I talked to my Wiccan friend about Jesus today! It's such an answer to prayer! It was SO COOL!
sidebar: YAY Nathan! He really does talk back! Woooo!
Inshallah,
sara
30.9.05
The Triumphal Entry----Elizabeth
Someone skittered past the door outside, noisy sandals slapping across the dry ground, thirsty for rain. Abba turned in from his place at the door. He smiled at me. I squinted at him with the bright light framing his stocky figure. With a smile I went back to piling the mattresses in the corner and grabbing the blankets to pound the dust from them. A group of loud adolescents scurries past the little garden mother tried to force pomegranates out of. Abba shakes his head as a small huddle of older men saunters past, whispering secrets into their small circle. “Something must be happening in the city,” I murmured. He nodded, glancing out the door as another group passed.
“You should go,” he said with a rare smile. I shook my head.
“I have much work yet to do before sundown.” He sighs and shakes his head.
“I think I shall go and sit at the city gates.”
“Go then,” I smiled encouragingly, “bring me back some news of what goes on in the city this day.” He turned to go out the door when Esther, my younger sister, burst past him, bringing the dust of the street into my freshly scrubbed household. “Esther,” I scolded, “keep your head covered, and do not run. Look at my floors! Can’t you shake the dust of your sandals before coming in?!” Esther rewrapped her head scarf hastily and looked almost apologetic about my newly cleaned household. But her face brightened as she remembered the reason for her sudden entrance. With Abba once again leaning on the door post she exclaimed in an excited voice.
“You’ll never supposed who’s come to Jerusalem! Elizabeth, it’s so exciting! With Passover next week, and now they’ve come! Oh, Abba, Elizabeth, it could be like old times!”
“Who’s come dear one?” I murmured with a faint smile at her energetic excitement.
“James and John, the sons of Zebedee!” she said breathlessly. Her eyes danced. My heart leapt into my throat. James and John. The boys who had come to Jerusalem every Passover week as children. Often, they had rented the apartment beside ours. John and I had been near to childhood sweethearts. Mother had teased me often,
“He’ll have to buy that rundown apartment next to ours, since there is no room to build on the betrothal addition!” she would laugh at my reddened cheeks. Though she knew just as well as I that according to custom the addition would be built onto John’s own family home in Galilee.
Galilee. James and John had begun to spend their Passover weeks there as adults. I had not seen John in near to two years. The last time, my mother had been dying and we had only seen each other in passing as his family came to grieve with ours and offer prayers.
Esther’s laughter brought me out of my memories. “My dearest sister!” she said in her sparkling voice that I had envied for many years. “You are day dreaming of John, hardly moments after his name is mentioned!” My cheeks bloomed in color, I could feel the heat rushing all over in my embarrassment. Abba shook his head.
“Have only the sons of Zebedee come?” he asked. Esther shook her head.
“No, they are here with a Rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth, and there are other disciples with them.” She looked back to me, my hands clammy and hot, trying to smooth my tunic, “but the sons of Zebedee, they are the handsomest.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Abba shook his head again.
“Have they entered the city yet?”
“No, but they are on the way. Many people have gone out to meet them.”
“I will take my place at the city gates.”
“Abba, might I go out to greet them with Hannah and her brother Ezra?” Esther asked, her eyes wide and pleading. Abba gave in easily.
“Of course.” Esther hardly said another word as she hurried from the house and into the street, kicking up dust as she sprinted to Hannah’s home. He smiled at me, “You ought to go, daughter. You have grown up much too fast since the death of my beloved, go, and for one day enjoy yourself, forget your responsibilities here in the home.”
“You will be sadly missed at the gates if you do not go soon.” He nodded with a sigh and turned to leave. I waited until he was out of sight. Running into the back of the house I threw open a chest of what would have been my dowry, had my mother not died and left me in charge of the household. I dug through to the bottom and finally discovered what I was looking for.
A long, wide, purple piece of fabric embroidered with gold thread. I wrapped it around my head and threw one of the ends over my left shoulder. I looked down at my tunic, sadly stained from constant cooking and cleaning. The two pieces of clothing looked horribly mismatched. I found another chest containing Esther’s clothes and hoped I could still fit into them. There was a white tunic with a creamy yellow wrap. It didn’t quite match the gold thread, but it would have to do. I changed faster than ever before and rushed to the door.
Esther was right. People were heading for the edge of the city in hordes. I joined the throngs and searched the crowds for a familiar face. I didn’t see Abba at the city gates in his place of honor, passed down through the family, despite our relative poverty now. The chaos of people pushing in every direction and craning their necks to see was too much.
Thankfully the crowd loosened after we poured out of the city. But even then there were seemingly impossible numbers of them. Men yelling to each other so I could hardly hear myself think. Women holding hands and trying to keep an eye on their young ones. Children underfoot, scrambling through the crowds away from screaming mothers. Pharisees and the beggar who sat at the temple doors. Even a few Roman soldiers and one centurion had turned out for the event. No doubt to keep things underhand and prevent a riot from occurring.
As I searched for John or James, or anyone I knew, I realized everyone was looking to my left. I glanced in the direction and saw a path in the middle of the crowd beginning to form. Someone was coming down to the city. Was he walking? Because he most certainly was not on a horse of grand stature—I would have been able to see him. Someone ripped a palm branch from a nearby tree and cried “Hosanna!” as they threw it to the ground.
I saw him in that moment. The Rabbi from Nazareth. Nothing extraordinary, just sitting there astride a bony donkey that couldn’t have been comfortable in the least. He was smiling, but there was something there. Something else that I could feel but not quite see or understand. Was it frustration? I wondered as someone threw down their outer tunic and yelled something extraordinary.
“Messiah!” Savior? Messiah? Then why was there sadness in the way his back hunched over slightly as he swayed with the step of the beast he rode? “Hosanna! Allelu Ya!” Yaweh? Then why was there a helplessness in the way he held the reigns? A sort of meager submissiveness? “Jesus!” Why was there pity in the eyes that surveyed the crowd?
He was getting closer to me, and people were being jostled out of their positions as others pushed for a better view. A young man beside me tore off his tunic in eager service and pushed to the edge of the crowd. He laid it on the ground gently and waved to the Rabbi as he came closer. “Hosanna!” he cried in a voice that cracked. But the Rabbi did not even look at the young man. He was looking at someone deeper in the crowd. He was looking at someone who was confused, unsure. He was looking at someone and trying to give them hope, despite all the commotion and the instability that was suddenly obvious in his eyes. He was looking at someone who hadn’t even come out here to see him. He was looking at someone who had lost all their hopes and dreams in the will of God, only to find them again in the Son of God’s eyes.
He was looking at me.
I gasped slightly and hardly even noticed it. The deep brown eyes probed down into my heart, and in a moment, he knew all the hurt I had ever felt. And what was more, he ached for me. He was not sympathetic or full of pity. He actually felt what I did, and he understood. He smiled widely, and this time, there was no trace of uncertainty or pity, no hint of sadness or submission, only a sense of security. That everything would soon be set aright, that there plans for me that I could not have ever imagined. But more than anything, there was hope for the future in him. Not just in his smile, but in him.
And then he was gone, past me, and smiling at someone else who would throw down a palm branch to smooth the journey for the tired donkey’s feet. Someone collided with me and held my upper arms tightly, shaking me in excitement.
“Elizabeth!” someone was crying into my ear. I tore myself away from his retreating figure to face a man with a full beard of dark brown hair that was almost black and deeply tanned skin. His brown eyes were dancing wildly under his prayer shawl that had somehow ended up on top of his head, crooked, with tassels flying in the wind.
“John.”
“It’s him!”
“I know, Jesus, of Nazareth.”
“No, not just that, I mean, it’s him!” he waved his hand after the man swaying with the gait of his donkey, “He is Messiah!”
“Messiah,” I said softly, barely feeling John’s arm as it encircled my shoulders, “Messiah,” the word was like honey on my lips. Sweet, smooth, comforting.
“He is the Christ.” I turned to look up into John’s sweet face and smiled.
“I know,” I paused as the crowd began to follow him back into the city and we were beginning to be alone. “I know.” He laughed slightly.
“You look as though you have just seen the glory of God like Moses, when his face glowed after being on the Mountain.” My smile widened.
“I just looked into the face of God,” I stared at the cloud of dust retreating after the crowd, “I looked into his face, and he smiled,” I laughed. “He smiled at me!”
“Allelu Yah.”
“Hosanna!”
“You should go,” he said with a rare smile. I shook my head.
“I have much work yet to do before sundown.” He sighs and shakes his head.
“I think I shall go and sit at the city gates.”
“Go then,” I smiled encouragingly, “bring me back some news of what goes on in the city this day.” He turned to go out the door when Esther, my younger sister, burst past him, bringing the dust of the street into my freshly scrubbed household. “Esther,” I scolded, “keep your head covered, and do not run. Look at my floors! Can’t you shake the dust of your sandals before coming in?!” Esther rewrapped her head scarf hastily and looked almost apologetic about my newly cleaned household. But her face brightened as she remembered the reason for her sudden entrance. With Abba once again leaning on the door post she exclaimed in an excited voice.
“You’ll never supposed who’s come to Jerusalem! Elizabeth, it’s so exciting! With Passover next week, and now they’ve come! Oh, Abba, Elizabeth, it could be like old times!”
“Who’s come dear one?” I murmured with a faint smile at her energetic excitement.
“James and John, the sons of Zebedee!” she said breathlessly. Her eyes danced. My heart leapt into my throat. James and John. The boys who had come to Jerusalem every Passover week as children. Often, they had rented the apartment beside ours. John and I had been near to childhood sweethearts. Mother had teased me often,
“He’ll have to buy that rundown apartment next to ours, since there is no room to build on the betrothal addition!” she would laugh at my reddened cheeks. Though she knew just as well as I that according to custom the addition would be built onto John’s own family home in Galilee.
Galilee. James and John had begun to spend their Passover weeks there as adults. I had not seen John in near to two years. The last time, my mother had been dying and we had only seen each other in passing as his family came to grieve with ours and offer prayers.
Esther’s laughter brought me out of my memories. “My dearest sister!” she said in her sparkling voice that I had envied for many years. “You are day dreaming of John, hardly moments after his name is mentioned!” My cheeks bloomed in color, I could feel the heat rushing all over in my embarrassment. Abba shook his head.
“Have only the sons of Zebedee come?” he asked. Esther shook her head.
“No, they are here with a Rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth, and there are other disciples with them.” She looked back to me, my hands clammy and hot, trying to smooth my tunic, “but the sons of Zebedee, they are the handsomest.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Abba shook his head again.
“Have they entered the city yet?”
“No, but they are on the way. Many people have gone out to meet them.”
“I will take my place at the city gates.”
“Abba, might I go out to greet them with Hannah and her brother Ezra?” Esther asked, her eyes wide and pleading. Abba gave in easily.
“Of course.” Esther hardly said another word as she hurried from the house and into the street, kicking up dust as she sprinted to Hannah’s home. He smiled at me, “You ought to go, daughter. You have grown up much too fast since the death of my beloved, go, and for one day enjoy yourself, forget your responsibilities here in the home.”
“You will be sadly missed at the gates if you do not go soon.” He nodded with a sigh and turned to leave. I waited until he was out of sight. Running into the back of the house I threw open a chest of what would have been my dowry, had my mother not died and left me in charge of the household. I dug through to the bottom and finally discovered what I was looking for.
A long, wide, purple piece of fabric embroidered with gold thread. I wrapped it around my head and threw one of the ends over my left shoulder. I looked down at my tunic, sadly stained from constant cooking and cleaning. The two pieces of clothing looked horribly mismatched. I found another chest containing Esther’s clothes and hoped I could still fit into them. There was a white tunic with a creamy yellow wrap. It didn’t quite match the gold thread, but it would have to do. I changed faster than ever before and rushed to the door.
Esther was right. People were heading for the edge of the city in hordes. I joined the throngs and searched the crowds for a familiar face. I didn’t see Abba at the city gates in his place of honor, passed down through the family, despite our relative poverty now. The chaos of people pushing in every direction and craning their necks to see was too much.
Thankfully the crowd loosened after we poured out of the city. But even then there were seemingly impossible numbers of them. Men yelling to each other so I could hardly hear myself think. Women holding hands and trying to keep an eye on their young ones. Children underfoot, scrambling through the crowds away from screaming mothers. Pharisees and the beggar who sat at the temple doors. Even a few Roman soldiers and one centurion had turned out for the event. No doubt to keep things underhand and prevent a riot from occurring.
As I searched for John or James, or anyone I knew, I realized everyone was looking to my left. I glanced in the direction and saw a path in the middle of the crowd beginning to form. Someone was coming down to the city. Was he walking? Because he most certainly was not on a horse of grand stature—I would have been able to see him. Someone ripped a palm branch from a nearby tree and cried “Hosanna!” as they threw it to the ground.
I saw him in that moment. The Rabbi from Nazareth. Nothing extraordinary, just sitting there astride a bony donkey that couldn’t have been comfortable in the least. He was smiling, but there was something there. Something else that I could feel but not quite see or understand. Was it frustration? I wondered as someone threw down their outer tunic and yelled something extraordinary.
“Messiah!” Savior? Messiah? Then why was there sadness in the way his back hunched over slightly as he swayed with the step of the beast he rode? “Hosanna! Allelu Ya!” Yaweh? Then why was there a helplessness in the way he held the reigns? A sort of meager submissiveness? “Jesus!” Why was there pity in the eyes that surveyed the crowd?
He was getting closer to me, and people were being jostled out of their positions as others pushed for a better view. A young man beside me tore off his tunic in eager service and pushed to the edge of the crowd. He laid it on the ground gently and waved to the Rabbi as he came closer. “Hosanna!” he cried in a voice that cracked. But the Rabbi did not even look at the young man. He was looking at someone deeper in the crowd. He was looking at someone who was confused, unsure. He was looking at someone and trying to give them hope, despite all the commotion and the instability that was suddenly obvious in his eyes. He was looking at someone who hadn’t even come out here to see him. He was looking at someone who had lost all their hopes and dreams in the will of God, only to find them again in the Son of God’s eyes.
He was looking at me.
I gasped slightly and hardly even noticed it. The deep brown eyes probed down into my heart, and in a moment, he knew all the hurt I had ever felt. And what was more, he ached for me. He was not sympathetic or full of pity. He actually felt what I did, and he understood. He smiled widely, and this time, there was no trace of uncertainty or pity, no hint of sadness or submission, only a sense of security. That everything would soon be set aright, that there plans for me that I could not have ever imagined. But more than anything, there was hope for the future in him. Not just in his smile, but in him.
And then he was gone, past me, and smiling at someone else who would throw down a palm branch to smooth the journey for the tired donkey’s feet. Someone collided with me and held my upper arms tightly, shaking me in excitement.
“Elizabeth!” someone was crying into my ear. I tore myself away from his retreating figure to face a man with a full beard of dark brown hair that was almost black and deeply tanned skin. His brown eyes were dancing wildly under his prayer shawl that had somehow ended up on top of his head, crooked, with tassels flying in the wind.
“John.”
“It’s him!”
“I know, Jesus, of Nazareth.”
“No, not just that, I mean, it’s him!” he waved his hand after the man swaying with the gait of his donkey, “He is Messiah!”
“Messiah,” I said softly, barely feeling John’s arm as it encircled my shoulders, “Messiah,” the word was like honey on my lips. Sweet, smooth, comforting.
“He is the Christ.” I turned to look up into John’s sweet face and smiled.
“I know,” I paused as the crowd began to follow him back into the city and we were beginning to be alone. “I know.” He laughed slightly.
“You look as though you have just seen the glory of God like Moses, when his face glowed after being on the Mountain.” My smile widened.
“I just looked into the face of God,” I stared at the cloud of dust retreating after the crowd, “I looked into his face, and he smiled,” I laughed. “He smiled at me!”
“Allelu Yah.”
“Hosanna!”
28.9.05
Poor Yankees don't know nothin about anythin
Me: Nathan called Southerners hicks today.
Mom: That's because he's only ever met West Virginians and Floridans...
Probably true. The thing I left out of my story when I told my mom was that as I walked away from the table, after Nathan made so uneducated a comment, I called him a damn yankee. I don't think he heard me. But you do now don't you!
WE ARE NOT HICKS. And the south WILL come back someday. You just wait and see.
add: No, I am not racist, just to clarify.
add: I really didn't mean that the South will make a come back. Nobody wants that. I just had an urge to be slightly obnoxious.
Me: (after telling my dad the story) Mom said he's probably only met West Virginians or Floridians.
Dad: He can feel free to say that about West Virginians all he wants... Only problem is, West Virginians aren't southerners.
I will see you Monday next,
sara
Mom: That's because he's only ever met West Virginians and Floridans...
Probably true. The thing I left out of my story when I told my mom was that as I walked away from the table, after Nathan made so uneducated a comment, I called him a damn yankee. I don't think he heard me. But you do now don't you!
WE ARE NOT HICKS. And the south WILL come back someday. You just wait and see.
add: No, I am not racist, just to clarify.
add: I really didn't mean that the South will make a come back. Nobody wants that. I just had an urge to be slightly obnoxious.
Me: (after telling my dad the story) Mom said he's probably only met West Virginians or Floridians.
Dad: He can feel free to say that about West Virginians all he wants... Only problem is, West Virginians aren't southerners.
I will see you Monday next,
sara
21.9.05
My dad says this is what I will be like as a teacher:
Ferrill: (after teaching us to yell Shakespeare lines such as DAMN HER with passion.) Isn't it fun to swear in school?
Ferrill: you see children, the great thing about reading shakespeare is that you learn all sorts of words for whore! Like minx! So, now you don't have to call anyone a slut anymore! You can say, she's such a minx (pause) not that you should call anyone that
Ferrill: I have to apologize for the language in the movie, because I'm sure you've never heard the F word, especially not in the halls of AHS
Ferrill: (While watching the movie and Othello and Desdemona are undressing) Oh my goodness! I forgot about this scene! Maybe this a good time to stop! Oh! (pause) wow, look at that amazing body!
Nick: You minx!
Kahl: (gasp!) Well, I never!
Kahl: go fig yourself
Ferrill: Kahl, hmm, that rhymes with ale!
Ferrill: Kiss her! Again! Again! YES! Tip her back! Tip her back!
Edit: MINOR! Me envie su carta, puedo darla al principal de la escuela, si quiere. O, puedo darle a Ud las direcciones para la escuela, y puede enviar a la escuela. Creo que la segunda es más mejor. Pero, es su decision. Y quiero leerla! Estoy feliz!
Ferrill: you see children, the great thing about reading shakespeare is that you learn all sorts of words for whore! Like minx! So, now you don't have to call anyone a slut anymore! You can say, she's such a minx (pause) not that you should call anyone that
Ferrill: I have to apologize for the language in the movie, because I'm sure you've never heard the F word, especially not in the halls of AHS
Ferrill: (While watching the movie and Othello and Desdemona are undressing) Oh my goodness! I forgot about this scene! Maybe this a good time to stop! Oh! (pause) wow, look at that amazing body!
Nick: You minx!
Kahl: (gasp!) Well, I never!
Kahl: go fig yourself
Ferrill: Kahl, hmm, that rhymes with ale!
Ferrill: Kiss her! Again! Again! YES! Tip her back! Tip her back!
Edit: MINOR! Me envie su carta, puedo darla al principal de la escuela, si quiere. O, puedo darle a Ud las direcciones para la escuela, y puede enviar a la escuela. Creo que la segunda es más mejor. Pero, es su decision. Y quiero leerla! Estoy feliz!
17.9.05
sigh
Brock: Quiet hours, who does that? I mean, seriously.
Jason: (to Janine who is limping) Are you okay?
Janine: Yeah, I just stepped on something big and sharp and metal. And the gash on my foot has bled through three things of gauze already, but yeah, I'm pretty much great. How are you?
Sarah: Mike could carry you back.
Janine: Yes, because I am going to run up to him and jump on him, yelling, "Carry me Mike! I'm dying! Carry me!"
Nick: Jason! Everyone gets to read your book! You've been telling me 'oh you should read my book' but you never give it to me! Everyone else gets to read it though!
Me: I've even read his book Nick.
Nick: What? She's been here ONE DAY! I've been your roommate for four freaking weeks!
Jason: (to Janine who is limping) Are you okay?
Janine: Yeah, I just stepped on something big and sharp and metal. And the gash on my foot has bled through three things of gauze already, but yeah, I'm pretty much great. How are you?
Sarah: Mike could carry you back.
Janine: Yes, because I am going to run up to him and jump on him, yelling, "Carry me Mike! I'm dying! Carry me!"
Nick: Jason! Everyone gets to read your book! You've been telling me 'oh you should read my book' but you never give it to me! Everyone else gets to read it though!
Me: I've even read his book Nick.
Nick: What? She's been here ONE DAY! I've been your roommate for four freaking weeks!
12.9.05
So I am guessing,
From the lack of comments that perhaps there was something offensive in last night's post. It was last night, right?
So I feel obliged to explain a few things. Okay, only one thing actually. I feel as though there may be some misunderstanding over what I said about my missional community. Really, there is nothing wrong with the people in it, it is just that I don't know very many of them, and they all have relationships intact already, so why let a new person in, sort of thing. That is part of it, and the other thing is, I got really close with some of the seniors this summer. And those seniors, aren't in my group, which is hard. But God has a plan, and he has me there for a reason, this I know. And all things will work out according to his good will and purpose. So I am sorry if I perhaps offended anyone, that was certainly not my intent.
Anyway, I found a good psalm, that I think you would all like. It's number 147, and really I just like the first few verses.
Praise the Lord.
How good it is to sing praises to our God,
how pleasant and fitting to praise him!
The Lord builds up Jerusalem;
he gathers the exiles of Israel.
He heals the broken hearted
and binds up their wounds. (NIV)
But I read it in my Bible last night and looked at the Spanish, which I thought even more beautiful than the English.
Aleluya! Alabada sea el SEÑOR!
Cuán bueno es cantar salmos a nuestro Dios,
cuán agradable y justo es alabarlo!
El SEÑOR reconstruye a Jerusalén
y reúne a los exiliados de Israel;
restaura a los abatidos
y cubre con vendas sus heridas. (NVI)
The Spanish wasn't just praise the Lord it was Aleluya! And then when it talked about Jerusalem, it wasn't just that God will build it up, but that he reconstructs it. Which is so amazing to me. I mean, the New Jerusalem, isn't that when Jesus comes back in the Glorious Reappearing? And he will rebuild it, and he gathers all of us to come. Just like he has always rebuilt that city in the past. And he will reunite us with him, and with all the other exiles. Which I have never thought about, aren't all humans like exiles, awaiting their trial? And there are those that have been saved, and will be pardoned on their day of Judgement. And we will be reunited.
And you know what else I liked about the Spanish version? That it capitalizes el SEÑOR. always, because he is someone who we should awe and he is someone of great majesty, which is something I think we sometimes forget in the church today. You know? I think we forget that a lot. There is more to this thing we call Christianity than just buddy-buddy Jesus. There is awe and wonder, majesty and things beyond our comprehension. In fact it is all beyond our comprehension. But we are apart of it. Isn't that so amazing?
Aleluya! Alabado sea el SEÑOR!
Sarita
11.9.05
If I hate highschool drama,
why have I recently found myself in the aforenamed quagmire?
He is going to homecoming with someone else, which I guess is to be expected. I mean, I kind of expected him to take her in the back of my mind. God, it is my senior year, and this is the year I didn't really care about homecoming, or so I thought. Now that he's going with someone else, that last ray of hope of ever going to a school dance, or actually doing something like that has just vanished in the cloud cover. Come on! What did I do wrong? Or was it that I am too shy and did nothing at all?
Today Brittany and I were admiring the waiter at Chili's and poor Cameron had to sit there and listen to it. You should have seen the look on his face, we laughed at him and said we were sorry, but really, the guy had amazing blue eyes. Anyway, I thought it was funny, that Cam was sitting there, like Oh my gosh, why did I choose to sit with the girls? So I came home and was telling my dad, and my mother flips out on me, saying it was so rude to say that in front of him after he took me to the movies last weekend. I was like, excuse me, my lord, it's not as though we are dating or something. Maybe if we were going out, I would see the validity in her point but we are not. I consider myself free and clear, completely single. I mean, if the boy liked me, he would ask me to homecoming, but he hasn't, so, obviously, there isn't going to be anythi
ng there anyway. Anyway, now my mom is mad at me, and just told me that she didn't appreciate the way I talked to her. Well, here's some news, I don't appreciate the way you tlaked to me. She said that when I don't have a homecoming or prom date not to come crying to her.
WHY DOES LIFE SEEM TO REVOLVE AROUND THAT? I have come to terms with the fact that I am not going to a school dance. I understand that. It no longer bothers me. I have come to accept that I am probably never going to date in highschool, because of the three guys I would be willing to date, one does not want a girlfriend, one likes someone else, and the other I have nothing in common with. Yeah, so, uh, not happening.
And really, I am becoming okay with you saving me. I mean, that is sort of what you're doing right? But come on, there has got to be something else! I mean, why are you doing all of this to me? My missional community? God, how could you have put me there? I won't even pretend to understand your mind, because I doubt that I will ever know why you put me there? I don't want to be there! And come on, I was the one who was excited for your plan in the church! I was the one supporting this! And you put me there? God, please, show me a reason why.
And school! I have no friends at school save friends from church! I hate how judgemental some of my Christian friends are, and I hate how broken and hurting my lost friends are, yet I can't help them! God I grew out of this hell when I was a sophomore! We both know that, I have been ready to graduate since the 10th grade! Why? Why would you put me so far ahead of my class? Why?
I love you, you know that. But I don't understand any of what you are doing. I don't think I want to, because I guess that would ruin the beauty of seeing it unfold. But it hurts, and senior year wasn't supposed to hurt! I was okay this summer, I accepted the no boyfriendness, I had moved on, and I still feel like I am on the right side of that bridge. But God! Why does it suddenly hurt again? And why does it hurt so bad? This isn't a stub your toe kind of pain, this is like, breaking both arms, and I can't get to the emergency room fast enough kind of pain.
But isn't this strange. In the middle of all of this crud, I am actually okay. I mean, it hurts and I cry sometimes because I am so confused and lost, but you know that hymn? It is well with my soul. I feel like Paul sometimes, like, I am okay with whatever you are doing, even though it stinks majorly. I am okay with it somehow, because, by your grace, I think I understand that this is like the black thread woven into my tapestry, and it will make the weaving all that more beautiful in the end. But God, I wish the end would come quickly.
Here I am at what feels like the end
So I come to you my Lord again...
In this trial that I'm going through
I don't question cause I know it's true
That the sorrow brings me back to you
And you have made me stronger
It's been 40 days and 40 nights
Down the road of many trials
And I pray it's only for a season
Cause in the wilderness and in the flood
You're the one I'm thinking of
And I know you've brought me for a reason
Insh'allah
sara
He is going to homecoming with someone else, which I guess is to be expected. I mean, I kind of expected him to take her in the back of my mind. God, it is my senior year, and this is the year I didn't really care about homecoming, or so I thought. Now that he's going with someone else, that last ray of hope of ever going to a school dance, or actually doing something like that has just vanished in the cloud cover. Come on! What did I do wrong? Or was it that I am too shy and did nothing at all?
Today Brittany and I were admiring the waiter at Chili's and poor Cameron had to sit there and listen to it. You should have seen the look on his face, we laughed at him and said we were sorry, but really, the guy had amazing blue eyes. Anyway, I thought it was funny, that Cam was sitting there, like Oh my gosh, why did I choose to sit with the girls? So I came home and was telling my dad, and my mother flips out on me, saying it was so rude to say that in front of him after he took me to the movies last weekend. I was like, excuse me, my lord, it's not as though we are dating or something. Maybe if we were going out, I would see the validity in her point but we are not. I consider myself free and clear, completely single. I mean, if the boy liked me, he would ask me to homecoming, but he hasn't, so, obviously, there isn't going to be anythi
ng there anyway. Anyway, now my mom is mad at me, and just told me that she didn't appreciate the way I talked to her. Well, here's some news, I don't appreciate the way you tlaked to me. She said that when I don't have a homecoming or prom date not to come crying to her.WHY DOES LIFE SEEM TO REVOLVE AROUND THAT? I have come to terms with the fact that I am not going to a school dance. I understand that. It no longer bothers me. I have come to accept that I am probably never going to date in highschool, because of the three guys I would be willing to date, one does not want a girlfriend, one likes someone else, and the other I have nothing in common with. Yeah, so, uh, not happening.
And really, I am becoming okay with you saving me. I mean, that is sort of what you're doing right? But come on, there has got to be something else! I mean, why are you doing all of this to me? My missional community? God, how could you have put me there? I won't even pretend to understand your mind, because I doubt that I will ever know why you put me there? I don't want to be there! And come on, I was the one who was excited for your plan in the church! I was the one supporting this! And you put me there? God, please, show me a reason why.
And school! I have no friends at school save friends from church! I hate how judgemental some of my Christian friends are, and I hate how broken and hurting my lost friends are, yet I can't help them! God I grew out of this hell when I was a sophomore! We both know that, I have been ready to graduate since the 10th grade! Why? Why would you put me so far ahead of my class? Why?
I love you, you know that. But I don't understand any of what you are doing. I don't think I want to, because I guess that would ruin the beauty of seeing it unfold. But it hurts, and senior year wasn't supposed to hurt! I was okay this summer, I accepted the no boyfriendness, I had moved on, and I still feel like I am on the right side of that bridge. But God! Why does it suddenly hurt again? And why does it hurt so bad? This isn't a stub your toe kind of pain, this is like, breaking both arms, and I can't get to the emergency room fast enough kind of pain.
But isn't this strange. In the middle of all of this crud, I am actually okay. I mean, it hurts and I cry sometimes because I am so confused and lost, but you know that hymn? It is well with my soul. I feel like Paul sometimes, like, I am okay with whatever you are doing, even though it stinks majorly. I am okay with it somehow, because, by your grace, I think I understand that this is like the black thread woven into my tapestry, and it will make the weaving all that more beautiful in the end. But God, I wish the end would come quickly.
Here I am at what feels like the end
So I come to you my Lord again...
In this trial that I'm going through
I don't question cause I know it's true
That the sorrow brings me back to you
And you have made me stronger
It's been 40 days and 40 nights
Down the road of many trials
And I pray it's only for a season
Cause in the wilderness and in the flood
You're the one I'm thinking of
And I know you've brought me for a reason
Insh'allah
sara
10.9.05
La!
I am sooo tired. I think because I am sick.
Anyway, the applications for Costa Rica were due yesterday I think. Which is exciting, because soon we will be finding out who gets to go. I am really excited to see what God does with our team, and how he pulls it all together.
but anyway, I am off to a soccer game. Go AHS!
hasta la vista!
sara
Anyway, the applications for Costa Rica were due yesterday I think. Which is exciting, because soon we will be finding out who gets to go. I am really excited to see what God does with our team, and how he pulls it all together.
but anyway, I am off to a soccer game. Go AHS!
hasta la vista!
sara
7.9.05
ahh, I love Cornish
Mrs Gerlich: What do your parents tell you before you go out on a date?
Cornish: A baby will screw up your whole life
Mrs. Gerlich: Girls, what are you taught to do when you go out to your car late at night?
Girls: Check under it! Look in the backseat! Park under a light! Have your keys in your hand. Get inside and lock the doors! If there's a van beside your car, get a guy to escort you out!
Gabe: what've you been indoctrinated by Oprah?
Cornish: A baby will screw up your whole life
Mrs. Gerlich: Girls, what are you taught to do when you go out to your car late at night?
Girls: Check under it! Look in the backseat! Park under a light! Have your keys in your hand. Get inside and lock the doors! If there's a van beside your car, get a guy to escort you out!
Gabe: what've you been indoctrinated by Oprah?
5.9.05
Last night at elevation....
Cameron: we're going to go see a movie
Ryan: which movie?
Cameron: something with a two in it
Me: Transporter 2
Ryan: Oh! I want to see that one! (to Kelli) Can we go? We're going, pleeease!
Kelli:(to me and Cam) are you two going alone?
(pause)
Ryan: (in disappointed voice) oh, is this like some date thing that we can't screw up?
Ryan: which movie?
Cameron: something with a two in it
Me: Transporter 2
Ryan: Oh! I want to see that one! (to Kelli) Can we go? We're going, pleeease!
Kelli:(to me and Cam) are you two going alone?
(pause)
Ryan: (in disappointed voice) oh, is this like some date thing that we can't screw up?
4.9.05
The Hurricane
Go to Third Day's website and download their song Cry Out to Jesus. Listen to the extended media one. I started crying when that man talked about his wife.
All those poor people, and nothing we can do. I can pray, yeah, but somedays I want something more tangible to do for them. We're taking an offering next week at church. I think we should all give, I mean, look what we have! A house, my family, this computer, I have so much. We should give. Someone has to help them. Bring backpacks next week, and money too. I mean, think about it. Look around in the room you are in. You have so much! And I do
too!But they have nothing.
But look. There is hope, with us, and within themselves.
1.9.05
So....
I was talking with Nathan on Monday night for a while.... We talked about relationships, which is always an interesting subject for me. I have friends that are all over the place concerning that, and my parents don't really give any advice, and neither does anyone of any substantial wisdom. So, basically, I have all these conflicting ideas swirling around in my head. (FYI the previous post, was written after a bad experience, and should not in anyway influence your reading of this one. I really don't think half of what I think I may have implied/said.)
Anyway, I just have just decided absolutely nothing. I have no opinion either way, I have no ideas about my own love life, (haha) I have nothing to say on the subject.
And I am really ready to be done with highschool. I think I grew out of it sophomore year. I really do. So maybe that is one of my problems...
Benedick: Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
Beatrice: Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.
Benedick:
Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.Beatrice: I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.
Benedick: You take pleasure then in the message?
Beatrice: Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior: fare you well. (exit)
Benedick: Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in
to dinner;' there's a double meaning in that...
Fare thee well, benedicite!
sara
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
