Pit Stop

I’ll be gone from tomorrow till Friday. I’m glad I get to go to Spring Con with Intervarsity. I still think I have problems being excited, but at the same time, I feel like I’ll be thankful to get away from here and be with the IV people as we do our intensive study on Mark.

I guess I really could’ve gone with them this morning considering I ended up calling out. But I definitely felt like crap. -___-;; ::sigh:: So it was probably good that I stayed behind.

Well, I don’t have a Dramamine for this trip, so pray for my seasickness….. at least… I think it’s seasickness. I couldn’t tell if it was that or the claustrophobia to be honest. O.o And hitting that whale didn’t help. -____-;; (yeah, our boat hit a whale… though the captain tried to pass it off as a “boat malfunction.”)

Anywhoo! Goodbye for now as I circle this spot on our map and label it as a resting point. 🙂

peace and love.

PS as I read over my last entry, the most amazing epiphany hit me. It’s interesting that sometimes in order to move forward, one has to look to the past. Not always, I’m sure, but I think it’s awesome that seeing the “me” from a few years ago doesn’t make me wish things were like that now, but, rather, that I can be fruitful again. It’s like I was given a key to open a new door on this journey, and that key was me. I couldn’t go on with this journey without being whole. This memory I abandoned is not a weakness… it is exactly what I need to move on.


lies and truth

the enemy wastes no time in getting on his prey, does he?

all afternoon, I’ve been hearing his lies. My heart is sad because I’m alone in California again, but it’s also rejoicing because the wall came down. I’m vulnerable again. God has a little more room to work again.

But all afternoon, he played on the sadness I felt. he whispered in my ears the lie that God is torturing me by letting me see my friends for such a short amount of time, and then leaving me alone again. I’d even almost asked why a few times, but every time I started, the truth came to me before I could even utter a sound.

This was a glimpse of what heaven would be like.

I’m not being tortured. I’m not being punished. With this short visit, mountains have come down, and titanium walls have crumbled. I reunited with two old friends, but I also reunited myself with one more: me. The me who knew how to be happy… the me who loved to love and cared to care… the me who did not allow her financial status to rule her no matter how troubled she was by it… the me who wanted to make a difference in this world and draw closer to God.

Seeing this old friend is interesting. She’s reminding me that I can have happiness. She’s reminding me that all of this is temporary. She’s reminding me that I have to be faithful. She’s reminding me that the sadness that binds me can be broken down by love, friendship, and my relationship with Christ.

This is truth. Sadness does not have to bind me. Anger does not have to bind me. I am loved, and I am strong because of Him. He’s not out to get me… He’s the only one who knows how to help me grow and keep walking.

You guys have done so much more for me than you know. Thanks again for visiting. It was hard to say goodbye again, but I’m all the more excited to say hello again. 🙂

love you guys.

peace and love.


It’s interesting seeing my worlds come together. I love it. I want to embrace it more.

Multnomah had begun to seem more like a memory that’s been growing more and more distant, and it makes me sad because I love that school. I love the people. I miss it so much sometimes, especially when I look at a bit of the depravity I see in this school. But the grass is always greener on the other side. Multnomah is not perfect, but there was something about it that made me feel more protected and positive.

Amanda and Beatrice came to visit me for a few days. I’ve really missed them. I don’t know if I really realized just how much until I saw them… until the day before when I realized I was going to be picking them up soon. They had brought a lot of the things I left up there back down to me. It was nice getting my things back, and it was especially nice reminiscing on what they were to me and getting surprises cuz I’d forgotten I had them.

But how many girls can say that she’s got friends that would fly down just to visit her? And it was a huge deal that they brought everything to me cuz that’s asking a LOT.

As I unloaded my things, the line between my life in Oregon, that I seemingly wanted to forget, and my life in California, that I want to just run through and eventually forget, began to blur. And I felt the happiest I’d ever felt in a long time. I embraced the memories that I blamed for my situation and realized just how precious they were to me.

I don’t think I consciously realized that I blamed my year at Multnomah to what’s going on in my life now until last night. And as I look at it now, what tragedy was there? I was meant to be there that year, and God blessed me so many ways because I listened.

Amanda and Beatrice are living proof of that. Aaron, Nate, Steve Day… these people are living proof that I was meant to be there. These people are the gifts God has given me, accountability God had provided for me while I was struggling, blessings God has bestowed on me and given me the privilege to know and love.

It was no mistake. God doesn’t make mistakes. And maybe, like the whole deal with faith and my car, this memory — no, more than a memory– this relationship with me and Multnomah and the people will help me see a little more of God’s sovereignty and faithfulness.

It’s also no mistake for me to be at Hope right now. This is where I need to be, and it really makes it difficult being away from things that I missed. The random memories that we shared these past couple of days really made me see how little I speak of that school and how badly I’d been trying to abandon these memories.

It seems as though I kept the people at Multnomah within that memory. In my eyes, time passes for them like….. I dunno… like an “out of sight, out of mind” type feeling. But I love that the boundaries I created between me and Multnomah have begun to crumble.

Thank you girls for visiting me. I love you so much, and I hope to see you again soon… and maybe one day a little more regularly. 🙂

peace and love.

playing pretend

There is so much about my life that I don’t like. I hate to admit it, but I never got over this. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been told multiple times that I’m fat, grungy, and “I’d be pretty if only–.” I hate it! I’ve been allowing the world to name me for years. When am I going to embrace the name that God wants to give me, that He has given me?

My imagination’s run rampant since childhood. I’ve never stopped playing pretend. But stories I come up with now stem from wants and desires of my life. I always have this one amazing heroine. Her life was probably difficult at one point, but at the setting of my story, life has come to fruition for her. She was beautiful, fit, strong, and about to meet her prince.

I always, always put myself in the feet of this character because her life is just so much more amazing than mine. Whether she’s the reluctant bodyguard of a mafia head, the quiet student, the abused piano player, or a twin of her favorite band’s lead male singer, she was living life in ways that I wanted to.

The crazy pasts I give her are probably things I’d like to skip over. What I was writing for her was what I wanted to live. I give her aspects and thought processes that I possess, and I give her talents and features that I long for.

In my mind, she is better than me. She is my ideal and what I want to be.

During free time in the day or even class, I’m usually found daydreaming of what I want to do with whatever story I’m concocting or physically writing it down. I’ve never finished a story on paper, though… it’s strange. I finish them in my head, but I never put it all down. I never have the patience to. I don’t think there’s anything psychological behind it. I just never physically finish them.

But I always seem to give happy endings. Probably because I feel so closely knit with this character. I’d thought of other possibilities, but I always, always settled for happy endings.

I’m not ready to give up this character yet. I know I should, and I know I should also get out of this world I created because it’s not reality. If I try to live in that one, I will never live in this one.

I’m a pretty crappy writer anyway. All of these stories play out as images in my head, like I’m watching a drama or a movie. So I try to describe things exactly as I’m picturing them, which makes it awkward. And I don’t give good descriptions at all. It’s mostly dialogue.

Anywhoo….. I’m going to dread the day I have to bring this up in counseling. I don’t even know when I start. I’ve called, but he keeps calling back when I’m in class or going to class. O.o ::sigh::


I’ve had a superhero complex since I was a kid. I think it all started with Superboy. Yes, there was a Superboy. It was on when I was about 2 or 3, so details… I can’t quite remember. And then… there was Darkwing Duck. I used to tie my grandma’s big handkerchief around my neck and run around the house yelling, “I am the terror that flaps in the night!” And I liked to solve little puzzles here and there like they did in Chip & Dale: Rescue Rangers. And then……. SailorMoon. That’s right. SailorMoon. Call me corny, but I found them to be cool. Kickin’ butt and takin’ names? That’s totally awesome!

And so all of that brings me to this point, I guess. I like to fix things. Ever since I was a kid, I dreamed of becoming some kind of superhero to people. I thought that if I wished hard enough, I’ll get my fun superpowers and be tough as nails.

But I’m as weak as an ant under a magnifying glass. I feel like I can’t really do anything for anyone.

Every time I try to take matters into my own hands and fix something, I seem to get the opposite effect.

But people are people. They’re not meant to be fixed. They change. And the only way they can is if they want to… or subconsciously, too, I guess. But to change for the better…… a decision has to be made.

I’ve brought my mom this far. I think I really need to just let God do the work from here on without me interfering and adding a blemish and making Him start over again.

So here I am. Not a superhero. Just another person who wants to change for the better.

I’m making that decision now.

butterfly me

I just concluded that last entry, but a new thought came into my head.

As I thought about the imagery of the scales falling from my eyes, for some strange reason, I also thought about a butterfly trying to break out of its cocoon.

It’s like right now I’m in my chrysalis state, and I’m trying to break free to be a butterfly. The only way the scales will fall from my eyes is if I ask God to help me, and the only way I can break out of this cocoon is if I ask God to help me.

Kinda contrary to how it works in nature, so maybe I’m just getting too philosophical for my own good. O.o If a butterfly gets help to break out of its cocoon in nature, then it doesn’t build up the right strength to open its wings and fly. But if I keep trying to use my own muscles and strength all the time, I’m never going to get out of this cocoon.

So Jesus…… butterfly me. As I push against the walls, please push with me. Help me build the muscle and strength I need to endure the hardships of the world that will make breaking out of this chrysalis look like a piece of cake. And help me rely on You for the strength I need when the walls push right back.

peace and love.

me, me, me… learning to love aside from "me"

I guess with this post, I stand corrected on my earlier statement that this blog will just have entries from my prayer journal. This one’s coming from the gut.

I sit here thinking about how badly I want to move off campus. I do want to, but I think a lot of times when I say this, what I’m really saying is “I want to get away from my roommates.”

I’m having trouble loving them, and I guess that mainly stems out of how much I’m annoyed at what they do sometimes as well as how incredibly different and alike we are. I guess when you have similar personalities and experiences that are expressed in very different ways, it’s a recipe for a headache. There are so many things that I consider to be “common decency,” but sometimes I wonder if they know what that means. For now, I’m just going to name them Roommate A and Roommate B.

Roommate A tries a little harder, I think. She knows when I’m sleeping, and if she makes a mistake when she doesn’t realize that I still am, she fixes it and apologizes. Roommate B, however, I seriously wonder what goes through her mind. We’ve talked about how the door slams behind her. I’ve left notes asking her not to do that. We talked one night after I sent her a text message to iron things out so we can stop driving Roommate A crazy. Roommate B told me she was going to try to be more respectful with closing the door and when she plays her music. Next morning. Door slams. Music plays in bathroom. I’m assuming she believes that by playing it in an “enclosed area” like the bathroom, it wouldn’t bother me. So not the case. Our bathroom echoes so much and the door is hollow. These two things together raise the volume a good couple notches. And the other morning, she BLASTED her music to the point where I had to get up and knock on the door. And Roommate B has not slept in this room for the past couple nights, so I can’t really even begin to talk to her. She rearranged her side of the room today, and the new decor kind of closes herself off from us… after she complained that we always talk to each other and how she’s alone on the other side.

See what I mean? While I do want to move off campus, I feel like I do harbor a lot of ill feelings toward both my roommates, but one more so than the other, and it’s a crappy feeling.

Roommate A offered to stay up with me as I tried to read a little more tonight because I stayed up with her the other night when she needed to do her homework, but I told her it didn’t matter too much to me (mainly because I knew she wanted to sleep, and she wouldn’t be able to stay up for much longer anyway. She left her lamp on for me, but when I came over to the computer, she said she couldn’t leave it on anymore, said sorry, turned it off and went back to sleep.

I was a little upset because it’s not like I had any say in anything.

And so the thoughts of how I’m always respectful when I come in came into mind. I wondered why she couldn’t be a little more respectful. And as I thought more, the more frustrated and angry I grew. And suddenly, I stopped. I stopped and thought about how much attention I had been focusing onto myself.

I watched Princess Diaries with Roommate A tonight (instead of reading), and at the end, Mia talks about realizing how many times she said “I.” And it hit me at that moment how much of my thoughts centered on myself and how I thought I should be treated by everyone else. (And so I had to come here and write it all down before I forgot and/or prided myself on anything.) I tried to look on the sunny side of things a little more, and I realized… there are some things that I do better than she does and there are some things she does better than I do. And maybe being quiet when I leave early in the morning for class or whatever, or come into the room late at night after I come home from work or IV is something I do better. One heckuva talent, eh? ha.

And then I wasn’t so angry anymore.

And I started thinking….. how much of the time between when I came home from Multnomah and now centered around the thought of what I deserved to be treated and how I thought things should go for me. Or even before then. But I think it was more evident during this time because things weren’t going my way. Things were out of control, out of my hand, and I just wanted to say to God, “what the HECK?”

I never said to God, “what are You doing to me?” but with my thoughts and actions, I definitely thought that what was going on was not something I deserved or should go through.

I guess this is why life has been so hard since 2006. I lost sight of what was more important and began a self-pity that leads me to where I am now. So I guess I really do know how to be selfish; I already know that pretty well. But I’m a people pleaser, and I’ve been one all my life. If someone asked me to do something or get something, no matter how minuscule, I’d do it because they asked me to. Maybe it was programmed into me from how I grew up, or maybe I just wanted people to like me. I really don’t know which. I guess for this reason, people thought I was very selfless and sacrificing, and I may even have thought so at one point.

A lot of what has been hurting me is seeing how much my mom is worth and the fear that she will never come back to walk on the path of light, but a lot of it is also that it’s going in a way that I don’t want it to go because it’s hurting me.

So really… I don’t need to learn how to be selfish every so often. I need to learn to be more self-sacrificing because Jesus was self-sacrificing. Not so people would think I’m selfless and praise me, but because Jesus wants me to be like Him.

Every time I write entries like this –long and thought out– I wonder to myself whether I’m writing to vent and be real or if I’m simply writing for an audience, to fool them into believing I’m this deep, thought-provoking person. But for the first time ever, I’m writing for me. Yes, I do have in mind what my audience might think, but really….. a lot of what I wrote was just coming into my mind as I wrote it. (and then I come back and edit neurotically for grammar multiple times after publishing.)

God is moving within all of this and slowly removing the scales from my eyes so that with each breath, I see clearer and clearer.

peace and love.