A Thank You Letter to God

By the end of this week the 'illegal' status of listening to Christmas music will be lifted and I can come out of hiding, as I have been listening to Christmas music since before Halloween- yup, I am one of those people. And I'm willing to confess that our habit of starting our celebration extremely early can be slightly obnoxious and annoying, however I will only offer you a small apology. Sorry.

In all fairness, I do acknowledge that I can sometimes rush over Thanksgiving in my excitement of the nearness of Christmas, and in attempts to fully explore the things that I have to be grateful for I wrote a thank you letter to God and I thought I would share it with you.

 

Dear God,

I wish I could say that I thank you every day for little things you bless me with, but it don't.
Perhaps my mind a gets clouded with momentary stress and my heart gets forgetful with temporary happiness. No matter the reason, I am extremely far behind in saying thank you.

I want to start by saying I am extremely thankful for the people you have put into my life. You have given relationships with missionaries around the world to mentor me and show me how to spread your joy. Friends who take the time to listen to my sorrows and make me smile. And the family you have blessed me with knows me perfectly and supports me in all of my trails and victories.

The knowledge that you are watching over me and caring about my troubles, makes me feel very honored and grateful. You have always provided for my needs, why do I worry?

Thank you for loving me and allowing me the privilege of learning how to love you in return. (and man, is it fun being loved by you!)

Then there are all of the little things; the opportunity to learn and grow, my ability to swim, the fun I find in varies activities. The warmth of the sunshine, the beauty of the snow, the healing of laughter, the nurturing of tears. I would have to write on and on and on and on before I even put a dent in a proper list of thank yous I have for you; but since I am limited by time and you are not, I guess that these letters are going to have to happen more often than on Thanksgiving.


Thank you (for everything and then some!)

It's Cold Outside

It is cold outside, really cold. I'm pretty sure that it is in the low teens, and it is one of those days that I am so immensely grateful to be inside, and that I have a place to escape the cold. I grew up in sunny California, and am not used to winters that are this cold (at least not yet), therefore I have no self control in the amount I complain to those around me about how cold I think it is. America's heartland can drop to freezing really quickly and the way the frozen wind blows you around makes you double take your actions because sometimes the degree of your friendliness matches your surroundings. Okay, that is not really true for everyone who lives out here, but I did warn you that I am really good at complaining within this category. As pathetic as this sounds, I was quite content to remain that person who focused on my discomfort in the cold, and no one really challenged me to change my mind, that is until yesterday.

Yesterday I was driving home from church and I pass a man standing on the corner of an intersection holding a sign reading 'Homeless. Merry Christmas.'  I recognized the man as I had seen him in the same spot the week before. Now, I always keep some kind of food and water-bottles in my car to give to the homeless I pass, but as I was getting ready to drive by him, I decided that instead of giving him a granola bar and a water bottle, I was going to go to the nearest Mcdonald's, get hot chocolate and something warm to eat and I was going to go and talk to him.  This decision was a little out of the ordinary for me, as I am fully aware of how potentially dangerous it is for a young lady to approach a stranger alone, but it was an extremely busy and public intersection and I wondered when was the last time someone took the time to talk to the man who so frequently appeared on that corner. So hot chocolate and cinnamon melts in hand I walked up to the stranger, praying that God would keep me safe and give me the right words to say, because I had not really thought through that part out.

David, he told me his name was David. And with a crooked tooth smile that was beautiful and full of laughter he kindly corrected me when I replied 'It's nice to meet you Jeremy!' Where in the world did I get the name Jeremy from? Well, I definitely goofed that one up, I thought to myself, but David amazingly was still willing to talk to me. He told me that like me, he had spent a good portion of his life in California and that he had come out to Missouri to be close to family. He excitedly shared with me his story of helping build a steel-something highway/track thing-a-ma-jig that can be seen in the movie The Terminator 2. And when I asked him how did he stand the cold after leaving California (my toes were numb at this point in the conversation) he told me that God made both hot and cold and he thanked Him for both-that he was just thankful that he could feel the cold. I'm not sure if it was the icy wind or the reminder of how blessed I am, but I almost cried. David then told me that he had a camp set up in southern Springfield and I told him that I would not survive they way he did and that his attitude amazed me. I would have stayed and talked with David longer, but he told me that my nose was turning bright red and that I should probably go and warm up. Wishing him a happy holidays, I left, questioning my own reaction to the cold.


"Give thanks in all circumstances." 1Thessalonians 5:18

All circumstances -Yup- even in the cold. 

I can't promise that I will completely stop complaining about being frozen, but I thank God for this cold. What a great reminder to count my blessings and thank God for all He has made.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Still

I have heard it said that crying helps to cleanse one's mind and while I am not really sure if that worked for me I have had some (more) time and tears to sort through my feelings. Grief is a very funny thing, it seems to often come out of no where and multiply. Sometimes I feel like with all of the things going on in my life to distract me and the amount of time that has passed since my father died, that I would be able to adapt, that the pain would lessen, and I wouldn't cry as much. Thinking logically, I am rather shocked at how much I cried after J. died, after all, unlike many of my friends, I had had the opportunity to say good-bye to her. I hugged her tightly and said good-bye knowing that there may be a chance that we wouldn't see each other again this side of heaven; and yet, when I heard the news of her accident and passing, I entered a depressed state, full of nights of tears and nearly late assignments as my study habits slowed to a crawl. In my shock I ranted and raved at all of you about how much I did not like change . Unfortunately, feelings like this are doomed, as everything is constantly changing, the world around us, those I love and even myself. And while I was pouting over my inability to avoid this painful change, mentally demanding of God to tell me one thing in my life that did not- does not - change, a simple phase came to mind,

"Jesus no cambia."

I learned this sentence during my time in Panama, and besides Ayudarme! (help me!) and ¿Cómo estás?(How are you?) it is the only Spanish I have managed to keep in my memory.


"Jesus no cambia."

"Jesus does not change"

The children would follow us through the village yelling this at the top of their voices with passion and excitement. And who wouldn't? As the memory of children rejoicing, I wanted to run through the streets myself shouting 'I am loved by a God who does not change!' While I go through the ups and downs of life, He is still with me, still knowing me, still loving me. 

 

Unlike my restless heart and nature, God is Still - calm, steady, resistant to change. He is good, always has been and always will be. He is the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like the shifting shadows (James 1:17). And I am okay because He is still God.

And it's okay for me to change; for me to grieve. For me to mourn for those who I have loved.

 Last week my family sent several balloons to heaven in celebration of what would have been my father's birthday. (And yes, I realize that those balloons will probably send a couple of sea turtles to heaven as well.)

It has been 1,320 days since my father died, and I still miss him. I still cry.

But God is still good.

Change

This morning I found out that a dear childhood friend of mine suddenly passed away and it hurt, really hurt. All of the biology knowledge I have stored up in my brain is telling me that death is just a part of life and that life is not be possible with out it; but in my heart I know that death is the absence of life - there is no death without life first. Childishly, I wish I could assist death in choosing who it took, and argue that J., who was so full of life and passion, should have been on the bottom of the list. To say that death quite simply cannot rob the world of the treasure we all found in her. I want to stomp my feet and throw myself in the middle of the floor yelling and screaming that things shouldn't change.

I don't like change.

While it is exciting to watch my friends grow up and strive for amazing careers as doctors, teachers, counselors, firefighters, nurses, missionaries, pilots and soldiers, I constantly think about the days when we were little and played basketball in the park, had late summer night bonfires and randomly danced and sung together. Sometimes I just don't want to grow up, but return to the happy days of my childhood, back to the days when I didn't worry so much about my future and following the standard of others, but lived with a pure and simple joy. Spending my childhood with J. I never would have guessed that the power to continue spreading joy throughout the world would be given to me instead of her. I always thought that J. was going to live an extraordinary life, and  I would excitedly say 'I know that girl!'. J. did live and extraordinary life, and blessed and touched so many people, but here am I, dealing with change and only getting to say that 'I knew that girl'.

Well, I guess I can say more than that. I can say that I knew that girl and was extremely blessed by her kindness and caring. I can say that I knew that girl and was motivated by her passion and love for Jesus and supported by her friendship. And because I knew that girl, I am forever...changed.

Vending Mechine Troubles

***Warning: This post was very difficult for me to write and may be difficult to read. What you read below contains a personal struggle and conclusion; it is in no way is the sole answer or opinion about prayer. The way you communicate to your Savior is a very personal thing and I respect the way all of your experiences and love for God have created your own unique way of praying. The only goal of this post is share the lesson taught to me in hopes to remind you how powerful prayer is and perhaps trigger you to rethink about this unique gift we have.

My post about Morning Weights and Prayers last week got me thinking about another lesson I have learned about praying.  Questions about prayers are numerous; how to pray, when to pray, what is it okay to pray for? Type any of those questions into a internet search engine and hundreds upon hundreds of answers pop up, and in this post, I'm not trying to add to these answers, but to simply share with you one of my biggest struggles and what it helped me learn.

This time of year can be hard on me as it is the time of year when a lot of people come together to raise money for cancer and celebrate those who survived; it is also very near to my father's birthday. (For those of you new to this blog, bout three years ago I lost both my father and grandmother to cancer within eleven months of each other.) As those around me rally against cancer, I look back at my personal battle with the disease, and the thing my father told me a few months before he died stands out. I was very angry at the time, and I asked my father why he wasn't mad at God for bringing this upon him and not answering our pleas for healing. He calmly answered me by telling me,

"Glorydawn, God can't be put in a box for our convenience. He is not a vending machine that we can just put prayers into and get what we want out." 

I thought what he said was ridiculous, we were all earnestly praying and trusting God to complete His will, which at the time I thought was to do a miracle and heal my father. My prayers weren't selfish! And I definitely wasn't treating God like a vending machine! With this way of thinking, naturally I was quite upset when my father died. I had done everything right, begged, pleaded and bargained; asked God to heal my father, to guide the doctors' hands.  Why? Why did such a loving God cause the cancer to be unresponsive to treatment and for surgery to go wrong? Why? I like an enraged child shook, rattled, kicked and pounded on my God 'vending machine'.

Thank goodness, God has been patient with my demanding questions. And even though He hasn't shown me the answer to why, He has revealed some of His characteristics and feelings to me. In Hosea God says with a broken heart, "When I fed them, they were satisfied; when they were satisfied, they became proud; then they forgot me. [Their] love is like the morning mist, like the early dew that disappears." (13:6 & 6:4). Jeremiah gives an account one of one of the times this happened. The people of Judah had prayed the 'perfect' prayer, saying exactly what they need to say in repentance and God looked into their hearts and saw that their love and repentance was not strong and true. (14:11- 15:1) The people of Judah were shocked that the Lord did not take their perfect prayer and return to them what they wanted, and when God told them that if even if they found the 'perfect' people to say the prayer for them He won't give them what they wanted, the people still didn't understand that it wasn't in their power to control God.

As my father tried to teach me, and I what now understand, God is not a vending machine into which we can insert what we deem are 'perfect prayers' and then receive what we want, when we want it. There are no number combinations to punch in to turn on showers of blessings, and prayers aren't like coins we can insert into a lifeless machine. We have the opportunity to talk directly with an amazing God, and when we pray we can tell Him exactly how we feel without having to cover it with a mask in fear of offending Him.

I now spend my prayers, talking on a personal level with my Savior. I tell Him my worries, excitements and fears. And while I still ask for blessings, no longer stand around impatiently  kicking a dead machine for the blessings I thought I paid for.

Morning Weights and Prayers

Yikes! It's been a whole month since my last post! Midterms are finally over, and even though I've been really busy this last month, I have really missed connecting with you through this blog; so let me catch you up on a little bit of my life at the moment. Last week my team started a new block of exercises, and I am seriously beginning to doubt my ability to move.

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning {bright and early} you'll find me in the Student-Athlete Strength Center (our fancy name for the weight room).

5:30 am rolls around and I'm up to go to practice and then to classes, but inwardly saying 'bother everything' - to everything. I'm pretty sure that you have all experienced this feeling at one point in your lives; that morning when you just want to ignore your alarm and do your best not to move so your body doesn't have the opportunity to remind you that you have 650 muscles and you are indeed mortal. If I'm honest, I brought this pain on myself. I have not lifted weights of any kind for several years, and now to keep up with my teammates, I am forcing my body to call upon strength that simply is not there. (I am getting stronger - very slowly - and who knows? I may even get my abs back.)

All of this whining to you is not for no reason, for morning weights and the pain and soreness that comes with it have reminded me of another area of my life that has the same results and consequences as strengthening and conditioning my muscles - prayers and my time with God. Talking with my Lord, who made me, knows me and adores me, sounds like a relatively easy thing to do - but for at least right now, it is not. When overwhelmed with midterms and the stress of getting everything I need to do done, my time and talks with God quickly crumbled.

Peter tells us in that we need to be clear minded and self-controlled so that we can pray (1 Peter 4:7). Praying is not easy, and just like with weight training, it needs to be slowly built up and maintained or else it becomes difficult to do and easy to skip. We need to purposefully and daily take time to spend with our Lord. And though this is difficult to do sometimes, what we are straining towards it so much better than a set of six pack abs; it is a strong and enduring relationship with our great and glorious God!

Beauty: A photoshoot linkup with an old friend!

I happily stumbled onto Katie Cook's Blog, Hope Engaged, last month and have been excitedly reading about her adventures as a missionary in Nepal. I know Katie from back when I lived in California and my father and I had the privilege of serving in Mexico with the Ryström family.  I know that it is an extreme rarity for me to publish post so close together, but consider it your lucky week! Katie shared her thoughts on beauty and then asked for her readers to join her in a photo-shoot-linkup as a way of reminding each other that our beauty is God's beauty, so I thought I'd join in the fun!

I normally I try to avoid posting pictures of myself on this blog for several reasons (safety and pride being on the top of the list), but I completely agree with Katie in the need to see beauty as God's light shining through us, and not as the meager human definition that it is so commonly refered to.

I currently have the privilege to study the process of human communication and have learned that a good portion of our communication is nonverbal. How one looks, even the things that the person has no control over, has a huge influence. We prefer symmetrical things, especially when it comes to one's face, so human beauty is defined as perfectly spaced, even sized facial features.

 Now, here is where things get tricky. My eyes are different sizes, my ears aren't aligned and I have a dimple but only on one side; my quirks continue down my body as my shoulders are different sizes and so are my feet. So by human definition, I am really quite ugly; however, the only person who has ever called me ugly has been me. It does not make any sense, I hardly make any of the qualifications of what society deems to be beautiful, and yet that is exactly what I have been told and what I am.

It is crazy how society has us running around doing our best to chase after a value that they've assigned to beauty, but to which only God has the true power to define. (1Peter 3:3-4). Remember we are made in the very image of God! The beauty that each of us bears is a hard to understand and even harder to explain to others. One of my friends worded this phenomenon perfectly by saying that 'God made us to be so much more than what society could ever define or comprehend'. 

Bearing the image of heaven should not be narrowed down to what society can see and measure as perfect, thanks Katie for the fun reminder!

Check out Katie's blog and enjoy the other photo-shoots!

Redefinding Modesty: A Girl's Side to the Struggle With Being Modest (Part 2)

I feel that I should apologize, because I'm presenting a problem and not offering a solution. While I strongly believe that thought process behind modesty needs to be addressed, I don't have the resources to create a new way of teaching what modesty is to those under our care. So if you are someone who has the resources to address this problem, please feel free to take my ideas and run with it, they're yours.

In my last post, I told you about my personal struggle with and definition of modesty. It was intended to be a short post in response to the current conversations and arguments over modesty that were quickly circling around the internet and social media. However, in writing that post as well in reading others responses to it, I realized that I need to go a little deeper into my history and how that reasoning was formed.

I don't dress modestly because it is my job to stand between someone else and their weakness, nor do I dress modestly to protect my identity because I have given that job to God, and it is fully protected by Him. See, I dress modestly because I know what distracts me from worshiping God, I know what turns my attention away from Him, and I do my best to dress in a way that helps me better worship Him and hopefully those around me can better worship Him. 

I didn't always think this way however, and it was a rather long journey for me before I reached it. In my house, there were rules about what we could and couldn't wear. My sisters and I were never really rebellious children, but I can't say that none of these guidelines were ever challenged. I particularly remember one rule that my father had against pants with writing or some kind of pattern printed on the butt. This may seem like an easy rule to follow, but this was the biggest battle that I chose to fight. See back in the early 2000s, it was the popular thing in the world of competitive swimming to have shorts or pants with either the word 'swim' or the title of the swim meet printed on the back. I'm embarrassed to say that I won that battle and now those shorts hide in the corner of my closet, never to see the light of day again.

I do not blame my parents for my disappointment in modesty. I don't think that they were wrong to give me 'dress code guidelines' because modesty is a really hard thing to teach. How do you teach someone how to understand their personal relationship with Christ well enough to know what takes away from their ability to serve and worship Him? The guidelines my parents set in place for me, created accountability for me but allowed me to learn and discover what modesty means to me and how I can apply it where I have been placed to represent Christ. Take away these early guidelines, and you probably would have a really lost and confused version of Glorydawn.

I think that it is somewhat ironic that I am writing on modesty, as by the current way of thinking, I am among the least qualified to be presenting new guidelines. As a competitive swimmer, I have worn some of the tightest and thinnest racing suits made - in public no less! This points out one of the biggest flaws in the current way of thinking about modesty, because as we put limitations on what is modest it becomes really easy to judge others. When someone's definition of modesty or relationship with Christ is not the same as yours, you are obviously not going to dress in the same way. For instance, my sisters hate going shopping with me, because we've been placed in different fields of ministry. My youngest sister, M. has amazing talent in performing arts (something I greatly lack). She participates in colorguard, show choir and theater and she dresses like someone who does those things. For awhile I struggled as her older sister and always pointing out that that form of dressing didn't match my standards, but now I realized that those are the people she is a witness to and if she can dress that way and still maintain a healthy relationship with the Lord and not feel as distracted as I would be in those clothes, then she is being perfectly modest (and that I need to learn how to be a better shopping partner).

Clear as mud, right?

What I can narrow it down to is this, God has placed a passion in my heart to be a missionary, and it is one of the best ways I worship and serve Him; how a grow closer to Him and deeper in love with Him. If that means not wearing sleeveless shirts or bandanas (Mexico), wearing tight competition swim suits (the swimming world) or wearing long skirts with tennis shoes (Panama),  even if it means spending 20 minutes to put on skinny jeans or wearing the dreaded mullet dress (if the Lord ever calls me to serve those who are comfortable in those things); if my heart and mind are on the Lord and loving those around me, I am modest, but if I am concentrating too much on the looks I receive or the way others think about my form of dress that is when I need to reevaluate both my heart and my clothing.

Redefinding Modesty: A Girl's Side to the Struggle With Being Modest

Well, I didn't plan on writing this post (in fact I have another post that is nearly finished, waiting to be published) but I've been thinking about modesty lately, and with the controversial blog post making it's way around the social media, I figured now is a good time to share what's on my mind about the topic.

If you're part of the Y (or before) generation like me, chances are that you grew up hearing what has been the basic reason behind the need for women to be modest for a long time - to protect the hearts of men. For a long time I followed the guidelines of dressing modestly as if it were a reward-punishment system, because if I took the time and effort to dress appropriately, I was keeping my brothers in Christ from stumbling, and if I didn't, well, the punishment in my mind was quite scary. As a young teenager I was particularly haunted by Matthew 5:28 "But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart."  Gross! I wanted no part of that!

Dressing to meet the 'modest code' has never been a huge issue for me (though I do get very exasperated when going shopping as clothes that are short, see-through and an assortment of other descriptions become more and more abundant), however I have constantly struggled with the issue of modesty. I had no desire to dress like my peers, so why was I having so much trouble? After a long time of sorting through this confusing problem of mine, I discovered that I needed to redefine my definition of modesty.

Believing that modesty is dressing in a way that honors the struggles of men is wrong.

It gives the girl too much power. A young girl is taught to see her body as a power tool she can hold over or hide from the males she encounters. This reasoning turns her body, a beautiful gift from God, into an object that has the potential to be used to fulfill human desires - being used in both directions. Young men are being taught that women are not objects, girls need to be told this too.

I believe that the reasoning that is now being taught - dressing modestly to respect your own body- is also incorrect, because it is the exact opposite of what being modest is.

If modesty is the state of being modest, then what is the definition of modest? I pulled my dictionary off the shelve to answer this question and found that modest is being "unassuming or moderate in estimation of one's abilities or achievements". The new movement of 'modest is hottest' or telling a girl to dress and behave modestly simply because she amazing is a huge contradiction to what it is to actually be modest, because to be modest is to behave in such a way that does not point to yourself and just how awesome you are. This was the root of my own personal struggle with modesty. My belief of modesty took away from my ability to worship God as I was constantly looking downward and inward, instead of upward.

We have all heard how girls can distract and/or help guys, but through all of my research on the subject, not much has been taught on how guys redirect the attention of young ladies. Word of advice guys, women struggle with modesty too. Yes, sometimes ladies struggle with the physical presentation of males, but it goes deeper than that. On some days it is a battle to look past the very tips of our noses as our brains are full of bright neon signs screaming at us, calling our attention to what we have fallen short of and have failed to achieve on our own. On top these internal signals, crying for us to devote our focus on ourselves, we must fight the messages that the world shouts at us telling us what an awesome individual we are or could be. This is where I struggle the most, because every time a guy looks me over or is too blunt in his attraction for me, my focus quickly turns inward and away from my Creator.

So what is my new definition of modesty?

Modesty is behaving in a way that does not draw any attention to yourself, and points all attention to God.

This includes not only the attention of those around us, but also our own attention, our mind and heart. No distractions, just us praising our wonderful Savior.

There are no rewards in being modest, no mini self-esteem boost, no protection for just how awesome you are; it is simply a way to worship God.

Doing Both

Where did the wonder of the first day of school go? The happy memories of being the excited kindergartener off to learn about the great big world? As you've probably guessed, today was my first day of classes for my almost senior year of college (I have an extra semester after this year to earn my bachelor's of science in biology degree), and well, I wasn't really all that excited about it. I love learning, but all the same, I often find that the learning environment can be very taxing. There is one subject in particular that I find extremely challenging - biology.

Wait! Pause! Didn't I just say that I was majoring in biology? Yes, I am indeed a biology student, however if you had asked me back in high school what I was planning on studying in college, I would have told you that it would be any subject except biology; that biology would be my absolute last choice as a major. This was because of two reasons: First, I have a strong dislike creepy-crawly gross things that eat on me or use me as some kind of host, and these things are part of discussion when studying life and how organisms interact. Secondly, I didn't want to get involved in the mess of the war between my faith and science (especially in biology). When one studies creation within an environment that is not allowed to include the Creator, they are placed into a complex conflict; how is one to respect their professors and yet continue to hold fast to their beliefs? I have watched other biology students undertake the same struggle, and often sound harsh and judgmental when pointing out the contradictions between beliefs with statements like 'I can't believe anyone would believe in evolution, it's just stupid'. Aren't we suppose to represent who we worship by displaying unexplainable love? (John 13:35) Despite this knowledge, my feathers would still get ruffled when I had to sit through a lecture listening to theories and happenings that don't have enough evidence to accepted as fact. When this happens, I have learned to watch and listen to how the more experienced biology students answer this predicament, because believe it or not, there is a peaceful approach to argument. The best way for me to explain this is to recount the first time I learned how respectfully to defend my belief.

About a year ago I was taking a marine biology and conservation class and we were going over the ocean floor and how the unique geological features came to exist. The professor was explaining that through a very slow process that took millions of years, the ocean floor grew bigger and wider as lava was push up through crevices, at the rate of 1 to 2 inches a year. At this point I was silently arguing with them, because I believe that several geological features were formed by Noah's flood. While I was busy sending rather unkind thoughts towards my professor, a student behind me raised their hand and asked if it were possible that the rate of growth was quicker at any point in history. To which the professor replied that it was indeed possible, and then moved on to the next point in the lecture. With one simple sentence, that student was able to defend what they believed in and respect the authority of the professor. I hope that I will be able to response in a Christ like manor next time I am tempted argue against what I am being taught.
 
On a slightly lighter note, one fun way I have found to encourage myself while working on my science courses is to take my notes in notebooks that look like this:

I am still working on learning how to study in a way that brings glory to God, and if you have any advice or past experience in similar situations, please comment and share your story!

Prehistoric Weeds

Summer in the Midwest means that the weeds shoot up like, well, weeds. I don't hate weeding, but weeding is definitely not my favorite thing to do and the weeds on my front walkway are a little out of control (apparently weeds aren't very understanding and don't stop growing when the workers are in summer school). I know that I can praise and glorify the Lord doing any job I'm given, but it's really hard not to complain about weeding; it's a hot and tedious task and then there are the bugs - I keep uncovering bigger and bigger bugs, and I really don't like bugs. Major Ugh.

Lately I've been thinking about how the weeds were like in the Garden of Eden. When God kicked Adam and Eve out of the Garden, He told them that the ground was now cursed and it would take a lot of work to get the right things to grow and to clear away the thorns and thistles (Genesis 3:17 & 18); so how did the weeds behave before that? Did they have a unique purpose? Did they grow in neat lines and patterns? Or were they nonexistent? In any case, in the Garden of Eden, the weeds did not serve as a distraction from worshiping God as they do (at least for me) on the earth now.

While I cannot get into the Garden of Eden, I can look forward to heaven. I'm so excited for when I am worshiping with the weeds, and not when I'm weeding. And it's not just the weeds that will change; we will be getting a whole new body! I know that my body can majorly distract me from worshiping God. I get tiered, hungry, grumpy, sick, upset and more, all of which sadly divert me from glorifying God with my heart and actions. I won't have to deal with that in my new body and will get to be 100% focused on worshiping God. Heaven is going to be awesome!

But for now, I'll keep pulling up those unruly weeds, doing my best to praise God for His creation; even for the ugly, annoying plants that keep growing and spreading across the front yard.

Running Like Forrest Gump

I recently started running (nearly) every morning, and it is awful. If it were possible to un-invent anything I would nominate running (and maybe push-ups too). No one should have to force such horrible hardships upon their bodies. My dad was a runner, a really good runner, but I did not inherit the running loving genes from him; in fact I don't think that I have any type of running genes in me because I run like the younger Forrest Gump.

If you have not seen the movie, the main character is a renown runner, and his skills create many amazing opportunities for him; however, Forrest Gump was not always a fast runner, and a good portion of his childhood was spent in leg braces. These leg braces were interesting contraptions of metal and leather bolted together, reaching from Gump's thighs to the heels of his boots, causing him to have a awkward gait when he walked and a very funny looking, crooked running pattern. Forrest continues to wear the braces and move gawkily until, under the pressure of the close pursuit of bullies, he is force run hard and fast; the braces, too weak to keep up with the new level of speed, fall apart and Forrest finds himself running, truly running.

This scene of Forrest discovering the talent that the braces smother is given full Hollywood movie glory; played in slow motion with triumphant, soaring music in the background, the braces buckling and then breaking, pieces flying in all directions. As soon as the braces are thrown off, Forrest if able to 'run like the wind blows'. 

While I might not have any cumbersome gadgets that I can cast off to help me run more efficiently (other than maybe a few pounds that I choose to be blissfully ignorant of), my morning runs continuously make me think of Paul's analogy in Hebrews 12. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Our spiritual race is so much easier and definitely more proficient when we strip down and throw off the things that weigh us down, even especially the worldly hindrances that we turn to for comfort. I hope that you don't suffer the way I do when you run, but whatever type of running skills you have, take heed of Paul's advice and find great joy in casting off what cripples you; running straight to Jesus.

My Anatomy Adventure

Hey All! I hope that your summer has been amazing! I know that some of my friends have returned to the international mission field (Africa, Mexico, Romania, Panama) while others have followed God's call to stay and work diligently at what He brings to us at home. My own summer days have thus far been spent in a way that I would have never foreseen; hours and hours in a lab studying a human body. My school offers the unique opportunity of undergrad cadaver privileges, and as part of my anatomy class, I got to learn about the body by seeing, touching and taking apart a real body. If you would have told me a year ago that I would be working with a cadaver, I would have been thoroughly grossed out. Thank goodness the Lord open my eyes and gave me a new attitude about studying the cadaver, because I don't think I could have survived the class if He didn't. See, after about a week into the class, I realized that I have the amazing opportunity to explore God's favorite creation; His masterpiece, His very likeness and image (Ephesians 2:10, Genesis 1:26&27). God loves all of creation and His handiwork is seen in everything He has made, but humans are special, set apart.

When God created the sky and sea, He saw that it was good.

When God created the plants, He saw that it was good.

When God created the stars, moon and the sun, He saw that it was good.

When God created the creatures that swim in the water and those that crawl across the land, He saw that it was good.

When God created the wild animals and livestock, He saw that it was good.

But when God created man, He blessed them.

I had the chance to explore and learn about God's most prized possession, and I was going to take this opportunity to the fullest and study the cadaver to the very best of my ability. I would often stay in the lab until midnight, labeling the different organs, muscles and structures and following the connections between their functions and systems. I ended up earning a lab grade of 99%, but grades can only prove a fraction of what the student learned. I learned so much more than where to locate (and spell) the thoracolumbar fascia, I now better understand how intricate, fascinating, complicated - wonderfully made (Ps 139:13) - the human body is.