Life Awards

I have decided that two Life Awards should be awarded to:

1- Those who regularly have to wake-up before sunrise.  On Sunday mornings when my alarm sounds, I can hear the mid-night critters as they continue with their moon songs.  The darkness envelops me and draws me back into dreamland.  I practically have to use a crowbar to get my body out of bed.  The bathroom light is painful and a shock to my system.  Sunday mornings come too early. 

To those who get up every day before dawn, I raise my glass.  I don't know how you do it.

2 - Those who have ever made deviled eggs.  We are hosting a neighborhood get together and I thought deviled eggs would be a nice, easy addition.  After attempting to peel off a few shells, I about gave up.  What a pain!  The end product is certainly yummy, but I'm not certain if my work is worth the pay off.

To those who make deviled eggs for yearly parties, I salute you.  Never again will I carelessly pop a deviled egg into my mouth; I will savor every taste knowing the effort you put into it.

Out of the Blue

During the month of March, our students at Southern Hills carried their Bibles around with them everywhere they went as part of our "The Book" series.  This simple act had tremendous impact not only on the students themselves, but those around them.  Teachers, friends, parents- great conversations took place because the students were willing to do something radical.

To conclue the 1 Month Bible Challenge, last night the students were challenged to take a New Believer's New Testament to school and give it away.  Sixty-one Bibles were taken!

Isaiah 55:11 says, "It is the same with my word.  I send it out, and it always produces fruit.  It will accomplish all I want it to, and it will prosper everywhere I sent it."

Please pray for our students as they step out and share their faith.

We serve a faithful God.  I can't wait to hear how he moves!

I was wrong.

Alright, I give.

For years now I have used two words that people have frequently brought to my attention as inappropriate.  At different times these two words used to be a staple of my vocabulary.  I use them both infrequently now, but they still make an appearance from my mouth from time to time.  And if I were honest, I almost always get a look or concerned comment.

To reveal my excuses for what they are- The word I use more frequently is "retarded."  I use this word as a means to express my dislike of something.  I thought I could use this word because I had a down-syndrome relative.  I figured I was among those who had every reason to be offended by the misuse of this word, yet I wasn't.  So I used it freely.

This morning I was convicted.  As I ate my cereal and caught up on blogs, I read this article.  I don't know why this confrontation was different from the rest (especially considering that it was totally impersonal and not even directed at me), but I have a guess.

I just started meeting with a close friend to intentionally discuss our lives, pray for each other, and hold each other accountable.  Before our first meeting she suggested setting goals for ourselves that we can help each other with.  I was wrestling with what goals to set, because I wanted them to be real and realistic.  I decided I would create a list of 10 attainable goals, but I only had a rough idea for a few.  So I began to pray and ask God to reveal to me areas where I need to improve or be more intentional.


So I'm reading this blog and slowly my actions come to light when BAM!  "And it will also cost you the friendships of those who struggle with being gay.  Like me."


I wish I would have seen the folly of my thinking years ago.  Just because I may not be offended doesn't mean it's not offensive (DUH Nicole!  That's what you've been telling students about cursing...).  It's time to clean up my mouth.

K1 P1

I have tried 3 times to learn how to crochet.  I simply can't do it.  I can't keep a constant tension and find my projects getting smaller and smaller as my stitches get tighter and tighter.

Knitting, however, is another story.

Elizabeth Vahey showed me how to knit just once and it stuck.  Video tutorials for special stitches are the same; I view them once and know it.

Knitting just makes sense.

When I first started knitting, I hated it.  Projects take for-ev-er!  My first project was a leg warmer (yes a leg warmer.  I haven't made one to match it yet.)  It took me several days to complete and when I was done, I wasn't sure if I would knit anything again.  My other crafting endeavors are typically start-and-finish projects.  Would you like a custom fit hemp necklace?  Watch this movie and I'll be finished when it's over.  A fancy scrapbook page you can frame?  Give me 45 minutes.  A purse?  I'll have it to you tomorrow.  A knitted scarf?  Give me a few WEEKS.  I'll be halfway through a project and start thinking about 3 other projects I'd like to do, with no end in sight.  Frustrating.

*Disclaimer* I know someone who crochets and can make a hat in an hour.  It takes me MUCH longer.  I don't know why it takes me so much time, but the simple fact is it does.

But knitting has grown on me.  I can knit while watching movies I've never seen before, something I can't do with my other craft mediums.  I can take knitting with me in the car on long road trips.  It's easy to bust out my needles at a coffee shop.  It provides me with time to think about the person I'm knitting for; each stitch is a prayer just for them.  Knitting, for me anyway, really is a labor of love.

Inspiration Strikes!

I have a tendency to see a great idea and think, "I want to do something like that!"  Ideas that surprise people and provide them with a story particularly inspire me.  Like this one...

Here's a old city bus that someone transformed into a public library.  How clever!

Don't you want to visit this place?  I want to browse the "shelves" and find something unique.  I want to sip on my mocha as a I read from the bus seat and observe those who come and go, those who choose to take a peek inside this refurbished, re-purposed, rejuvenated nook and those who choose to pass on the experience.  I want to be apart of this small grand idea.

What ideas have inspired you lately?

(For another bus story, check this out.)

Be real. Be alive.

The Canfield Fair is a pretty big deal in my hometown and growing-up, it was a yearly tradition for our family.  Even though every year was pretty much the same, something different always happened.  One year I held the record for longest free hang at the Marine station.  Another year I remember attending the 4H dance.  One year my boyfriend sang karaoke.  When we were a little older, my brother and I walked the fair alone once and I remember some hick high school bullies throwing mulch at us.

My favorite memory of the Canfield Fair was one I shared with my dad and it's probably my favorite childhood memory of my dad.  

The Omni was in our family for longer than I can remember.  When we finally took it to the junkyard, miraculously still running without a problem, we made a scrapbook to commemorate it.  In it's last years, the Omni was dad's work vehicle.  Covered in construction dusk and full of tools, he and I were in the car alone.  It's one of the only times I can remember when it was just he and I.

Fair traffic was horrible and almost unavoidable.  Sitting in the bumper to bumper, stopped traffic, waiting to get into the fair, my dad and I began to play.  Dad found an orange construction vest and a hard hat for me and one for himself as well.  He joked about how everyone needed to get out of our way because we were in such a hurray to see the sights and eat the food; how we were in a state of fair emergency.  He put his orange rotating construction light on top of the car and starting "yelling at" the traffic director.  I giggled and giggled.  Of course we looked like fools in our little Omni, orange construction outfits, and flashing light.  And of course it didn't get us to our parking spot any faster.  But it was fun and silly.

My dad was alive that day.

This weekend I attended the National Youth Workers Convention and one of the speakers briefly touched on the importance of being real and alive.  Immediately that time with my dad came to my mind.

I want to be remembered for the times I laughed so hard I cried and I cried so hard I laughed.  I want these times to be rampent, part of my every day.  

I want to live life alive.

Halloween Stage

For our Halloween service, we went all out in Fusion (our student ministry at Southern Hills Christian Church).  A few spider webs here, a giant spider there, some hanging clothes, a BUNCH of pumpkins, eery lighting, and VOILA!

(As usual, the pictures don't do it justice, but you get the idea.)

The orange "string" is actually marking tape, available at Lowes or Home Depot.  This was part of the preexisting stage design, but added a lot to the Halloween decor.

Corey and I continue to enjoy the pumpkins as we take them home and roast the seeds.  Yum!