Remembering....

This morning Len Woods preached his last sermon. Diving through Psalm 106, he elaborated on the importance of remembering. Though the past may be painful, mistakes too guilt ridden to warrant memory, one thing remains true: God is faithful and His love endures forever. That is why we need to remember; when we do we find joy and courage not to repeat the same mistakes. It is in those times of reflection we realize that God's love precedes our worst failures. I know I intentionally block memories. I want to forget reality because sometimes it hurts too much. I know that so often I forget my purpose; I forget that I need to bring the good news to a dying people. I know that so often I feel inadequate, but I am reminded that the Holy Spirit speaks through me and uses my inadequacies for God's glory.
I sat there in that pew listening to Len preach about remembering and I got lost down memory lane. I remembered being a shy 18 year old entering North Louisiana for the first time and I was lost. I remember a pastor who liked the Saints and I instantly felt a connection to home. That pastor was Len Woods and I cannot begin to describe how much that man means to me. From my early years in college, I remember Len being warm, friendly, funny, and welcoming. He always made me laugh and treated me like a daughter and I was grateful. I can remember countless times where I would go to church just to sit in his office and gleam a bit of wisdom from him. Len has seen me through some rough times and he always knew the right things to say. As I grew out of college, my friends either moved away or got married. There was a time where I felt a deep loneliness and Len would say, "Dana, you just need to find your Samwise Gamgee for your journey in life." In great analogy form he spoke to my heart and knew the words to make me feel better. I think since that time I have found several people that can fit that "Samwise Gamgee role". I remember sitting at the table with Len and Cindi in their home and talking about ministry, chatting about small groups, and watching Saints games. So, I found myself welcomed into a family. Len has been very much a spiritual father for me and I'll never forget when he had to step in and tell a man to leave me alone. Sure, I'll miss walking into the church office and hearing Len say, "Da - nuh, what you know?" but, I'll not miss the man: this is not goodbye. I've done a lot of remembering, but I can't wait to see what God has in store for the future. I can't wait to see what God is going to do in the lives of Len and Cindi Woods. I know that at the Woods home I can find a connection to home, a family, and lots of laughter. I know that more ministry is to come and I know that more memories will be made.
So, in closing I just want to say, "Thank you, Len for letting the Lord use you in my life. Thank you for teaching me the importance of community. Thank you for being a spiritual father to me. My life is enriched because you are in it. I'm grateful that even in the hard times you remained faithful to God."
Thank goodness this is not a goodbye, but a hello to a new chapter.

Ponder: Do you want God or do you want God to do something(http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/what-remember-when-god-silent)?I read that in a magazine article today. I want God. I think too often I wanted God to do something for me. I don't want that anymore, I just want Him. I want to get to know Him again, to be passionate about the things He is passionate about and that makes me happy. I'm just smiling thinking about spending time with the Lord and getting to know Him more.

What I wish my students knew....

Dear Students,

Do you know that sometimes I feel like your mom? Over the course of a year I have come to know your quirks, your smiles, your frustrations, and your joys. The bell rings and you come shuffling in my room and I get to spend time with you for 55 minutes every day, 55 precious minutes. It is in those valuable moments that I get to see you, hear you, and do everything in my power to help you. You laugh with your friends, you put off your work (I know who my masters of procrastination are), and you try to get me off topic all within the first minutes of class. I know your tricks even if you think I'm unaware. You can't forget that I was in high school once. Sometimes I let you spend a few minutes procrastinating, just so you can let your brain rest for a second. I know that at times you think work is too hard, but did you know that I give you the "challenging stuff" because I know you are capable of achieving greatness? I would not waste such precious plans on people who could not accomplish much. I challenge you because I am confident that you are intelligent, that you truly want to succeed, and that you could come up with amazing insights into literature that I might not have seen before.
Do you know that a lot of times you "wow" me? I love it when you talk about characters of novels as if they were your best friends. I love to see you use concessions and counterarguments when you disagree with someone in class and in the end come to a mutual understanding and a greater perspective on the issue at hand. I love it when you ask questions. I love it when you take initiative and do the hard things, like presenting a project to the principal of the school. I love it when you use new vocabulary in conversation, and I love your creativity in your writing. I love when you decide to take an assignment and give it your own perspective, your own spin and give it some originality.
Do you know you make me laugh? Your quirky sentences about dragons, stallions, other classmates make me smile. Yes, I even think it is funny when you think that Germ -X gives you super powers to rid the world of germs. Somehow you even make reading a thesaurus fun.
But, as a teacher who feels like a mom, things aren't always fun. Did you know that when you hurt, I hurt? I see you walk into the room with your weary bodies and sad eyes holding back stories you are unwilling to admit aloud. Your usual energetic, fun, optimistic spirit somehow vanishes and I am powerless to help. Though I never find out what sadness haunts you, I feel for you. I suddenly become sad, like you. I don't know how to ease your hurts, or enliven your spirits, but I hope that you know I love you, as a mother would love you. The world can be cruel, and I just want to give you a hug and push that cruel world away.
Do you know that sometimes you hurt me? I understand that school work is demanding, and difficult; but your angry outbursts and lack of respect hurt my heart. When you taunt me, and in so many words tell me I have failed you as a teacher, and that you would rather be with someone else, I cry. Did you know that everything I do, plan, and work hard for is for you? Do you know that every time you take out your phone while class is going on I feel like you are telling me, "you aren't worth my time, there is something better out there - and it's important." Every time you sleep, complain, or refuse to do a task, to me is a slap in the face.
Do you know that even on our most difficult days together, when you want to storm out the room and slam the door and I in turn want to say things I know I would regret, I am proud of you? I am so proud that you decided not to feel defeated when you got a low score on an assignment, but in turn let it be an opportunity to do better on the next one. I am so proud that you work hard.
Do you know that I know each one of your smiles? Do you know that I know your individuality and it makes me smile? Do you know that I love to see you every single day?

Do you know that sometimes 55 minutes is not enough time with you? I know.

Simplicity of the Holidays

As I sit here in my parent's living room, sipping my peppermint tea and eating date nut cookies made lovingly by my Aunt, I am reminded of the simple pleasure of being around family. I thought, as I sipped my tea, that later -- when I go to bed -- I would journal about the day's events. Then it dawned on me that by the time I arrived in bed the fire would have died down, the tea would be cold, and I would be so tired that I could not even hold a pen in my hand much less keep my eyes open long enough to write. So, instead I take to the world wide web, the blog, the public journal. Which, to my old fashioned heart, sort of pains me. Since I've been home, on break, after the day's events I spend evenings on journeys with such characters like Puddn'head Wilson who solved a murder on the banks of the Mississippi River and have even traveled to the dwarf mountains with Bilbo Baggins and his motley crew; so, to type my thoughts instead of penning words on the pages on a blank journal takes a little bit of joy out of me. It's this mixing of the world of technology and the old fashioned life of simplicity that I find hard to balance. In my heart, I find joy in sitting on the couch, curled up in my heated fleece blanket flipping through the pages of adventures penned by great men such as Mark Twain and J.R.R Tolkein; yet I find the same joy - and some humor - in sitting on the same couch, curled up in the same heated fleece blanket playing words with friends with my parents - all of us sitting next to each other on our cellular devices. Instead of pulling out the board game scrabble, we play a game on our phones. It is quite humorous. I think the most joy I've found, in these days of Christmas and New Year holidays, is just being with family. So, whether it be old fashioned in nature, or flooded with newer technology, being surrounded by family keeps my spirits up. My birthday brought 30 plus family members to my parent's home and I loved every minute of having everyone from my grandparents to my baby cousins all under one roof.

I have relished in delight as my immediate family played the board game of taboo and the laughter that my brother brought made even losing fun. Even as I type this little entry of thoughts my dad dances to a song playing from a commercial on the TV and I am again delighted. I spent the day with my cousin, whom understands my heart in ways that no one else can, and I am reminded that even a cup of coffee and a small chat can bring warmth to a sometimes sad heart. I am blessed. I think I've just loved being saturated in the goodness that the Lord has brought into my life, and have found such pleasure in simple routines. Cooking and shopping with mom, seeing old friends, putting on PJs at 7pm and hanging with the parents at night has been so refreshing to this worn out soul. So, I guess in retrospect it really isn't the day's events that I want to journal. It's the moments with loved ones that I want to cherish, hold close and never let go. I will not even think about going back to reality, back to the cold, lonely house, and busier times. I will stay here and reflect under my heated fleece blanket, sipping my peppermint tea, savoring the last of my date nut cookies about the life the Lord has blessed me with.

My Favorite Poem

While entering upon the era of American Romanticism in my lesson planning, I stumbled upon my favorite poem. Longfellow reminds me of the pleasures of escaping reality, his connotations bring me on an adventure, and the assonance found in the meter soothes my soul. The Father in the poem reminds me of my own dad and how he used to tell us bedtime stories each night. This poem brings comfort and nostalgia to my heart.



Enjoy!



The Children's Hour


by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!

Life

Living by myself for a couple of years has left me too introspective. I'm not even sure that I should let the digital world know my thoughts, but with no one else around I feel I am left with no choice. I look at this poor recapturing of a picture hanging in my office (compliments of Jason Howell) and I see me. Of course, literately it is me, but I mean the person I am inside too. This picture, I feel, captures the very essence of how I see myself, and believe shows my personality. I love to laugh, I love playing with children in the Bronx, I love goofing off, dancing, and sharing the words of Jesus to others. I am young at heart and I just love people. I feel in the last couple of months I've lost that part of me. I don't feel quite so happy on the inside and find myself crying - a lot. I feel as if I am living vicariously through song lyrics. To echo the words of Adele,I am "chasing pavements". I make the same mistakes, fall for the wrong guys, and let my job consume me. These days, as John Mayer sings, I am "dreaming with a broken heart" and it is not fun. I keep staring at that picture hoping to get that girl back, but it's useless. Though I am broken hearted, watching my dream fly through the window, I am reminded that I am not alone. I have a wealth of family and friends that support me. My parents and siblings are a constant source of encouragement and wisdom. Elizabeth T. is my jiminy cricket, The Fosters, Stones, and Emily Kessler have all poured a large of amount of love my way. I guess I want to take this time out and say I'm sorry for being so consumed with my own troubles that I neglect to hurt with others, to look beyond myself. I am so tired of fighting this fight. I am so tired of being confused and watching my dream go somewhere else. I want to find that girl in the picture again.

I'm okay, but I'm not okay

Let me just go ahead and say it, last week was terrible. I will not divulge the details of my week's experience, but it has left me emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. This exhaustion, suprisingly not pointless, has helped me in some ways see that even though I'm not "okay", I am "okay".

Here I am approaching my 30th birthday and only now feel like I'm finally growing. I am finally opening my eyes to the truths God has been trying to teach me all along. Unfortunately, it takes walking through the fire to see that when you come out you may be burned, but you are not scarred. I hate walking through the fire, I hate crying, I hate the pain it leaves me with; I hate knowing that it helps me grow and is therefore necessary.


For years I've experienced the same kind of disappointment. My past is a history of repeated trials that seemingly never change. For too long I've let my circumstances dictate my emotions, my beliefs, and my attitude. I'm embarrassed about the way I've acted, yet somehow I continued to make the same mistakes. I've cried out to God, prayed for answers and always felt a silence in response. I don't understand why the same thing keeps happening to me. I don't understand a lot of things. One thing I do understand is that I'm a confused girl. More than one recent experience has led me to this state. But, this time I feel I've grown.


These are the lies I've listened to:
No one wants you.
You aren't captivating enough.
You're alone.
You will never get married.
Your desires don't matter.
No one wants to be like you (not a good role model).


In previous years, I would have been led to bitterness, resentment, anger, and self-pity. I'm choosing this time to not abandon God in the process, but to worship Him. I still may not understand why things happen to me. I'm still confused, but I now know how to combat those lies with the truth. God's word teaches me that the Lord satisfies all of those things and there is no need for me to make myself miserable. He has been my shelter, my comfort, my rock and He is just so incredibly amazing. Everyday I am thankful for his patience with me, that He sees and understands my pain, and that He genuinely cares. Besides, this life is not about me.


Here are the truths I've come to cherish:
The Lord wants me.
I'm never alone.
The Lord is captivating me.
I don't know if I'll get married, but I don't have to put an absolute on it.
My desires matter and more importantly I want to embrace the Lord's desires.


To be honest, I'm still confused about a particular situation. I'm still incredibly confused and desperately seeking some answers. I am so confused I don't know what to do with myself, and I'm SAD. But, I'm okay - so you see I'm not okay, but I am okay. Part of that peace comes from having friends who encourage me, speak truth to me, love me and listen to my cries.

So, I end with this:
My prayer is that I would carry this season of my life with grace. My prayer is that, though I was vague,this honesty can help someone else out with their struggles. My prayer is that you would choose God in the midst of the fire and not walk away.

The Year of the Bearcat - First Two Weeks

The aroma of cinnamon and spice lingers in the air as I grab the nearest cardigan before I go out for a walk in the nice crisp air of September. Wait a second, it smells like sweat, humidity is making my hair frizz and poof, and I grabbing the nearest pair of shorts for my walk. What happened to the flavors of Fall? I think I was just dreaming or wishfully thinking of what it might be like now that school has started. With the beginning of school I am always reminded of Fall, yet Fall isn't quite here. But I'm not here to talk about the weather, I'm here to talk about school. This year I am teaching at Ruston High School, a place of great professional development, helpful and encouraging co-workers, and bright students. I think I was more excited to be at school with my annotation stations at the ready than my kids. All 130 of my eleventh grade students came shuffling into room 228 either sleepy-eyed, or ready to cause to trouble. It was a week of rules, routines, and procedures and by the end of it I was exhausted. In a mere five days I went from laying by the pool, being the "cool" adult to hang out with to the old lady with no life. Bed time comes early now, and I don't get to do many things socially. It doesn't matter though because in that week I remembered why I teach - I love the kids. Every single one of them. Well, I think our times of ease have now disappeared as the second week has come to a close. My poor students just stared at me everyday as I basically threw up information on them about the Declaration of Independence (our first read of the year). Their blank stares and lack of involvement in the groups told me it is time to slow down. So, I tried to take it a step back and BAM! Hurricane Issac ruined all my plans. He came with all his rain and wind, soaking up our grounds, turning off our power and forcing our kids to stay home from school. That stupid hurricane pushed back my assignments and for the first time in years I actually wanted to be in school. But hurricanes don't care about stuff like that. By Friday the hurricane had diminished, but school spirit had not. The students at Ruston High were awakened (because you know they were still sleeping in the halls when they got to school) by the drum line going up and down the halls playing music signaling football season has begun and no rain will stop us. The changing of classes brought the melody "eye of the tiger" over the loudspeaker and I may or may not have danced a bit in the classroom waiting for students to arrive. The kids were excited, the pep rally was krunk and despite the bouts of rain the football game went on as planned. Standing by the band and my pom squad girls, friday night, I knew it was going to be a great year... the year of the Bearcat. Tomorrow I might be singing a different tune when I tell my students they have to annotate the Declaration of Independence

.

Spring Time!

Oh, Blog it has been so long since I have typed my thoughts! I think the new spring weather has given me inspiration to carry on in my writing endeavors.

I was looking through my old journal entries today and came across one that matched by delight in anticipation of new springtime adventures. Every time I travel, during this season, I find many vehicles with canoes strapped on top and I become jealous. Jealous for the adventure of what spring/summer holds. So, in my mind I write the adventurer a letter...

Dear Jeep Cherokee with the canoe on your roof,
You are so cool. You probably didn't notice me on the road, but I was the curly, brown headed girl in the bluish grey Versa belting out the words to "Play that Funky Music White Boy." You might have seen me, and chuckled at my silly behavior. Whatever the case may be, we travel the same interstate. You have not escaped my notice, and though our destinations may be different, I wonder....what adventure lies ahead?"

So, here I am daydreaming about adventure, when there are multiple stacks of paper to grade. Papers or no papers, I love this weather and so what do I do? I take Shakespeare to the park. The sun on my skin, the breeze in my hair gives me a little happiness and I feel renewed. I think that if Shakespeare was really with me he would agree with my mood and he would recite his sonnet, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?/ Thou art more lovely and more temperate." He knew the summer was beautiful, so I take him to the park.

Words

Overwhelmed, stressed, pulled, stretched, and worn out are words that would enter my mind and body and just stay there festering as if to plant themselves inside me for a long period of time. "Just survive, Dana", "you are a new teacher, all you can do is just take one day at a time and hope for the best." Words, too many words, none of them meaning anything but sadness. I spent the last few months discouraged. Yes, as a new teacher I am just trying to survive and feel like I'm not doing a very good job at it. No matter the lesson plan I felt like, again, words would circulate the air around me - hit the wall - and fall flat on the floor. It was not only in the classroom. I felt disconnected from friends, as if none of my words that formed into stories were clever enough, relate able enough, wise enough. In my prayers, again, my words felt like they hit the ceiling then fell back to the ground. At home, I would want to talk - let the words loose to fly free and land in someone else's ears to return to me with advice or at least have a landing place, other than the floor. But at home, there is no one. It is a place devoid of words and the silence eats me alive sometimes.

"Dana, you are feeling sorry for yourself." "You are too hard on yourself." I know, I know. All, I can say in response to this battle with words is that it is honestly how I feel, or well felt. Do I want to walk around with a rain cloud over my head? No! So, things are going to change. I don't know how, but I'm going to try.

CHILD OF GOD's!!!!! So, through HIM you are all of those things... STRONG, MIGHTY, POWERFUL, ANNOINTED, KIND, BRAVE. These are the words that I want to fill my mind and body with, especially the Brave part. Being strong is one thing I have never considered myself. The word itself gives a connotation of greatness. I want to feel connected again, I don't want silence to slowly degrade me. So, thanks to my friend Jenny, a suggestion to surround myself with little bits of happiness in the hopes of reminding me who I really am, has opened the door to better thoughts. Today's happiness - little Elvine. Elvine is my compassion child. Her picture is posted on my refrigerator and even though I do not know her, I love her. Just seeing her picture makes me smile. Still there is silence, but I'm finding some joy in it.

Here is the simple truth.... Life is hard, but God is good and He brings those bits of happiness to my heart. So, I open my mind, body and heart in preparation to hear words of hope, happiness, and joy.

Never Underestimate the Power of a Lazy Saturday

(pictured: first day of school )

It has been two weeks now since I started my new job as a tenth grade teacher of English Literature. Tired does not even begin to describe the state my body has been in after grueling hours spent in a high school, with about a hundred teenagers who didn't want to be there. I've gone through locker wars with another teacher, gone on scavenger hunts, around school, for technology to use in my classroom and have already written six referrals on students for discipline. Thankful for this job, I endure these small issues with a smile, slightly hoping school life will calm down, just a bit, in the weeks to come. It only took eight days for all of this to happen .... I wonder how the next 8 will play out.
With only six hours of sleep each night, for the past two weeks, I welcomed this Saturday with more time in bed. Since starting my new job, sleeping in means waking up at 8am feeling quite rested, but also means staying in my PJs until noon. Around 10 o'clock this morning I had already caught up on the shows I had missed during the week, by watching them online, so I made myself a ham and cheese omelet complete with a mug of starbucks coffee to warm my insides. Ahh, the bliss of drinking a warm cup of coffee, flavored with a pinch of hazelnut and a dash of cream, just makes the day better. The ring of my phone shook me away from my daydream, but transferred me into girl talk with one of best friends, Tara. It was in the middle of our catch up time that I was caught by surprise. My friend, a marine who is fighting in Afghanistan, was on the other line. With a quick switch from girl talk I gladly entered into marine talk. It had been months since I'd talked to this particular friend, and just hearing his voice made it seem like he wasn't so far away, in a war zone - a different world, sometimes feeling like a different planet.
(pictured: me and Tara )

It wasn't until 1 o'clock that I was actually able to step away from the phone and finally take a shower. I think I still had school grim on me from the previous day at work; my face was so oily my glasses kept sliding off my nose, my feet had a peculiar smell, and I think I actually heard the shower beg me to enter in and wash it all away. Delighted at the grim being gone from my body, I followed the smell of jasmine mixing with water through the room and felt inspired to clean the rest of the house. The couch even got cleaned. I even took a couple of breaks in my cleaning to swing my hips and tap my foot to the melodies coming from my ipod. It was a good day.
It's 5 o'clock now and I am sipping on a pineapple, raspberry smoothie waiting for 7 o'clock to arrive so that I can visit with my friend Tara. The girl talk on the phone earlier transpired into scheduling a girl visit time this evening filled with crafts and cookies. So, here I am - happy to be lazy, glad it's Saturday, anxiously awaiting time spent with friends. Never underestimate the power of a lazy Saturday, it will do wonders to your soul.

Day 2

June 12, 2010 - Day 2 of my journey to Africa (remember these are journal entries so the writing is a bit choppy and rough)

Last night's flight from Detroit to Amsterdam was miserable. The seats were squished, my back hurt so badly the whole seven hours I was in the air and I think I got one whole hour of sleep. Before the flight began, I met a man and his wife who were heading to Turkey. They were really nice and when I woke up from my one hour of rest they had saved some breakfast for me.
I wasn't very hungry though, I had been traveling non-stop since 11:15 yesterday morning and somewhere in the middle of it lost eight hours from time changes. My adventurous spirit has been crushed. I think I am so tired I can't think straight or focus on anything.
In Amsterdam I was thankful to walk around the airport for exercise... you know stretch the legs, straighten the back all the while looking for burnt orange T-Shirts that displayed the words "Share International". It was our one identifying symbol, I could just hear Sammy's parting advice - "you'll met the team in Amsterdam, you'll recognize them by their orange T-Shirts" echoing in my head. He was right. I met up with the rest of the team and became suddenly sad that I was the only one who didn't know anyone else. The rest of the team all knew each other and I began to feel like an outsider.
Note to self: Traveling by yourself is fun for the first two hours, then it becomes lonely and boring.
I think the weariness in my bones is affecting my thought process - must get rest soon.
So here I was with my teammates Dr. Rebecca, Renee, Mary and Gary Boswell, Tina, Peggy and Terry ready to go through security and board the plane. Renee and I are the youngest by about 11 years or so.
Going through security in Amsterdam was another not so fun thing. I felt like I had been violated as the security lady felt me, and searched me for the non-existent metal on my body. Too close for comfort if you ask me.
The plane to Kenya was quite large, it was the yacht of planes for the air instead of the sea. I had never seen such a big plane - it had stairs inside leading to an upper deck. Who knew something so big could fly? I think the Wright brothers would be impressed. I felt like a wide-eyed little girl who had stepped into a city for the first time. I sat next to a young man, about my age, headed to the World Cup. He's from Baltimore and second generation Ghana. He was cool, doesn't like flying though, so I was a bit chatty with him to ease his mind - or at least get it off the fact that he was in the air. I sometimes wonder what people think about me when I first meet them - especially on trips like this with only a plane ride of conversation. Do they think I am a quiet girl? a missionary kid? a nerdy wanna be teacher?a train wreck? Whatever the case, I don't think they can truly know the real me from a plane ride. Especially a plane ride in which you have had no sleep in the past 12 hours and have been flying nonstop the day before. Yes, I know - bitterness.
Well I do have 8 hours to go on this flight, I hope to get some sleep, I am so exhausted already - it's 10:45 am here and 2:45pm at home so that explains alot. Wait - did I take my malaria medicine today? Blasted time changes.
7:25pm - landing in Narobi! The big plane provided great sleeping time. I slept for about 5 1/2 hours if the flight - though I must admit I'm sure I looked funny moving around for my back pain trying to fit just right in the seat (stupid scoliosis). I know I slept with my mouth open for a bit. Let's just say I don't look pretty when I sleep.
Customs, thank the Lord was not a problem and seeing Sammy's face was a huge relief. We quickly packed into vans and were introduced to the bumpy roads of Africa. In Narobi, Korat to be exact, we received our room assignments, watched a bit of the world cup and then headed to bed. Renee and I will be roommates for the entire journey and I'm glad. She is a really sweet girl.

Just me and a Carry On - My journey to Kenya, Africa

On June 11th 2010 I headed to Africa for an amazing adventure. It was there that I fell in love with the African people, it was there that God stretched me, used me and filled me with his presence. In a couple of weeks a few of my closest friends are going to go on this same journey. I am so excited for them and with them traveling so soon it has caused me to look back in my journal from last year. I remember Mary Marimi saying, " Don't forget Africa." In an effort to remember I wanted to post some of my journal entry excerpts.

June 11, 2010

Well, it's time to begin my adventure to Africa. Sitting here in the Monroe, LA airport with my distressed khakis, Tom shoes, loose blouse, and passport pouch around my neck I already feel like a world traveler. The airport is small, it has only three gates and a variety of passengers waiting to board. We all have two things in common - a rolling carry on suitcase and eyes fixed on the TV displaying the World Cup events in South Africa. I've been asked a couple of times if I'm going to the World Cup, but that is not my destination. I'll have to watch soccer from a far. I wonder how many people are going to a far away country, like me. A little boy, sitting with his family, is playing with binoculars and I wonder what sort of adventure they are going on. Then, I wonder why I didn't pack binoculars myself.

Today was day one of taking malaria pills and I feel slightly nauseated. Although, I can't help but wonder if that is the result of nervousness, malaria pill side effects, or the lack of sleep I've had. Anne Lord came over last night to keep me company, run some last minute errands, and to help me pack my carry on. We were up until two in the morning. I am so thankful for that time spent with her - she knew just what I needed. I am so blessed to have her in my life.

So, it's just me and this carry on for two weeks. A packing feat I am proud to have conquered. As a girl this can prove problematic, but with the skill of rolling clothes and packing light I managed to fit everything and still have room. Call me next time you need to pack and I'll teach you my ways. I have to admit I'm a little nervous traveling by myself to Amsterdam. Images from the movie Taken play in my head, and feelings of loneliness are evident from my lack of companionship. But, there is something adventurous and enjoyable about trekking it solo for a little while. Maybe if I pretend I'm in a movie the nervousness will go away....

In the flight from Monroe to Atlanta I found it amazing to fly over the clouds (I don't know why, it is not my first time flying). They were so big and fluffy. In the sea of blue the magnitude of clouds reminded me of a scene from the movie Finding Nemo - the part when Dory swims into a cluster of jellyfish. Here I was in my own sea in the air looking at the harmless cluster of jellyfish looking substances.

On my flight from Atlanta to Detroit a fly landed on my arm. A fly in an airplane? Seems slightly oxymoron - like , on some level. I wonder if the pressure from the altitude kills the fly - or does it fly while we fly? Can it even survive a flight? These are the things that run through my mind when I have four flights in a row to catch.

Note to self: tell Dad about taking off in the plane - Pilot said we're number one for take off - reminds me of Brian Regan.

The fly is still alive - survived the flight.

What do you think?

I was looking through some of my old photos and decided to post some of my favorites. Tell me what you think?

My Best Buds

These are my best buds, with the exception of a few people that are not pictured. I could not imagine doing life without these people. Whether it be a text message, email, letter, note on my car, or a silent prayer my life is enriched by their presence in it. I am going through a rough spot right now and though every weakness in me tells me that I am alone in this battle, all I have to do is look at this picture and I know I've got battle buddies. It is their constant love, support, and encouragement that inspires me, motivates me, and challenges me. I am truly honored and blessed to have these individuals in my life. They are more than just friends, they are family and I love them. So, I write this to remind me - they've got my back, that I'm not alone and that I truly am blessed by them. I wouldn't want to "do life" with anyone one else but these guys. Though some now live far away, I know they are still close in spirit and just a phone call away. So, to these best buds I say, "Thank you for filling my life with love, support and encouragement. I love you all, and you mean more to me than you'll ever know. Thank you for being my family."

Pictured besties: Brian Foster, Connor Beech, Matthew Kirby, Zach Binns, Melanie Binns, Beth Foster, Matt Stone, Tara Stone.
Not Pictured besties: Meredith Maines, Laura Beech, Elizabeth Turpin, Stephen Turpin, Emily and Jason Howell, Anne Lord.

Penne Spinach Pasta

To all seven of my faithful followers: I apologize for the delay in posting something new. I have been slightly overwhelmed with life at the moment, but I wanted to add something to my pile of posts. So, I give you a recipe. I found this recipe online and modified to my liking. It is a bit on the spicy side - but what New Orleans girl doesn't like spice?

Penne Spinach Pasta

Ingredients :
1 pkg. penne pasta (or orza pasta)
2 tbsp. olive oil
bacon bits (real ones)
I can diced tomatoes (I used the diced tomatoes and green chilies combo- just gives it a kick)
I bunch of baby spinach, rinsed and torn into bite size pieces
2 tbsp minced garlic
pinch of basil
pinch of cayenne pepper
chopped onion ( I just used a little bit because I don't like a lot of onions in my meals)
grilled chicken (I marinated chicken strips in Italian seasonings ahead of time)

Directions:
1. Bring a large pot of water of lightly salted water to a boil, add pasta - cook 8-10 minutes.
2. Meanwhile sautee onion and minced garlic. Add bacon bits after about 2 minutes. Then add the basil, and cayenne.
3. Add can of tomatoes to sauteed onions and seasonings, cook until heated through.
4. Place torn spinach in a colander and drain pasta over it. Transfer pasta and spinach to a large serving bowl, then add heated tomato mixture. Toss together. Serve hot and enjoy!

I made this one night and it was very tasty! It was easy and I had everything in the kitchen already. Hope you like it.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

I'd like to dedicate this post to my mom, Julie Catherine Delaune Trauth.
My mom is by far the best mom. I know that some might argue you that, but it is true. Words cannot describe the amount of love, gratitude, and admiration I have for this woman. She is the kind of woman who, along with my father, raised three children to not only love the Lord, but follow Him with all their heart. She is beautiful both inside and out and taught us to find the beautiful part of horrible situations. My mom is generous, caring, self-sacrificing and the most encouraging person I know. No matter if it was a little note on my lunch bag when I was in school, or a care package when I was in college, or a card in the mail as an adult, I knew I was always on her heart. She always says to me, " love you to bits and pieces" and I think it makes me cry every time I hear those words. She is the person I want to lay my head on when I am sick so she can play with my hair, she is the person I want to tell all my secrets, and she is the person I want to talk to on the phone everyday. She is not only a mother, but a friend who I don't know what I would do without. In short, she is amazing.
I've always hoped to be a mom like her, one day. I still dream of that day, and if I'm lucky I will have a little girl I could name after my mom. But, for now I'm eternally grateful that she is my mom, my friend, and my confident. To you mom - this is your Day and I'm sad none of us kids could be with you. But know we love you with our whole heart.

Taste and See

As one of the leaders of the 7th grade youth girls at Christ Community I have been challenged to "Taste and See" the Lord in small sections of scripture. As each day holds a new truth, promise, nugget of gold I cannot help but repeat that phrase over and over again in my head. I want to taste and see that the Lord is good.
The word "taste" with all its enticements of rich flavors, and small portions of "just enough" to get one wanting - even desiring more lingers in my mind. Taste. If only we could just taste the Word of the Lord we would see that He is good and we would desire more! Taste. Just a little nibble, one or two verses and it wets our appetite. Taste. See that it is good. Not only do we get a small dose of some pretty rich stuff in the Bible, we get to "See" those words in a fresh new way. We see that the Lord is good.
I have been stuck on one word, through my tasting, one small bite of what is a BIG feast - Faith. Over and over again I have been reminded that faith is a process.... it is continuous ..... it hurts.....it is beautiful. In 2 Tim 4:7 Paul calls us to fight the GOOD fight of faith. It is going to agonizing at times. I have seen it all over the pages of scripture - you will struggle.

Isaiah 40 tells us that we will be weary but to wait on the Lord to renew our strength.
Joshua 1 tells us that we must be strong and courageous because times will be tough.
Romans 12 echoes the words of Paul "urging" us to present our bodies to be living sacrifices -
urging us because it does not come naturally. Don't conform to the world.
Psalm 119 David asks "How can a young man keep his way pure?" by living by the Word of the
Lord.
Matthew 7 tells us to be wise in our foundations. A foundation on the rock of Jesus prevents us
from a GREAT fall.
Hebrews 11 - here we get to the heart of the matter - the faith chapter of the Bible - one I love!
In verse 25 it says this about Moses " .... choosing rather to ENDURE ill treatment with
the people of God than to enjoy the passing pleasure of sin...."

If I am living my life to enjoy the passing pleasure of sin, where will that lead? Am I willing to endure - to long suffer - to persevere in this good fight of faith and to throw away the passing - get that - passing - that means it will not last - pleasures of sin? I say that I am. Because I taste. I taste and see that the Lord is good.

Anne of Green Gables

As a little girl I loved to watch the story of Anne of Green Gables unfold before me on the TV screen. Anne, with her melodramatic charisma, captivated my attention. I recently found some quotes from such story and couldn't help but share them. May you delight in the melodramatic words of Anne, may you never fall into the depths of despair, and may you find a kindred spirit....

"I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."
— L.M. Montgomery

"I'd like to add some beauty to life," said Anne dreamily. "I don't exactly want to make people KNOW more... though I know that IS the noblest ambition... but I'd love to make them have a pleasanter time because of me... to have some little joy or happy thought that would never have existed if I hadn't been born."
— L.M. Montgomery (Anne's House of Dreams)

"Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive--it's such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we know all about everything, would it? There'd be no scope for imagination then, would there?But am I talking too much? People are always telling me I do. Would you rather I didn't talk? If you say so I'll stop. I can STOP when I make up my mind to it, although it's difficult."
— L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables)

"Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music; perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath."
— L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Avonlea)

New Project

I haven't done so well in introducing people on Mondays. I am not giving up on that project, but the new project I have started is a bit more tangible. Inspired by the Adventure Book in the movie Up, I started a "Happy Book". I will one day make an Adventure Book, but for now I will record the things that make me happy.
Here is a peek at my book.....