tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9384504825607615212024-03-19T00:45:00.437-04:00Nothing is RealThoughts on life, love, and GodPaigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-9717857354278150302012-03-16T13:43:00.000-04:002012-03-16T13:43:00.612-04:00Not an AfterthoughtI have been struggling lately with the feeling that I am always an afterthought.<br />
There is always this underlying feeling that I am never someone's first choice, and that I am just the backup.<br />
People don't get to hang out with the person they really want to, so they hang out with me.<br />
When people get together, they invite everyone they want to and then think, "Oh, I should invite Paige too."<br />
Deep down inside I believe that I do not fall first on anyone's list.<br />
I believe that I am an afterthought.<br />
<br />
But, this is very far from the truth.<br />
I am first in God's eyes.<br />
He loves me first, He thinks of me first, He will never leave me out.<br />
And this is true for all who love God.<br />
In God, I am never an afterthought.<br />
<br />
"<i>We love God because He first loved us." </i>1 John 4:19Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-61181266148792714912012-02-23T18:42:00.000-05:002012-02-23T18:42:53.634-05:00Whoops...I'm on break.<br />
*sigh*<br />
Having recently passed my road test *celebration dance*, this is the first break that I have had where I have not been "stuck" in Avon.<br />
I have the ability to escape to local coffee shops, libraries, etc. if I need somewhere else to... do homework.<br />
Yes, I am the lame college kid who goes home for February break and does a MOUNTAIN of homework. Judge all you like, but I have all but finished my senior seminar book, and done a huge amount of editing and research :)<br />
That being said, the other day (more like evening, but whatever) I decided to go down to the Avon Public Library to get some reading and editing done while my mom and brother were at community group.<br />
It was a productive evening, and I headed back to pick the fam up right on schedule.<br />
<br />
Now, my mom recently bought a brand new Chevy Cruze.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img height="266" src="http://www.cruzetalk.com/forum/attachments/chevrolet-cruze-pictures/4d1287367295-chevy-cruze-crystal-red-x11ch_cz007-1259492947.jpg" width="400" /> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It is a BEAUTIFUL car! And it's super fun to drive :) </div><div style="text-align: left;">It also came with one of those special On Star rear-view mirrors. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Sweet. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I feel safer on the road knowing that with one press of a button, I can have emergency vehicles, a tow-truck, or spare gas if I ever run out. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Unfortunately, the placement of these buttons is not ideal. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://stblogs.automotive.com/files/2009/10/30980886.jpeg" /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Yep. Those little buttons are right above the little flippy thing that shifts your rear-view mirror from shining headlights into your face to not. </div><div style="text-align: left;">So, as I'm on my way to retrieve my family, the person behind me's headlights are shining in my face.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I reach up to flip the mirror, only to be rewarded with my radio turning off and a ringtone coming through the speakers. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Uh-oh.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I hang up quickly. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I figure out how to flip the mirror and continue down 5&20. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Not 30seconds later, the car starts ringing again. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I press the answer button on the steering wheel and call out, "Hello?" </div><div style="text-align: left;">"On Star Emergency, this is Travis. What is your emergency?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>UH-OH! I PRESSED THE EMERGENCY BUTTON!!!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Uh... Hi! I, uh, was trying to switch my rear-view mirror thingy so the headlights weren't in my face. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to press the button!"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"That's okay ma'am. We just have to call back to make sure that you are alright."</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I'm fine! I'm so sorry!"</div><div style="text-align: left;">"You're fine ma'am. Have a good day."<br />
"Sorry again! Goodnight!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm pretty sure my face was just about as red as my mother's new car. </div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-66705611885516242042012-02-09T23:40:00.001-05:002012-02-09T23:41:30.715-05:00Beauty vs. AttractivityI have come to an interesting place in my life.<br />
If someone were to ask me if I thought I was beautiful, I would reply yes in a heartbeat. There would be no hesitation, no doubt in my voice. I finally come to the realization that I am considered beautiful. I believe that. I know wholeheartedly that I am beautiful. There is no question in my mind about that.<br />
However, if you were to ask me if I thought I was attractive to the opposite sex, I would most likely reply with a no.<br />
It seems like such a conundrum, and I bet there are people reading this thinking, <i>Paige, how is it that you can believe that you are a beautiful woman and yet still not believe that men think you are beautiful?</i><br />
Unfortunately, I have no answer to that question.<br />
I will however admit that I think it is a strange paradox that I am living.<br />
The thing is, it took me a long time to get to the place where I could even believe that I am good looking.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ1XkHeUeaaDsIY1XPupW_x56lqZ95TInaFHl3qGeC8pzIQLwEHbmyM_t79Rwvud-X1NjBSruM_y5KOD5XG4LTawNJCaWIZjVm3y0R4oRKKevWXpTNGceR1l4wSDaCTFcL7UqBlkZa5Vnn/s1600/Pretty+-+question+mark.dib" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ1XkHeUeaaDsIY1XPupW_x56lqZ95TInaFHl3qGeC8pzIQLwEHbmyM_t79Rwvud-X1NjBSruM_y5KOD5XG4LTawNJCaWIZjVm3y0R4oRKKevWXpTNGceR1l4wSDaCTFcL7UqBlkZa5Vnn/s1600/Pretty+-+question+mark.dib" /></a>For a long time, I did not think there was anything worth calling beautiful about me. I thought I was strange looking. That my features were not feminine enough. That I was fat. (Yes, even a skinny girl like me went through an "I think I'm fat!" stage). And, it took me a long time to shed those misconceived notions about myself. There was a lot that I had to work through to be able to look at myself in a better light.<br />
But, even though I still struggle to feel pretty some days, I am in a place where most days I view myself in a very positive light.<br />
That is until you mix in the question of the opposite gender.<br />
That is when I get nervous, I get uncomfortable, I do not feel like there is anything worth looking at or considering beautiful about me in their eyes.<br />
Recently, I was talking with two of my best guy friends about this; one an older brother figure, another who is probably one of the most wise men of God in my friend group. We had been discussing dating when somehow the conversation shifted to me. Somehow this insecurity came out, and my older brother asked me, "Paige, do you believe that you are the full package?"<br />
I was stunned for a second, and then decided to answer honestly. Looking at him, almost in tears at that point, I answered, "No, no, I don't. I don't feel like any guy thinks I'm beautiful or that I'm worth the effort that it would take to be with me."<br />
It was one of the first times I vocalized this outside the confines of the sister relationship I have with my roommate, and to hear it come out of my mouth sounded almost silly, but it was the truth.<br />
So, I think that is the next step for me in this battle to feel beautiful. I must learn that I am attractive in the eyes of the men around me. I need to repair that disconnect between knowing I am beautiful in my being, and knowing that men find me attractive. I'll get there eventually, but until then, I will simply keep taking steps, doing things that seem to diminish the disconnect in my mind.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-78253805375873317872012-01-25T17:12:00.000-05:002012-01-25T17:12:50.356-05:002012The other day, I realized that I had not done a reflection post about leaving 2011 behind.<br />
As I thought more about it, I realized that I did not really feel like doing a reflection of 2011 post.<br />
2011 was a crap year.<br />
I don't feel like writing a nostalgic post about a crap year.<br />
Instead!<br />
I decided that I will look forward.<br />
Even though I am already a full month into 2012, it is already shaping up to be a good year.<br />
<br />
Here are just a few of the reasons:<br />
<br />
1) I've already gone on a trip to NYC<br />
It was my first trip there, and it was AMAZING! I cannot wait to go back. Maybe long term? I don't know. But I now know I can hold my own there.<br />
<br />
2) THE END IS IN SIGHT!<br />
Graduation is almost in my grasp. I have the ability to count down the days. Not necessarily on my fingers and toes, but none the less, I can number them.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.braintrack.com/images/college-and-work-news/student-coaching-can-improve-retention-and-graduation-rates-11031001.jpg" /> </div>I mean, c'mon.... Don't all these people look so happy?<br />
<br />
3) The proposition of moving in with a GREAT group of girls.<br />
Who doesn't dream of living with a group of friends at some point in their life? It seems like an experience that I simply do not want to miss out on. And, the good news is, the more girls we gather, the better the proposition of renting a house is, and the cheaper the rent will be. SCORE!<br />
<br />
4) Turning 21 in May<br />
Whereas most college students dream of turning 21 so they can go out and get wasted using their own ID, I have no such desire. I'm excited to turn 21 so that I can buy my own cooking wine and amaretto to bake biscotti with. I know. I'm boring.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpbTO-TERVsDytLEbHykuK0DK0us1SOOndwsGMi3ErYYlv9pjfxjXumaGehmMQUSQrGYiDnP5nBIOrp0myBKhbwd_ev3XqEWsrx6MErwkAmeuniMP164EEfPSk548200t2n8uM5pxT7I/s1600/amaretto.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">5) Being in two of my friends' wedding in October.</div><div style="text-align: left;">They have been an awesome example of a healthy, Godly relationship, and to be able to stand with them and watch them exchange vows, become one, is such a wonderful privilege and an honor. Besides the fact that I'm paired with my best guy-friend and he and I are going to have a blast!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">6) Getting my drivers license. (FINALLY!)</div><div style="text-align: left;">I know, I know.... I'm almost 21, and I still can't drive. Whatever. Bring on the jokes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">7) Romance?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't know. I'm happy where I'm at, while not wanting to stay here very long. There's part of me that really just wants to get out, spend time with single guys, get to know more people, and drink plenty of coffee while doing it :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9nsef7EKYEpyw-wclOuyj-CpxQ1CIYZjHpYTsRT_zlsADIraYM2ADMV_Y-szLs5sI2BV9d5_ASGHDpaj3rGGA_9g7JeU1mnjGqHA9OFludcPmaYp_HWAn9wCB1bkhYcPqbkw_gKqqHhX/s320/P1010559.JPG" width="320" /> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">8) The next step?</div><div style="text-align: left;">For now, I don't know what awaits me beyond 2012. And, for the time being, I am content to bask in the peace of uncertainty. It is such an oxymoron, but it aptly describes where I am at currently. At peace with not knowing what awaits me. I figure God will tell me when the time comes. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-2242893577024050172012-01-11T00:38:00.000-05:002012-01-11T00:38:13.707-05:00Cry of the VultureTonight, as I lay in my bed, my mind has been drifting about, thinking about different struggles, different instances in my life, and all sorts of frustrations that can bog me down if I let them.<br />
As my mind wandered, it flitted upon a statement that it grabbed hold of and ran with.<br />
<i>Men are unreliable.</i><br />
It is something that every once and a while will glance across my mind, but I am usually able to suppress with thoughts of the wonderful men in my life, but tonight, for some strange reason, it has taken wings and flown in circles about my mind like a vulture circling its prey.<br />
The vulture cried out to me about Jon, the boy that promised me so much, and failed to bring any of those promises to fruition. Oh, how I long to just not care about it any more. I pray to become indifferent towards him, after all, that is better than allowing his mere existence to break me down. And yet his failings have added to the vulture's cry.<br />
It mentioned my father. A man who has never been a stable figure in my life. Someone who I have fought more with and has been the root of much frustration, mostly because I do love him so dearly. But, even through that love, so many of his actions throughout my childhood and teenage years screamed out that fathers were not to be trusted. That men are so very unreliable. And so the cry of that vulture grows louder.<br />
Then it circles around to David. A man who should not be on this list, and yet my mind stuck him there. He was a father figure that was as fathers should be. He would have given his right arm to ensure the mental, emotional, physical safety of me and my brother. Although he was not perfect, he loved fully and gave of the deepest part of himself. But my mind claims, what that vulture in my mind cries out, is that his death, though it was nothing of his own doing, proves further the unreliability of men.<br />
And so that vulture circles, crying:<br />
<i>Men are unreliable.</i><br />
<i>Men are unreliable.</i><br />
<i>Men are unreliable....</i><br />
It is not something that I want to thing.<br />
In fact, everything in my being bucks against the thought.<br />
And yet, tonight, whether it just be my current emotional state or if it is simply where I am at in my healing process for the time being, I cannot shake it.<br />
So friends, pray for me.<br />
Because, I need to know that it is all worth it.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-29634201424938062782011-12-18T22:21:00.000-05:002011-12-18T22:21:41.672-05:00Come and Rise up from the Grave<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-3L5SJyPpZk" width="560"></iframe></div><br />
<i>And I saw him, Death with his mighty sting, exhaling in every breath of life he brings. To the grave he gave victory, triumphing over life with the fear of endless sleep, endlessly we hind from our mortality. Mortally wounded from birth we lie to ourselves from infancy. Infinitely investing time in a life that will inevitably be taken by this creature that now stands before me. Death. He manifests himself on ordinary days. His six-foot stomach growls with hunger pains. For his meal, he cannot wait, so we are forced to taste it even before the grave. We are all dying. There is no other way. I see him in Haitian and Japanese earthquakes. He's hating the escapees of his cruel wakes. I see him in poverty. Impoverishing the quality of life for regions that are reachable and in those with the reach that find reason no to reach out to treat what is treatable. I see him in disease, taking life out of uninfected, yet affected families. I see him in oppression, pressing down on the oppressed and the oppressor. I see him in depression, in prozac and pain pills, in razor blades and bed-side wills. I see him in abuse; physical, mental, emotional misuse. I see him in spiritual confusion, material obsession, physical possessions. I see him in marital transgressions. Childhood remorse from an ugly divorce. I see him in our slavery to appearances. Appearing to care more about our images than those in dying villages. I see him in our ignorance, ignoring truth for some comfortable inference. I see his emergence in our churches as we pull out emergent diversions as deterrents to religious differences. Go on the defensive defending our way of worship, making community worthless. Death is killing us before we even enter the surface of the earth, we are in service of his words. "It is finished," the end of our birth. We cannot hid from his wretched curse, for Death and his grave we constantly rehearse. Even God Himself was coerced. Divinity immersed itself in humanity, humbly taking on flesh, scorning vanity. The world saw His way of life as insanity, insisting He cease speaking of this radical Christianity. But man found Him guilty, accusing GOD of BLASPHEMY, performing the ultimate usurpation by slaying Christ on Calvary. But through their cowardly cross, Jesus bought mankind with amnesty, championing over Death with the beauty of His fatal injury. And I know, many still doubt, and rightfully so, bringing up this inquiry, "What does that poor Jewish man dying on a Roman tree 2,000 years ago have to do with me?" I reply simply, "Christ came and died to marry His bride to be, and though Death could kill the Groom, it could not kill the ring. God made us one with Christ and life in matrimony's cling. And now the undying church, His everlasting wife can sing, 'O Death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?' For we have risen above your misery. We will not succumb to your finality. We have overcome your infamous mystery. And in the infinite reign of Christ's ministry, for we are the Resurrection, the insurrection of fatality. We are the risen Deity, the intersection of a dead and living body. We live through imperfections for we died to become holy. We cannot be contained by the mouth of the grave. We are the willing slaves for the one that rose from that garden cave. We pass from death to new birth. We gave the grave to the earth. And we claim today the cross's worth. The body of His rising. We are the risen church. </i>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-5246208901434277002011-12-17T23:05:00.002-05:002011-12-17T23:06:13.110-05:00And We Return to the Thought of Beauty...I find myself going back so often to beauty.<br />
It is a concept that everyone is striving for on one level or another.<br />
It surreptitiously creeps into every aspect of our lives.<br />
These little reminders of all the beauty around me always takes me back to ponder my struggles with my physical beauty.<br />
It has really only been within the last few months that I have gotten to the point of truly believing that I am beautiful.<br />
There is one instance from this fall that sticks out in my mind as a reminder to me that I am in fact beautiful.<br />
<br />
My church does an end of the summer weekend retreat at a camp down on Canadaigua lake, and I have gone the past two years.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img height="191" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/309888_10150427817613916_505208915_10921979_2630951_n.jpg" width="320" /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Last year, it was FREEZING the entire weekend. It was about 50 degrees, and windy, and rainy, and we all froze.<br />
Now, the irony is, this year it was SO HOT. It was in the upper 80s the entire weekend, and so humid that you felt like you were swimming through the air.<br />
Good thing the camp is on a lake.<br />
This year, one of the nights we were there, we did a worship service; the entire meeting was filled with song and prayer.<br />
Because I was the resident bassist for the weekend, I was on the stage for the entire night, and had a spot where I would sit when I was not playing.<br />
When I play at a normal church service, I usually make myself look nice. Take the time to shower, do my hair, my makeup, and dress nicely.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/307033_10150812412965134_515430133_20726116_127580456_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/307033_10150812412965134_515430133_20726116_127580456_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Since it was so hot out, we had to scuff away the top sand<br />
so we did not burn our feet... lol</td></tr>
</tbody></table>However, since we were at camp, I had been running around playing volleyball, and jumped in the lake just before coming into worship practice. I had no makeup on, my hair was in a messy, wet, dirty, lake-smelling bun, and, since it was camp, I did not care.<br />
The next morning, I was eating breakfast with some wonderful women whom I look up to at my church, and one of them said to me, "I just have to tell you, last night when you were sitting on the stage, I was looking at you and I thought, 'Paige is so beautiful!' and I just thought I should tell you that."<br />
Then, the another woman who was sitting with us piped up with a similar comment.<br />
I was astonished.<br />
How could my dirty, smelly, sweaty, fresh-out-of-the-lake self be anything considered beautiful?<br />
And yet, here were two women only a few years older than me, women that I can only hope to be like when I get a little older, and they were telling me that what I deemed disgusting they saw as beautiful.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/393092_10150392137723433_815388432_8330511_501157833_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/393092_10150392137723433_815388432_8330511_501157833_n.jpg" width="212" /></a>That day has stuck out in my mind for the past three months as a reminder to the fact that God has in fact given me an innate beauty that I do not HAVE to try to amplify.<br />
This obviously does not mean that I am going to stop taking care of myself, or that I am going to stop playing with my hair or my makeup, but rather, it gives me hope on the days that I am struggling to view myself as someone worth looking at.<br />
It screams out at me saying, <i>If you are beautiful when you're sitting fresh out of the lake, sweating profusely, with no makeup, then why do you worry so much?</i><br />
It says to me, <i>You ARE beautiful!</i><br />
Although it is slow going, I would say that 90 percent of my days, I look in the mirror and am happy with what I see.<br />
And that is a big feat for a 20 year old American girl.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-33921212681402873082011-12-05T15:31:00.000-05:002011-12-05T15:31:31.188-05:00Every TimeEvery time I start to believe that I'm okay with Jon, that everything that happened is not worth any sort of emotion, I see him again, and my heart rate sky rockets and I feel that pang of anger, frustration, and sadness.<br />
I guess it's just a reminder of how much work God is going to have to do in me before I can fall in love again.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-66542357360334141592011-11-24T23:40:00.000-05:002011-11-24T23:40:26.351-05:00Thanksgiving 2011It's 11:30pm on Thanksgiving.<br />
This day that was based on the premise of being thankful is almost coming to a close.<br />
Although Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday (I mean, who DOESN'T love great food, crazy family, and a reminder to give thanks) giving thanks this year was probably harder for me than it has been in a while.<br />
Thankfulness has always been such a big part of my walk with God.<br />
When everything else starts to look bleak and dreary, I can usually bring myself back up and make things just a little bit brighter by reminding myself of how much He has blessed me over the course of my life.<br />
I can be thankful for the sunrise, for my job, for the cafeteria making biscotti occasionally....<br />
But it has gotten harder for me none the less.<br />
Even today, on a day named for thanksgiving, I found myself having to remind myself about what the day was all about.<br />
I had to remind myself to be thankful for having a warm bed to sleep in, food on my plate, my crazy loud family, and my friends who feel more like blood.<br />
Even my crazy spazz of a cat who brings my live mice from the basement only to let them loose in the living room and chasing them across my feet, making me scream like a little girl.<br />
True story.<br />
I really am a girl.<br />
But, I think it's simply part of the grieving process that I'm walking through.<br />
I need to remind myself to do things that I used to do out of nature, slowly building them back up into my daily routine.<br />
Thanksgiving was just another reminder of how much I need to continue to grow, continue to press on, continue to heal, and continue to become more like God.<br />
And just a blaring reminder of how much I truly need Him.<br />
I guess that's the biggest thing that I can be thankful for this year.<br />
No matter what happens, my God is good.<br />
My saying, although I have not posted it hear before, my saying these past few months to a year has been "Shit happens, but God is good."<br />
(Maybe I should write a post about my view of swearing...)<br />
Anyhoo....<br />
God is good.<br />
He is so good.<br />
And for that, I am eternally grateful.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-62016669537397875762011-11-06T01:01:00.000-04:002011-11-06T01:01:28.575-04:00AmbushedThe waves of grief can often be described as being ambushed.<br />
<a href="http://i231.photobucket.com/albums/ee18/digital_4narchy/ambush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://i231.photobucket.com/albums/ee18/digital_4narchy/ambush.jpg" width="320" /></a>I've heard this so many times over the past 7 months or so, that it's almost become cliched in a way, and yet, it is still true to the very core of the statement.<br />
You never know when another wave of grief is going to hit you.<br />
Tonight, I was at Java's with a big group of friends; we were all laughing and carrying on as we always do.<br />
Then, another friend of ours came in with a different group of people.<br />
She began talking about how she had been sick off and on for the past few months, and in a joking manner, commented on how she had been cured of tuberculosis, encephalitis, cancer, etc.<br />
But it was the encephalitis comment that caused my joy and entertainment to come to a screeching halt.<br />
How could someone make such a flippant comment about <i>encephalitis???</i><br />
I had already been missing David today, wishing that he could come to my play this afternoon, but that comment, it just sent me over the edge.<br />
I'm sure that the life drained out of my face immediately.<br />
If I hadn't been sitting on the inside of a booth, and if I would not have had to displace about four people, I would have gotten up, gone to the bathroom, and cried.<br />
But I held it together.<br />
I sat in that booth, and tried to pull myself back together when all I wanted to do was scream out about how people should not make flippant comments about encephalitis.<br />
I guess it's just another area where I have continued healing to do.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-17762135232305907722011-10-30T22:18:00.002-04:002011-10-30T22:18:45.192-04:00If You Don't Hear From Me...I'm spending November trying to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.<br />
Check it out!<br />
www.nanowrimo.orgPaigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-31624356909034581682011-10-20T16:24:00.001-04:002011-10-20T16:25:02.162-04:00Why Me?<i>NOTE: This includes a closer look into my mind and heart than I think I've ever posted. Some of what I say may shock people, my own thoughts certainly have shocked me, but it is a look at my life, and a discussion of the question "Why me?" that has been resonating in my mind for a couple weeks now. </i><br />
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Why me?<br />
I was thinking about that simple question the other day.<br />
There are so many contexts to which it can be applied.<br />
Why was I fortunate enough to be born in the country, day and age that I was?<br />
Why am I able to go to the wonderful college that I am?<br />
Why have I been blessed with such wonderful mentors, professors, and friends?<br />
Why do people see wisdom and grace in my life?<br />
Why me?<br />
But, one area that stuck out to me is why have I not been more destroyed by the cards that life has dealt me?<br />
When I tell people my story, the pain that I have had to walk through, many of them have cried. Many people don't understand how I've come through a lot of what I have, and honestly, I don't know either.<br />
I walked through the divorce of my parents, which included so much more than any of you will ever get to hear about or understand, and lead to a long string of self-image, and self-confidence issues that I still deal with, though on a less intense level, to this day.<br />
I've dealt with depression most of my life, a thorn in my side that part of me views as a blessing. I could see myself becoming a very arrogant, know-it-all if I didn't struggle with this one dark corner of my own mind. It keeps me humble, but it is still a struggle that I am conscious of on a daily basis.<br />
More recently, I lost my step-father, a man after God's own heart who took my brother and I both under his wing and loved us as his own children. He passes away suddenly, unexpectedly, leaving all of us in shock, grieving, and, at least for me, questioning God's goodness. For a little while, I wasn't sure how I could continue to worship a God who could allow such a man of God, someone who was making such a difference in people's lives, to leave this earth. Honestly, I was mad at God for a little while. The question would run through my mind, <i>You could have healed him, so why didn't You? </i><br />
Then there was the case of Jon. I loved him. We were supposed to get married next summer. I put my plans and my life on hold for a year so that I could be with him. But, my dreams, my plans, my life with him was dashed on the rocks the day our relationship ended. It was so sudden. It didn't make sense to me for a long time. It hurt more than I had ever imagined it. It sent me spiraling for almost a month, a spiral downward that it took a weekend away at a lake with my church family to break out of.<br />
So, why is it that when people talk about me, they tell me I am wise beyond my years when I feel stupid just opening my mouth?<br />
Why do they see a strong woman when all I can see in myself is weakness and frailty?<br />
How can people describe me as a mature woman of God when I cry like a little girl when something hurts?<br />
Why is it that my worship leader says I have a powerful prayer gift when I doubt my own relationship with God; the efficacy of my prayer life?<br />
Why have I not been destroyed but rather seem to have flourished through these hardships?<br />
I guess all I can say is that God has a plan, and somehow He's making me stronger.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-12228068656789954712011-10-17T22:36:00.002-04:002011-10-17T22:36:31.135-04:00A Puritan PrayerNo poor creature stands in need of divine grace more than I do,<br />
And yet none abuses it more than i have done, and still do.<br />
How heartless and dull I am!<br />
Humble me in the dust for not loving thee more.<br />
Every time I exercise any grace renewedly<br />
I am renewedly indebted to thee,<br />
the God of all grace, for special assistance.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-31686603692080894852011-10-15T16:37:00.001-04:002011-10-15T16:39:24.511-04:00Worship<br />
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<i>Breakthrough in worship came in my life shortly after I returned to the Lord. I really walked away at the age of 17 after several years of walking with the Lord, and what happened was that when I finally returned to Him, He captured my heart again. I began to learn about worship, I began to worship Him again, but it was a stage, a process I've been going through where I've learned that really true worship doesn't necessarily happen at church, worship is a lifestyle. For me, it is wonderful to worship in the congregation, but worship is also, and more importantly to me, obedience. As you combine joyful surrender and obedience, your worship of God becomes genuine, heartfelt relationship. You go before Him, and just tell Him how much you love Him and you are so grateful. Worship is now exactly who I am. It is just an outflow of where He's... what He's placed in me, what He's done in me, and how He lives through me. And just being a light. Worshiping Him in everything that I say and do, and making sure it's something that would please Him. </i><br />
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<span style="color: black;">This is a video of my step-father, David, speaking on worship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I stumbled over it while cleaning out folders and files on my
computer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">We played this at his funeral.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Joked that David would be the person to speak at his own funeral.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">When he said that worship is a lifestyle, that it was how he
lived, it was true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I think that anyone who interacted with David was able to see that
everything that he did in his life, he wanted it to reflect God's goodness and
love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I watched this over and over today, partially to hear his voice,
partially because the message is so good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">We need to live our lives in worship to God, using everything that
we say and do as worship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">David was such a good example in my life; I can only hope that I'm
making him proud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">And one day, I hope to marry a man who was the wonderful, Godly
qualities that he possessed, qualities that you can see peaking through this
video. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I love you David.<i style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><img src="https://s-hphotos-sea1.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/224189_1050103489613_1136506318_159248_7031_n.jpg" /></span></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-72589837106864475762011-10-12T16:51:00.001-04:002011-10-12T16:51:07.650-04:00Sharing is CaringToday I re-discovered something about myself, something I feared had been lost with my ex-boyfriend; something I thought he may have killed in me.<div>
What I re-discovered was how much I love giving people things, blessing them by showing them how much they mean to me with just a simple gesture.</div>
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This afternoon, I was craving apple cider and doughnuts.</div>
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I so wanted this fall sensation that I coerced a friend of mine to drive me to Wegmans so I could enjoy this luscious fall wonder.</div>
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But, when I got there, I decided that I was going to buy an entire gallon of cider and a dozen doughnuts. </div>
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I wanted to share it with people. </div>
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It seems like such a simple thing, but the look on my friends faces when I walked up to them with cider and doughnuts and asked if they wanted any warmed my heart. </div>
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I found myself smiling when thinking about how much enjoyment they got out of something so simple.</div>
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All I really did was show them that I care about them and wanted to share something wonderful, no matter how simple.</div>
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I hope I can show them this more often. </div>
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<img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/95/241444076_fce995a202.jpg" /></div>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-52763705892460228232011-10-09T23:57:00.000-04:002011-10-09T23:57:20.143-04:00Unknown Lovers<div>
<a href="http://www.linwoodgardens.org/Linwood_Gardens/Gratwick_History_files/Autochrome10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="http://www.linwoodgardens.org/Linwood_Gardens/Gratwick_History_files/Autochrome10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I envision our day<div>
Beneath the willow</div>
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Arms softly sway</div>
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To the beat of the earth</div>
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Drumming softly </div>
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Your face I do </div>
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Not know quite yet</div>
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You stand where a</div>
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'Nother once stood</div>
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Unable to withstand</div>
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The breaking wind</div>
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I may not know</div>
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The shade of your</div>
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Skin, or the colour</div>
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Of your eyes</div>
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But you are coming</div>
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This beautiful place</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Somewhere unknown </div>
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Beyond the reaches</div>
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Of my mind's eye</div>
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Will come alive one</div>
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Day with our love</div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RgJyaz9HZDZ-oCMQ6cJgF8SVitHfrKmNCZDfY8ln9nWMZX0Nb537tdPhyonoHwLkBTK1SBHfiL1dZsfZ8IAOinC1YBfmF7jRD9Rorm4yHLKpTK39wtygAQPtXtus9-5Lk4ZbqxPI5gQ/s1600/DSC07162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RgJyaz9HZDZ-oCMQ6cJgF8SVitHfrKmNCZDfY8ln9nWMZX0Nb537tdPhyonoHwLkBTK1SBHfiL1dZsfZ8IAOinC1YBfmF7jRD9Rorm4yHLKpTK39wtygAQPtXtus9-5Lk4ZbqxPI5gQ/s320/DSC07162.JPG" width="268" /></a>The ground will breath</div>
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A great sigh of</div>
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Relief when finally</div>
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Unknown lovers</div>
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Have been wed</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Till that day I </div>
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Will wait with bated </div>
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Breath for the one</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Who can stand in</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The crashing waves</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Handle the wind</div>
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Unknown lover</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I beg of you</div>
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Please, do not come</div>
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For me, but wait 'neath</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
The willow</div>
Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-43190063866335605042011-10-07T14:31:00.001-04:002011-10-07T14:31:12.646-04:00MovingSo, as many of you have noticed, I've been working on a project on this blog that I've been calling "100 Days, 100 Ways".<br />
I'm only 4 posts in, and it's already been a very healing process for me.<br />
But, I had a realization the other day.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFAAq0i-SL72H2XfmTQgznmOMQp0dp4w5mUibgAF7yonW3OMmpEyTK_GR8zesfG_e02YRIvKWpkkLCuv2D-LYq1Mx-T2N_56Olz6dO_nOjFt_9RJ5yBX6r8yvL7aNVtXZhWLpykhAazLm-/s1600/BUTTONS%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFAAq0i-SL72H2XfmTQgznmOMQp0dp4w5mUibgAF7yonW3OMmpEyTK_GR8zesfG_e02YRIvKWpkkLCuv2D-LYq1Mx-T2N_56Olz6dO_nOjFt_9RJ5yBX6r8yvL7aNVtXZhWLpykhAazLm-/s320/BUTTONS%2521.jpg" width="320" /></a>If I continue this project, it will ultimately overwhelm the "Nothing is Real" blog, and the concept that I've been trying to stick with here.<br />
I was faced with a dilemma that I didn't really want to deal with, but had to.<br />
I could either revamp "Nothing is Real" to focus more on "100 Days..." or I could create an entirely new blog, a different entity, that could be solely dedicated to my "100 Days..." project.<br />
This would allow me to keep "Nothing is Real" focused on my thoughts and feelings on "life, love, and God" as I so aptly put it when I made it.<br />
So, I gave in, and created a new blog.<br />
<br />
I present to you "100 Days, 100 Ways"!<br />
<a href="http://onehundreddaysonehundredways.blogspot.com/">http://onehundreddaysonehundredways.blogspot.com/</a>Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-62521869880130400812011-10-05T17:10:00.001-04:002011-10-05T17:10:11.667-04:00Day 3100 days, 100 ways...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibQMurJfcg8ODIekBijAsJ3kfB17HUR4oyk_lmD5H11CBgpDzcB-N3Kf3UpUWxnTKle4tDxgwpVxh8nG3cixWl-_xfjcU78ay1lhcjwkgd988x2nSX6h-wcil-yCCnlF5It5O13UzpOkyv/s1600/Snapshot_20111005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibQMurJfcg8ODIekBijAsJ3kfB17HUR4oyk_lmD5H11CBgpDzcB-N3Kf3UpUWxnTKle4tDxgwpVxh8nG3cixWl-_xfjcU78ay1lhcjwkgd988x2nSX6h-wcil-yCCnlF5It5O13UzpOkyv/s320/Snapshot_20111005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Today I am thankful for:</div>
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Catching up with my girlfriends in a coffee shop.</div>
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The break in the clouds to let the sun shine through.</div>
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The fact that I have a job.</div>
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Awesome scarves.</div>
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A thought for today:</div>
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I realized the other day that I have a tiny crush on someone.</div>
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A fairly normal thing for a girl my age, but it was a major thing for me.</div>
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But, today, as I was walking through the library, I had a realization about this. </div>
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This little crush is helping me grow and heal.</div>
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The fact that I am even able to look at a guy and see potential, that I am not completely complacent towards men, that I can hope for a future with someone, is huge for me.</div>
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So, I realized today that even if nothing happens with this guy, I am thankful simply for the presence of his cute face in my life every once and a while. </div>
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Because, if for no other reason than this, he has helped me realize that I will, and do, have the ability to love someone, and that it should not be wasted simply because one boy did not want or deserve my love. </div>
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I rest in the hope of a brighter tomorrow, a day full of love, and a cute man to someday share it with. </div>
<br />Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-75289547308706757572011-10-04T15:13:00.000-04:002011-10-04T15:13:23.802-04:00Day 2100 Days, 100 Ways....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmSvtbsc6t6lMfn2TWKhmlYuWfJZsgNKwhhC7TsGZ9gtJTFcE7SQAdahtkmz5aPB63eLQwtaSZ8Q-VwTCO_EtSzyp-XyBn3gsR5PnTObp4QwErlVifZ22gS6s-jhtocVGVPDgf-30FzMG/s1600/Snapshot_20111004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEmSvtbsc6t6lMfn2TWKhmlYuWfJZsgNKwhhC7TsGZ9gtJTFcE7SQAdahtkmz5aPB63eLQwtaSZ8Q-VwTCO_EtSzyp-XyBn3gsR5PnTObp4QwErlVifZ22gS6s-jhtocVGVPDgf-30FzMG/s400/Snapshot_20111004.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Today I am thankful for:<br />
The amazing group of women I get to meet with every Monday and the encouragement they are to me.<br />
The growth and healing that I am going through day by day.<br />
The warmth and love I receive from friends and family.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-39579893986461675082011-10-02T19:24:00.004-04:002011-10-02T19:25:19.018-04:00100 Days... 100 WaysI had this idea today to chronicle 100 days on my blog.<br />
I want to include a picture of myself, and a way that God has blessed me that day.<br />
I think it will be good to see how I grow and change over time, both in thankfulness and in how my face reflects it.<br />
If this goes over well, I may continue for a year, but I want to start with a smaller goal to start out with.<br />
<br />
Day 1:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBx2M5ROakHs_WKvB4KB-_Wi8e3x90twDFYZfNe1l3eO6F8KcNVXF3xdFo7XJOtNg2rq46RexrqX1jcXFmi7FqHKB8UeqskCusn0l8WmDLWMGl5OxWSQ_4vBSMVPFaO3uTxGcq_pZ6hWKW/s1600/Snapshot_20111002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBx2M5ROakHs_WKvB4KB-_Wi8e3x90twDFYZfNe1l3eO6F8KcNVXF3xdFo7XJOtNg2rq46RexrqX1jcXFmi7FqHKB8UeqskCusn0l8WmDLWMGl5OxWSQ_4vBSMVPFaO3uTxGcq_pZ6hWKW/s320/Snapshot_20111002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm thankful for:<br />
A new hat on a cool, rainy day.<br />
The opportunity to worship with my church family this morning.<br />
A wonderful lunch with Josiah, Andrew, Jess, and Brenton.<br />
Sitting in front of a fireplace, and having it warm my back.<br />
All the hugs I receive on Sundays.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-5670192402492696512011-10-01T17:42:00.000-04:002011-10-01T23:15:05.857-04:00Little ThingsIt's the little things that brighten my days.<br />
Tiny specks of light that appear in otherwise grey days.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLoOmc09N472G2wgDNVKUckDDmNcfShzpSwg2nlc4gYQswXuJ1qCO1w2qM936BjY6N7lWjr0Pn77cAm1mcxoo3uIkUWERk011gzYChG1mFhW5SfHtUqCS76ZQd1HcNmmovrnITT14E3j2/s1600/a+little+light+in+a+dark+corner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLoOmc09N472G2wgDNVKUckDDmNcfShzpSwg2nlc4gYQswXuJ1qCO1w2qM936BjY6N7lWjr0Pn77cAm1mcxoo3uIkUWERk011gzYChG1mFhW5SfHtUqCS76ZQd1HcNmmovrnITT14E3j2/s320/a+little+light+in+a+dark+corner.jpg" width="320" /></a>They glitter and sparkle, draw my attention from the bleakness.<br />
A new fall jacket<br />
The changing of leaves<br />
A part in a friend's play<br />
A warm cup of coffee on a cool day<br />
The crazy curls and waves that now adorn my head<br />
A hug from a friend<br />
It's when I can see these lights, when I can divert my thoughts from dimmness and drabbery, that I can let my own light shine through.<br />
I guess I can only hope that I can be a little sparkle, a little bitty light, to someone I love on a bleak day of theirs.<br />
That those tiny joys in my mind can congeal together to shine just a little brighter through my eyes.<br />
A girl randomly handed me a card on the path today.<br />
All it said was:<br />
"Optimism can be so tiring and difficult, but it <i>is</i> worth it. CHOOSE joy today. Happiness is found in the little things."Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-35180279522693927622011-09-27T00:15:00.000-04:002011-10-01T23:15:49.495-04:00Marching On<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/UHvgAJe8bvM" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
A friend of mine signed this song at my college's talent show this past weekend.<br />
It was the first time that I had heard it.<br />
But, it almost brought me to tears.<br />
I may be broken, I may be struggling, I may be fighting a war that I can't see the end of, but with God and those He's placed around me, I will keep marching.<br />
This is not the end.<br />
There is something greater coming.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;"><i>For those days we felt like a mistake,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Those times when love’s what you hate, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Somehow, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We keep marching on. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">For those nights when I couldn’t be there, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">I’ve made it harder to know that you know, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">That somehow, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’ll keep moving on. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There’s so many wars we fought, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There’s so many things we’re not, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">But with what we have, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">I promise you that, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on) </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on). </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">For all of the plans we’ve made, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There isn’t a flag I’d wave, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Don’t care if we bend, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">I’d sink us to swim, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on) </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on). </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">For those doubts that swirl all around us, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">For those lives that tear at the seams, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We know, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re not what we’ve seen, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">For this dance we’ll move with each other. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There ain’t no other step than one foot, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right in front of the other. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There’s so many wars we fought, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There’s so many things we’re not, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">But with what we have, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">I promise you that, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on) </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on). </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">For all of the plans we’ve made, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There isn’t a flag I’d wave, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Don’t care if we bend, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">I’d sink us to swim, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on) </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on). </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, right, right left right, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, right, right left right, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’ll have the days we break, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">And we’ll have the scars to prove it, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’ll have the bonds that we save, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">But we’ll have the heart not to lose it. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">For all of the times we’ve stopped, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">For all of the things I’m not. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We put one foot in front of the other, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We move like we ain’t got no other, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We go when we go, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There’s so many wars we fought, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">There’s so many things we’re not, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">But with what we have, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">I promise you that, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on) </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">(We’re marching on). </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, right, right left right, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, right, left, right, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, right, right left right, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, right, left, right, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">Right, right, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17px;">We’re marching on.</span></i></div>
Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-9287607032420738852011-09-25T17:12:00.000-04:002011-10-01T23:15:49.520-04:00Beneath the SurfaceI've been really missing David this weekend.<br />
I can't think of anything that would be triggering it.<br />
It's just... a hole in my life that no one can fill.<br />
And the hard part is, I don't know how to express this feeling to those around me.<br />
It is a barely noticeable sadness that is underlying my day to day activities.<br />
It stays just below the surface so no one can see it, but every once and a while my skin wears a little thinner than normal and the grief sticks it's ugly head out.<br />
I can't stop it.<br />
It's there, and when it comes out, I need to feel it and I need to work through it.<br />
I just don't know how many people actually are willing to fight this battle with me.<br />
To hold me up when I'm struggling.<br />
To raise my hands and encourage me to keep praising God when I want to give up.<br />
<a href="http://loosemoorings.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/grief2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://loosemoorings.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/grief2.jpg" /></a>Deep down inside, there is a voice that says to me every time the grief comes out, <i>If the one who said he wanted to marry you couldn't handle your grief, who will be willing to listen?</i><br />
It's irrational.<br />
There are so many people who care deeply for me.<br />
There are so many people who have been praying with me, for me.<br />
Just because one boy could not handle my emotions, it does not negate every other person who is here.<br />
And yet I hide it.<br />
How many people who saw me today could tell I was struggling?<br />
As far as I know, none of them.<br />
I am afraid of expressing how I truly feel.<br />
And so I put on a smiling face, and I go to church, and when people ask how I'm doing, I say just fine because I don't feel like they care enough to bear my burden of grief.<br />
After all, grief scares people away, right?<br />
I mean, really, how many of you want to sit with me while I cry because I miss my stepdad who has been gone for almost 6 moths now.<br />
Most people would think, <i>Get over it! Move on! It's been 6 months for gosh sake!</i><br />
But honestly, I feel it more than I did in April.<br />
The only difference is, no one wants to hear it from me now.<br />
So, I go on missing him, with no one knowing.Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-28217115184345018662011-09-22T18:47:00.003-04:002011-10-01T23:15:49.490-04:00True Love WaitsI've been playing more and more with the idea of getting a tattoo.<br />
I have wanted for a long time now to make my body a canvas that I can add pieces of art or reminders of God's love to.<br />
I have not gotten one up to this point mostly because of the desire to look professional when entering the work force, and making sure that it is actually something that I want to do.<br />
But there is one that has been eating at my mind for the past month and a half, one that I think would be good for me in my healing process.<br />
I have been thinking about getting the phrase "True Love Waits" in Hebrew tattooed on my left ring finger, right where a wedding band will one day sit.<br />
There are two main reasons why I believe this would be good for me.<br />
First off, it would be a constant reminder of how I want to be completely sure the next time a man comes into my life.<br />
I want to be sure that I can love him unconditionally for all time, and that he will love me just as much, if not more.<br />
I want to be sure before I give him my heart completely.<br />
It would be a reminder that I don't want to give my heart away again and again, only to have it be broken.<br />
It would be a reminder to not discuss marriage before the time has come that we are both one hundred percent sure that marriage is truly where we will end up.<br />
After all, if it is true love, I should be willing to wait, as should he.<br />
True love waits.<br />
Secondly, the language that it would be written in is very near and dear to my heart.<br />
My wonderful stepfather was working on becoming fluent in Hebrew when he passed.<br />
One of the last times I saw him, he attempted to say the Hebrew alphabet for me.<br />
He had a ring, that my brother now wears, that had Song of Solomon 6:3, "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine," in Hebrew on it.<br />
It would be a reminder of him.<br />
He would be able to be remembered when I get engaged, when I get married.<br />
He would be present in a way.<br />
And, it would be like him saying to me, like he so often did, "My Paigie girl, you need to wait for the best man for you."<br />
It would come full circle.<br />
Reminding me of my stepfather, of where God has me now, the man He is bringing me.<br />
When I get married, the ring will cover it, and it won't show for the rest of my life.<br />
I don't know when or if I will ever get around to getting it done.<br />
(And my mama will have to approve first too) ;)<br />
But, the idea is beautiful in my mind...Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-938450482560761521.post-3268526356629849192011-09-21T17:06:00.001-04:002011-10-01T23:15:05.849-04:00Secret Admirer?Today I got an email notifying me that there was a package waiting for me in the mailroom.<br />
Curious, I thought to myself, heading over to pick it up.<br />
I wasn't expecting anything in the mail, and part of me was hoping it was some sort of fluke, an error in the email system.<br />
But, sure enough, I had a package of Sharpies, not wrapped, no note, simply the package of Sharpies with my name on it.<br />
I couldn't help myself, I started to laugh.<br />
I said to the lady working in the mailroom, "I don't know who would have done this!"<br />
She had a gleam in her eye, giggled a little bit.<br />
"Did they just come and drop this off here?" I inquired.<br />
<a href="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/297061_10150333283108433_815388432_7994838_88547542_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/297061_10150333283108433_815388432_7994838_88547542_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>She laughed a little bit more and said, "If I say anything I could get in trouble!" and walked off laughing.<br />
<br />
So, three hours later, I still have not opened the package.<br />
It has been puzzling me so much all afternoon.<br />
Who sent them to me?<br />
Should I open them?<br />
What if it's some creepy guy who is stalking me?<br />
What if it's some sweet, wonderful, secret admirer?<br />
The person obviously has been paying attention because this type of pen was the only kind I used all last year.<br />
Or is it a noob who simply knows who to ask the right questions?<br />
It's crazy to let it get to me like this, but I MUST KNOW!!!!!!<br />
Hopefully someone comes out soon....Paigehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07428984640431199102noreply@blogger.com0