Wednesday, December 12, 2007
I'm also thankful for...
Spending time with the Fullerton sisters at Homecoming. I love this family!
Seeing my sister LOVE life as a Squig.
Dressing up for Halloween and passing out candy with my hubby!
Having friends come visit! We had a blast with B&B and W&W (see Wendi's blog for pics)!
Spending time with family for Paul's birthday. I am obsessed with Bubba, his pug!Sunday, November 4, 2007
Half My Sandwich
Seven year old Ricky towered over his kindergarten classmates. His nose was always runny, his glasses were always slightly crooked and his voice was always a tad too loud. I did my best to stay away from Ricky. Quite frankly, he scared me; I was convinced that if his snot got on me, I would literally die. I was able to avoid him on the playground...it's amazing how fast you can run when you're scared for your life. I was able to avoid him in the classroom. And lunch was no problem because, unless you wanted to get cooties or commit social suicide, you didn't sit with the opposite sex while eating. In fact, the mother of all punishments was assigned boy/girl seating during lunch. Our class had managed to avoid the named torture all year, but our luck was bound to run out...and it did. And guess which boy sat right next to me?
There's not much you can do to avoid a person who's sitting smack dab next to you at a lunch table. I did my best to balance on the far left side of my circular plastic seat, while eyeing Ricky suspiciously. If I could make it through the next 20 minutes without touching him, I just might live to see my own children. Ricky was known for stealing food from other people. I knew this, so it came as no surprise to me when he unabashedly reached over and grabbed a chip off of another kid's plate. I, however, was ready. There was no way I was going to let Ricky's snotty fingers touch my food. I clutched the handle of my pink purse tightly (yes, I carried a purse) and took aim. As expected, Ricky turned around and leaned toward my lunch sack. Apparently the term "personal space" didn't exist in his vocabulary, because he plowed right through mine in his quest for my food. Without hesitation, I reared back and swung my "weapon" at his back, nailing him right between the shoulder blades. Quite pleased with my defense tactics, I prepared to strike again. Suddenly, a loud voice yelled, "STOP THAT RIGHT NOW." 'That's right!' I thought, convinced that the lunch lady was yelling at Ricky. I glanced up with a "can you BELIVE him?!?" look on my face, only to be met with a firm reprimand. "We DO NOT hit people with our purses." I could feel the heat immediately rise up my neck, bleed into my face and press behind my eyes. She was getting onto me? I wasn't the one stealing food! I wasn't the one with crooked glasses and a snotty nose! I was simply defending what was rightfully mine! "I...I was just," but before I could finish my sentence, the lunch lady snatched up my lunch sack and motioned for me to follow her. I sat by myself at the front of the lunch room for the rest of the period. I couldn't eat a bite through my tears, which started out at tears of embarrassment but quickly turned to tears of shame. Ricky had no friends, and I knew it. Even at the young age of 6, I knew that I had hurt Ricky. The pain caused by my pink purse went strait from his back and into his heart. How could I have been so cruel?
To this day, I feel guilt over the pain I caused this boy. He was ignored, teased, and rejected day in and day out. I had a chance to show love to a fellow classmate and I blew it. But you know what the real tragedy is? I didn't really learn my lesson. Sure, I have learned how to be friendly the friendless. To smile kindly at those in need. But how often do I really go out of my way to love the Rickys in the world? How often do I stop and invite the woman on the corner to go have coffee with me or eat dinner at my house? It's a tough question that I ask myself often. It's a constant battle between compassion and comfort. Between approaching and avoiding. Between sacrifice and selfishness. Between Jesus and myself. You know what's funny? I don't even remember what I was eating the day I hit Ricky with my purse, but I do remember the look on Ricky's face, and I can' help but wonder, how would Ricky have looked at me had I offered him half my sandwich?
There's not much you can do to avoid a person who's sitting smack dab next to you at a lunch table. I did my best to balance on the far left side of my circular plastic seat, while eyeing Ricky suspiciously. If I could make it through the next 20 minutes without touching him, I just might live to see my own children. Ricky was known for stealing food from other people. I knew this, so it came as no surprise to me when he unabashedly reached over and grabbed a chip off of another kid's plate. I, however, was ready. There was no way I was going to let Ricky's snotty fingers touch my food. I clutched the handle of my pink purse tightly (yes, I carried a purse) and took aim. As expected, Ricky turned around and leaned toward my lunch sack. Apparently the term "personal space" didn't exist in his vocabulary, because he plowed right through mine in his quest for my food. Without hesitation, I reared back and swung my "weapon" at his back, nailing him right between the shoulder blades. Quite pleased with my defense tactics, I prepared to strike again. Suddenly, a loud voice yelled, "STOP THAT RIGHT NOW." 'That's right!' I thought, convinced that the lunch lady was yelling at Ricky. I glanced up with a "can you BELIVE him?!?" look on my face, only to be met with a firm reprimand. "We DO NOT hit people with our purses." I could feel the heat immediately rise up my neck, bleed into my face and press behind my eyes. She was getting onto me? I wasn't the one stealing food! I wasn't the one with crooked glasses and a snotty nose! I was simply defending what was rightfully mine! "I...I was just," but before I could finish my sentence, the lunch lady snatched up my lunch sack and motioned for me to follow her. I sat by myself at the front of the lunch room for the rest of the period. I couldn't eat a bite through my tears, which started out at tears of embarrassment but quickly turned to tears of shame. Ricky had no friends, and I knew it. Even at the young age of 6, I knew that I had hurt Ricky. The pain caused by my pink purse went strait from his back and into his heart. How could I have been so cruel?
To this day, I feel guilt over the pain I caused this boy. He was ignored, teased, and rejected day in and day out. I had a chance to show love to a fellow classmate and I blew it. But you know what the real tragedy is? I didn't really learn my lesson. Sure, I have learned how to be friendly the friendless. To smile kindly at those in need. But how often do I really go out of my way to love the Rickys in the world? How often do I stop and invite the woman on the corner to go have coffee with me or eat dinner at my house? It's a tough question that I ask myself often. It's a constant battle between compassion and comfort. Between approaching and avoiding. Between sacrifice and selfishness. Between Jesus and myself. You know what's funny? I don't even remember what I was eating the day I hit Ricky with my purse, but I do remember the look on Ricky's face, and I can' help but wonder, how would Ricky have looked at me had I offered him half my sandwich?
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Somebody Loved
Three nights a week I have class until 7:30, which leaves Tuesday nights and weekends for time with Christian. More often than not, we spend our time sitting side by side doing HW, or traveling various places on the weekends. Needless to say, my time with my sweet husband is precious to me.
The other day, I was driving home from class, stressing about the fact that I had no plans for dinner. I called Christian and he told me sandwiches were fine (for the 3rd time that week). Running on 5 hours of sleep, eye make-up rubbed off, with hair pulled back in a messy bun, I all but stumbled into the house via the garage door, and called out a meek, "Hey baby."
Before I had time to notice the dimmed lights, Christian appeared before me, sporting a nice dress shirt and a hint of my favorite cologne. "Hi baby!" he smiled. As we embraced, I noticed the glow of candles around us. I ventured forward into the living room and found both a clean house and a beautifully prepared meal of beef tenderloin, fresh corn and grilled asparagus.
"What is this?" I said in disbelief.
To which Christian replied, "Dinner."
Overcome with emotion, I asked, "Why did you do this?"
"Because you’re my sweetie," Christian beamed.
Surprise, surprise, I started crying. Although he was reluctant to admit it, he got a little misty too (and he will probably kill me for writing this on my blog).
I am so thankful to have a partner like Christian. I say partner, and not husband, because the definition of partner (according to dictionary.com) is "one of a pair or a team." This year, Christian has truly taught me what it means to be part of a team. I am so blessed by his help, friendship, kindness, encouragement, leadership, service and love. I know I've written a lot about him on here, but I just can't help it! With that said, I'll leave you with a Pam and Jim love montage to one of my favorite songs, "Somebody Loved" by the Weepies.
The other day, I was driving home from class, stressing about the fact that I had no plans for dinner. I called Christian and he told me sandwiches were fine (for the 3rd time that week). Running on 5 hours of sleep, eye make-up rubbed off, with hair pulled back in a messy bun, I all but stumbled into the house via the garage door, and called out a meek, "Hey baby."
Before I had time to notice the dimmed lights, Christian appeared before me, sporting a nice dress shirt and a hint of my favorite cologne. "Hi baby!" he smiled. As we embraced, I noticed the glow of candles around us. I ventured forward into the living room and found both a clean house and a beautifully prepared meal of beef tenderloin, fresh corn and grilled asparagus.
"What is this?" I said in disbelief.
To which Christian replied, "Dinner."
Overcome with emotion, I asked, "Why did you do this?"
"Because you’re my sweetie," Christian beamed.
Surprise, surprise, I started crying. Although he was reluctant to admit it, he got a little misty too (and he will probably kill me for writing this on my blog).
I am so thankful to have a partner like Christian. I say partner, and not husband, because the definition of partner (according to dictionary.com) is "one of a pair or a team." This year, Christian has truly taught me what it means to be part of a team. I am so blessed by his help, friendship, kindness, encouragement, leadership, service and love. I know I've written a lot about him on here, but I just can't help it! With that said, I'll leave you with a Pam and Jim love montage to one of my favorite songs, "Somebody Loved" by the Weepies.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Dwight Schrute is my BFF
Well, the start to school has been a whirlwind, complete with no sleep, lots of reading, energetic students, a wedding, and a funeral. My cousin Chelsea got married two weeks ago, and her wedding was a blast! It was at the Plantation House, and, as usual, Norris and Luanna were unbelievably gracious and fun. Seeing family was wonderful, and the best part was that Lucus and Chelsea are a perfect match. The weekend of Chelsea's wedding, my Great-grandmother passed away at the age of 103. Don't be alarmed....she didn't pass away at the wedding! She was in Amarillo with hospice, and they told us she went peacefully. It was very bitter sweet. It was time for her to go home, but we will miss all her stories and antics (which I blogged about not too long ago). We love our Grandma Dell. Which brings me to Dwight....
A funny transition, you might think, but my journey to the funeral in Amarillo allowed me a quick stop in Abilene. You'll never guess who I met...Dwight Schrute himself. Actually, it was just Shelby dressed up for bid night as Dwight, but it may as well have been the real thing, because she was equally as hilarious as our favorite "Assistant to the Regional Manager." Here's a pic of me and "Dwight."
It was so much fun to get to spend the weekend with Shelbs. After Bid Night, Christian, Shelby and I drove to Amarillo on Sat. morning for the funeral. Usually I would be sad, but in this case, I was very relieved....Grandma Dell had been in so much pain. It was fun to get to visit in the car for 10 hours (5 up and 5 back)....I never get tired of being around my sissy. I also got to see her cute house and spend time with her sweet roomies. I am so glad that Shelbs is back at ACU, but I must say, I really really miss her. I can't wait until next year when she'll be back in Austin! It's such a blessing to have a sister that I would be best friends with even if we weren't related. I could go on and on, but I'll spare you. Instead, enjoy a little time with Dwight....
A funny transition, you might think, but my journey to the funeral in Amarillo allowed me a quick stop in Abilene. You'll never guess who I met...Dwight Schrute himself. Actually, it was just Shelby dressed up for bid night as Dwight, but it may as well have been the real thing, because she was equally as hilarious as our favorite "Assistant to the Regional Manager." Here's a pic of me and "Dwight."
It was so much fun to get to spend the weekend with Shelbs. After Bid Night, Christian, Shelby and I drove to Amarillo on Sat. morning for the funeral. Usually I would be sad, but in this case, I was very relieved....Grandma Dell had been in so much pain. It was fun to get to visit in the car for 10 hours (5 up and 5 back)....I never get tired of being around my sissy. I also got to see her cute house and spend time with her sweet roomies. I am so glad that Shelbs is back at ACU, but I must say, I really really miss her. I can't wait until next year when she'll be back in Austin! It's such a blessing to have a sister that I would be best friends with even if we weren't related. I could go on and on, but I'll spare you. Instead, enjoy a little time with Dwight....Sunday, September 9, 2007
Everything
A good friend, Debby Mata, shared this video with me and I was very touched by it. So often I forget that my purpose here on earth is to walk with Jesus and be moved by Him. It's so easy to be lured in by the fleeting pleasures of this life, and my heart is overcome with sadness that so many live each day without being moved by Christ. However, sadness without action is nothing. If I do not become intentional about letting myself be continually moved by God, how can I expect to show others how to be moved?
If you have a moment, watch this. It may seem a little corny at first, but I found it well worth my time.
Thank you, Jesus, for your forgiveness and grace, without which I would never have experienced the fullness of life with you.
Everything by Lifhouse
Find Me HereSpeak To Me
I want to feel you
I need to hear you
You are the light
That's leading me
To the place where
I find peace again.
You are the strength, that keeps me walking.
You are the hope, that keeps me trusting.
You are the light to my soul.
You are my purpose...you're everything.
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
You calm the storms, and you give me rest.
You hold me in your hands, you won't let me fall.
You steal my heart, and you take my breath away.
Would you take me in?
Take me deeper now?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Cause you're all I want,
You're all I need
You're everything,everything
You're all I want your all I need
You're everything, everything.
You're all I want you're all I need.
You're everything, everything
You're all I want you're all I need, you're everything, everything.
And How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
If you have a moment, watch this. It may seem a little corny at first, but I found it well worth my time.
Thank you, Jesus, for your forgiveness and grace, without which I would never have experienced the fullness of life with you.
Everything by Lifhouse
Find Me HereSpeak To Me
I want to feel you
I need to hear you
You are the light
That's leading me
To the place where
I find peace again.
You are the strength, that keeps me walking.
You are the hope, that keeps me trusting.
You are the light to my soul.
You are my purpose...you're everything.
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
You calm the storms, and you give me rest.
You hold me in your hands, you won't let me fall.
You steal my heart, and you take my breath away.
Would you take me in?
Take me deeper now?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Cause you're all I want,
You're all I need
You're everything,everything
You're all I want your all I need
You're everything, everything.
You're all I want you're all I need.
You're everything, everything
You're all I want you're all I need, you're everything, everything.
And How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Seasons
(Above: Melissa, Brooke, and me at our Totally 80's Holiday party last year at school)When I was 3 years old, I had a best friend named Robbie. We would play in the mud together, watch Mr. Boogedy together under my mom's giant red blue and white hand-sewn quilt, eat goldfish together and even occasionally take baths together (shhhhh...don't tell!) Robbie and his family moved a few years later, but my devastation soon resided when my preschool pal Lauren came into my life. She was as ornery as I was, and we spent our time plotting our escapes or hiding from Miss Penny under the pews in the silent auditorium. Since my run-away days, there have been a slew of best friends come and go in and out of my life for different reasons. I would name them all, but it would take too long and you wouldn't know most of them anyway. The point is that friends change with the seasons of life; some come and go; others fade in, out and back in again; still others are a constant fixture; however, all serve a purpose.
A year ago I found myself in a new season, and the Lord, in his great love for me, provided two new best friends. He placed me on a team at school with two amazing women who have both served a different, yet equally beautiful, purpose in my life.
Brooke is a woman of faith. Fun, goofy, compassionate, encouraging, and extremely intentional about her walk with Jesus, she ministers to me daily and shows me what it means to trust in the Lord and follow His vision. She has taught me the concept of ministering to kids out of the overflow of one's heart. I know that each day when I go to school, I will be able to share both struggles and celebrations with someone who truly cares. We have laughed together, cried together, prayed together and vented together (you know how middle school is...it can be an emotional rollercoaster). I am truly thankful for her friendship!
Melissa has an amazing heart for the Lord. She puts others needs first at all times, and seeks to love, encourage, and accommodate people right where they're at. She is a woman full of sacrifice, making sure to provide for all the needs of her precious son, Cole, while still finding the time to listen to and share with me (and boy have we shared...everything from prayer needs to...well..we'll just leave it at that). She has taught me what it means to enjoy the blessings of life, both big and small. I know that every day when I go to school, Melissa will make me laugh; I never knew that such a tiny person could have such a large personality! What a blessing she is to me!
Thank you, Brooke and Melissa, for making this a precious season in my life!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
G-Maw
My Great-grandmother on my mom's side is 103 years old. Up until this last year, she still walked, talked, and made every effort to make us laugh. She's a spunky little thing, that's for sure. She was recently admitted to the hospital for congestive heart failure and spent a 5 day stint there. For a woman who has never been sick (you think I'm kidding), this was not only painful, but terrifying. Bless her little heart. When we went in to see her after a night spent alone in ICU, she was fightin' mad. She told us, "I have never, never, never been so mistreated in my life! I didn't know whether to kill them (the nurses) or kill myself!" She also told us, "I didn't know whether I was a-foot or a-horses back!" Don't ask me what that means...I just know it means she was not happy. I got to the hospital on a Saturday, but my mom and dad had been there a few days. The only thing that seemed to make her happy was coffee and candy. My mom would give her chocolate kisses, and the minute she finished one, she would shout, "more candy!" She also wanted hot coffee...really hot. At one point, it apparently wasn't hot enough for her, so she shouted, "I want HOT COFFEE. H-O-T C-O-F-F-E-E. How hard can it be?!" She was a teacher for 30 years, and she certainly hasn't forgotten how to spell. Even on her death bed she hasn't lost her fire! Grandma Dell is at home now, being assisted by hospice. I know that she will go home to be with the Lord soon, but I'm not sad. She has lived a long, full life, and has paradise waiting for her...a place where she'll be able to entertain the angels with her whit, sing and dance again, and read to her hearts content (she loved to read). I am grateful to have known this woman of faith, and know that she will live on through the stories she has passed down to her close to 30 great-grandchildren. What a woman! I love you to pieces Grandma Dell.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Sometimes good things come in big packages too...
Well, it's said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but in this case, I just can't resist the temptation to pair this pic with a little story....
Today when I got home from class, Christian greeted me with a hug, shortly after a failed attempt to scare me. While stooping to hug me, my huge husband looked around him and suddenly died laughing. This is not an abnormal occurance for Christian, and I, of course, started laughing too, although I had no idea why. He then proceeded to squeeze my shoulders, while hunched over, eyes level with mine and say, "You are such a little person! Is this what it's like to be short?!" I just laughed and then watched him walk around our entire house, hunkered over to match my height, laughing and saying, "You can't see anything! You are so little!" Now those of you who know me, know that I'm not "little." I'm simply a 5' 5" average height gal. However, I guess when you're 6'4", just about anything is little to you. I love being married to this man. He finds joy in the simplest of things because he has a heart that is as big as he is. I love the fact that at any given moment, something will strike Christian as funny, and he will be doubled over in stiches. It's almost impossible not to be happy when you're around him; being the fatalist that I tend to be at times, I can see exactly why it is that God paired me with this man. He has made me a better, more joyous person. Thank you Lord for being involved in my life; without You, I would have never know Christian.....or how funny being 5'5" is.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
100 things
Ashley tagged me...so here it goes...100 things about me:
1. my husband christian is my favorite person in the world
2. he also makes me laugh harder than anyone i know (with alli and my sister being close seconds)
3. shelby, my sissy, would be my bff even if we weren't sisters. she gets me.
4. i love my family...we fight but make up really fast.
5. i love the color pink
6. i love hillsong united praise music...i sing it really loud in my car
7. God is my first love
8. i like to write
9. i love reading...especially anything fracine rivers
10. i love hanging out with the youth group at church
11. i am loving grad school
12. i love analyzing people and problems...especially my own
13. i think we could all use a little therapy
14. i have been described as slightly "dramatic"
15. i tried out for every play in middle school, but never got a part until 8th grade...it was a main part, so i guess it was worth the wait and torture of being a drama nerd
16. i was named "Miss Mustang" my 8th grade year....it sounds really cool, but it was an award given by the teachers
17. i like to make 100's, and i am slightly obsessed with school
18. i really wish i was sydney bristow from alias. i have a slight same-sex crush on jennifer garner
19. i get stressed when the house isn't clean, but i am really messy. kind of a conflict of interest.
20. i love the show TAPS...it's a ghost hunter show and i watch it even though it gives me nightmares
21. i love love love LOST. there is nothing better that watching it with the fam on a wed. night after church
22. i did a triathlon this year. it was so rewarding!
23. i have asthma and christian laughs at me when i take my inhaler
24. i love to dance and trained in ballet, tap, jaz and modern for about 16 years
25. i hate cats
26. the only reason i would like a cat is if it killed a bird...i hate those even more
27. my dad hates birds too
28. my friends are like my sisters. i am so blessed!
29. i love banana republic and shoes
30. i love pilates
31. i love shopping
32. i like babies, but only for about 30 minutes at a time
33. i love austin and everything about it
34. i love music...i wish i had an endless amount to spend on itunes
35. i like to travel and would love to live overseas
36. i was fat when i was little. fat + good student= nerdy
37. my mom thought i was cool
38. my parents also think everything shelby and i do is hilarious
40. mom's adoration + parent's obsession with you = false confidence
41. false confidence + 4th grade choir try outs = big disappointment
42. i'm proud of my above equation
43. i love teaching middle schoolers
44. i especially love dancing and singing in front of them until they say, "oh my gosh mrs. pimentel! stop!"
45. i really like the idea of watches, but i can never seem to keep up with them. i have lost every one i ever bought.
46. i love the movie "never been kissed." josie grossy is my hero.
47. i love to make up songs and sing them to christian
48. i like to make up dances too
49. christian makes up dances too and his are much better than mine
50. i love the spirit of the Lord; my heart overflows with love for Him
51. i wish i could see into the future and know when we're suppose to have kids
52. i want kids, but i really like being selfish right now
53. i love eating
54. if i could eat one thing for the rest of my life and not get fat, i would choose chile's chocolate molten cake
55. i love love love saved by the bell
56. i can sing just about every song from that show (oh arnie boy, any hot fudge sunday songs, all the bayside cheers, glee club songs, i'm so excited....)
56. in high school 5 of us used to do "lunch bunch" and after we ate, we would come back to campus, sit in the car and sing really loud to a cheesy 95.5 song. i guess you had to be there.
57. i am a terrible driver, but if i got graded on effort, i would get an A
58. i am easily distracted
59. i can't do anything else when i'm on the phone
60. i hate putting up laundry
61. i love beth moore bible studies
62. i have ibs
63. my mom installed track lighting in our house without telling us while we were at work. "suprise!!!!"
64. my wedding was over the top, but i loved it
65. christian loved it too....especially the fact that i had 12 bridesmaids
66. i hate math, and i think that teachers are lying when they say that you will use calculus or even algebra in real life
67. biggest trouble i ever got in at school: a referral for truency for going off campus for lunch as a junior
68. biggest trouble i ever got in at home: got caught making out big time with my boyfriend by my dad
69. biggest fight i ever got in with my sister: we fought in hs over who would get to sleep with the dog. my mom (our "mediator") physically sat on shelby and pulled our little chihuahua away from her
70. i love the beach, but hate wearing a bathing suit
71. top trip of all time: my honeymoon to london and paris
72. a very close second: trip to the bahamas with my bffs my senior year of college
73. i love the theatre, especially shows with dancing
74. i love the show "so you think you can dance" and think that shelby should try out for it
75. i love to sing songs really loud at home and pretend i am on broadway....christian just LOVES it
76. i have peed in my pants while laughing multiple times, including a few times in hs and college
77. i like to run with my new pink ipod shuffle
78. i like very large candles
79. i like movies of all kinds, especially really sappy ones
80. my garage is so WT right now....just piles and piles of stuff
81. one of the best memories from college: morning bible studies
82. another great memory: dressing up all the time and dancing around our house
83. ROW was the best roomie tradition ever
84. our house had a fake dog named pedro in college
85. my friends in hs made up this language call "L language" in hs. this is how you say hello in it: "hel-lel"
86. i can't give toasts at weddings without crying
87. i like water, but i don't drink enough of it
88. i like camping, but nobody in my immediate family does. they prefer nice hotels. what is wrong with them!?!
89. christian likes to camp too, but we have never actually been
90. i think smoking in pubic is so rude
91. best part of being an officer on the dance team in high school: huge white sequin cowgirl hat...no lie
92. i love massages
93. i sweat excessively under my arms...try teaching middle school sometime without moving your arms...it's really hard...i'm pretty good at it
94. i know parts of the ending dance from the movie "romy and michelle's hs reunion." i can show you sometime if you want.
95. i want a pet pig named allouicious
96. i am a terrible speller
97. christian tells me that i often talk in my sleep
98. i love little cutie dogs
99. i read all my blogs to christian before i post them...he is really ready for me to be finished with this one
100. this was fun
i tag my dad and chez
1. my husband christian is my favorite person in the world
2. he also makes me laugh harder than anyone i know (with alli and my sister being close seconds)
3. shelby, my sissy, would be my bff even if we weren't sisters. she gets me.
4. i love my family...we fight but make up really fast.
5. i love the color pink
6. i love hillsong united praise music...i sing it really loud in my car
7. God is my first love
8. i like to write
9. i love reading...especially anything fracine rivers
10. i love hanging out with the youth group at church
11. i am loving grad school
12. i love analyzing people and problems...especially my own
13. i think we could all use a little therapy
14. i have been described as slightly "dramatic"
15. i tried out for every play in middle school, but never got a part until 8th grade...it was a main part, so i guess it was worth the wait and torture of being a drama nerd
16. i was named "Miss Mustang" my 8th grade year....it sounds really cool, but it was an award given by the teachers
17. i like to make 100's, and i am slightly obsessed with school
18. i really wish i was sydney bristow from alias. i have a slight same-sex crush on jennifer garner
19. i get stressed when the house isn't clean, but i am really messy. kind of a conflict of interest.
20. i love the show TAPS...it's a ghost hunter show and i watch it even though it gives me nightmares
21. i love love love LOST. there is nothing better that watching it with the fam on a wed. night after church
22. i did a triathlon this year. it was so rewarding!
23. i have asthma and christian laughs at me when i take my inhaler
24. i love to dance and trained in ballet, tap, jaz and modern for about 16 years
25. i hate cats
26. the only reason i would like a cat is if it killed a bird...i hate those even more
27. my dad hates birds too
28. my friends are like my sisters. i am so blessed!
29. i love banana republic and shoes
30. i love pilates
31. i love shopping
32. i like babies, but only for about 30 minutes at a time
33. i love austin and everything about it
34. i love music...i wish i had an endless amount to spend on itunes
35. i like to travel and would love to live overseas
36. i was fat when i was little. fat + good student= nerdy
37. my mom thought i was cool
38. my parents also think everything shelby and i do is hilarious
40. mom's adoration + parent's obsession with you = false confidence
41. false confidence + 4th grade choir try outs = big disappointment
42. i'm proud of my above equation
43. i love teaching middle schoolers
44. i especially love dancing and singing in front of them until they say, "oh my gosh mrs. pimentel! stop!"
45. i really like the idea of watches, but i can never seem to keep up with them. i have lost every one i ever bought.
46. i love the movie "never been kissed." josie grossy is my hero.
47. i love to make up songs and sing them to christian
48. i like to make up dances too
49. christian makes up dances too and his are much better than mine
50. i love the spirit of the Lord; my heart overflows with love for Him
51. i wish i could see into the future and know when we're suppose to have kids
52. i want kids, but i really like being selfish right now
53. i love eating
54. if i could eat one thing for the rest of my life and not get fat, i would choose chile's chocolate molten cake
55. i love love love saved by the bell
56. i can sing just about every song from that show (oh arnie boy, any hot fudge sunday songs, all the bayside cheers, glee club songs, i'm so excited....)
56. in high school 5 of us used to do "lunch bunch" and after we ate, we would come back to campus, sit in the car and sing really loud to a cheesy 95.5 song. i guess you had to be there.
57. i am a terrible driver, but if i got graded on effort, i would get an A
58. i am easily distracted
59. i can't do anything else when i'm on the phone
60. i hate putting up laundry
61. i love beth moore bible studies
62. i have ibs
63. my mom installed track lighting in our house without telling us while we were at work. "suprise!!!!"
64. my wedding was over the top, but i loved it
65. christian loved it too....especially the fact that i had 12 bridesmaids
66. i hate math, and i think that teachers are lying when they say that you will use calculus or even algebra in real life
67. biggest trouble i ever got in at school: a referral for truency for going off campus for lunch as a junior
68. biggest trouble i ever got in at home: got caught making out big time with my boyfriend by my dad
69. biggest fight i ever got in with my sister: we fought in hs over who would get to sleep with the dog. my mom (our "mediator") physically sat on shelby and pulled our little chihuahua away from her
70. i love the beach, but hate wearing a bathing suit
71. top trip of all time: my honeymoon to london and paris
72. a very close second: trip to the bahamas with my bffs my senior year of college
73. i love the theatre, especially shows with dancing
74. i love the show "so you think you can dance" and think that shelby should try out for it
75. i love to sing songs really loud at home and pretend i am on broadway....christian just LOVES it
76. i have peed in my pants while laughing multiple times, including a few times in hs and college
77. i like to run with my new pink ipod shuffle
78. i like very large candles
79. i like movies of all kinds, especially really sappy ones
80. my garage is so WT right now....just piles and piles of stuff
81. one of the best memories from college: morning bible studies
82. another great memory: dressing up all the time and dancing around our house
83. ROW was the best roomie tradition ever
84. our house had a fake dog named pedro in college
85. my friends in hs made up this language call "L language" in hs. this is how you say hello in it: "hel-lel"
86. i can't give toasts at weddings without crying
87. i like water, but i don't drink enough of it
88. i like camping, but nobody in my immediate family does. they prefer nice hotels. what is wrong with them!?!
89. christian likes to camp too, but we have never actually been
90. i think smoking in pubic is so rude
91. best part of being an officer on the dance team in high school: huge white sequin cowgirl hat...no lie
92. i love massages
93. i sweat excessively under my arms...try teaching middle school sometime without moving your arms...it's really hard...i'm pretty good at it
94. i know parts of the ending dance from the movie "romy and michelle's hs reunion." i can show you sometime if you want.
95. i want a pet pig named allouicious
96. i am a terrible speller
97. christian tells me that i often talk in my sleep
98. i love little cutie dogs
99. i read all my blogs to christian before i post them...he is really ready for me to be finished with this one
100. this was fun
i tag my dad and chez
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
I Prefer Half Full
Wow. There have been some major changes in our life this summer. I started grad school and, although I love it, let me tell you, I now remember why I couldn't wait to graduate.They are restructuring the youth ministry at Westover, which means bringing in a new person...total stranger...to work with Christian. Wendi and Wade, two of our best friends, are moving to Dallas. And Shelby, my best friend in the world (and sister, by the way) is going back to ACU this year. For those of you who know me, and who have read my previous blog on change, you know that the "c word" is not a very easy one for me to say...or do for that matter.
On the other hand...I have a renewed passion for ministry outside of church. Being in graduate school has opened my eyes to the world's need for the Lord; there are so many hurting people out there. I used to feel guilty that I hadn't sold all my belongings and moved to Africa to be a missionary. Now I realize that there are people all around me who are hungry for the word of God.
On the other hand...I am so proud of my husband for the way he is handling the change...prayerfully and with an optimism that I wish I had. His bottom line: love the kids like Jesus does. We have grown close in a way that only difficulty can inspire. Christian, you continually minister to me.
On the other hand...Wendi and Wade have an amazing opportunity to begin preparing financially for their future with kids. Wendi wants to stay home with them someday...I truly admire her for that. They will be greatly missed, but for good reason. They have loved people and invested in them whole-heartedly during their 2 years here. What an example you are to us!
On the other hand...Shelby finally gets to return "home" to her ACU family. I am so proud of her for putting aside her career aspirations for one year to solidify her relationship with the Lord and with all her Godly friends. I am excited for her to relish in the blessing of friendship...it is so worth it. I will really miss her (especially because she keeps me "on the daddy ticket"...j/k...sorta), but I am full of joy at the same time.
On the other hand...Change is hard, but I have to remind myself that God loves me and knows exactly what I need. Lord, you are so faithful. Thank you for being in control.
On the other hand...I have a renewed passion for ministry outside of church. Being in graduate school has opened my eyes to the world's need for the Lord; there are so many hurting people out there. I used to feel guilty that I hadn't sold all my belongings and moved to Africa to be a missionary. Now I realize that there are people all around me who are hungry for the word of God.
On the other hand...I am so proud of my husband for the way he is handling the change...prayerfully and with an optimism that I wish I had. His bottom line: love the kids like Jesus does. We have grown close in a way that only difficulty can inspire. Christian, you continually minister to me.
On the other hand...Wendi and Wade have an amazing opportunity to begin preparing financially for their future with kids. Wendi wants to stay home with them someday...I truly admire her for that. They will be greatly missed, but for good reason. They have loved people and invested in them whole-heartedly during their 2 years here. What an example you are to us!
On the other hand...Shelby finally gets to return "home" to her ACU family. I am so proud of her for putting aside her career aspirations for one year to solidify her relationship with the Lord and with all her Godly friends. I am excited for her to relish in the blessing of friendship...it is so worth it. I will really miss her (especially because she keeps me "on the daddy ticket"...j/k...sorta), but I am full of joy at the same time.
On the other hand...Change is hard, but I have to remind myself that God loves me and knows exactly what I need. Lord, you are so faithful. Thank you for being in control.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Because Wendi Said So
So, I’m going to deviate a little from the blog plan because I had a special request from Wendi. Here it goes…..
Things I would describe as “sick-nasty”
1. birds
2. meat in general, unless I have carefully inspected it (those of you who know me, know what I mean)
3. cellulite
4. fruit flies in my kitchen
5. finding unwanted items in my fast food
6. baby throw up (I guess that I’ll eventually have to get over that)
7. muffin and little bit (my dogs) in their later years…ask me about it some time
8. touching the bathroom door handle at a gas station right after you’ve washed your hands
9. cleaning out my fridge
10. cleaning out the drain…especially one that’s not your own (I’ve done it)
11. sweating profusely under your arms
12. trying to take the cat I just ran over to the vet (I did that…it died)
13. trying on bathing suits
14. IBS
15. face lifts on old men
Things I would describe as “awww cutie”
1. Christian and his unrelenting desire to make me laugh
2. squeezing Shelby’s (my sister) cute little face
3. family dance at Joanna’s wedding
4. my dog Isabell
5. my 4-year-old cousin Frankie playing with his hamster, Hammy
6. the L-language
7. my mom dressing up on Halloween by herself to answer the door
8. dancing with my dad
9. seeing my friends kiss their husbands on their wedding days
10. most babies
11. laughing with friends
12. my grandparents
13. puppies
14. bad pictures
15. the ending dance scene in “Romi and Michelle’s High School Reunion”
Things I would describe as “sick-nasty”
1. birds
2. meat in general, unless I have carefully inspected it (those of you who know me, know what I mean)
3. cellulite
4. fruit flies in my kitchen
5. finding unwanted items in my fast food
6. baby throw up (I guess that I’ll eventually have to get over that)
7. muffin and little bit (my dogs) in their later years…ask me about it some time
8. touching the bathroom door handle at a gas station right after you’ve washed your hands
9. cleaning out my fridge
10. cleaning out the drain…especially one that’s not your own (I’ve done it)
11. sweating profusely under your arms
12. trying to take the cat I just ran over to the vet (I did that…it died)
13. trying on bathing suits
14. IBS
15. face lifts on old men
Things I would describe as “awww cutie”
1. Christian and his unrelenting desire to make me laugh
2. squeezing Shelby’s (my sister) cute little face
3. family dance at Joanna’s wedding
4. my dog Isabell
5. my 4-year-old cousin Frankie playing with his hamster, Hammy
6. the L-language
7. my mom dressing up on Halloween by herself to answer the door
8. dancing with my dad
9. seeing my friends kiss their husbands on their wedding days
10. most babies
11. laughing with friends
12. my grandparents
13. puppies
14. bad pictures
15. the ending dance scene in “Romi and Michelle’s High School Reunion”
Monday, May 28, 2007
Can I Get a Witness?!?
"Kathrine, I am the teacher and you are the student. Please remember that."
-Mrs. Kunkle, Kathrine's Kindergarten teacher
I guess that being bossy comes with the territory of being the oldest child. However, if you are especially lucky, you are born with a strong will too, so that no matter what people tell you, you are either A) right or B) really right. I was one such child, with the added bonus of perfectionism and a strong desire to please. Case and point: My second grade teacher gave me a 95 on a coloring assignment. Being the strong willed, bossy perfectionist I was, I took it upon myself to march up to her and inform her that she must have made some kind of grading error on my paper. There was absolutely no way that MY exquisite coloring job deserved anything less than a 100. I pointed out to her that while other students may have outlined the jungle animals in marker, I took the time to outline the jungle animals in a darker, corresponding shade of colored pencil (which was MUCH MORE difficult, of course). I then went home and cried because I was afraid I had hurt her feelings (enter my desire to please).
In light of that, I would like to publicly apologize to all those teachers out there who I drove crazy with my intense perfectionism. I never knew how hard your job was until I became a teacher myself. All you teachers out there.....can I get a witness?!? Teaching is tough. It's full of early mornings and late nights, last minute ideas that succeed and carefully planned lessons that fail. It's enforcing rules and cutting some slack (but not so much slack that you are no longer enforcing rules). It's making mistakes and being forgiven. It's grading papers and defending your grades. It's mediating and listening. It's giving second chances and "laying the smack down." It's singing and dancing and crying and praying. It's apologizing. It's moments of bliss and moments when you feel like you've been punched in the stomach. It's being silly. It's being serious. It's knowing when to walk away, while never being able to "leave it at work." It's pleading, coaxing, and encouraging. It's putting band aids on fingers and on hearts. It's letting yourself be ministered to by the love of a child. It's balance, balance, balance. It's self-control, self-control, self-control. It's patience, patience, patience. And when it's all said and done, it's rewarding beyond anything I ever expected. It's 50 students who I will always love. It's being pulled up to the front of the room by your students to be showered with compliments. It's 50 students who took the time to share their hearts with me and my co-workers. It's packing up, walking out, and closing the door to a classroom where your life was changed for the better.
To my students: I am so thankful for you. I will always treasure my relationships with every one of you.
-Mrs. P
-Mrs. Kunkle, Kathrine's Kindergarten teacher
I guess that being bossy comes with the territory of being the oldest child. However, if you are especially lucky, you are born with a strong will too, so that no matter what people tell you, you are either A) right or B) really right. I was one such child, with the added bonus of perfectionism and a strong desire to please. Case and point: My second grade teacher gave me a 95 on a coloring assignment. Being the strong willed, bossy perfectionist I was, I took it upon myself to march up to her and inform her that she must have made some kind of grading error on my paper. There was absolutely no way that MY exquisite coloring job deserved anything less than a 100. I pointed out to her that while other students may have outlined the jungle animals in marker, I took the time to outline the jungle animals in a darker, corresponding shade of colored pencil (which was MUCH MORE difficult, of course). I then went home and cried because I was afraid I had hurt her feelings (enter my desire to please).
In light of that, I would like to publicly apologize to all those teachers out there who I drove crazy with my intense perfectionism. I never knew how hard your job was until I became a teacher myself. All you teachers out there.....can I get a witness?!? Teaching is tough. It's full of early mornings and late nights, last minute ideas that succeed and carefully planned lessons that fail. It's enforcing rules and cutting some slack (but not so much slack that you are no longer enforcing rules). It's making mistakes and being forgiven. It's grading papers and defending your grades. It's mediating and listening. It's giving second chances and "laying the smack down." It's singing and dancing and crying and praying. It's apologizing. It's moments of bliss and moments when you feel like you've been punched in the stomach. It's being silly. It's being serious. It's knowing when to walk away, while never being able to "leave it at work." It's pleading, coaxing, and encouraging. It's putting band aids on fingers and on hearts. It's letting yourself be ministered to by the love of a child. It's balance, balance, balance. It's self-control, self-control, self-control. It's patience, patience, patience. And when it's all said and done, it's rewarding beyond anything I ever expected. It's 50 students who I will always love. It's being pulled up to the front of the room by your students to be showered with compliments. It's 50 students who took the time to share their hearts with me and my co-workers. It's packing up, walking out, and closing the door to a classroom where your life was changed for the better.
To my students: I am so thankful for you. I will always treasure my relationships with every one of you.
-Mrs. P
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Sisterhood
Allie
I have this picture in my mind of Allie and I sitting in her silver Honda. It’s 95 degrees outside, but the air isn’t on because Allie doesn’t notice the beads of sweat beginning to gather on my forehead. I don’t either, for that matter, because I am so busy dramatically giving an account of a story, which, at the time, is either the funniest, most annoying, most infuriating, or most unbelievable thing that has ever happened to me. I reach up to brush a piece of hair out of my eyes, and catch a whiff of the salty, spicy, greasy goodness lingering on my skin from our recent trip to Taco Bueno. “I should be writing a paper,” I think, then quickly push the thought aside to make room for the juicy story Allie is about to spill. 20 minutes pass, then 30, and before we know it, we have been sitting in front of my little one story college house for close to an hour. The engine is running, but we don’t care….saving gas and being responsible take a back seat to our conversation. Allie can always tell when I need sympathy. She understands me like no other person I know, so I revel in her presence and soak up the encouragement she offers to me freely. I’m always right in Allie’s car. Always justified. Always sympathized with. Some people might say that saving gas is important. That doing homework in a timely fashion should be a priority. That honesty is the best policy, so telling your friend that she is overreacting is the sign of a true friendship. Not Allie. She listens. She supports. She prioritizes. She laughs with me. She understands that there is more to life that doing things the “right” way. She is deeply committed to the things she loves, and her loyalty gives me a great sense of security. She will never abandon me, just as she will never abandon one of her stories (no matter how long it is), or never abandon her love of Taco Bueno (no matter what she finds in her burrito). She is loyal to the end. Loyal to her friends, to her family, and to her God. I love riding shotgun in Allie’s car….especially when we’re not riding anywhere at all!
Ashley
It’s the end of a beautiful Wednesday in Abilene. There is a slight breeze and a whisper of a cloud or two in the blue March sky. Ashley and I are sitting on our blue jean couch in the living room of our house on Morrow. I will always love that house. Soft light is pouring in through our partially covered windows, and the small pond flickers at us, still and silent, through the backdoor. We keep saying the same thing in different ways. “I should go to church tonight,” I offer half-heartedly, hoping that her response will deter me from “the right” decision. “Yeah, she replies. We should probably go.” This goes on for a few minutes, until we sheepishly smile at each and she laughingly says, “I don’t really want to go!” Relieved, I laugh, “Me neither!” Instead of engaging in worship, we opt for some therapeutic fellowship, and rush outside to pull weeds from the front flower bed. The ground is soft, but not soft enough, so we drag the hose over and flood the dark soil. With excitement fit for a 3 year old helping her grandpa in the garden, we eagerly reach our pristine white hands into the muddy soil and begin pull. We talk about life. About past hurts. About future wishes. We laugh and comment way too many times about how “therapeutic” pulling weeds is. There is a sense of accomplishment we feel, and I can’t help but think that with every weed we tug from the ground, we are also pulling tiny weeds out of our own lives.
Ashley is rational, yet sympathetic of my emotions (which is not always an easy undertaking). She is honest, yet understanding and I know that I can always count on her for the truth. She is great at pulling the weeds out of me that I can’t quite bring myself to get. What an amazing blessing it was to live with a Godly friend who not only loved me for who I was, but who also loved me enough to help me weed out my problems. Ashley, thank you for using your tools of rational insight to help me garden my life. Thanks to you, some of the most beautiful flowers in my life bloomed our senior year. (And by the way, Ash, I know that you are laughing at the corniness of this whole extended metaphor…and the fact that I just used the words “extended metaphor.”) Love you.
Brittnie
I nuzzle my head into the foreign pillow beneath me, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Good morning,” Brittnie sings from the counterpart to my cozy twin bead. She is, of course, not nearly as fatigued as I am, which stirs in me both encouragement and envy. Britt is, by nature, a morning person. And when I say morning, I mean like middle-of-the-night morning. I, on the other hand, prefer to go to bed in the middle of the night.
Clothes in hand, we make the journey from the tiny Brazilian loft upstairs to a humid peach-tiled bathroom, only to find that Brittnie’s toothbrush has been moved from the sink to the shower. Mystified, we talk in hushed tones as we stifle our giggles. “What the hec?” she laughs with a smile on her face, knowing that she has no choice but to use the now communal toothbrush.
After our dental adventure, we move to the comforts of the downstairs kitchen, ready for the day. Indecision greets us, as we marvel at the spread: bananas, bread, cheese, figs, coffee, juice. What to eat? Throwing caution to the wind, we decide to try it all. After all, what happens in Brazil stays in Brazil. When else will we be able to eat like this?!? Our precious host mother tries in vain to explain where everything is. We don’t speak a word of Portuguese, and our host family not a word of English (save the raps of M&M frequently recited in the car by their oldest son). However, Brittnie’s sweet smile reassures everyone, reminding us that it is the language of Christ’s love that matters most, and we joyfully share in the meal together.
I love it when Britt smiles. Her smile is not only reassuring. It is genuine, comforting, and joyful. Her smile is what got me through that trip. When feelings were hurt while decorating the church, I glanced at her, and she smiled. When we made fools of ourselves while playing soccer with the neighborhood kids, I motioned to her from across the court, and she smiled. When we missed our flight home and had to spend the night in the Sao Palo airport, I turned to her through teary eyes, and she smiled. Even sharing her toothbrush with an unknown foreigner brought a smile to her face! I love that a smile is her first response in life. What an incredible example you are to all of us, Britt. You are quick to listen, slow to anger and even quicker to smile. Thank you for approaching life with the joy of Christ and for being someone I can always count on to uplift me in times of trouble. I smile just thinking about you!
Jamie
My stomach was in knots as I paced the floor of my dorm room. Things hadn’t exactly worked out the way I had planned. Junior year was supposed to be the year of “firsts.” First year to live off campus, first year to live in a house, first year to have multiple roomies. Yet somehow my plans had fallen through. Little did I know that God had bigger plans for me….plans that did not involve the words “off campus,” “house,” or “roomies.” When I finally mustered up the courage to journey to second floor Sikes, I timidly approached Jamie’s room, silently praying that she would say yes. I can’t exactly remember how the conversation went, but what I do remember is that “James,” as I have come to affectionately call her, was not only accepting of the idea, but excited. And thus began the saga of James and Kathi, University Park Apartments residents.
Although the space was small, it had big personality, and we made the most of our less than perfect circumstances. Yes, my clothes were permanently piled on the end of my bed; and, yes, the giant floral arrangements from Brian filled up our entire dining room table/kitchen counter. However, I would not trade that year for anything in the world. I would not trade the plant that would not die. I would not trade the “raiding” wars with our favorite Family Guy-obsessed neighbors. I would not trade taking giant horse pills and sniffling together on the couch. I would not trade the grub costumes, handmade birthday gifts, and various other crafts that so often filled our entire living room floor. I would not trade the ridiculously embarrassing “5 minute video,” or the prank calls. I wouldn’t trade these moments because they were spent with Jamie. My silly, yet serious, supportive, yet straightforward, saint of a roomie. I would not trade her for a thousand years in a house off campus with a thousand girly roomies. She was the answer to a prayer that I didn’t know I was praying, and I will always be thankful that God placed me in that little apartment with a girl whose laugh and love for life could fill the entire complex.
Jenny
Never make a decision based on a boy, unless you are married to him. To all you girls out there reading this (because I’m sure there are SO many), heed my advice. My senior year, I got into two schools. A&M and Abilene Christian. A difficult decision, you might think. But for me, the choice had already been made before I ever even opened the envelope from A&M. I would go to ACU, of course. Why? Because my boyfriend at the time was already there. Now, I did not make my decision based solely on him, but he did make up about 50% of the reasons for going.
So, with high hopes I arrived at ACU, only to find that if you spend all your time with your boyfriend, you can’t make friends. Funny how that works. The girls on my hall were great, but I craved the deep relationships I had left behind in Austin. And no amount of late night movies, or acting silly with a video camera could replace my need for depth.
Then, as if she knew what I was thinking, Jenny walked into my room one night. She lived down the hall, and I had decided that she was one of the funniest, if not THE funniest girl I had ever met. I prepared myself to be goofy, but she suddenly surprised me; with sheer sincerity, Jenny asked for my prayers and advice, leading me to partake in one of the most memorable conversations of my life. I can’t explain the joy that filled my heart after our encounter that night; I needed that honest moment so badly, and I will never forget the precious vulnerability that Jenny modeled to me.
Over the next couple of years, Jenny and I lost touch, but God was gracious enough to bring us back together again at the end of our Junior year. Not only that, but God truly blessed me when he allowed me to live with Jenny the following year. I can honestly say that I am a better person for having lived with Jenny “Fullerton.” Her humble and honest approach to life allowed her to be my confidant, and I will always treasure our late-night conversations about life. Yes, we tended to be a little dramatic at times, but it was so fulfilling to have a friend who truly understood where I was coming from; she really believed in me. Jenny makes everyone she encounters feel like they matter, and I was no exception. Thank you, Jenny, for providing me with constant support and encouragement, even to this day.
Wendi
The summer between my Freshman and Sophomore in college was a summer of….well….serious stomach issues. It was one of the most difficult times in my life, but also one in which I grew a great deal. Freshman year had just short of sucked, and I wasn’t crazy about the idea of going back and kissing up to a bunch of upperclassmen who could potentially let me into their sorority. However, the idea of having friends was extremely appealing, even if it meant I had to “buy them.” Thank goodness for my obsessive nature, because despite how detrimental it tended be to my health (and the health of those around me), it certainly got me to pray a lot. I prayed and prayed and prayed. I prayed for school, for club, for roommate issues, but mostly I prayed for friends. There was one other time in my life that I had desperately cried out to the Lord for companionship: 6th grade. It had worked then, and I was desperately hoping it would now.
The summer ended, and I returned to school in nervous anticipation. Walking up the scuffed rubber steps of Sikes Hall, I rounded the corner on the second floor and headed up to my “new” 3rd floor room. Little did I know that the room I casually passed on the second floor would really end up being my “home.” I don’t know exactly how it happened, but like God always does, he answered my plea by placing an unexpected, yet familiar friend in my path. Thus, Wendi and I began our friendship.
I loved bounding down the stairs, hanging a left and quickly knocking on her large grey door before entering. There she would sit on her pastel montage of a bedspread, pants tucked into her socks, twirling away at her hair. You see, God did not only provide a friend when he brought Wendi into my life; He also provided an accountability partner. We spent hours that year sitting on her bed, talking, crying and praying together. Sharing my heart with her came so easily, but I soon found out that Wendi tended to bring that out in people. She is a true example of Christ: understanding, truthful, loving, and trustworthy. To this day, one of the first people I call to ask for prayers from, to share joys with or to simply laugh with is Wendi. She is a more amazing answer to prayer than I could have ever imagined, and I thank my God for placing her in my life.
I have this picture in my mind of Allie and I sitting in her silver Honda. It’s 95 degrees outside, but the air isn’t on because Allie doesn’t notice the beads of sweat beginning to gather on my forehead. I don’t either, for that matter, because I am so busy dramatically giving an account of a story, which, at the time, is either the funniest, most annoying, most infuriating, or most unbelievable thing that has ever happened to me. I reach up to brush a piece of hair out of my eyes, and catch a whiff of the salty, spicy, greasy goodness lingering on my skin from our recent trip to Taco Bueno. “I should be writing a paper,” I think, then quickly push the thought aside to make room for the juicy story Allie is about to spill. 20 minutes pass, then 30, and before we know it, we have been sitting in front of my little one story college house for close to an hour. The engine is running, but we don’t care….saving gas and being responsible take a back seat to our conversation. Allie can always tell when I need sympathy. She understands me like no other person I know, so I revel in her presence and soak up the encouragement she offers to me freely. I’m always right in Allie’s car. Always justified. Always sympathized with. Some people might say that saving gas is important. That doing homework in a timely fashion should be a priority. That honesty is the best policy, so telling your friend that she is overreacting is the sign of a true friendship. Not Allie. She listens. She supports. She prioritizes. She laughs with me. She understands that there is more to life that doing things the “right” way. She is deeply committed to the things she loves, and her loyalty gives me a great sense of security. She will never abandon me, just as she will never abandon one of her stories (no matter how long it is), or never abandon her love of Taco Bueno (no matter what she finds in her burrito). She is loyal to the end. Loyal to her friends, to her family, and to her God. I love riding shotgun in Allie’s car….especially when we’re not riding anywhere at all!
Ashley
It’s the end of a beautiful Wednesday in Abilene. There is a slight breeze and a whisper of a cloud or two in the blue March sky. Ashley and I are sitting on our blue jean couch in the living room of our house on Morrow. I will always love that house. Soft light is pouring in through our partially covered windows, and the small pond flickers at us, still and silent, through the backdoor. We keep saying the same thing in different ways. “I should go to church tonight,” I offer half-heartedly, hoping that her response will deter me from “the right” decision. “Yeah, she replies. We should probably go.” This goes on for a few minutes, until we sheepishly smile at each and she laughingly says, “I don’t really want to go!” Relieved, I laugh, “Me neither!” Instead of engaging in worship, we opt for some therapeutic fellowship, and rush outside to pull weeds from the front flower bed. The ground is soft, but not soft enough, so we drag the hose over and flood the dark soil. With excitement fit for a 3 year old helping her grandpa in the garden, we eagerly reach our pristine white hands into the muddy soil and begin pull. We talk about life. About past hurts. About future wishes. We laugh and comment way too many times about how “therapeutic” pulling weeds is. There is a sense of accomplishment we feel, and I can’t help but think that with every weed we tug from the ground, we are also pulling tiny weeds out of our own lives.
Ashley is rational, yet sympathetic of my emotions (which is not always an easy undertaking). She is honest, yet understanding and I know that I can always count on her for the truth. She is great at pulling the weeds out of me that I can’t quite bring myself to get. What an amazing blessing it was to live with a Godly friend who not only loved me for who I was, but who also loved me enough to help me weed out my problems. Ashley, thank you for using your tools of rational insight to help me garden my life. Thanks to you, some of the most beautiful flowers in my life bloomed our senior year. (And by the way, Ash, I know that you are laughing at the corniness of this whole extended metaphor…and the fact that I just used the words “extended metaphor.”) Love you.
Brittnie
I nuzzle my head into the foreign pillow beneath me, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Good morning,” Brittnie sings from the counterpart to my cozy twin bead. She is, of course, not nearly as fatigued as I am, which stirs in me both encouragement and envy. Britt is, by nature, a morning person. And when I say morning, I mean like middle-of-the-night morning. I, on the other hand, prefer to go to bed in the middle of the night.
Clothes in hand, we make the journey from the tiny Brazilian loft upstairs to a humid peach-tiled bathroom, only to find that Brittnie’s toothbrush has been moved from the sink to the shower. Mystified, we talk in hushed tones as we stifle our giggles. “What the hec?” she laughs with a smile on her face, knowing that she has no choice but to use the now communal toothbrush.
After our dental adventure, we move to the comforts of the downstairs kitchen, ready for the day. Indecision greets us, as we marvel at the spread: bananas, bread, cheese, figs, coffee, juice. What to eat? Throwing caution to the wind, we decide to try it all. After all, what happens in Brazil stays in Brazil. When else will we be able to eat like this?!? Our precious host mother tries in vain to explain where everything is. We don’t speak a word of Portuguese, and our host family not a word of English (save the raps of M&M frequently recited in the car by their oldest son). However, Brittnie’s sweet smile reassures everyone, reminding us that it is the language of Christ’s love that matters most, and we joyfully share in the meal together.
I love it when Britt smiles. Her smile is not only reassuring. It is genuine, comforting, and joyful. Her smile is what got me through that trip. When feelings were hurt while decorating the church, I glanced at her, and she smiled. When we made fools of ourselves while playing soccer with the neighborhood kids, I motioned to her from across the court, and she smiled. When we missed our flight home and had to spend the night in the Sao Palo airport, I turned to her through teary eyes, and she smiled. Even sharing her toothbrush with an unknown foreigner brought a smile to her face! I love that a smile is her first response in life. What an incredible example you are to all of us, Britt. You are quick to listen, slow to anger and even quicker to smile. Thank you for approaching life with the joy of Christ and for being someone I can always count on to uplift me in times of trouble. I smile just thinking about you!
Jamie
My stomach was in knots as I paced the floor of my dorm room. Things hadn’t exactly worked out the way I had planned. Junior year was supposed to be the year of “firsts.” First year to live off campus, first year to live in a house, first year to have multiple roomies. Yet somehow my plans had fallen through. Little did I know that God had bigger plans for me….plans that did not involve the words “off campus,” “house,” or “roomies.” When I finally mustered up the courage to journey to second floor Sikes, I timidly approached Jamie’s room, silently praying that she would say yes. I can’t exactly remember how the conversation went, but what I do remember is that “James,” as I have come to affectionately call her, was not only accepting of the idea, but excited. And thus began the saga of James and Kathi, University Park Apartments residents.
Although the space was small, it had big personality, and we made the most of our less than perfect circumstances. Yes, my clothes were permanently piled on the end of my bed; and, yes, the giant floral arrangements from Brian filled up our entire dining room table/kitchen counter. However, I would not trade that year for anything in the world. I would not trade the plant that would not die. I would not trade the “raiding” wars with our favorite Family Guy-obsessed neighbors. I would not trade taking giant horse pills and sniffling together on the couch. I would not trade the grub costumes, handmade birthday gifts, and various other crafts that so often filled our entire living room floor. I would not trade the ridiculously embarrassing “5 minute video,” or the prank calls. I wouldn’t trade these moments because they were spent with Jamie. My silly, yet serious, supportive, yet straightforward, saint of a roomie. I would not trade her for a thousand years in a house off campus with a thousand girly roomies. She was the answer to a prayer that I didn’t know I was praying, and I will always be thankful that God placed me in that little apartment with a girl whose laugh and love for life could fill the entire complex.
Jenny
Never make a decision based on a boy, unless you are married to him. To all you girls out there reading this (because I’m sure there are SO many), heed my advice. My senior year, I got into two schools. A&M and Abilene Christian. A difficult decision, you might think. But for me, the choice had already been made before I ever even opened the envelope from A&M. I would go to ACU, of course. Why? Because my boyfriend at the time was already there. Now, I did not make my decision based solely on him, but he did make up about 50% of the reasons for going.
So, with high hopes I arrived at ACU, only to find that if you spend all your time with your boyfriend, you can’t make friends. Funny how that works. The girls on my hall were great, but I craved the deep relationships I had left behind in Austin. And no amount of late night movies, or acting silly with a video camera could replace my need for depth.
Then, as if she knew what I was thinking, Jenny walked into my room one night. She lived down the hall, and I had decided that she was one of the funniest, if not THE funniest girl I had ever met. I prepared myself to be goofy, but she suddenly surprised me; with sheer sincerity, Jenny asked for my prayers and advice, leading me to partake in one of the most memorable conversations of my life. I can’t explain the joy that filled my heart after our encounter that night; I needed that honest moment so badly, and I will never forget the precious vulnerability that Jenny modeled to me.
Over the next couple of years, Jenny and I lost touch, but God was gracious enough to bring us back together again at the end of our Junior year. Not only that, but God truly blessed me when he allowed me to live with Jenny the following year. I can honestly say that I am a better person for having lived with Jenny “Fullerton.” Her humble and honest approach to life allowed her to be my confidant, and I will always treasure our late-night conversations about life. Yes, we tended to be a little dramatic at times, but it was so fulfilling to have a friend who truly understood where I was coming from; she really believed in me. Jenny makes everyone she encounters feel like they matter, and I was no exception. Thank you, Jenny, for providing me with constant support and encouragement, even to this day.
Wendi
The summer between my Freshman and Sophomore in college was a summer of….well….serious stomach issues. It was one of the most difficult times in my life, but also one in which I grew a great deal. Freshman year had just short of sucked, and I wasn’t crazy about the idea of going back and kissing up to a bunch of upperclassmen who could potentially let me into their sorority. However, the idea of having friends was extremely appealing, even if it meant I had to “buy them.” Thank goodness for my obsessive nature, because despite how detrimental it tended be to my health (and the health of those around me), it certainly got me to pray a lot. I prayed and prayed and prayed. I prayed for school, for club, for roommate issues, but mostly I prayed for friends. There was one other time in my life that I had desperately cried out to the Lord for companionship: 6th grade. It had worked then, and I was desperately hoping it would now.
The summer ended, and I returned to school in nervous anticipation. Walking up the scuffed rubber steps of Sikes Hall, I rounded the corner on the second floor and headed up to my “new” 3rd floor room. Little did I know that the room I casually passed on the second floor would really end up being my “home.” I don’t know exactly how it happened, but like God always does, he answered my plea by placing an unexpected, yet familiar friend in my path. Thus, Wendi and I began our friendship.
I loved bounding down the stairs, hanging a left and quickly knocking on her large grey door before entering. There she would sit on her pastel montage of a bedspread, pants tucked into her socks, twirling away at her hair. You see, God did not only provide a friend when he brought Wendi into my life; He also provided an accountability partner. We spent hours that year sitting on her bed, talking, crying and praying together. Sharing my heart with her came so easily, but I soon found out that Wendi tended to bring that out in people. She is a true example of Christ: understanding, truthful, loving, and trustworthy. To this day, one of the first people I call to ask for prayers from, to share joys with or to simply laugh with is Wendi. She is a more amazing answer to prayer than I could have ever imagined, and I thank my God for placing her in my life.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Performance of a Lifetime
Blake T. He asked me out in the 6th grade after the first two girls turned him down. As a slightly awkward and extremely naïve 6th grader, I didn’t realize that A) there were better options out there and B) that I could say “no” if I wanted to. We went out for 3 days, which was some kind of a record for him (and for me, as he was my first official boyfriend, if you can call it that). I called him on day three, after some coaxing from my slightly cooler friend, and dumped him. He responded as any “normal” 6th grade boy would: he had his friend call me the “b” word. No, not beautiful. I’ll let you guess. Shortly after this incident, I fell madly in love with Casey McCoy, who, in turn, fell madly in love with my best friend. I was lucky enough to be made privy of this crushing news while on a middle school retreat. My awkwardness reached it’s peak upon my discovery of the news: as I was attempting to flirt with the object of my affection by taking a football away from him, he let me down easy by screaming, “What are you doing?! Get off of me!” Talk about a crush.
I’m sure that many of you have stories similar to the one above. As a middle school teacher, I have become quite accustomed to preteen angst. It’s not unusual for students to run out of my room in tears over a break up, or for me to find notes proclaiming the “hotness” of a particular boy. “She told her that she was mad at me,” or “He paid him to ask her out,” or “She’s mad at me because I said something, and it wasn’t even mean,” or “He won’t stop asking girls out,” are not uncommon phrases heard in a middle school. There is one phrase, however, that I never dreamed I would hear, until today.
“Caitlyn Kirby has Leukemia.” The words sounded unreal, as if they were resonating through a long tunnel. Caitlyn Kirby. Pictures of red curly hair flashed in my mind. Of smiles too big for such a small face. Of freckles scattered under shining 12-year-old eyes. I thought of her singing silly camp songs while washing dishes during KP, clearly audible above all the others. Memories of her many unsolicited cheerleading performances sprang to life, and I remembered her love for the stage, whether it was a stage at a competition or simply a self-created stage at the front of our church classroom. “Caitlyn is not a sick girl. She is healthy. She is full of life.” But the voice on the other end of the phone disagreed with my thoughts. The reality overcame me, and I found it hard to swallow. Suddenly, the mountain of papers on my desk was no longer a dyer situation. Suddenly “preteen angst” had a new meaning.
God tells us that He will not let us be tried beyond what we can bear. For me, my “bearable load” during middle school was at full capacity with heartbreak. Caitlyn’s load, on the other hand, would seem unbearable to most grown adults. Debbie Benaglio told the Kirbys today at the hospital that, “God knew from day one that this was going to happen.” No, He did not cause it, but, yes, he did know that vibrant little Caitlyn would have quite a load to bear at quite a young age. He knew. He knew that with His help, she would be able to handle it. What an amazing compliment from the Father above. He has allowed Caitlyn to bear this burden because he knows that she can do it. I have watched her perform in camp skits, and I have watched her perform cheers, but now I have the great privilege of watching as she stars in the most important role of her life: faithful daughter of the King. Thank you, Caitlyn, for showing us what it means to rejoice in your suffering. You truly are a shining star of God's stage.
“And God is faithful: He will not let you be tried beyond what you can bear.”
1 Corinthians 10:13
I’m sure that many of you have stories similar to the one above. As a middle school teacher, I have become quite accustomed to preteen angst. It’s not unusual for students to run out of my room in tears over a break up, or for me to find notes proclaiming the “hotness” of a particular boy. “She told her that she was mad at me,” or “He paid him to ask her out,” or “She’s mad at me because I said something, and it wasn’t even mean,” or “He won’t stop asking girls out,” are not uncommon phrases heard in a middle school. There is one phrase, however, that I never dreamed I would hear, until today.
“Caitlyn Kirby has Leukemia.” The words sounded unreal, as if they were resonating through a long tunnel. Caitlyn Kirby. Pictures of red curly hair flashed in my mind. Of smiles too big for such a small face. Of freckles scattered under shining 12-year-old eyes. I thought of her singing silly camp songs while washing dishes during KP, clearly audible above all the others. Memories of her many unsolicited cheerleading performances sprang to life, and I remembered her love for the stage, whether it was a stage at a competition or simply a self-created stage at the front of our church classroom. “Caitlyn is not a sick girl. She is healthy. She is full of life.” But the voice on the other end of the phone disagreed with my thoughts. The reality overcame me, and I found it hard to swallow. Suddenly, the mountain of papers on my desk was no longer a dyer situation. Suddenly “preteen angst” had a new meaning.
God tells us that He will not let us be tried beyond what we can bear. For me, my “bearable load” during middle school was at full capacity with heartbreak. Caitlyn’s load, on the other hand, would seem unbearable to most grown adults. Debbie Benaglio told the Kirbys today at the hospital that, “God knew from day one that this was going to happen.” No, He did not cause it, but, yes, he did know that vibrant little Caitlyn would have quite a load to bear at quite a young age. He knew. He knew that with His help, she would be able to handle it. What an amazing compliment from the Father above. He has allowed Caitlyn to bear this burden because he knows that she can do it. I have watched her perform in camp skits, and I have watched her perform cheers, but now I have the great privilege of watching as she stars in the most important role of her life: faithful daughter of the King. Thank you, Caitlyn, for showing us what it means to rejoice in your suffering. You truly are a shining star of God's stage.
“And God is faithful: He will not let you be tried beyond what you can bear.”
1 Corinthians 10:13
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Trendsetter
There is a mural of school pictures that graces the wall adjacent to the garage in my parents’ house. The pictures are arranged in a circle, displaying the overdone bangs, oversized sweatshirts, and massive bows of my elementary school years, quickly followed by the multi-colored braces, loud vests and awkwardly grown out bangs of my middle school years and ending on the more bearable note of the butterfly clips, newly straightened teeth and hot rolled hair of my high school years. Among this short photographic history of 90's fashion, hangs a picture lovingly deemed "sheepdog girl" by my husband. If you have ever seen sheep dogs before, you know that their one distinguishing feature is the thick mop of overgrown hair, which masks their tiny black eyes. Seriously, who decided on proper dog hair cut etiquette? I mean, whoever made these decisions, in addition to loathing poodles, must have greatly underestimated the importance of a sheep dog’s eyesight. That being said, you can probably guess where the nick-name came from. As I alluded to above, the aquanetted bangs of elementary school were a big no-no by the time I was headed for middle school. I did not have much fashion sense, but I did know enough to know that bangs were on their way out by the time I reached 5th grade. Thus began my attempt to grow them out. A few months into it, I decided it wasn’t going well, so what did I do? Cut them? Clip them to the side? No, no. I was much too fashionable for that. I got a perm. I only had two friends, and, sadly, they were more fashion-challenged than me. So, when asked their opinion, they thought a perm seemed like a perfectly good solution. Having greatly underestimated the need for MY eyesight, while having greatly overestimated the beauty of a perm, I turned out looking very much like the afore mentioned sheep dog.
My sister Shelby, on the other hand, assembles outfits like Harry Connick Jr. plays the piano. Smoothly, effortlessly, perfectly. A trendsetter from day one, she had traded in mary janes for ankle high stiletto boots and striped stirrup pants for black pleated skirts by age 8. My sheep dog bangs dulled in comparison to her light, feathery bob, and my blue-jean button-up shirt couldn’t hold a candle to her blue-jean sunflower hat. I often wondered why I couldn’t pull things off like she did. To this day, I will still watch her strut into a room and say to myself, “now, why didn’t I think of that?” However, I don’t think it was her actual clothes that I envied throughout our growing-up years. Instead, it was her sheer determination to “pull it off.” She is a woman who knows what she wants. A woman of confidence. A woman of passion. Her decisions are made with purpose and clear intent, and I don’t just mean decisions regarding clothes.
Shelby started off her dancing career with a bang, starring in Mrs. Trish’s Care Bear ballet piece with 15 other 3 year olds. And although she was busy admiring her pink sequined tutu for the majority of the dance, she managed to maintain perfect turn out and stage presence. From that moment on, Shelby was destined to be a star of the stage, which is why it came as no surprise when she was chosen as our high school dance team’s Major. But even more impressive than her winning the title, was her incredible display of leadership among her peers that year. Yes, she followed her passion and confidence on her journey to success, but what made her a leader to be followed was her purpose. Above all, above trendsetter, above performer, above leader, Shelby is a child of the King. Her passion for the Lord instills in her a confidence that drives her in her purpose to lead others to Christ. She not only clothes herself in the fashions of this world, but, more importantly, clothes herself in the armor of God. She is a passionate warrior of Christ, and that is a trend worth setting.
Shelbs, I feel honored to follow all the trends you set (except maybe for the ankle high stiletto boots). Love you, sissy.
My sister Shelby, on the other hand, assembles outfits like Harry Connick Jr. plays the piano. Smoothly, effortlessly, perfectly. A trendsetter from day one, she had traded in mary janes for ankle high stiletto boots and striped stirrup pants for black pleated skirts by age 8. My sheep dog bangs dulled in comparison to her light, feathery bob, and my blue-jean button-up shirt couldn’t hold a candle to her blue-jean sunflower hat. I often wondered why I couldn’t pull things off like she did. To this day, I will still watch her strut into a room and say to myself, “now, why didn’t I think of that?” However, I don’t think it was her actual clothes that I envied throughout our growing-up years. Instead, it was her sheer determination to “pull it off.” She is a woman who knows what she wants. A woman of confidence. A woman of passion. Her decisions are made with purpose and clear intent, and I don’t just mean decisions regarding clothes.
Shelby started off her dancing career with a bang, starring in Mrs. Trish’s Care Bear ballet piece with 15 other 3 year olds. And although she was busy admiring her pink sequined tutu for the majority of the dance, she managed to maintain perfect turn out and stage presence. From that moment on, Shelby was destined to be a star of the stage, which is why it came as no surprise when she was chosen as our high school dance team’s Major. But even more impressive than her winning the title, was her incredible display of leadership among her peers that year. Yes, she followed her passion and confidence on her journey to success, but what made her a leader to be followed was her purpose. Above all, above trendsetter, above performer, above leader, Shelby is a child of the King. Her passion for the Lord instills in her a confidence that drives her in her purpose to lead others to Christ. She not only clothes herself in the fashions of this world, but, more importantly, clothes herself in the armor of God. She is a passionate warrior of Christ, and that is a trend worth setting.
Shelbs, I feel honored to follow all the trends you set (except maybe for the ankle high stiletto boots). Love you, sissy.
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