was doing a bible study about Jesus's sermon on the Mount. In chapter 5 verse 40, "and if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well." Later in the study we were asked to draw upon a situation where someone had sued us (stolen) from us, how we reacted and how we should have reacted. And I remembered this moment. And I took some time to reflect on it. And I realized what a bitch I was, and have been to him most of his life. And I feel like someone just called me and told me that my mom was in the hospital. And I have this sense of desperation, this I need to make this right feeling, because our broken relationship is all my fault. And most of all I am sorry. I am so so sorry. To have hurt him then, to have hurt him after that, to place my mistakes on him, to point fingers, to make his mistakes bigger, to put so much pressure on him that the only thing to do was fail. I am sorry for not being there. For not being a sister. For not giving advice and holding him when he was hurting, but for causing most of that hurt. I am so sorry. And I don't know to make him understand how much I feel this emotion of remorse. I don't know how to tell him that he is not a failure, that I have been wrong for so long. And I am scared that it may be too late to fix what I have spent years breaking. And I am writing this because I need to know what I am feeling. I am writing to heal. To heal my brother, to ease his hurt. Because I am sorry.

I am a Stupid, Silly Girl.

I despise girly girls. I despise girly feelings. Sometimes I just hate being a girl. Being an emotional wreck. And I hate, hate, hate, hate, abhor, detest the thoughts and questions that girls have. Sometimes I just wish that I was born in the Mayoruna Peruvian tribe in the Amazon. Or just a member of a not developed nation so that I could have concerns about real issues. Like where I should hunt for game to feed myself. Or experience the pain of hunger instead of guilt of gluttony. But growing up in a cushiony developed nation with the emphasis of technology and money, I have also grown up with the industry that makes money, human emotion of infatuation (some call if love, I call it dopamine). And sometimes I even get caught up in this silly, trivial, infuriating, unrealistic fairytale. Because I am a stupid silly girl. Who should trip and fall into a hole and slowly bleed to death.

Sometimes I just want someone to tell me that I am pretty. That I am smart. That I am great. That I am better than everything. Sometimes I just want to be that damsel in distress and play the princess. With princes and peasants swooning, yearning for my great mind and character.

But I don't have a great mind.
And lately my character may have been faltering.
And others are starting to notice.

So I can't help but think that I don't deserve that princess lifestyle which all girls have grown up on. Because I'm not qualified.
Because my heart isn't ready.

But then if I'm not ready, not for the princess thing because that whole thing is poop and unrealistic, but just ready.  If my heart isn't ready now, will it ever be? Will I ever be ready to accept those peasants and princes? Or will I always be in a halfway awkward weird point? Where I know there is a shit ton of things that I need to work on before I could ever welcome someone else into my heart. Will I ever feel close enough to myself and to my God to be able to be dependent but independent at the same time? Will there come a point when I don't freak out when someone says, hey I think we are a good match, or Hey I like you?

Will I ever stop going into that panic mode where my brain is screaming, tell him to stop, he doesn't know what you've done with who, or this is not right, you will get too caught up again and screw up. You've worked to hard to jeopardize it all with a relationship. You guys aren't going in the same direction. It would never work in the future so why bother now? He can't really like you. If he really got to know you then the attraction would fade, it's temporary so don't bother getting hurt.

I don't think I will ever be a grown up. I don't think my emotions have much room for growth. And I've taught myself to be stubborn. I've taught myself so well that I don't know how to undo it. And my way of 'flirting' is by sarcasm, which is no different than how I treat other people, but I add an extra cutting edge to it. Cutting as in let me slice your feelings to a slow bloody drip with my words. Oh wait did you get turned off by that? Well I wonder why.

I don't think that I will ever think that anyone is good enough. I have the fatal flaw of having a shopping list. A checklist of things that I want, things that I don't. Someone who reads, who understands news, is music and movie savvy, is athletic, is smart, has goals, has passions (not sex, not love, real passions - interests), has a huge vocabulary (because I obviously do, using adjectives like huge), is patient, is firm, can fix cars without a mechanic, if asked to can build a house, is a manly man, can work technology, doesn't smoke, doesn't do drugs, doesn't drink heavily, is close to my age, let's me be right - all the time, but not really, can speak another language, is romantic but not sappy, wants to change things, wants to make the world better, is so funny, but really that's important, but is serious, so someone light hearted, a touch of sarcasm, appreciates my sarcasm, will understand my disdain for the idea of parenthood but also wants kids, and loves Christ, which is actually the hardest of all it seems. Really is all of that so much to ask for?

So basically I want someone who will adjust to my moods and place me on a pedestal and can do all the things I can't. So I don't want an equal. But I do. But I don't know that I could ever really get rid of this list. I don't know that I could ever be grown up enough to realize how unrealistic it is to a apply this to an individual.

And oh wait, there's that one little thing of no one will ever want me because there will always be someone better. Someone fitter. Someone smarter. Someone more accomplished. Kinder. Funnier. Less bitterly sarcastic. More graceful. More open to compromise. There is a very likely possibility that I will never ever find someone. I mean even just casual dating is a no go because there is always someone better than.

And I keep telling myself that this should not be that big of an issue. There are real problems in the world. But at this moment this is consuming my thoughts. I can see myself being single for the rest of my life. I mean casual sex is not something that I would ever chose. So no love for me. But I don't think that I would be upset because I won't be in a relationship, I would just want someone to come home to and watch a movie with and hug and hold and kiss. So if I could have that without the relationship that would be ideal. So if that didn't go against every moral standard I have then, then all would be good.

I just want so much. I have a career that I know that I want. That I am so passionate about. There are people that need me, need my help, need the opportunities that I have been give. But what if I am not good enough, or smart enough for even them? I am not willing to sacrifice this dream, this calling, I am not even willing to compromise for anyone else. No one else. And I know that I don't need someone to make me happy. Because I already have all the happiness that I would ever need, knowing that I am going to heaven. And I just wish I knew if God has someone in mind for me. If only I knew then I could be patient and stop wasting my time with these stupid girly girl thoughts. I kind of disgust myself for letting this be something that is of concern.

The end. I mean I know the Lord is the author of my story. It's just that I wish I could read ahead a little, you know to have time to cope with what the big events will be. But that just ruins all the fun, doesn't it? Fun.

But I will always have the reassurance that these feelings are all a result of chemical in my mind going out of wack.

And knowing that helps to to remember. I am great. I have goals. Girls are stupid. Boys are stupid.

Moved by Grace

Last night my life was full of worship, prayer, praise, fellowship, the Holy Spirit. I was moved, I was in AWE of God's grace, I was humbled. I was fully satisfied, fully understanding. I was so small. He was so big, so LOVING.

And I wish you could have been there, I wish you could understand what happened last night. How the wonder and the glory were on fire, brought me literally to my knees, my Father, my Lord, how he loves me. And how He beckoned to me, made me realize how sweetly broken I am.

This is literally how it went: I have had some of the most wearing times lately. Not enough sleep, constant work, constant deadlines. But yesterday was Ash Wednesday. The first day that Jesus spent in prayer, in fasting, in resistance of temptation because of His undying love for us, for our Father.

And I was going to go to an Ash Wednesday service, to show my thankfulness, to show my gratitude. But I got off work late and I had overslept and looked rough. So instead I went to my room and napped. And I went to a worship service called the Gathering at nine last night. And the message was Powerful, Convicting, Convincing, Truth. And that alone was enough for me to realize the GRACE of God. We looked at Galatians chapters 1-3. How Paul was reprimanding first Peter, then the Galatians. And then the speaker told us that this is a letter to us. To us. To us. To me. To me.

The speaker had asked us to write down what we thought the perfect Christian looked like. He read them to us. Someone who is in the word daily, someone who lives like Christ, does not judge, proclaims the love of Christ, meditates on the word day and night, loves his neighbor.

This, the speaker said, is exactly what the Galatians were doing. This is what we are doing. This is what our great mistake is. We think that we have to fulfill certain criteria in order to be in God's favor. We set rules for ourselves. Have daily quiet time, to participate in service. We get caught up in the significance of these things. I have. I've been tired lately. I would wake up early to try to have quiet time, and end up falling asleep in the middle of it. Then it got to the point where I couldn't even wake up early anymore.

I felt like I was failing, flailing. But I am not guaranteed a spot in heaven because I do or do not have quiet time, it is solely because of God's Grace. Last night I was reminded to constantly be in awe of in the thing that saved my life.

That in itself is powerful enough. But God was so bountiful last night. He taught me so much. We wrapped up with this song,

The lyrics are so powerful. "Oh I am running to your arms, I'm running to your arms. The riches of your life will always be enough. Nothing compares to your embrace. Light of the world forever reign."

And I was brought to tears. And I was sweetly broken, wholly surrendered. And the Holy Spirit was alive and the passion was there. Perfection.

And if the night would have ended there I would have been filled. But after a few Younglife people said,  let's continue worship. So we went. Into a building, Into a lounge. Two guitars. Fifteen people. From different avenues, from different ministries and three Fathers, three men studying for the priesthood showed up on their last night.

And we sang.
And we prayed.
And we praised.
And we spilled out our hearts,
Held our arms open wide for our Lord.
We were overwhelmed.
We fell in love with Christ all over again.

It was the most emotional, most faith reassuring experience. It was so right, so spontaneous, so real, so in love. So in love. With God. With Christ. With Grace. For two straight hours we worshiped, we were in continuous prayer and our praise was said out loud, said within fellowship. We, some strangers, were brought together for our ardent, burning, consuming love of our Savior. And today all I can think about is the one who paid my debt. The one who has given it all, given His life, and loves me. These are a few of the songs we sang, I can't remember most of them:

How he loves us

Mighty to save

Sweetly broken

Mighty to save

You’re Beautiful

From the inside out

And this is literally what it was like to be in that room with brothers and sisters in Christ,

Decisions, Decisions.

The application is pulled up on my laptop. I have two out of the four pages completed and I have started on the third. I started to fill it out to see how I felt while completing it. I don't feel wrong, but I don't feel right, you know that feeling of right, when something is so, so, well, right, to the point that second guessing doesn't exist.

But as I am completing this I can't help but wonder,

Is this something that I want or is it something the Lord is calling me to do?
Is it too soon?

I have cleaned my room, washed and put away the dishes, made my bed, washed and folded laundry and the choice still hasn't been completed. I have other parts of my life together and Nickel Creek is playing in the background, making an attempt to ease the headache I can feel coming. And I realize,

I am bad at making choices.

I always have been. I ride the fence too much, I let things sit for too long. I put it off wishing and hoping that the answer will come eventually and clearly. For example, when choosing a college and now deciding how to spend a portion of my summer. It is just a portion.

But am I being CALLED to do this? Does the Lord NEED me to serve in this area? Is there somewhere else, something else that would better glorify Him? I guess I will pray and wait. Wait and pray.

Perhaps I should not "..be anxious about anything, but in every situation by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving bring your requests to God and the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7. Maybe I should listen to Paul.

Because it's too funny not to share.

"There's too much laughter and it's too loud."

There's too much laughter and it's too loud is something that my advanced comp teacher said to one of her classes a long time ago and it has stuck with me.

Because it is so true. So applicable.

Too much laughter is overwhelming, draining. You would think it would be the opposite, but it's not. When there is too much energy in the room you can lose energy, feel emotionally drained.

It's like that saying, "too much of a good thing will make you die faster and be ugly." Okay maybe that's not the exact quotation but let's just go along those same lines. Too much of something, anything, even something good can be overwhelming. Spend too much time with someone who you really like and you will begin to find fault and nit pick. Spend too much time playing something that you love and you will become bored. Spend too much time in community and you start to feel frazzled. There has to be a good balance. Time for you, time for others; time for fun, time for work; time for friends, time for family.

But what happens when everything is thrown at you at one time.

And you can't BREATHE.
Or relax.
Or think.
Or live.
Or function properly in any arena.

And it's like you are sitting outside of your body and you are watching your little self go through a checklist of things that absolutely without a doubt have to be done today. And you try to help yourself out and move things around to make time for the simple act of breathing. But it is impossible.

That's when there is too much laughter. When it's too loud. So loud that you can barely hear your whispered thoughts. And it's too much of strain to attempt to listen closely.

I am tired. There is too much laughter in my life right now. I just need some silence. Giggles would suffice. I need to be able to have enough time in the day where I can just think.

Think about myself.
What I want to do with my life.
What I have done.
What I should do better.
What my contribution to the world is.
How comfortable my bed is.

Instead of having to think of which task is next to complete.
What time my next assignment is due.
How I will ever manage to find the time to eat lunch.
How I can make it on time to class without leaving work early.

So I guess it all starts by realizing that though there is too much laughter in my life at this moment - at least there is laughter. Instead of screaming, complaining, whimpering. At least it's laughter. And always my good friend John Mayer continues to remind me that the heart of life is indeed good.

If your eight year old self met you, would they be proud?

Meric Long, Notes

I feel like I've been told to not get inside myself too much multiple times. I don't listen well.

Today I failed.

There are times when situation after situation make you question whether you have any idea what you are doing. When you take a brief step back (long enough to find that there is an issue with your contribution to the world but not long enough to be able to identify the issue) and you are completely stumped by your absolute and utter incompetence at, well at everything.

Like when you have been working somewhere for three weeks and someone asks you where the bathroom is, and you open your mouth to answer and then there is that awkward pause where the person is probably peeing their pants because you still haven't answered the question because you just realized that, "What the heck? How do I not know where the bathrooms are? Isn't that the most basic information? I mean people that don't work here know that."

Or when someone asks you about something and you say, "Yeah I totally know what you are saying. You just go over to the computer, type in the title, get the call number and go search for the book." And then they look at you like you just told them that their child is the worst soccer player on the team. And then they hand you a slip of paper and say, "Actually you are supposed to go in the back and get the book for me." Oh. Right. Even you knew that.

Or when the lab instructor comes by to check on your work and he says, "are you sure about that answer?" And you say, "well since you said something, no, no I'm not sure anymore." And then he says, "Well it's obviously not slate because slate doesn't have minerals and these minerals are huge." Well. I guess I should change my answer now.

Or when you sit down next to someone at a leadership program and they are like, "Hi my name is Nick and I own a small business while going to school and getting a double major. I created two new student organizations, I volunteer in the community and I led and initiative that was wildly successful to send over 2,000 pounds of food to Haiti within one month." And then you say, "Hi I'm Anna I can't explain my major to you because I'm kind of meshing some things together and crossing my fingers so it will work out, I, uh, well I go to school here. And sometimes I leave my room to get food and stuff so we are basically on the same level."

And at the end of the day you look at your life, look at your choices and you see a fairly productive day. But then if you squint one eye and cup your hands like a telescope you see nothing. Nothing. That is the your effect on the world. I mean you yourself are benefiting a lot. You are getting paid for being barely competent at your job, your mistakes are corrected by other so you are never really allowed to fail, and people say, "Well you're young, maybe one day you will make some sort of contribution to society."

And all of these small things start to pile up and it makes you sad. Not the kind of sad when you are angry sad or crying sad but the kind of sad when your heart gives a tiny little sigh. Like when you climb a really tall building and look down and the people look like dots and it's really cool for a while because it's like you are a king or superhero and then you realize that you could easily be an unidentifiable, insignificant dot. It's not like you are so shaken up that you are going to jump off the building but for a little bit it feels just a tad unfair.

And then you climb back down and you go about your life and the same thing happens again but this time with small things in your life. And you realize that you are that dot again. But this time you look around and you see real people doing real things, making real contributions. And you kind of suck for not being a real person. For having so much and not doing anything to give back. And then you walk the streets of D.C. and it's cold but you have a warm room to go to, while others have a cold sidewalk. And you see how much of a dot you are. Because there is so much you could do. But you have been taught stranger danger and you have been told well what can you really do.

Well why not ask. I mean why has this never been a solution to me before? Why not go up and ask, what can I do for you? Spare a few dollars? Do it. Why have I been taught to be so stingy? Why is there no more empathy. Is that no longer a desirable trait? I mean this is literally type vomit. Something that crossed my mind and quickly zapped onto the keyboard. But I like it. I like it a lot.

Not that this will help me not be a dot. Or tell people where the bathroom is located. But the first step is to be aware of my insignificance. The next is to decide how I will not longer be insignificant. I have plans for the future, but let's be real, will I even make it that far? And aren't my plans a little ambitious and idealistic? Yes, yes they are. I haven't even given the world a real chance to knock me down and steal my livelihood yet. So what am I, Anna Martinez, going to do to stop being a dot? Good question, real good. I mean there are people fighting, literally giving up everything for the abstract concept of freedom. People all around me are changing lives of millions, people younger than me. Let's get real I'm aging faster than I should be. I should jump on my life and get my act together. People have let me coast by way too easily.

I want to change the world.
Impossible.
Why would I set my sights any lower?
I want to work with immigrants.
Children.
The education system.
Worker's rights.
Families that are not so cohesive (by that I mean falling apart).
The elderly. Give them the respect they deserve.
Adults who can't read.
Children in other nations who are forced to be grown ups.
Children here who are spoiled.
I want to hide in the mountains and live a life away from people.
I want to yell at everyone who gets drunk and high on weekends and punch them in the face.
I want to show people how much they are hurting, themselves, others, me, their future families and wives/husbands.
I want to stop unemployment.
I want schools to have better ESL programs.
Anti bullying programs.
Better disability programs.
I want ignorance to be gone.
I want gender equality.
I want enough sleep.
And I want to be happy with someone who loves me and believes in me.
Someone who is not my family.
Someone who God wants me to have.
I want people to feel the love God has shown me.
To stop suicide.
To stop self disappointment, self hatred.
I want to know what I want and how to get it.
I want to be a real person.
I'm tired of being a dot, even though I'm really good at it, too good.
I want someone who appreciates education. And college for learning. FOR LEARNING.

I might be all over the place. So let me get an action plan together. Lord, lead me to where you want me. To what you want me to do. Keep my views in perspective. Remind me in my supposed times of need of those with real problems. Lord help me make your world better. Help me to change the world. Help me to do this without falling into corruption. Lord teach me appreciation, teach me gratitude.

The Land is Awakening

I guess today I am a little bitter because today it is perfect outside. So perfect. This is two days in a row where my body is meant to lay in the grass. But, unlike yesterday, today I have to be inside. Inside a building, inside classroom, inside an office. I can still appreciate the beauty of the day from within these walls, though it's not the same as being outside and appreciating it with my body.

Not only can I not enjoy the weather today, but tomorrow and the rest of the week it is supposed to get cooler and cooler with snow on Tuesday. I love snow, probably too much, but I desperately need to feel the sunlight on my skin, to synthesize some vitamin D and get my melatonin and serotonin up and running again. And I need this weather to allow me to feel like I am home. When the sun is out it is a little bit more like home. Winter here is drab, oh but spring and summer make me almost believe that this is a portion of home. Where I wake up to this:

 
And go to bed to this:

 Today I just want to read on a grassy field, but there does seem to be a shortage of those around here. Everyone is cramped onto the small plots of grass. No room for me, no open spaces. It makes me miss this:

I just want farms. Weird right? One of the things that most people make fun of is the seemingly abnormal amount of farms. But after a semester in the city I realized that one-there are no farms here, literally, and that living in an area with farms is a lifestyle which is slowly becoming impossible. Now many farms are government versus family run. This knowledge helps me appreciate getting stuck behind tractors while driving, the smell of spring is now forever freshly spread manure, and farms are my definition of home, hopefully that image will last.

Overall it is such a blessing to have this weather. To be able to rejoice because of it. I know spring will come when it needs to. And I know that I will soon be smelling the moist manure back at home.