tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73128747586487139862024-02-06T19:50:02.892-08:00bex's blogRebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-10911824249409265292012-12-05T11:29:00.003-08:002012-12-05T11:43:43.209-08:00If I had $70....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-15921004638782183332012-11-15T08:27:00.002-08:002012-11-15T09:47:37.955-08:00this blog is silly. i hate and love it.<br />
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i've been wanting to get back to blogging...it's almost pitiful how up and down i am with this blog. but i think blogging is good for me to publicly think out loud about where i am, where i've come, and where i plan to go.</div>
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since the summer, i have:</div>
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taken 18 credits. interned at a law firm. got a new job. started dating a boy. created my own website. started a small group with high school girls. applied for graduation. applied for a million other things. have given a person of christ/sin/cross talk at YL club. it's been an exhausting semester. <b>needless to say</b> i am ready for thanksgiving break.</div>
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i am interested in:</div>
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actually joining a movement. (interning, tithing, volunteering?)</div>
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attend conferences. (TJC, SPC).</div>
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learning more about marketing and branding.</div>
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attend concerts (florence and the machine, mumford, explosions in the sky, ellie goulding).<br />
travel (see annaliesa in england. abbie. interns).<br />
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-82928229295082892302012-05-22T20:24:00.003-07:002012-05-22T20:24:51.786-07:00majestyI'm a very inconsistent blogger. I'm very sorry.<br />
<br />
I was able to spend one week home in between school and interning. in that week, i felt extremely weak...loss of words, doubt in my heart, completely undisciplined...unfocused, weary, uncertain. in subtle thoughts of, "I don't crave any intimacy with the lord. I'd rather not be productive with my life. I don't really want to dedicate a whole summer to serving the Creator for lives to be changed. I'd just rather not meet new people."<br />
<br />
and what did I experience all week? incredible moments of wisdom being showered into my life. in the most miraculous and real situations.<br />
<br />
when my older sister needed advice about a boy situation, i mumbled unhelpful words and repeated phrases like, "boys suck." whereas, my younger sister, who is four years younger than my older sister, told her the honest freaking truth. "Leave him, run...you want a man who knows and loves jesus more than he loves you because in that, things will hold together. you are worth a million bux and i will remind you of this everyday until you really grasp it." and such. it was beautiful, hilarious, and <i>so so</i> encouraging. my younger, rambunctious sister was able to slap me and nina in the face and gently tell us things we always need to hear.<br />
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my mom and i were driving in the car to the market. she explains how she has a client who is battling stage four cancer...except that the battle is essentially over. she now lives in a hospice and is waiting for her time to pass over. my mom, NONCHALANTLY, tells me...."yeah, so i just asked her if she had a bible to read. we aren't allowed to bring religious matters into work, but i mean, she is dying and i found it important she knows of her savior. so i read her romans 8:38-39. she loved it."<br />
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oh, <i>thanks mom for having an eternal impact</i>. she is changing this world. i want to grow up to be like her. something as simple and childish as that. i am proud she is my momma and the lord is proud she is his daughter.<br />
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<b>jenna</b>. i didn't want anyone to come over, because i was extremely exhausted and nervous before leaving the following morning for a place where i didn't know a single person (yet). she insisted, plopped on my bed, and forced me to look at her and catch up, talk, express, love. she held my hands very tightly as she whispered prayers to the lord. <b><i>beyond peaceful. beyond lovely. beyond everything i imagined.</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b><br />
thank you, sweet savior, for using my weakness for your profound and majestic words.<br />
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<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-45110760169655165872012-05-07T07:14:00.000-07:002012-05-07T08:43:35.214-07:00this Kiss<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I haven't had one of those "experiences" in quite a while...the moments of raw truth and pure love being accepted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">this is my third time coming to the new site church, here in ridley. BRV media planted another one in ridley because quite frankly...<i>we need it.</i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">but can we just pause and recognize how this county needed a good church? one that flourishes, rains truth, speaks and lives out hope. kind of like luke 4.18</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: #f9fdff; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;">"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, </span><span style="background-color: #f9fdff; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;">to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor."</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">(totes my "life verse").</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">church is now in an old Leiper church. Stained glass windows, shades of gray and brown on the walls, an altar, pews. the whole thing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">do you know how incredible it was to have people scattered throughout the pews, arms open, wanting to just dance in the presence of the Great I Am?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">Yesterday all of my passions, fears, doubts, dreams, hopes, insecurities, gifts, thankfulness, purposes....<i>all that i am</i>....were wrapped into one experience and exploded into the love i received.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">standing next to my mom in worship. looking over my shoulder and seeing eric, a kid who graduated with christina on his knees. no one will really get it. people in ridley...well, you don't just go to church for fun. he was <b>alone</b>. and he keeps coming back. why? because <i>he knows and he gets it</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">overweight people. young and very old. skinny people. rough looking people. lower socio-economic classes. swarthmorians (wealthy people). everyone and anyone..<b><i>.ah, how refreshing to get a visual image of the kingdom.</i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">sometimes it gets suffocating to have your community always look and feel the same...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">anyway, i can't express what i felt and why i felt it. but i felt beyond free, loved, thankful. am i sad at the state of this world? why of course...am i going to change this world? why, hell yeah...but do i love who i am in the core of my being and the purpose i have for today and only today? why, jesus, i am so incredibly thankful.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">i love him so much...because he gets me...when no one else does.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i>the first will be last and the last shall be first. </i>the economy of the kingdom is upside down. how did i lose that? why do i feel entitled to earn more denari for a longer day's work? how sickening i am. a wretch.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">"how he loves" was played. i've heard this song three hundred and seventy two times plus a thousand more. but yesterday morning, the line "so heaven meets earth with an unforeseen kiss." and people also know it as "so heaven meets earth with a sloppy wet kiss." but honestly unforeseen was so perfect for me to hear. why do i grow dismal with the state of this world? <b><i>God kissed this world, God kissed this Earth, God kissed me.</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">a truly depressing world would be one where the Kingdom never came and wasn't coming. but Heaven kissed earth...blindsided. had no clue. out of no where, the lord was like BAM, HERE ARE MY LIPS. (hehe) but what he is really saying is, "here is my love, my grace, tenderness, hope...everything will be okay because I did something about it."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #001320; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i>and that was the most powerful kiss human-kind has ever known.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #001320; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #001320; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-78844226908024357242012-05-03T13:47:00.000-07:002012-05-03T13:52:04.587-07:00A Sobering Look at Sexuality<br />
<b>**PREFACE:</b><br />
I edited my paper--as in, i cut it and made it short. i didn't include the evolution of pornography. essentially, what used to be "hard porn" is now soft. example: Playboy, lad mags, etc.<br />
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<b>PREFACE 2:</b><br />
For the sake of time/research, my paper is about heterosexual men who consume pornography. I recognize there are other issues, like homosexual porn, etc. but this is about heterosexual men consuming porn, <i style="font-weight: bold;">but most of all it is about the industry. my goal is for the industry/producers to be held accountable, because they are the ones carefully constructing the way sexuality is portrayed.</i><br />
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also, don't mind the grammar/punctuation mistakes! hehe. OH and i recognize some material is really graphic but that's the point, right?<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
In the last sixty
years, sexuality has been commoditized and sold to millions of men through the
increasing acceptance and usage of pornography. As Gail Dines coins it, pornography has become a public
health issue because young men, commonly starting at eleven years old, are
developing their sexual experiences through degrading, virtual images, and this
ultimately affects their perception of women (xiii). Not only is pornography a
type of entertainment, but also it has evolved into becoming our main source of
sexual education and standards of sexual expectation. In essence, pornography has become the American
culture. In Dines’ novel, <u>Pornland,</u>
she critically analyzes the harms of the pornography industry: “In short,
[pornographers] are businessmen from start to finish, not innovators committed
to our sexual freedom” (x). The
lack of sexual freedom in our culture must be evaluated, for sexuality is being
defined and controlled by businessmen in the sex industry. Because of pornography, sexual
imagination and emotional intimacy are stolen from relationships and we are
left with a society numb to malicious and disdainful acts towards women that
are common themes in pornographic material. Through the novels <u>Pornland</u> and <u>Getting Off, </u> Dines and Jensen discuss the evolution
of pornography, explore the content of two pornographic genres, and explain why
pornography is detrimental to sexuality as a whole.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
The content of
this “arousing material” thrives off of the main idea that men should sexually
and physically dominate women.
This domination is often seen in the forms of the submission of women to
sexual acts, the aggressive interactions of men, and even violence committed
towards women. Today, the industry
utilizes the domination in two central genres: “features” and “gonzo” (Jensen
55). Features attempt to imitate a
story line with actors, a plot, and dialogue; gonzo is solely sexual acts that
are recorded. Gonzo has become one
of the biggest moneymakers in the pornography industry; this speaks volumes
since gonzo, “…depicts hard-core, body-punishing sex in which women are
demeaned and debased” (Dines xi).
Both features and gonzo highlight the way a woman’s body can be
objectified and sexualized through the intentional facial expressions, body
positions, physical contact, and verbal dialogue included. Men are aggressive
by pushing a woman’s head or body in a certain position and penetrating
her. There is often a blatant
expression of discomfort or pain on a woman’s face, and some pornographic films
admit in their goal of inflicting this pain. Pornography blurs the lines of
legal abuse and “sexually arousing material,” and almost all pornography
consumers and pornography producers overlook this issue. In almost all of these films, there is
sexual and verbal abuse towards a woman.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Dines describes the intent of
pornography:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; tab-stops: -4.5pt 4.5pt 9.0pt;">
In
porn the man makes hate to the woman, as each sex act is designed to deliver
the maximum amount of degradation. Whether the man is choking her with a penis or
pounding away at her anus until it is red raw, the goal of porn sex is to
illustrate how much power he has over her. (xxv)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; tab-stops: -4.5pt 4.5pt 9.0pt;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
This description
of a scene in pornography is not uncommon; such brutality is typical. Classic acts, in which they are shown
in almost every film, are those of double penetration, double anal, double vag,
and ass-to-mouth. “DP” is when a
woman is penetrated vaginally and anally at the same time; double anal is when
a woman is penetrated anally by two men at the same time; double vag is when a
woman is penetrated vaginally by two men at the same time; and ass-to-mouth is
when a man removes his penis from a woman’s anus and, without cleaning it,
places it in her mouth (Jensen 59).
Terms like DP and ATM are popular in the industry, and that alone is a
grave danger to the way sexuality is being expressed in America.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Pornography is a
billion dollar industry; the producers have to find creative ways to send their
movies over the edge and remain “desirable” to men to keep sex selling. Most people would claim to be appalled
at the physical and verbal content within pornography; however, the popularity
of the material is becoming deeper than individual pleasures and is
contaminating people’s perceptions on a national level. As Dines interviewed young college men,
she recalls, “Some of the worst stories I hear are from men who have become so
desensitized that they have started using harder porn and end up masturbating
to images that had previously disgusted them. Phil told me, ‘Sometimes I can’t believe the porn I like’”
(Dines 93). The meaning and
expression of sexuality has been at risk for decades and has become so deformed
that young men are becoming comfortable with images they never thought
possible. Sex should represent
mutual affection, intimacy, and respect between two people. However, the porn industry has
carefully constructed their videos to convey the message that porn culture is
desirable because of the absence of intimacy. Detached from commitment, pornography offers men an escape
into which their “wildest fantasies” can be played out with the click of a
button. With fulfilling sexual
desires through the Internet and/or the media, pleasure has become a cold
experience</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Almost all of
pornographic material reinforces the idea that women are nothing but sluts and
whores and are objects to ridicule.
The evidence of this idea through verbal language is astronomical, for
derogatory words are continuously being said in gonzo and features. As Jensen states, “But it’s also clear
that a common message of pornography is that all women are whores by nature;
it’s intrinsic to being a woman” (Jensen 112). Men in the movies are almost always using words like “slut,”
“whore,” “bitch,” “cunt,” and anything that promotes the dehumanization of a
woman. A commonly seen instance in
porn consists of a man telling a woman, “Choke on that dick,” and physically
grabbing her head, slapping her face, and forcing his penis into her mouth
(Jensen 62).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
To see further into the intent of
pornographic films, Jensen explains:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; tab-stops: 31.5pt;">
Women in
pornography tend to get treated by men as either objects of desire or objects
of ridicule. That is, men see them
as things to be either fucked or made fun of, or both. For example, a pornographic website
that focuses on gag-inducing oral sex asks, ‘Can these fuck toys be any
dumber?’ That sums up the way men in the pornographic world think about these
women. (122)</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
As American
citizens, we do not have to look far to find glimpses of pornographic
content. Recently, Rush Limbaugh was
recorded calling law student, Sandra Fluke a slut and prostitute. CafePress
sells shirts with the term “Donkey Punch,” which refers to a move where the
male punches the female in the back of head or neck prior to orgasm with
intents of her “bucking like a donkey.”
Such examples are not only flooding porn sites, but are invading the
news, clothing companies, advertisements, and systems. This porn rape culture, a culture where
the lines are unclear between illegal harm to women and pleasure for men, is polluting
the minds of people everywhere.
Women are objectified into the simple belief that they are only worthy
of sexually satisfying men, while men are being stripped of their masculinity
and are being programmed to believe they are not men unless they dominate
women. The meaning of sexuality
has been so tainted and perverted that most people do not know what healthy
sexual experiences entail. Because
of the porn industry, sex has become simply become a service, where men demand
and women supply. Not only is
misogyny the central theme to pornography, but also the videos are extremely
discriminatory to all who are not heterosexual males. The lack of discussion about the harms of pornography is
further evidence in how consumerism has carefully constructed pornography to be
accepted into mainstream culture.
Exploring the pornography industry is crucial in order to redeem
sexuality in America, for this industry is controlling our society and molding
it to be impersonal, misogynistic, and abusive.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
To produce a
healthy society, where sexuality is constructed by our own, natural
experiences, we must raise awareness and become pro-active to end this
industry. Although the distortion
of sex is undeniable and the pornography business is powerful, that cannot be a
justifiable excuse to continue to allow the horrendous and blatant
dehumanization of women.
Pornography is infecting the minds of children, adolescents, and adults
and poisoning the perceptions men have of women. The message pornography conveys is simple: degrade, abuse,
violate, and dominate women. For
the identity and worth of a woman be centered on body parts and the ability to
perform sexual acts, women and men must take a sobering look at how it truly
affects society and personal relationships.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-13113932109674452522012-05-01T17:37:00.002-07:002012-05-01T17:39:26.307-07:00victoryit is exhausting wanting to be elsewhere and wanting a different lifestyle. to be prettier, more adventurous, smarter, etc. most days it is a <b>constant battle</b> to fight the lies of, "transferring from APU was a mistake. you loved it there. you could have had a better life there." talking with my friends from APU is <i>always</i> bitter-and-sweet. bitter because i desperately want to be near them and have the life i used to have. basically the glossed versions of my time at APU...when things went well, when things were exciting and sunny and beautiful. not when i felt lonely and/or disconnected from the lord, and especially when i felt like i just was searching for more.<br />
<br />
so why do i always skip over the victories of my college experience, both at apu and jmu? why do i so quickly forget the moments of "<i>this is a beautifully fruitful and nurturing season in my life."</i> i am not sure why i forget. but i don't want to...so this post goes out to the incredible, both little-and-small, victories of my time in harrisonburg just this week.<br />
<br />
-getting two pints of cake batter ice cream from klines last week and not being judged by my housemates.<br />
-giggling with Evi as we chat boys and think it is funny. (humor similar to middle school).<br />
-spending hours with Sara and Lindsay as we did studied together yesterday. I think I am fueled by other people's energy.<br />
-the warm weather today. the fan is blowing in the kitchen and i sure do love the feeling of summer.<i> there is nothing like it and i'm addicted to the feeling.</i><br />
-simply living in a house with so many awesome women.<br />
-the late night texts Evi and I send as only a wall separates us...silly things like "I am tempted to text him. tell me not to." and then complete forgiveness and no judgment when we gave in and did. whoops!<br />
-the adrenaline rush when i complete a kick-ass paper.<br />
<br />
<br />
it's all about perspective, right? I know I will truly miss harrisonburg this summer.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-36165659539325975312012-04-28T11:35:00.001-07:002012-04-28T11:35:19.913-07:00the scene in titaniclast week i broke my foot. well, it's not definite but there is a strong possibility. what i have to say about that: i am miserable, unmotivated, defeated, insecure. i feel all of those things. but what are you going to do?<br />
<br />
last night was a picnic for young life. long story short, all 120 something leaders square danced/country line danced (what's the proper name?) and because of my new best friends (crutches) i had to sit out and watch. I anticipated a pity party, because, <b><i>come ON, </i></b>reb LOVES to dance. so I knew it would be hard to watch so many people twirl, spin, and get a kiss on the cheek. (hehe).<br />
<br />
luckily no pity party was near. instead, i felt absorbed in the moment of cheering, celebrating, and pure fun. you know the feeling you get when you're watching titanic and Rose is taken to the third class party underneath the boat? and you are just DYING to be with her and be spun by leonardo dicaprio? the screaming irish music, beer toppling over mugs, people letting loose and grabbing on to each other. it is wild and untamed. okay so no one got to dance with leo last night. but the feelings of adrenaline, being free, and excited about life were totally there. i loved being in the midst of chaos and not being able to have time to care about who thinks of who and who is judging who.<br />
<br />
I want dance through everyday.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-8678683982234627282012-04-15T19:50:00.004-07:002012-04-15T19:59:35.918-07:00I need you<div style="font-style: normal; "><p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 20px; "><b><span ></span></b></p></div><blockquote><div style="font-style: normal; "><p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 20px; "><b><span ></span></b></p><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><b><span >" I need you to listen. I need for you to not lose heart. I need for you to always choose hope over despair. I need you to know that all seasons pass. I need for you to be courageous in moments that pass without a swelling orchestra or standing ovation. I need for you to believe with all your heart that you are beautiful and created not only to witness, but to participate in beauty and wonder. I need for you to know these truths because someday I will need for you to remind me. I will lose faith just as you have. I will cling to doubt and self pity. And one day you’ll forget what we fought for and why we laughed, and I will remind you of the life we chose to live, believing we’re meant for more than we could ever imagine. "</span></b><p></p><div style="text-align: center; "><b><span ><br /></span></b></div></div><div style="text-align: center;font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "><span ><span style="font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></span></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-63315275899352434842012-04-11T07:34:00.004-07:002012-04-11T19:30:10.497-07:00heaping mount of choco<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOc0qvDcKa_2atFhJMnvOmdW2ioJzc7WvaIkNKcRaEoQKYRW2cNgSwT1fdtgBk_kwi9B3RnM43px2z5jIHp2v9GICFxMGhlerx4ecaE1KGaD0MALjgrrnpBxM_eyoM_4LteHuWVy7zRQw/s1600/IMG_1264.jpg" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOc0qvDcKa_2atFhJMnvOmdW2ioJzc7WvaIkNKcRaEoQKYRW2cNgSwT1fdtgBk_kwi9B3RnM43px2z5jIHp2v9GICFxMGhlerx4ecaE1KGaD0MALjgrrnpBxM_eyoM_4LteHuWVy7zRQw/s400/IMG_1264.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730152219929384434" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; ">This past weekend I reconnected with a great friend of mine. Clingy, inseparable, what ever word you would like to choose to describe our annoyingly obsessive, playful, and loving friendship that started ten years ago. It has not always been smooth sailing. We have walked through valleys with each other and cried our eyes out over difficult life situations.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; ">In college, she has pushed through excuses, distractions, and circumstances. She’s called. Called. Called. Texted me. Messaged me. Left voicemails. </span><b><i>She does not give up on our friendship.</i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; ">Saturday night we sat in a local Applebee’s, discussing life over warm doughy cookie, teeth chilling ice cream, and a heaping mount of chocolate cake. We poured our hearts, confessed deep secrets, and laughed about life’s absurdity. We wrestled as we tried to give each other advice, to which we only blankly stared at each other and said, “I am here for you. You are not alone. I understand.” Nothing too substantial or ground breaking, but powerful and needed, noneoftheless.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; ">It didn’t matter what we believed. It did not matter if we agreed on most things. But it did matter that she made me feel on top of the world. In those short couple of hours, I was freed from judgment and divine expectations. I was enough for her because I am Rebecca, a young woman filled with doubts, fears, and uncertainties. But she wanted my honesty and I wanted hers. She wanted to know how I felt, how I get by in life, and if I felt loved. If I wasn’t staring in the face of Jesus, then I am not sure who I was looking at.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; ">That night, the spirit picked me up…he carried me far out of and into my feelings, because he let me feel a lot of goodness and hardship. But he showed me that a life with him is not always extravagant, majestically divine, and filled with epiphanies. Of course, that is a part of it. But as I stared into my friend’s face, I knew he was letting me know it is okay to relax. Let go of some things. <b><i>Rip a part the image I try to create. </i></b>Let go of what I want to be and just be, me. Yes, me, included with my doubts, shortcomings, and fears. To throw away the idea that I am clean, have it all together, and know what I am talking about. She showed me to let go and reveal who I really am.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><i><b><br /></b></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; ">I am grateful he chose my beautifully brave friend to tell me this.</p> <!--EndFragment-->Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-83014207618973135482012-03-22T07:00:00.009-07:002012-04-11T19:41:30.420-07:00Solitude, I need youIt's funny that when things get harder I have less to say. It is not that I have less to say, it is that I do not feel as brave and want to hide my ish. But I really want to throw it all out there because it is what I am experiencing and I want this blog to document my life.<div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">The last couple of weeks have been filled with younglife, school, work. some of the time it's incredible, other times I am so sick of it, and some is out of obedience. I get irritated with my teammates and I grow impatient. I get tired and confused and feelings of defeat. I don't want to think about camp and want to run away from responsibility. And really, there is no excuse for it. I have fallen short in some areas. I even hesitate to write, "but it's okay." because it is not. if i am truly experiencing the Love I desperately proclaim, the Peace would go beyond my impatience. Solitude, I need you.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">How crazy I was letting other things get my attention because I was CONVINCED they were more exciting. What could be more exciting than you, jesus?</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">You're a gift. A gift and a present. a special assortment of sweets because i'm obsessed over sweets and eat about 5 a day. the smell of various flowers and especially the look of sunflowers. you are creativity. you are a king and that means you are MAJESTIC. you are a box of crayons that speaks each color into life. you're painting this world. from death to life you paint a beautiful, detailed, redeeming picture. you are academics, intellect, papers. you are intelligence.</div><div style="font-style: normal; ">but most of all you are what i always need, a lover. you know how and when to hug and kiss me. you not only understand a human but were a human. you not only can predict my next move but you predestined it. you not only guide me but you grab me, throw me over your shoulder, and push me through temptation, heartache, and loneliness.</div><div style="font-style: normal; ">you not only refute my illusions but you are the cold water on my face to wake me up. you not only turn on the light but you created and installed the light.</div><div><i>you are not only the answer but also the question.</i></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-1113867841539885782012-03-19T08:41:00.003-07:002012-03-19T08:44:29.295-07:00Bex whatcha up to?I haven't blogged in a while and I really do want this blog to be something I frequently do.<div><br /></div><div>Some highlights as of lately:</div><div>-My schoolwork. Sociology, my independent study, my professors. challenging, but inspiring.</div><div>-The beautiful weather.</div><div>-Officially deciding to intern at Lake Champion this summer.</div><div>-Prayer Overnight at Rockbridge this weekend.</div><div>-Two new young life teammates. I was so ready for them.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Will post shortly. :)</div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-78025778395609286542012-03-08T12:57:00.003-08:002012-03-08T13:06:33.073-08:00This ain't easy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXloo10EaPn_Dtg4Y14-AV-I-qTBjNbnd3cNv7S4vRgjzmkwzxE0w70B4891rrV4ms2-se9H5No7dUOQ372AtjXWBshlte5TbWk_g_mK4wvByxFSYFYMySJLY5Ihr78a5sul49qK-C1w/s1600/430465_2797073613660_1463070190_32140617_144021133_n.jpeg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXloo10EaPn_Dtg4Y14-AV-I-qTBjNbnd3cNv7S4vRgjzmkwzxE0w70B4891rrV4ms2-se9H5No7dUOQ372AtjXWBshlte5TbWk_g_mK4wvByxFSYFYMySJLY5Ihr78a5sul49qK-C1w/s400/430465_2797073613660_1463070190_32140617_144021133_n.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717633950414423714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZu5oJuWytGNkQ1WM8TYR0Gn6ydNjGtl2YX1OPTKDMkv_nTy-r0c4GZkSlrpzFjJ019YfTgLFxKFggZGhGUnowO6TyPSoQA2YQ7J8_qG8lvnn2gExNiniioA1GznNQSUYzZk_9n6SHV0/s1600/425656_2796235112698_1463070072_32140385_1874957449_n.jpeg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZu5oJuWytGNkQ1WM8TYR0Gn6ydNjGtl2YX1OPTKDMkv_nTy-r0c4GZkSlrpzFjJ019YfTgLFxKFggZGhGUnowO6TyPSoQA2YQ7J8_qG8lvnn2gExNiniioA1GznNQSUYzZk_9n6SHV0/s400/425656_2796235112698_1463070072_32140385_1874957449_n.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717633945754389282" /></a><div><div style="text-align: left; "><span >I am on the plane on the way home from LA…appropriate to blog, right? <i>I SMELL A BANANA AND I WANT IT.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span ><b>Everything I said in the previous blog stands true.</b> Wow. It was emotional, messy, fun, exciting, wild, tiring, rewarding, challenging, hard…it was a <b><i>really</i></b> special trip. Some of those days I did not think positive thoughts because negativity is always easier to fall back on. Takes less emotional strength and so sometimes I fell back on regrets or sadness. But I have to get back up, rearrange my heart and move forward. This trip helped move me forward. Not in all senses but at least in some.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >Reuniting with my friends was exactly what I had hoped, and way more. Whether it was hearing Grace scream when she saw me, Amy tackling me, or people on the Cougar walk jumping out of their chairs to greet me. Paul’s expression because he did not realize I would be at his door. To express my gratitude and how special I felt could never, <b>ever</b> be given justice through this blog. But seriously…text after text, calls, voicemails, meeting me on campus, squeezing in time to see me—real and genuine efforts to see me was beyond beautiful and lovely. Especially because most of my time with friends was authentic—sitting outside, staring at each other, pouring and pouring and pouring. No time to be fake—let’s jump to the heart and meat of life. It is not that I had the most ideal friendship situation at all times at apu—clearly not, because my community at jmu is what I need. But what makes my friendships exceedingly special about apu is because they know I was deeply hurt, my shit was out for all to see, and I had to leave. They do not judge me for that, but welcome me and long for a different situation. They craved to know the well-being of my soul. They were selfless and wanted to hear about the success of my experience at jmu. Ugh, really…how did I get so lucky? And I did not even get to spend time with everyone I wanted to see. Breaks my heart. (but only after like twelve hours of non-stop talking do you realize you may be a little burnt out—introverts where ya AT?)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >My trip to apu made me feel extremely rich in friendship.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >However, I am not going to lie. Spiritually, apu can be a strange place. I had difficult conversations where my friend cried to me in the most honest and vulnerable way explaining how she missed God. I had another friend tell me he wishes he even knew Jesus still. Was I discouraged? Upset? Surprisingly, I was not at all. Because my friends looked me dead in the eye and told me their reality of being at apu. Anyone that can finish four years at apu has more strength than I do. With those two friends I got to stare at them and tell them they do not have to do anything—their Lover will come find them. (He already is).</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >At the same time I had friends explain victory after victory of what the Lord is doing, how they are maturing in painful and incredible ways, and how Jesus is more real to them than ever. I loved both realities because we are all in this messy, shitty, surreal, lovely life and cannot escape but can only go deeper into humanity and spirituality.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >I wish I could explain in detail my heart behind all of my time with my friends (letzgo journal…cannot wait!) but I think sometimes I want and need to keep intimate, personal, complicated experiences for myself. But just know—there is so much more.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >Last night I was texting my housemate from jmu. I was explaining how my heart is in a million different places and almost feels shattered because of how deeply I long to be with everyone at the same time. How sometimes I feel like I did not have the strength to finish at apu. She responded, “You were always meant to graduate from jmu. You are just too special for one place.” I can honestly say I do not know if words ever hit me so hard. A simple TEXT made me feel and think thousands of things at once. Maybe it is because she does not realize how ridiculously I reacted to circumstances at apu (and I say this because she is in a <b><i>harder</i></b> position than me and is so brave. Ugh, wish I could tell y’all). But either way, that text put my life into perspective a little, for I was able to recognize the sovereignty of my Guide and how I promised Him and myself I would trust Him so I am going to do so.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >So what if my heart is all over? That I cry as I take off on the runway for Pennsylvania? That I have to watch Real Housewives of Beverly Hills because I already miss driving those streets with Nina? That I need selfish prayers? I am going to love until it hurts because guess what? It really does hurt. It hurts to look at certain people and tell them goodbye…again. It hurts because I would rather spend most of my days alongside them. Can you imagine when jesus had to ascend? Like, OK c-y’all, those that I just died for? But he knew greater things were coming because of the active and alive spirit so I must let the spirit work.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >I am growing to appreciate the diversity of my life and the boldness of the spirit in me to take care of me. I had anxiety, sadness, tears all being in California. That is extremely true, but that is all extremely okay.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >**Now I am in my home in Philadelphia, PA. Completely silent, sitting in my kitchen finishing this blog. Dang, this is not easy.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span >I was not prepared for how hard it was going to be to leave Nina. The only thing giving me hope is the possibility of us becoming roommates a little over a year from now. Who knows? Maybe? But really...this week was a little taste of what we always have known and what is natural. For sisters to live alongside each other and walk through life. the sometimes annoying and mundane errands such as Ikea, the bank, her old apartment, grocery store. I miss it all (it's been less than 24 hours) and I want it again. I want my sister and her presence and her comfort and love. I am hesitant to even continue writing because it is very emotional for me and this silence is killing me. But I want to be in tune with my emotions. So here it is: I want to be with my best friend. Still. I want to be back. I did not want to leave. But maybe this is just a way for all three of us to be together. More preparation for the day my sisters and I can all live together.</span></p> <!--EndFragment--></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><span><u><br /></u></span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTnikmEFXvNbC6OY3CBkzrO7kdT6L60lUJOuNoRNqofcthqeZLccGGhNvwx2lXdD8pPcneAdXVD_sxb3tYEbWBN7Rs50yV6IxrhUFqEQhhgaXYFZFa3bXK7LPvCM1jOf2Bqwi3v4DUNs/s1600/424826_2791396831744_1463070072_32138598_616774970_n.jpeg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTnikmEFXvNbC6OY3CBkzrO7kdT6L60lUJOuNoRNqofcthqeZLccGGhNvwx2lXdD8pPcneAdXVD_sxb3tYEbWBN7Rs50yV6IxrhUFqEQhhgaXYFZFa3bXK7LPvCM1jOf2Bqwi3v4DUNs/s400/424826_2791396831744_1463070072_32138598_616774970_n.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717633938968650690" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhknDxOTA7mrsQ3irpP0624A_AQ6N_fM-Dpvaik7U-H7t0soZ4-JCDCCjNaoFBGMShjHGu9KMYpU2eAq4aVrr0KscGX4knLX36zy1KTrdE2tTfSh1qDXLRQR9dhayGb-rW25tReuRS_Wjo/s1600/417289_2781184536443_1463070072_32134839_865080305_n.jpeg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhknDxOTA7mrsQ3irpP0624A_AQ6N_fM-Dpvaik7U-H7t0soZ4-JCDCCjNaoFBGMShjHGu9KMYpU2eAq4aVrr0KscGX4knLX36zy1KTrdE2tTfSh1qDXLRQR9dhayGb-rW25tReuRS_Wjo/s400/417289_2781184536443_1463070072_32134839_865080305_n.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717633937920045554" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwlDdb7-krg1RVv4Kb_sa_63sdEYyMbqvcuergklsXLJn9TvMAlR3UIeEyVuQ15I-1JUeJmcx-B5adnRqrzQYLS3Jt64981OOypM2e81lp0CXTPhqmw7UT2OaWQ74V9j7O0wlLnGdkFk/s1600/422536_2784159730821_1463070072_32136179_2020129692_n.jpeg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwlDdb7-krg1RVv4Kb_sa_63sdEYyMbqvcuergklsXLJn9TvMAlR3UIeEyVuQ15I-1JUeJmcx-B5adnRqrzQYLS3Jt64981OOypM2e81lp0CXTPhqmw7UT2OaWQ74V9j7O0wlLnGdkFk/s400/422536_2784159730821_1463070072_32136179_2020129692_n.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717633932855240770" /></a><br /></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-44790159228880545092012-03-02T12:53:00.004-08:002012-03-02T13:14:45.133-08:00LA baby<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: center; "><span><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLV5fmgGkrntwPzOdMbzY4yGXo9B8L7-oXFwiRBW4oips8ofN35_wY0tBfNFf5iVxptlxcwzNTO1RrLmUafy_OuZeVP2IeZCdf85egSvoxGe2D-Z39GkLSborfEZeLqTO_3vSVXI01Wh0/s1600/418119_2773437222765_1463070072_32131908_219862132_n.jpeg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLV5fmgGkrntwPzOdMbzY4yGXo9B8L7-oXFwiRBW4oips8ofN35_wY0tBfNFf5iVxptlxcwzNTO1RrLmUafy_OuZeVP2IeZCdf85egSvoxGe2D-Z39GkLSborfEZeLqTO_3vSVXI01Wh0/s400/418119_2773437222765_1463070072_32131908_219862132_n.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715410212022114898" /></a><div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: center; "><span><u><br /></u></span></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >I cannot believe I am sitting on an airplane, drinking “Café Mystique US Airways” coffee (that is seriously what it says on the Styrofoam cup), 43,000 mi<span style="font-size: 100%; ">les up in the air, only an hour away from Los Angeles International Airport. The last day has been a blur—minimal sleep, excess amounts of coffee, and sweat outbreaks because of two midterms I had to take. Afterwards, I quickly did laundry, had three friends visit, and then Colleen and I were off to Washington DC. Laying my head on the pillow at 11:30 and waking up at 3:45 to begin a wild journey.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: center; "><span ><br /></span></div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span > Flying standby is stressful and there is no other way to <span style="font-size: 100%; ">put it. No seats available, no flight for Rebecca. I wish I could explain how many flights I was considering to take to do this story justice, but long story short, at 3:45AM there were 0 seats available for my second flight. 0. Zero. Zehaa-raw. I had intended to try for another flight to make another connection and eventually end up in CA, but when I checked in my luggage, the lady said “Both flights look good so I won’t stamp your bag as standby.” Huh? Both flights look good? Really, because about 40 minutes ago there were no seats left.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span > I hop off my first flight, RUN to terminal B (seri<span style="font-size: 100%; ">ously, if you ever are on those moving escalator side-walk thingers, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY for people who actually need this speed enhanced machine!) and after the not-so-nice emp</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">loyee @ Special Services says, “can’t do anything to help you,” I sit down feeling extremely defeated. Tears start welling because I cry when I am stressed. Sorry ‘bout it.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span > I check online and 14 seats show up. Fourteen?? How? What? Okay, I’ll take it! With my dad’s seniority, I then had a boarding pass gratefully stuck in between my palms. God is mysterious and I doubt. I doubt a lot and do not give him credit. “He definitely does not care about my flight drama. People are dying.” Maybe that is the case, because I would like to think he is taking care and performing miracles, but either way this was my mini-miracle. A small celebration. A moment of gratitude.</span></p></div><div><div style="text-align: center; "><span ><br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >I am listening to Matt Wertz because he reminds me of Young Life camp, which is probably the safest place my mind can <b><i>ever</i></b> wander when I am feeling uneasy, unsure, and a little fearful. Why am I “afraid” to go to California? Well, I am not afraid of spending time with my best friend, my soul mate, <b>my older sister. </b>Wow, what joy will that bring the both of us. Anyone have a sister? Sibling maybe? Do you have a connection with them? Because if so you <b style="font-weight: normal; ">totally</b> know the feeling I mean when you desperately crave to unite with that person who compliments you, frustrates you, and loves you without doing a single thing. No performance necessary, only genuine enjoyment of each other’s company. I need that a lot in my life (hence why I am always homesick for my sisters). The pr<span style="font-size: 100%; ">esence of my sisters is also one of the safest places I can ever go. They are probably the only two places I can go. (oh, and mom). Spending time with Nina is a continual pouring in and out relationship, where we both are energized by each other, yet are honest and our complete se</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">lves.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >But besides spending time with her, it is the first time I am visiting APU since I have transferred…and I don’t know if this is irrational of me or not, but I am nervous. APU is a place of the highest peaks in my life and the lowest lows. It is where I contracted swine flu on the day my aunt died back east, it is where I was given <span style="font-size: 100%; ">the opportunity to travel to Cambodia, it is where I entered into my first serious relationship, it is where I first led Young Life, it is where I academically explored the bible in class, it is where I discovered my innate passion for fighting against injustice and inequality by becoming a Sociology major. It is where I freely raised my arms in worship without fear of being judged, it is where I found out Dominic had committed suicide, it is where I had run wild in Disneyland, feeling like a seven year old again. It is where staff and professors recognized me, it is where I first tried counseling, it is where I really explored my passionate soul, and it is where I had my heart broken. APU, you gave me opportunities. LOTS of them. Up and down ones to say the least.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; text-indent: 0.5in; "><span >But I salute you, APU, because although at <span style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0.5in; ">times (most of the time), when I did not know how to fight the battles, you pushed me…you pushed me to wrestle with my Father, with my friends, boyfriend, myself. You pushed me…too hard, I admit. And graciously I was removed and gently put in one of the most fruitful, beautiful seasons in my life. But I would be a fool to say I don’t think about APU everyday or that it wasn’t my reality for the past two years. Without APU, I would not be where I am today, which is </span><b style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0.5in; ">exactly</b><span style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0.5in; "> where I want to be. Wow I am giddy writing that because I am finally at a place where healing has happened and I can look at APU with tender, forgiving, and admirable eyes. And I am not stuck, immobile, or trapped. I am free as can be in my heart, identity, and even geographical location. I can take APU with the beautiful things it offers and look at those dark moments with the knowledge </span><i style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0.5in; ">it is okay</i><span style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0.5in; ">. It was not always dark. Run after the light and affectionate moments.</span></span></p> <div style="text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: left; "></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >Circumstance does not define me, but only contributes to my growth and experience. APU and JMU do not define me, but brutally and gently throw opportunities, relationships, and experiences at me. I have taken the hard punch, handled it pretty poorly, but also have jumped up and down and danced around with joy. So this br<span style="font-size: 100%; ">eak, I will reconnect with the saving graces of my APU experience…I write on this blog to publicly (except it is kind of private by the amount of my readers:) declare I will say sorry to those I have hurt or felt abandoned by me suddenly transferring. And I will rejoice, and </span><b style="font-size: 100%; "><i>explode with giddiness </i></b><span style="font-size: 100%; ">and appreciation for those who know me so well and have seen me too little.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: left; "></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >Now I can’t say I won’t be emotional or even have a breakdown. I want the freedom to feel my emotions to the twentieth degree and not be ashamed but acknowledge hard parts but also the sweet parts. I can say, though, that I will walk in full confidence and assurance of where my Love is guiding me, taking me, and has taken me thus far. For that, I am forever thankful.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >Wednesday, while I was working at the library, I had bursts of anxiety, confusion, and fear for going to California. “What am I thinking? Why would I want to put myself in a stressful situation (flying), chaotic week of moving around, and <span style="font-size: 100%; ">emotional situations where memories will flood?”</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >Then He answered me, very clearly and very gently. He said “Why wouldn’t you? Why would you choose comfort when you so, <b>personally</b> know the value of taking risks? Why would you not trust me?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: left; "></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><span style="font-weight: normal; ">Why would I not go to California? Why would I not put myself in the most emotional situations? Is that not what life is about? To feel, <b>to feel to the point of crying in the best and worst sense. </b>To explore, engage, remember, reflect, pray, and praise. I want that at all times. Whether I am flying across the country to California, at Spotswood high school in Virginia, or nuzzled in my cozy room in Pennsylva</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">nia. I want to explore, engage, remember, reflect, pray, and praise for all of the days of my life. </span><b style="font-size: 100%; ">I am starting now.</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "></p><div style="font-size: medium; text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: left; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6nJEuGoFy65HbPEkOte8hnWnODQfd-V2AzILHLUsL9Vh9lPBe8y5RTpkYjI1vuociMCQ0PlrESlmME63VwP__HlDKVwHvLcrR09HysEAKjROIkUUGBc_KnUtmOYW2mlhrrKl_nlu2rk/s400/Photo+on+2012-03-02+at+11.00+%25233.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715410220614308482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></div><div style="font-family: Times; text-align: left; "></div></div><p style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOQyLYpq_7LoZz6HvpJrEG31ZDenNnFKpbVI9Gw4Qs8ExgHeF-PunprZ4NO_3s8t8nPFpVQj6jwMRkL2qrUewTSE0Q8Y-loDeh-eQedIhHkBuVt0uJsZGPSo3RztzXFFaiQSiKHIurZE/s400/DSC_0073.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715410218780633234" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></p><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><br /></div> <!--EndFragment--></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-24122500669564071622012-02-28T15:07:00.007-08:002012-02-28T15:33:52.911-08:00Vitamin C is Good for me.<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: center; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >Today I was eating lunch at home; alone, without my phone, without my laptop, and without music. It sounds absurd I have to clarify, but I am the first to admit I feel guilty if I am not active...in whatever. if I am not reading, talking, writing, going, doing, doing doing. so I was eating an orange and I thought to myself "How do I feel about this orange?" I want to do that more, because this question offered a lot of room for small celebrations. My answers were along the lines of, "It's absolutely delicious, and it is messy. It is bright in color, and it smells nice. It is good for me." and I could not help but continue to think about <i>things that are good for me.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><span style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; ">I write this in the sheer fact that I am so, </span><i><b>SO</b></i> easily prone to ALWAYS indulge and impulsively pick things that are not good for me. Yea, I am talking about sin, but I am also talking about just dumb desires or ideas of what I want and when I want it and how to get it. But how good does it feel when we pick things that are <i>natural and innately good for us?</i></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><span style="font-style: normal; ">I wish I had discipline, and I think it is appropriate to explore in this season of Lent what it means to pick things that are good for us, even when we don't necessarily think they are a big deal, like eating an orange, and </span><i>especially</i> when w<span style="font-size: 100%; ">e do not want to choose those things.</span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >I certainly do not think that choosing good things means we should wallow in the ways we choose bad. Because in that case, I'd be screwed. Do you REALIZE how excited I am for 7:45 so I can go get cake batter froyo with a mountain of rainbow sprinkles, reeses chunks, and cookie dough pieces? And in a way, I think it is good for me...in the way that I get to have great conversation over it and the way I am passionate about something so dumb as to a dessert.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >Also, you seriously-could-not pay me enough to stop watching Khloe & Lamar. And I'll admit, I don't know how I could even try to make a case and say that is good for me. So, yes, I choose bad things. I think that is why good things feel so powerful to me.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >So what is good for you? What ignites a passion or gets your mind wandering in a peaceful manner? What brings you to the core of who the Father has created you to be? Most of the time, I choose things that are good for me in long-term ways....such as a major I am passionate for, school opportunities, and so forth. But I am more talking about what is good for you today? Remember, the present is a present. It's a gift...Whe<span style="font-size: 100%; ">re are your gifts today?</span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><span style="font-weight: normal; ">My gift was in my sweet, delicious orange. Also, in the book I am currently reading: <i>Reaching Out</i> by Henri Nouwen. Out of reading this book comes learning about prayer, which is </span><b>good</b> for me. Another gift is the Penguin Cafe Orchestra station I am listening to on Pandora, because it is instrumental, calming, and creates room for me to insert my own lyrics.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >These are three silly things that are <b>good</b> for me. Which only consisted of about an hour of my day, total. Could you imagine how incredibly full my life would be if things that are good for me took up most of my day? It is not that the rest of m<span style="font-size: 100%; ">y day was in vain; it consisted of ministry, school, cleaning, singing, a little dancing, walking. but things that are good for me on a very small scale...</span><b style="font-size: 100%; "><i>a VERY small scale</i></b><span style="font-size: 100%; ">...make me feel less cluttered and more aware of the nourishment I need everyday that pertain to me, Rebecca.</span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >O how all good things come from You. Will you reveal to me what is <b>good</b> for me and give me the strength to choose so?</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwbMKLCmwjZ0a59WYkYfeJyWEDvs9s9Zf_TRoHu76lujL6IvKZCbgdnkUT1GQnGFQbr09dimvcKvmIg4tq6msy_gpLU2e9LrR5M-wvtk1lwbzMqs6XPiF0XcDTkEdhls522BCVzy5kG0/s400/oo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714330420234946402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><br /></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-75608470229986719032012-02-25T14:43:00.006-08:002012-02-26T06:44:34.700-08:00my O's be burstin<div style="text-align: center; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%;">yesterday was a strange day...i get sick often so when i woke up with a small fever i didn't think anything about it, except i called out of work. around 12:30 i collapsed in my hallway, gripping my abdomen, telling colleen i'm in excruciating pain. she says "i have to go" and leaves. (kidding coll, you're way more sensey than that). but then i call my mom and she thinks it's appendicitis, so she goes "get to the ER, now."</span></span><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">y'all, i've never been to the ER. but i knew i wanted this pain to go away. i'm hunched over in a </span>torrential<span style="font-size: 100%;"> downpour walking to my friend's house </span></span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">so i can take his car. long story short, i end up at the ER, get blood/urine taken, and proceed to wait for 4.5 hours. i get a ct scan, an IV hooked up </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">to me (umm, OUCH when they can't find your vein & are diggin' around for a good amount of time in your hand).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">i watch a walk to remember in the hospital, get warm blankets put ontop of me, and cry a little. doc comes in with no appendicitis! but ovarian cyst </span>ruptured<span style="font-size: 100%;">. uh? skuzz me?</span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><span><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">even though it was a lonely and at times painfully boring day, i really did feel at peace the whole time. i mean, yeah i did cry a lil hysterically when my phone died, could not update my momma, and malicious needles were running around underneath my skin. or when mr. nurse was putting </span>iodine<span style="font-size: 100%;"> into my bloodflow and the ct scan room was intimidating.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><u><br /></u></span></span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">but i will choose to describe the encouraging and engaging parts of my field trip to rockingham memorial hospital. like when i was shivering, watch</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">ing a walk to remember, and mr. nurse lays a warm blanket that is radiating heat over my body and i verbally & literally say out loud "jesus, that is a really nice man." or how about the a</span></span><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%; ">ngelic paramedic who had an </span><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%; ">aura</span><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 100%; "> of gentleness, peace, and servanthood. i ask her if she is a nurse and we get talking. she tells me how she is a volunteer paramedic and a paid one in staunton. she continues & tells me how she has sent three people this week to be airlifted because of traumatic accidents.<i> wow she is really brave.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span>one of me & jesus's "things," kind of like inside jokes </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">but more just inside "things." well one is when i go, if jesus had a profession/job, what would it be? i like to encourage and motivate my mom by letting her know that jesus would be a social worker at the department of public welfare (because i do believe that) and yesterday was a day of, "ohhh, yup. also a paramedic."</span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><div style="text-align: center; "><span><u><br /></u></span></div></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span>mr. nurse and angelic paramedic were truly delightfu</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">l and made my lonely visit really nice. </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">another blessing was the song that came on the disney channel: "man or muppet" i found it hilarious and appreciated it.</span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span>so all in all, ER life is difficult, depressing, and dreary. but it is also life giving, in the most literal sense, and also in the spiritual. of course i </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">wanted my mom right beside me, babying me, and tenderly helping me because i so desired that. but i am trying with every ounce in me to see the shittiest of situations in the prettiest of ways. i always want to know that a muppet comm</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">ercial can cheer me up, a blanket can shower me wi</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">th warmth, and a radiant young woman's soft conversation can give me just the right amount of courage to keep going. i am courageous, not because of circumstance, but because of com</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">panionship with yahweh. i will swim lengths and dive deep to find bravery to face today, tomorrow, and especially my past. i have a lot of anxiety, pain, and fear but like i said before, i will stomp on satan's schemes to not give him that satisfaction.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC698wHlb9oWEcey2j0ZWCWlVr4AM9WspnwmPdV9Iths5UN5q0p31pMuyxtCh9_o5uDgWdmnQ8lvwvG8fAghuNcBuw9QwvjKhNHdumlqmOnq97_Pl5ejaTSrxJmnDhTCbbbTqLWkdwhkM/s400/jjj.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713301838521771138" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrjf9AKkuwnbpLsDu4o6EXoazu-UTeoU4GpCqPoqOdcin6qW93WQ_Y2ZAwXKzMKO2RIaocb0cJz7PIL4lmRhz6seTozDQnCoKzXKHOuLpCMJXRuQbOKnjfoHqM65uanvCusvmplUlt3o/s400/jjjjj.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713302050969683154" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_3BdRKEmleCBTTu_jCrgoZ-JRdpOONyHUbNOSXclP11UEcS6_9sBAyJIP31WIjFMvfNCO6iG7lAo7Rw3JrgpxbXvJxcWj6pEie14pTkxvToXHGN-OPka4rv7VV_wCOCkX1C8KYjohVo/s400/jj.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713301611750303026" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-81234185970082566332012-02-23T19:41:00.007-08:002012-02-23T20:17:14.049-08:00not having twitter is really hard<div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><span ><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; " >tonight was the spotswood basketball game. for all y'all out of state or distance blog readers (<b>lol</b>), i am a younglife leader at a local high school in harrisonburg, VA called Spotswood. home of the blazers. sometimes we joke and call it spotsweed or potswood blazers. marijuana's a big deal here.</span></span><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >but tonight was a regional game to go to states... and we lost by one point.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><span><span style="font-style: normal; ">i told my younglife teammate i am so thankful we lost (even thou</span></span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">gh in the midst i was going crazy, making any excuse to act like i am a big deal, because </span><i style="font-size: 100%; ">MY</i><span style="font-size: 100%; "> girls' bball team could go to states). but i am thankful because we all got a glimpse of brokenness. a taste of dissatisfaction. and with 3.6 seconds back on the clock, i made sure i took pictures to remember this night.</span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;" ><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >i was definitely caught up in the excitement of it all until we lost and i realized how we are caught up in idols, achievements, false worth.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><span>but i also realized how it is okay to be caught up in the moment. i love that my head was dizzy and my legs were shaking because i couldn't stand the anticipation and nothing else mattered. being in a sea of highschoolers, praying over every individu</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">al in the gym, and feeling too many emotions for a couple minutes. i am lucky to have felt that.</span></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><div style="text-align: center;"><span><u><br /></u></span></div></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >UGH, the tension. so rebecca: are you saying you are grateful for tonight because you felt lots of emotions and felt like the luckiest girl in the world, or are you burdened by the weight of this world and the brokenness in which we put our hope and worth in?</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >both.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixd4VTcuIKSgXRK59UISAR1s2G5pemVPyiUj-xVmdFIxZwfhKtwxdUKqW2Td446uFpwkwrgjACtZuIn0V-RJ7J9y8Lm-F-8XfMpL_psnDxxVecA60MOEDB7mRCVHb6UaIyCqHjv3goZv4/s400/bbbbl.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712546499887763394" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmdiR_ma-Wbpi8935hUS8RvX0amHlDTT8tk-QXbpJ7AD5sStZasAEhF49R9HiiIo-F1h_Aw0Tr_2zpNa7EFiRrKw_AxQ5N3fj5R_DVG2NKa9sSztWkOvmp-J2PneeOE5hVWoRHxdmLbM/s400/bbl.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712546497868087906" style="font-size: medium; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >after the game, i dropped off three girls. giggling, talking about their school crushes (four wheelies--they "like" someone based off of how much they text! times are a'changin).</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div><span><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">i drove back to my teammates house (because i borrow his car, thanks bud). and he knew i was moved with emotion. we walked to the back of his house, found two chairs in the dark, sat and looked at </span>each other<span style="font-size: 100%;">. surrounded by beer bottles, a muddy landscape, and barely any light to see each other, we were moved to pray. we prayed deep prayers of plea, </span>gratitude<span style="font-size: 100%;">, wonder, majesty. i could not hold back my tears and i let 'em rip (ew, really?). but i could not stop crying because i repeated truth that i have problems believing, yet i could not stop clinging and gripping onto hope. our prayers were dark, deep, sincere and i am lucky. will you bring me back to the backyard in deep peace and prayer because i need you?</span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><span><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></span></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-32423523420550300972012-02-23T08:34:00.007-08:002012-02-23T09:27:44.963-08:00beauty and wonder<div style="text-align: center; "><span><br /></span></div><span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; ">today is </span><i style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; ">lovely</i><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">. sitting in my college bedroom in an older, virginia style home. being a housemate of 9 young women. the sun and temperature--really nice. </span></span><i style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; ">so</i><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"> nice that my broken, oversized windows are open as an invitation for stink bugs, sunlight, and a gentle breeze. i even debated not playing music so i could hear the construction worker poking at the pavement, cars driving by, and birds conversing. not that those are exceptional noises (and i don't even understand bird, so it's not like i have a clue what they are saying), but i'm feeling so grateful and tranquil.</span></span></span><div><div style="text-align: center; "><span><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span>sure, i have a paper to write and my room is a mess, but i can't help but pause and appreciate NOW. living in the present for me...HA, talk about challenging. 60% of the time I'm dreaming big dreams for the future, 20% I'm looking up internships, jobs, universities, 10% I'm in the middle of an application for the next season, and 20% i'm going through old facebook photos from previous experiences and memories.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">that's 110%. whatever.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>but really, almost ALL of my mind is in the future. the future <b>excites</b> me. it's not long enough, wide enough, deep enough for me to explore and engage with. <b>i want to participate in beauty and wonder. </b>wonder is probably my favorite word. wondering is so majestic, mysterious, freeing. have you ever participated in the beauty and wonder of this world and regretted it? and most of the time i attribute w</span></div><div style="font-size: 16px; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">onder to the future.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>but i want to participate with beauty and wonder of this world <b>right now.</b> what are you doing to participate with creation, humanity, and spirituality? i admit, it is so much easier for me to feel present when the weather is filled with sunshine, clarity, and refreshing air. ugh, i know what you're thinking. you're <i>THAT</i> person who cries for no reason when there are rain clouds hovering. why, yes, yes i am.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">but on days like today, and yesterday, and tomorrow, i will use every ounce of energy to stomp on satan's schemes and repeat to myself that the present is what matters. the present <b><i>is</i></b> a present. i live a beautiful life because i am being showered with gift after gift after gift. my god has given me a </span>wondrous, magnificent, peculiar mind. i am going to use it. i am going to use my mind and heart. i will cry when i want to cry. i will rejoice, even on shitty days. in shitty circumstances. i will remember just being in your presence is magnificent.</span></div><div style="font-size: 16px; "><span><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyl5OTvEl0WRwKTPRL5U8CDoSAAv85jr4axqby26eTOSCJnrGIckYyCojgGy0NVBaVexoAXRLphYRj3zr6qkiwXw2eT0pTE5MD4HY6Quhd9wiO5Szx9P-wSQmCEqleldRXZhxoJsUm18/s400/beauty+and+wonder.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712374314591134450" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /><div style="font-size: medium; "></div></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; ">PS- i'm probably back to blogging because i'm giving up twitter for lent. and i am so obnoxiously prideful i suspect everyone still wants to know my thoughts.</div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; ">PPS- i'm also giving up sweets/treats. I sound like I am an 85 year old woman with diabetes. lord help me.</div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; ">did you know PS stands for post script? at least that's what Yahoo! Answers tells me.</div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><br /></div></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-36260368226423217512012-01-26T06:43:00.000-08:002012-01-26T06:56:28.121-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0H-GceFNjYqUNB54zv91QLyfifLcPopq0Bo9g_MxFap7EgRxe2MP5Upwr5oPPn_gzyWTrdGBoTlaVILdeirETi-5F5RVp0Uw0E8CtaBHZWuPEK2WsvMArDE0pjtCnKBlSPZjJDdvMmuY/s1600/DSC_0103.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0H-GceFNjYqUNB54zv91QLyfifLcPopq0Bo9g_MxFap7EgRxe2MP5Upwr5oPPn_gzyWTrdGBoTlaVILdeirETi-5F5RVp0Uw0E8CtaBHZWuPEK2WsvMArDE0pjtCnKBlSPZjJDdvMmuY/s400/DSC_0103.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701954518343813986" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRm1KQ5cd0JnQoKNPOV_Y_6i9qKlvLDuhSL-5MRgXvIN3dFixwLJyBY8EdBbfKy7qcKcmmbCl6gr1hPzm8-VQkt1GfvIG9ntNvmcd6vpz0nTBup78-qeKMIyWD4qMQ3HtikuMPzRrxB-E/s1600/DSC_0081.JPG"><img style="float:left; 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margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-37800658610749020402011-08-03T05:22:00.000-07:002011-08-04T08:08:34.879-07:00Keeping Up with the Koncepcions<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklreJ-HniLHo55-b_TC2dBA0tv3ta0F0k-O4YlXdJX-4M-14rfykVFJt9uZeGYh2BuQRvhQU7EwcZvqketwB8pYcK0Xqfy4VCZ3rn4IYMzFOsmttDB5kRrMPn0yN3tU_YqJYzD2LADE0/s1600/kids.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklreJ-HniLHo55-b_TC2dBA0tv3ta0F0k-O4YlXdJX-4M-14rfykVFJt9uZeGYh2BuQRvhQU7EwcZvqketwB8pYcK0Xqfy4VCZ3rn4IYMzFOsmttDB5kRrMPn0yN3tU_YqJYzD2LADE0/s400/kids.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637003411992982770" /></a></div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOAgCmD6ky1zmleBXmeDmok_hiMIntslH7xxrzFTK9k4AtfirvLhwNCd7eVFRwwifOpiGOoNhXlFjdRduePJHZrS0VpPiPcVuhC2pekZDihaAjZ3pKqfUKa54mToobaxrHcKtRUXvXtLQ/s400/Khloe-Kardashian-27th-Birthday-06271154-580x409.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637003102056280722" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhnzjOmR8vDAWqnBfiy34_n6Ydw8IP4k4dTHw_jamiiUBr-cBjqzwpa86xnAHaRX7DY-PbglgXljXJOTE19ftHpAwiM0xa9yH2QUqm__MehxwOHh2-l0hsMGD8g8EDlBbgCCAMLHDXsk/s1600/Kourtney-Kim-Khloe-Kardashian-Novel-Dollhouse-072711-580x437.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I can't even hide it anymore. I watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">and. I. love. it.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But I mean that's the great thing about summer, right? You can feel </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">less</span></i></span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> guilty about catching up with junk reality TV. I think my sisters & I love KUWTK so much because we love watching the family dynamics (</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I mean, let's be real, anything to affirm me that there are families CRAZIER than mine is always refreshing</span></b></span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">). Especially the sisterhood. I'm not sure if this is a good or a bad thing (I'll vote for the former), but I see a lot of me & my sisters in Khloe, Kim, and Kourt. What do I mean? Take a look...</span></span></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhnzjOmR8vDAWqnBfiy34_n6Ydw8IP4k4dTHw_jamiiUBr-cBjqzwpa86xnAHaRX7DY-PbglgXljXJOTE19ftHpAwiM0xa9yH2QUqm__MehxwOHh2-l0hsMGD8g8EDlBbgCCAMLHDXsk/s1600/Kourtney-Kim-Khloe-Kardashian-Novel-Dollhouse-072711-580x437.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhnzjOmR8vDAWqnBfiy34_n6Ydw8IP4k4dTHw_jamiiUBr-cBjqzwpa86xnAHaRX7DY-PbglgXljXJOTE19ftHpAwiM0xa9yH2QUqm__MehxwOHh2-l0hsMGD8g8EDlBbgCCAMLHDXsk/s400/Kourtney-Kim-Khloe-Kardashian-Novel-Dollhouse-072711-580x437.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637003106402397778" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjJnbGjx_6j1esscVjSXSqtPJJ9YgpsVfQoB9ZurLMEUd0Rk_8qeOsyBt-89xAz_Na1Osr7a-midaK4xCgySryl8bwh8asMaJMOrabfWjn1tSRiV7U6p2-pqk94C33eMc2LCvZ3XXUyw/s1600/koncepnovel.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjJnbGjx_6j1esscVjSXSqtPJJ9YgpsVfQoB9ZurLMEUd0Rk_8qeOsyBt-89xAz_Na1Osr7a-midaK4xCgySryl8bwh8asMaJMOrabfWjn1tSRiV7U6p2-pqk94C33eMc2LCvZ3XXUyw/s400/koncepnovel.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637003106006687794" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mv0aIZBdg9kTUvP6xxAo6ZaizqRGMES01Aq6bvojuGDuZA4T8wbeFO01WQboPT1hM2zllQ6ZYVKDd8IZU_exzorz8n2fFA32TdI0A2bnjsn4P3fOzSrUzerPUp_aB0Txh396Z3BUAUA/s400/borders.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637013355651869570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I mean, I was going through old photos, and I couldn't believe I found our original cover for the book we were going to write! and weirdly, it looks similar to the K's novel. No but really, Sparkles comes from our band name growing up... (our hit---I'm Playing My Guitar....what ever happened to that song?) and funny enough, Nina & I were the singers and Christina was backup voice...which was ironic since it's only Christina who can actually sing now. But we could TOTALLY write a novel on how to fight over clothes, how to fight over the car (remember when I *quickly* stepped on the brake and water ice went flying in the passenger seat and Nina got so mad at me?), how to make fun of eachother's hairstyles (remember the one time Christina told Nina she had star-war inspired hair?)....but also how to pile into a bed and make eachother hysterically laugh, encourage Nina to sing at the top of her lungs until her head hurts for our entertainment, how to race to the bathroom after a long car ride, how to pile into a public bathroom (all three of us) and it gets realllll awkward when we walk out, and so forth.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">After watching a few epsiodes of the K's, I couldn't help but relate some of their experiences to ours. Remember when Kim takes Kendall to NYC for modeling and becomes a complete show mom? Forces her to do runway modeling and meet with the agent? Yep. A few weeks ago Christina & I flew down to South Carolina so she could audition for American Idol. I was that sister. I called the taxi three times to make sure it was coming at 2:00 AM for us to camp out (and we did). I made sure we ate l ike rabbits so we wouldn't feel disgusting over fried food. I made sure we had plenty of water and Christina was practicing enough. HAH it was definitely an experience.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1em1ag6hmz9omY-oZHA3PHcaKlOvUjX2wgpZyj6Ch7U4pqkUBMSMjFzzVU2MSmbWLqpSTDox2jW2u9APLeddkPIp9mIcFXeiZX223SNJvaqzgLlC3HmEVF2VJE5N9CGHlxq3t8desn4/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1em1ag6hmz9omY-oZHA3PHcaKlOvUjX2wgpZyj6Ch7U4pqkUBMSMjFzzVU2MSmbWLqpSTDox2jW2u9APLeddkPIp9mIcFXeiZX223SNJvaqzgLlC3HmEVF2VJE5N9CGHlxq3t8desn4/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637002263889466706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBKy-IFkL7ktAtUFHaw_PPALIOfa_bOaVV0WB6TJi-jlBYkIlKN6lYIY0NF1WerzRJQ9-bVUsktqfUYOxBf3-d1jINU5mGGBBbTsMbL5wOj6JkN4bbhp-QhauEng4g8e6LXhf5CZFuNA/s1600/DSC_0010.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBKy-IFkL7ktAtUFHaw_PPALIOfa_bOaVV0WB6TJi-jlBYkIlKN6lYIY0NF1WerzRJQ9-bVUsktqfUYOxBf3-d1jINU5mGGBBbTsMbL5wOj6JkN4bbhp-QhauEng4g8e6LXhf5CZFuNA/s400/DSC_0010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637002261603683250" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eAS-K86X1n0EmZSx1RZNXjCcHY6IL_tcXAeJHwVWdIfXUSD0VZ6DNYmxNNUaqqkzsmG0lScSydeidJur2EIyIcAX-Vwlf0GNOtR2vUJCo2JC3RBxIjXtR5AP3QI0xL7-eeA6HcoK5kI/s1600/ai2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eAS-K86X1n0EmZSx1RZNXjCcHY6IL_tcXAeJHwVWdIfXUSD0VZ6DNYmxNNUaqqkzsmG0lScSydeidJur2EIyIcAX-Vwlf0GNOtR2vUJCo2JC3RBxIjXtR5AP3QI0xL7-eeA6HcoK5kI/s400/ai2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637001274627300962" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimrZ-p3_nbyZM9m6Scj_VNpwdb54kPP9ysSdZg1nOuKBZPgv3i_IwAgGsTSyRtLE0ILq295QaRdF1c4SqkDFqA75mQdsFAr2cYsI29nmOxDnzFtihgwtKfeVoySy04Xa4QSAJwJoDFP6g/s1600/AI.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimrZ-p3_nbyZM9m6Scj_VNpwdb54kPP9ysSdZg1nOuKBZPgv3i_IwAgGsTSyRtLE0ILq295QaRdF1c4SqkDFqA75mQdsFAr2cYsI29nmOxDnzFtihgwtKfeVoySy04Xa4QSAJwJoDFP6g/s400/AI.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637001273160852466" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Or how about when Kim has a MAJOR freak out over her psoriasis, storms around her house, and tells her mom “you just don’t understand. Get Out!” yea. Sadly I can say all three of us have had those moments. Totes misunderstood. We’ve had those moments where my mom, and the other two say “Stop overreacting,” and ALL that does is get you more and more pissy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQLOJ5vE64tnJ7gVVdL5gfXx7VNHWllSc2aXA0QxLAO6LIGQVs5mDvy93bEQT6wUEkyXuI6gb0gY50ZfBonFOELSPaHSQOlSdei2CCrb1-gpERT5gNRSBDe_XL1N5KwEBS7kEav7Fbzs/s400/kimfreaks.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637012751797114066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 243px; " /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My favorite has to be Khloe & Lamar’s wedding. (OMG so what if I cried). I mean, none of us are dating, but some day, I will be BEYOND honored to be Christina & Nina’s Maid of Honor, throw them a bangin’ bachelorette party, help them do their make up on their big day, and pray with them before meeting the man of their dreams down the aisle. Oh, and giving the speech at the reception…Kim & Kourt’s? No worries, I’ll be way more prepared than them. However, I did love when they said “when you marry one of us, it’s like marrying all of us.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxf_FCKUTWhHlgdDiZiWCBWlEsbvQfXzQyNgIqSabuXsCkHo68W6dMPYrc4gRHVHpe9aAzdXYYIcSObzL2i6CCjCndptM9Bu3vC4o6xVkkIJSEowsYKrZDKQ7n4FAXGlqhY8SSPg1j9GA/s400/wedding.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637016502800271618" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So to all the fellas out there, really, no worries—you won’t have to marry all three of us. But there definitely is an element of that in the Koncepcions. I absolutely pray we will raise our families in the same town, (NOT RIDLEY!), pick each other’s kids up from school, compete for the best Aunt award, and go on family vacations together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_3rwggQ0PFjlzNTcOM-iXl5wUpBzgdrB2AiZD9q9IJUZAcn4vyb4UZTSmcWtMvWGDD_JlPNyFaxmhLh82AYRO28HFDBM1s9byvWQXBXWQnFQr1WhJSx1SjLdTMKomjmPD7XyZPYHdqQ/s1600/aunts.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_3rwggQ0PFjlzNTcOM-iXl5wUpBzgdrB2AiZD9q9IJUZAcn4vyb4UZTSmcWtMvWGDD_JlPNyFaxmhLh82AYRO28HFDBM1s9byvWQXBXWQnFQr1WhJSx1SjLdTMKomjmPD7XyZPYHdqQ/s400/aunts.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637013354712433538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></a></p><div><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Even though the K’s are so extremely glamorous, have little morality, talk to their parents like…, I still can’t hide the fact that I love the closeness of their family. Their ability to fight and love so quickly. Being a sister is the absolute joy of my life. Sure, I don’t have kids and maybe parenthood will be better (I’m sure it is). But being a sister is an honor that I absolutely love. I wake up in the mornings and either wanna immediately shout at my sister for wearing my shirt or run into bed and cuddle and talk.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But I don’t feel like the sisterhood just ends with me, Christina, & Nina. We also have a soontobe step-sister we are trying to welcome into the family, we each have two best friends who are family to us in so many ways… and so I feel extremely blessed to not only have Neen & Teenie, but so many more women influencing the Koncepcion’s lives and bringing sisterhood to a deep, rich meaning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The K’s are crazy, loud, emotional. So are we. And I love it. TRULY would not change it for the world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdfXJXyM44B3By-5Gyxw-PhA-pjZ7gQAHmIKoYNVwsvF3-z1GRwj7iNswllkTz6KbAVPWbp8v9EEkWs9KW8p3-ACug5qTIA4-or_giw5CSB81YkqCYS0bQbqaQGFeWT7QmT2kCoX2x6U/s400/sissssy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637004060543907570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklreJ-HniLHo55-b_TC2dBA0tv3ta0F0k-O4YlXdJX-4M-14rfykVFJt9uZeGYh2BuQRvhQU7EwcZvqketwB8pYcK0Xqfy4VCZ3rn4IYMzFOsmttDB5kRrMPn0yN3tU_YqJYzD2LADE0/s1600/kids.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklreJ-HniLHo55-b_TC2dBA0tv3ta0F0k-O4YlXdJX-4M-14rfykVFJt9uZeGYh2BuQRvhQU7EwcZvqketwB8pYcK0Xqfy4VCZ3rn4IYMzFOsmttDB5kRrMPn0yN3tU_YqJYzD2LADE0/s1600/kids.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklreJ-HniLHo55-b_TC2dBA0tv3ta0F0k-O4YlXdJX-4M-14rfykVFJt9uZeGYh2BuQRvhQU7EwcZvqketwB8pYcK0Xqfy4VCZ3rn4IYMzFOsmttDB5kRrMPn0yN3tU_YqJYzD2LADE0/s1600/kids.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGjkJ6w5pM2MQdWZHqM5vpgKuO3Nv5k5nRS1tdtfN3mkQoT_Mk8KWVq2LiZv0FTOvc8TFQTrGSWhPgtXURES8Scj-LBfzK5RBd1MN7C0GHPusGs8HDyp4C-mRltto0Ai4zjy0tSp4a9k/s400/dance.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637016202550439042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-21086339277371840262011-08-02T14:50:00.000-07:002011-08-02T15:11:29.617-07:00Fish on your Feet<div>Last summer I spent a month in the magnificent country of Cambodia. I know what you're thinking... South East Asia? are you <i>SURE</i> it's the place to be? and really...I think I loved it so much because I had NO idea what to expect. I definitely didn't expect a country filled with (a sinful amount of humidity), mostly tasty food (there's even a mexican restaurant!), <b>the-most</b> friendliest faces (i know every traveler says this--but this country exceeds south africa, spain, & peru!), DELICIOUS iced coffee, vibrant markets, and so on.<div><br /></div><div>I went with my old school, Azusa Pacific, with 9 other friends to serve alongside YWAM. We taught English at their base but also in a village, served women who were rescued from sex trafficking, and spent tons of time absorbing everything Cambo has to offer. I was under <b>incredible</b> leadership, suppp Corinne & <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/stwright">Steven</a>, and God worked so much in my own heart. It was far from easy, but by far one of the best experiences I've EVER had.<br /><div><br /></div><div>For a period of time, maybe long term, I would love to go back and really live there. I am dying to go back and ride my bike around Siem Reap in the tropical thunderstorm on my way to Lucky Mall to the only air conditioned place and eat ice cream and watch the cashiers count out riel <i>(Cambo currency)</i> extremely fast.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today I wanted to talk about the <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6666CC;">Dr. Fish Massage.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Why? Because why not. and I doubt most of y'all have ever heard of it. And for anyone whose considering going to Cambo (come with me!) you'll want to make sure you check this out.</span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6666CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6666CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6666CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">For leisure, our leaders wanted us to experience a dr. fish. Ok, first things first. It feels SOOOO weird! If you are ticklish--beware!! I mean, most people are, especially their feet, but do this anyway.</span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6666CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6666CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">The point of it is---a thousand (hundreds? millions? i'm a horrible judge) fish swim in a pool. You drink a coke. You stick your feet in the pool. the fish SWIM so so fast and bite your dead skin off your feet! HAA. it's the most unusual feeling. Normally I wouldn't think to blog about something so random and not relevant to most, but a Dr. Fish is literally every three stores in Cambodia! Just preparing you guys, duh!</span></span></span></b></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6oPyvRkEGfZYqj4mhfoyZP8iALV6izjd_w4Mp-uQMo3obc6UXPy3lZHdxBGr2x2ann5GxkUnOJreKWROpa6Dlr3Bqb20-AUq8vmZao8C4f319I97GaVGF83H01gSu9SZ28_hsCeQe9M/s1600/fish4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6oPyvRkEGfZYqj4mhfoyZP8iALV6izjd_w4Mp-uQMo3obc6UXPy3lZHdxBGr2x2ann5GxkUnOJreKWROpa6Dlr3Bqb20-AUq8vmZao8C4f319I97GaVGF83H01gSu9SZ28_hsCeQe9M/s400/fish4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636382240126208546" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Brooke, Hols, Em, & Mike's reaction to the fish</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hZAQ4ImfHwoCECaFM0ZrTRVpM7QOHvf8ObBNpmDqPserjMCF7J7_VrvoUup8WjdqtV0oFGI8SLzVwJj3BLLg6pvIKI4unwTfnNOm0Glo0mTNJKbCB-SpcYCke3vQrA7RhjVlZ6DsorA/s1600/fish1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hZAQ4ImfHwoCECaFM0ZrTRVpM7QOHvf8ObBNpmDqPserjMCF7J7_VrvoUup8WjdqtV0oFGI8SLzVwJj3BLLg6pvIKI4unwTfnNOm0Glo0mTNJKbCB-SpcYCke3vQrA7RhjVlZ6DsorA/s400/fish1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636382234057050450" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Paige & I. sorry for the awkward expression. it's an awkward experience.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQkaJ8Zba3r0dP-4pfKqKLaa3CW2WxKF9LHTiwdx-HtNsgoWbmwLrxT7ovc8N4ZBsRF_uDYcUsdc4A4F8Z_3Mcm0EjLtvcbsMSyvaayXYJdkaraPxhTjXUDNezJRucfPprJisTBA7Xv4/s1600/fish.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQkaJ8Zba3r0dP-4pfKqKLaa3CW2WxKF9LHTiwdx-HtNsgoWbmwLrxT7ovc8N4ZBsRF_uDYcUsdc4A4F8Z_3Mcm0EjLtvcbsMSyvaayXYJdkaraPxhTjXUDNezJRucfPprJisTBA7Xv4/s400/fish.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636382230022493986" /></a><br /><div><div><div>I mean, who wouldn't want their dead skin being bitten off, have cambodians hysterically laugh at the uncomfortable group of americans, all while sippin coke and listening to music?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Thoughts for all <i>(my sister)</i> my readers: would you ever get a Dr. Fish massage?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-66836900215960709012011-08-01T05:58:00.000-07:002011-08-01T06:30:42.187-07:00Featured: Erick Ortiz<div><br />Mornin! It's 9:00 AM and i've already had some delishlish french toast with PB & coffee.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, don't you love my title Featured? It's as if my blog's important enough for people to be dying to be featured! haha<br /><br />I figured today's post can be short & to the point. Back in 2009, right after I graduated, I went to Peru with my sister (Nina), Lindsay, & our young life leader, Jess. We were given the opportunity to go down, try & help support the missionaries there, but more importantly, just observe how true followers of Christ live. it was BEYOND life changing. Not only was it my first time out of the country, but honestly...to this day, I don't know any other Christian organization that functions and serves the way <a href="http://www.wordmadeflesh.org/">Word Made Flesh</a> does. ANNNYway, I'll probably write another whole blog on my experience in Peru...<div><br /></div><div>but this is about Erick. We met Erick the first day we were in Peru. Not only is he in LOVE with God, but <b>absolutely hilarious</b>, too. He stayed up one night playing cards with us girls, told us his testimony (which gave so much glory to the lord), and told us he used to be "sooo re-bellious." We just loved Erick's company a ton. My favorite memory with him has to be when he made me, Nina, & Lindsay <b>INDIVIDUALLY</b> sing a worship song while he played guitar. SING?! ON MY OWN, IN FRONT OF PEOPLE? That's literally the worst scenario anyone could give to me. I'm NOT exaggerating, kidding, or whatever, I sound like dying cats being thrown around in a dryer. I actually have no idea what that sounds like but it looks funny. But he insisted and since he treated us with utmost respect, I couldn't say no. or maybe it was because Lindsay & Nina pressured me to. hahaha. well let's just say THAT'll never happen again.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>OK, so. what my point is that I hope you can go onto <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/tu-creacion-brilla/id453347440?i=453347446&ign-mpt=uo%3D4">Itunes here</a> & buy his song for $1. It would mean the world to him, and also to the organization since he is so giving and is trying to not only support him & his wife, but the people he lives alongside with in his ministry. The song is instrumental and has a very zen, acoustic, alone-in-the-wild sound, but we all need some tranquility in our lives, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>I figure even if I got one person to buy it, it would make all the difference. It's only $1 and I think it's time for me (and hopefully others) to start spending where it actually matters. even in the little ways. (OMG i should be a Christian motivational speaker, right?). Thanks so much.</div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixN09pX0E99VC95a9jWGyuN2oxn_OCLHLUQOd8HeUV2ndJPxfDEJzsN9U_pysMsdGkiaqara8hFVyCWAEAyyM_pfI__rOwE2_wcu5edfFBbpmXeNjMfmQ7zYZAn6T4dEuEAiu0dziFjLY/s1600/erick3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixN09pX0E99VC95a9jWGyuN2oxn_OCLHLUQOd8HeUV2ndJPxfDEJzsN9U_pysMsdGkiaqara8hFVyCWAEAyyM_pfI__rOwE2_wcu5edfFBbpmXeNjMfmQ7zYZAn6T4dEuEAiu0dziFjLY/s400/erick3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635875925372333218" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>some of the WMF Staff!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNK4dlJZ6InNHZqkJU92FP4sJSWWybkvavZxFFVvnTlq-1T4WVrnwz3z3elbYvqnKj3Ud04v99ruWx3Cl4ztolW9YjEYCKiZE1uOkL-uwK39HMHSroQulZ-9FgPTXeSHNshso4gy7jbo/s1600/erick2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNK4dlJZ6InNHZqkJU92FP4sJSWWybkvavZxFFVvnTlq-1T4WVrnwz3z3elbYvqnKj3Ud04v99ruWx3Cl4ztolW9YjEYCKiZE1uOkL-uwK39HMHSroQulZ-9FgPTXeSHNshso4gy7jbo/s400/erick2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635875925907802770" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhraCUBOsUW4s0A2CnEuA6wPGn6a-BQjxti4mj7NYhnCvwEbeEga65Nx6xZ-63ACfCe-hOadnAvdJd4dk3JtU1osMFzKeMrDyS59u-kCmVrMTUCQp_CSV_EA3Oj75LfEFkpnmZSI2L9Lg/s1600/erick1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhraCUBOsUW4s0A2CnEuA6wPGn6a-BQjxti4mj7NYhnCvwEbeEga65Nx6xZ-63ACfCe-hOadnAvdJd4dk3JtU1osMFzKeMrDyS59u-kCmVrMTUCQp_CSV_EA3Oj75LfEFkpnmZSI2L9Lg/s400/erick1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635875921199077618" /></a><div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Him & his beautiful wife :]</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>PS I just started following my own blog by accident but I don't know how to undo it?! Help?</div>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-26207492960244774872011-07-31T16:33:00.001-07:002011-07-31T17:08:40.395-07:00Home of the Snakes & BarracudasI've been a lifeguard for five years. Four of those years have been spent at Prospect Park Swim Club. and while this blog will give off the impression that it's a lovely place that i never want to leave.... <span style="font-weight:bold;">do not be fooled</span>--I am <span style="font-weight:bold;">THRILLED</span> my last day is next week, and, if God keeps lovin' me, it'll be my last day there--EVER!<br /><br />However, since i've spent an embarrassingly amount of time there in the summers of my youth, and still now, I couldn't help but reflect on this job today (while i was at work. confusing, right? it's almost like a double dream).<br /><br />today I was sitting on stand. at my pool, we sit on stand for intervals of 20 minutes, so every other 20 min, i'm sittinnnn.<br />pic of the stand: (mind you--these pictures are from 2008...they are old!)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JtGVcEIqOyZARxA2Wtzz3LydbFmjdUmMlwdsGXCjaFCm5mtNbF-fWva8qOr4o_GSIr-Q5b2m6zAMf4FeSbrDvq5INz9wf8ddql95fhJPklzd6x3C7oiYnffh4GSz2_ChyphenhyphenpR529-bHv0/s1600/pool4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JtGVcEIqOyZARxA2Wtzz3LydbFmjdUmMlwdsGXCjaFCm5mtNbF-fWva8qOr4o_GSIr-Q5b2m6zAMf4FeSbrDvq5INz9wf8ddql95fhJPklzd6x3C7oiYnffh4GSz2_ChyphenhyphenpR529-bHv0/s400/pool4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635665778433602498" /></a><br /><br />being a lifeguard isn't glamorous. you can expect the following everyday: purple-faced guards from yelling at children, trash juice being poured down your legs while throwing the trash bag into the dumpster, hosing off *disgusting* substances, burning your feet with chlorine because you're supposed to be scrubbing the pavement...etc.<br /><br />BUT, besides the less-than-great moments at the pool, the ONE place I'm left to my own thoughts is on stand.<br /><br />20 minutes dedicated to INTENSE people watching? <span style="font-style:italic;">yes please.</span><br /><br />and with people watching, comes thoughts, and thoughts, and tons more thoughts. today i realized how fascinating my time on "the stand" has been. i've spent time sitting there laughing, alone, either at a kid who belly flopped off the dive who thinks they finally got their one and a half (when they actually didn't at all), or simply at a funny memory i was thinking about.<br /><br /><br />i've spent time there, silently thinking about my dreams, exciting myself into the possibilities of my future. i've added more and more to my bucket list, patiently waiting for when i can get down to journal these dreams. i've also reflected on how proud i am at what i've already experienced.<br /><br /><br /><br />i've even spent time there, alone, crying. yes, i am admitting that i've CRIED on stand! hiding behind my sunglasses, i've even been able to reflect on the extremely painful memories... and while it's embarrassing, today i've realized that each summer, i have been able to come back to the pool (unfortunately), and climb up on to the stand, and grow more and more into the woman i am becoming.<br /><br />this stand has symbolized so much growth in my life. i've been to four different continents and lived 3,000 miles away. but every summer, i come back to the same old town, on the same old stand, to think about the not-so same things, but the new, painful, beautiful, lovely, horrible, things that are occurring in my life. and no, i'm not saying i'm this put-together woman who figured out why certain things have happened to me. but what i am saying is that i'm grateful. i'm grateful that i have the opportunity to reflect and sit in pain. to make the ordinary days at the pool, boring times on stand, into times of prayer, questioning, and thinking. and normally these times for Christians happen while we have quiet times... (just intentional time with the Lord). and i have that. but what makes my time on the stand so interesting? Because i feel immersed in humanity--surrounded by hundreds of people who are either trying to interact with me or avoid me. i just feel ALIVE, i feel human. especially when i'm feeling a whirl-wind of emotions... laughing, crying, contentment, frustration<br /><br />i'm just grateful to realize that, although PPSC nearly makes me want to poke my eyes out, those 20 minutes on stand, i am left with my thoughts and reflections on the different seasons of my life. i hurt and sin everyday, (pretty sure more than the normal person), but with that comes so much joy and growth. so for today, all three of you blog readers, i want to let you know i am grateful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1Uc8a_D8z82EG8Ml-2HlJUIaFsWpEY_ot3-juD5KsXGDwyGwbrX_GbIm-LFXmSwiX_8h62AOV-jwEBCYJ5OEYPFW6d0Xip_zncuUxS2Rob2q3h-YwTeQaWKU3dVuhcRrzinyw8V4kJw/s1600/pool3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1Uc8a_D8z82EG8Ml-2HlJUIaFsWpEY_ot3-juD5KsXGDwyGwbrX_GbIm-LFXmSwiX_8h62AOV-jwEBCYJ5OEYPFW6d0Xip_zncuUxS2Rob2q3h-YwTeQaWKU3dVuhcRrzinyw8V4kJw/s400/pool3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635672564551243138" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-n8jEUixPAbV11HiMI17XOriE1a49pTW8vJkZUwv8snBQuBmlbnyPQRJ2wOgGH-OxhOyxCEyKpcrSdwF5HYOFCdhZQtOwQOmp5vP1jUr890cK15phIIVDVdpaO6naBSnpF6pd_plw3Yg/s1600/pool2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-n8jEUixPAbV11HiMI17XOriE1a49pTW8vJkZUwv8snBQuBmlbnyPQRJ2wOgGH-OxhOyxCEyKpcrSdwF5HYOFCdhZQtOwQOmp5vP1jUr890cK15phIIVDVdpaO6naBSnpF6pd_plw3Yg/s400/pool2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635672562918830626" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3cvnXgXFDe3g2ZPeUSgewcylRKdHSoJTnsswnJXZUHC1hDB4hMMKFQ_sgSKLQxkcIqzAOle0_s2ZLaCGdWZFLyWhsRUcioOnS-XT_wDWI4ECDqZ0JdyLNLaTWeevWr2f5-MG2FA6TUA/s1600/pool.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3cvnXgXFDe3g2ZPeUSgewcylRKdHSoJTnsswnJXZUHC1hDB4hMMKFQ_sgSKLQxkcIqzAOle0_s2ZLaCGdWZFLyWhsRUcioOnS-XT_wDWI4ECDqZ0JdyLNLaTWeevWr2f5-MG2FA6TUA/s400/pool.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635672559428336450" /></a>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-36419273946240070492011-07-30T15:30:00.000-07:002011-07-30T15:55:56.068-07:00it all started HEREhere's my remodeled blog! I've been planning to make a new one for a while now, but haven't gotten around to it until tonight. so this is my....third? attempt at blogging, but instead of having the pressure of it being profound, spiritual, or whatevs, I decided I wanted to keep a blog of <span style="font-weight:bold;">ANYTHING<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span> I want to talk about!<br /><br /><br /><br />Yep. that includes cute dresses I find online, books I am currently reading, my girls the Kardashians ;), other blogs I love, places/trips I've been on, my process of transferring colleges, and anything else.<br /><br /><br /><br />my twitter name is whereisbex, and my original idea was to create a blog that focused on traveling...whether that meant unique experiences i've had abroad or interesting cities i've visited in the States. with thaaaaat, there will (<span style="font-style:italic;">hopefully</span>) be a lot on traveling!<br /><br /><br />Speaking of places to travel to, this week my mom & sisters took a trip down to Stone Harbor, NJ for the night. Yep, i know what all my outofstater friends are thinking..... ewwww, new joisey??? jersey shore??? well to put a pie in your mouthtrap, Stone harbor is one of the nicer, MUCH nicer areas along the jersey coast... i mean, no, it is NOT the Pacific coast. far from any beach in California... BUT the town of SH really is gorgeous with adorable stores, pancake houses, and delicious ice cream shops. one word to describe this place?? lovely. :)<br /><br />I leave for virginia in eight days and I'm already missing these three so much.... So what if I'm obsessed over my fam?! we're not perfect, bAaaaaa! by any means. we fight like no onez biz, but with fights comes a WHOLE lot more lovin. wouldn't trade these four for ANYTHING.<br /><br />enjoy:)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz3-mC7Hbbjbj7ieYeDp0YrAVCUXewXyEwOK8YAWsq5zf-ob57HsLogp-vSf78pXq9_k478LggtWO9wl_m5ITsXrUHJv7Xz3ihaopIBI5YsNVCyJINGDgEi4JY-_TCt2huNQ1S1iqTvyc/s1600/DSC_0069.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz3-mC7Hbbjbj7ieYeDp0YrAVCUXewXyEwOK8YAWsq5zf-ob57HsLogp-vSf78pXq9_k478LggtWO9wl_m5ITsXrUHJv7Xz3ihaopIBI5YsNVCyJINGDgEi4JY-_TCt2huNQ1S1iqTvyc/s400/DSC_0069.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635278737556844514" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNNRICHgi5cEtOlYhkr7Ws8TFlBgtiWEaUH_TRaPGGqedZgh2hTA2Pyb3mBs0V17XUcT3F7MPsED94us9UJXklxCqEYa6YMc9UVLHEsQOadyTQ4QlwHZtHbQft1JFGxj4jWl0uZZK6CGU/s1600/DSC_0055.JPG"><img style="float:right; 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margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJWR2FGz20RUpE7mXdUi3si27bnvNYc26TOOKERAWNWywrVUJhk7dsQ82Y3niTloNwaBCgXhHUWZU7BPiSm4YkGvOmnHX2BDD95fEMM42v1-GvcE4Yhm7swM_aLDnhOfImMUusY60ekMQ/s400/DSC_0116.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635279964902057234" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzJ027-LLqc5MHnf7uFDi74-wc3f1fD2vck5EOR9meo5rVHmNMtg3WB2hwkQ2E88WCR0BPhaCJu_l6-d91V0kAebK5A1qTwQRYz6uTm57bDbj6GmuyN8Pf9i3qwwM-ZqS9WqLN71VGMg/s1600/DSC_0099.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzJ027-LLqc5MHnf7uFDi74-wc3f1fD2vck5EOR9meo5rVHmNMtg3WB2hwkQ2E88WCR0BPhaCJu_l6-d91V0kAebK5A1qTwQRYz6uTm57bDbj6GmuyN8Pf9i3qwwM-ZqS9WqLN71VGMg/s400/DSC_0099.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635279961275923618" /></a>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-15550955288101296052011-05-29T15:35:00.001-07:002011-05-29T15:51:45.321-07:00big news :0i've been pushing off this blog post for weeks now. really. it's so hard for me to even know where to start, but i have felt compelled to write this because i think a blog is probably the easiest way to tell numerous people at once.<br />this past year has been absolutely crazy for me. i spent a month in cambodia, a month at summer staff, was an alpha leader, studied abroad and spent four months in south africa. and now i'm here. home. in ridley. and to cut to the chase, i have made one of the biggest decisions of my life so far, and this is something i'm still processing.<br /><br />a part of me doesn't want it to become a reality and the other just absolutely cannot wait for it to become a reality. i know some people already know but for those who don't, i have officially decided to transfer from azusa pacific to james madison university. JMU is in virginia. yep. not california aaand not pennsylvania. but va. i could spend five hours and explain in detail what made me decide this, how i decided it, and why, but i don't feel compelled to explain everything yet. maybe ever.<br /><br />APU offered me a ton. grew me in really incredible and hard ways. definitely offered me some of the most unique opportunities i'll ever have in my life. but i know the lord has brought me to a different place in my life. and i have so much peace about it and that is the only thing that has been ringing in my heart telling me that this decision is okay. because i know this peace comes from the lord. i know, believe, and follow a god who is never changing--and it is especially comforting when i am all over the country and world.<br /><br />so my plan is to live with my best friend and 7 other girls i haven't met yet but have already heard incredible things about. my other plan is to lead Young Life....and i've tried to act like i'm not passionate about this ministry. (but how far did that take me?) and sure, it seems like i have a well-thought out plan for JMU. but really i don't. i feel nervous that i have to start over. scared of not knowing the campus. confused over the fact i'm not returning to apu. but in this season of healing, i know some things for sure.... i know god wants me at a place where i can be challenged, stretched, and molded. i am so ready to do those things not only at jmu, but here at home.<br /><br />i wish i could talk about everything going on in my heart and mind, but if i save it as a draft, i'll never post it, and i really need to....i already have like 3 drafts saved haaa.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7312874758648713986.post-75159889269087065902011-03-30T13:16:00.000-07:002011-03-30T13:47:04.103-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw3Sh3F3F7nZIJ33YRtLAzQ6eVB_91AXmkC4jt-AJ05tTnhjA6KgX9sXbWh3u2xiZJ2k6ntF8d6Pmk24S_KGJZrsnhKlMy1HKEa7OEEW-sg-5RsrjtRRxYQsJ1r-dMsTpTagF9dCaxAWw/s1600/lady.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw3Sh3F3F7nZIJ33YRtLAzQ6eVB_91AXmkC4jt-AJ05tTnhjA6KgX9sXbWh3u2xiZJ2k6ntF8d6Pmk24S_KGJZrsnhKlMy1HKEa7OEEW-sg-5RsrjtRRxYQsJ1r-dMsTpTagF9dCaxAWw/s200/lady.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589972230673540242" /></a><br />heeeeehaw.<br />right now i'm listening to lady antebellum. and you know what? i love it. i can't help it. i even took a picture of my cowboy boot when i was messing with my camera.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmiRRi8sw8Ahlw32HqSs5wXhw2pPYWt2EGaz0xtYC_x16tWxnPoL1b0CLgtaCEsS-tLwSapQ2JLOWCNWI1gk0DHzwEn_S439mBuon8YwW6RvJEE5x8S83-C8_1qRFkRPZg3KTDGlgm10U/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmiRRi8sw8Ahlw32HqSs5wXhw2pPYWt2EGaz0xtYC_x16tWxnPoL1b0CLgtaCEsS-tLwSapQ2JLOWCNWI1gk0DHzwEn_S439mBuon8YwW6RvJEE5x8S83-C8_1qRFkRPZg3KTDGlgm10U/s200/DSC_0014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589971800471270706" /></a><br /><br />so what i know like 4 country songs. i'm working on it.<br /><br /><br /><br />but really...i love country<br /><br /><br /><br />but really...today was a good day. not perfect. weird actually. (the morning). but in the afternoon kate took me and allie to lunch...allie and i? and it was the most spectacular restaurant ever. it was so close to our service site and i would have never known it was there... there were llamas, talking parrots, rabbits...very random animals...well anyways we just talked about life and spent about two and a half hours there...and wow, kate is such a beautiful woman. the best way i can describe her. i just feel <span style="font-weight:bold;">safe</span> with her, and that is by far probably one of the best feelings. she spoke a lot of honesty, some hard to hear, most of it hard to hear, but so needed. i think allie and i both really appreciated our time with kate.<br /><br />oh and also...i heard some people talk today just about how they doubt that God exists. it was so refreshing to hear that someone cares enough to ask the questions "does god exist? why do i feel abandoned by him? where is the proof?" i loved every second of it and i saw so much christ in her it was ridiculous. i could care less (lies) if you actually believe in god or not, lets just TALK about it. i want to talk talk talk talk about it.<br /><br />we played with the children today and it was my first (and last) time with the kids. tomorrow is our last day at Walk in the Light. i'll process that later. but being with the kids was awesome and sooo enjoyed it. i'm wrestling with a ton of questions though. for example: does it do more harm or good that we get to be with kids one day a week for four weeks and then they never see us again? why do we feel the need to impact their lives when we aren't willing to live life alongside them? and more.<br /><br />and lastly just for tonight. i talked with my friend matt for a long time tonight and boy oh boy do i appreciate him also. i can't name a better listener. speaks truth. it is by far such a helping hand in this extremely painful season of life. i could go on for days but if you have the opportunity, get to know him!!!! except i will not post his last name for you stalkers.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05605459780554042472noreply@blogger.com0