November 28, 2006

1:37 PM: waiting

They that wait upon the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
(Isaiah 40:31)

I'm going to tell you a secret: I'm terrible at waiting.

Well, okay, you probably know that's not a secret. The secret is this: last week I let a friend convince me to sign up on this free online dating site. My first reaction was to scoff. Then she said she'd made some friends, and I reluctantly allowed myself to start thinking, "well, maybe..." So I went to the site and filled out all their stupid questions and for a couple days, it was something interesting to do while I was at home on vacation. But it didn't take long to get tired of the lame emails from weirdos who obviously didn't read anything I wrote, since half of them were calling me "babe" or asking about hooking up. I've always been anti-online-dating, because it's just weird. But now I'm serious. It's out of my system. And I'm out of their system.

I'm going to wait on the Lord now. I know I've told other people that it's when you stop looking that the right one shows up. It's time to take my own advice and let God take care of the details. I'm going to stop thinking about boys and start focusing on what really brings joy. Because in the boy-vs.-joy battle, joy is always the winner. Because it lasts forever.

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November 27, 2006

9:27 AM: holy cow

I have something amazing to tell you.

I didn't gain any weight this week.

Not sure how this happened, but I'll take it. I'm officially back on wagon.


November 26, 2006

9:10 AM: home

I'm home. And it's good to be home. It was nice to be with the fam for awhile, but it's also nice to be here, back in my rut. The cats are glad I'm home, too. They told me so.

I think I could now legally put up my Christmas tree. Except I did it last week.

The Steelers aren't on tv today. Gah.

I'm reading a book right now called Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith. I've been reading it for awhile and it really needs to go back to the library. Last night I read something I liked, and I thought you might appreciate it, too:

"Maybe it's because music is about as physical as it gets: your essential rhythm is your heartbeat; your essential sound, the breath. We're walking temples of noise, and when you add tender hearts to this mix, it somehow lets us meet in places we couldn't get it any other way."

She can really use her words.


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November 22, 2006

6:05 PM: thanksgiving

I usually do an I'm-Thankful-For list on Thanksgiving, but I did that not too long ago when I was having a bummer day, so I decided to take a different twist on this idea. I was thinking about sweet memories and decided to think hard and decide the four memories I'm most glad I have. This wasn't easy. I'm not sure about the order, either, but here they are.

Singing and Dancing and Books and Bed
When I was a little girl, I loved reading, and I had a whole set of books on record. Each story had a regular book with words and pictures and a little teeny record tucked away in a pocket on the last page. Each night before I went to sleep, we'd read one book together. At the end of each story, there was music. During this music, we would dance. Every night, at story's end, with Mom on the floor and me on the bed, we'd hold hands and jump and dance until the music ended. Then, to bed.

Cops and Robbers and Beach Food and Elevators
Some of my best years were in college at Cal U. I had amazing friends, a wonderful Christian community, and the best roommate ever. Brianne and I had a special connection that manifested itself early in our relationship. We spent almost every waking minute together--aside from 16 credit hours and an occasional trip to the bathroom, we were always together. We lived in the same room, we ate at the same table, we showered at the same time (although not together), we watched the same TV shows, we pined over the same boys. We shared everything. I don't miss getting stuck in the elevator, but it is part of the memory. We would sometimes tie our choir gowns around our necks, grab our walkie talkies and water guns, and play Cops and Robbers in the halls. But my favorite memory is the "crush jar." One day we each took a pen and, on little slips of paper, wrote things we'd like our crushes to do for us. Then every day, we each pulled one slip out of the jar and got to smile at the idea of them taking us shopping, bringing us flowers, kissing our noses, or buying us shoes. We still love you, Speedo Joe.

Cabins and Campfires and Volleyball Sheds
I can't come up with a specific memory from all my Camp Peniel years. There are just too many. But I can't leave it out just because I can't pick one--it's where I really, truly met Jesus, and it's where I figured out that I wanted to be involved in ministry, and it's where I met my best friend, and it's where I learned that I'll never be good at soccer. There are a million memories from those cabins and hills: getting shocked by my hair dryer; dressing like a Berlin-er, complete with blacked-out teeth; crying over boys; Ooga ceremonies; covering cabins in shaving cream; hiding mattresses in the dark; having communion without the electricity; and a thousand-million moments with Jill...

(You've read this one before, but it's still a favorite, so...)
Brothers and Crying and Sweet Morning Hugs

One morning as a teeny girl I woke up, climbed out of bed, and went to find Mom. I remember pattering down the hall and looking into each empty room, my anxiety heightening each time I didn't find her. When I'd checked everywhere Mom ought to be and I hadn't found her, I came to the very-scary-for-a-little-girl realization that I'd been left at home alone. Where was my mom? I sunk down against the wall beside my bedroom and I started to cry. I think I started softly, but it must have gotten louder, because the next thing I knew, my big brother Allan was holding me. "You're not all by yourself. I'm here," he said, as I cried into his shoulder. He held me, rocking, until I'd calmed down again. That's the picture I've always remembered of my sweet brother. It was nice growing up with older siblings who sheltered me and showered me with love. And even now that I'm grown, I still remember him holding me, and I know that he'll always be close when I'm feeling alone.

I'm thankful for you, my friends.


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November 20, 2006

3:41 PM: gah and blah and wah (and maybe bah)

It's Monday. That should be enough.

I'm at work, and I'm bored. I'm sitting here watching the clock moving very slowly toward 4:00. I'm on my second dose of Airborne, hopefully fending off the plague that's weaseling its way into my Thanksgiving holiday. I feel like crap, and when I try to take a nap on my butt pillow, people make comments. I'm not dying, and I'm not actually sleeping, but I do feel crappy. So let a girl rest.

I could just go home, but here's the good news: I have a massage today. I wish it had been yesterday, because all I really want to do right now is sleep. But I'm sure it'll be good. I've been waiting for so long now, and I'm not going to cancel this appointment.

I decided to take off tomorrow, so that means I can leave for home whenever I get up in the morning. This is exciting to me. I haven't seen my parents since July, and I'm excited about the food, the turkey naps, the family, and even possibly the sleeping on the floor. I love Thanksgiving.

Trying to be thankful in spite of the monster in my throat.

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November 18, 2006

11:33 AM: me, me, me

The past few weeks as I've been adjusting to the shift in my life, I've run into some roadblocks. Well, one. It's me. I'm finding that whatever I struggle with in life becomes a bigger struggle than it needs to be--and why? Because I think everything is about me. When I'm sad, I'm thinking about myself and what a bummer this or that thing is. And when I'm happy, I feel like I must have something right.


As I've been getting back to spending time with God--whether it's crying and whining or attempting to be thankful--I keep tripping over myself. I want to read, I want to study, I want to pray. But I also want to sleep in until the last possible second, I want to go to bed early, and I want to watch Gilmore Girls. My priorities aren't always where they need to be. I think, "well, I want to pray, but I don't feel like it." Well, my feelings have betrayed me lots of times, and it seems like I should know that very well by now. What is it that makes me think I have to feel like doing something I know I need to do anyway? Spending time with God isn't about me. It's about Him. It's not about him listening to me. It's about me listening to him.

And sometimes I get really self-righteous. "Why, Lord, am I going through this thing? Isn't it my turn for something good?" As if the whole universe revolves around me. The universe is pretty big, you know, and I'm just a pretty lame part of it.

Sometimes I fight with myself because what I truly want is to be content with God and not feel like I need an earthly partner. But then I think about how lonely I get and how I want someone, and God can't fulfill that need. Oh, whatever. He can fulfill every need.

I'll think this way and then this lesson will hit me again. It's happened so many times in the last couple weeks. When I think about myself, I feel really lonely. But when I think about me and God, then it feels pretty darn good. For some reason I've always sucked at getting my lessons learned the first, or second, or third, or fiftieth time around.

Check out this song by Charlie Dodrill. I love how God follows up on his kids. I've been dealing with this for awhile now, and this song just says exactly what my heart is crying out. Click to listen. The lyrics are below.

Lord, I have trouble understanding anything
your deeds much less your ways
confused by what I read and even what I sing
will it be thus always?
I think perhaps my introspection is to blame
I think so selfishly
I long for wisdom but I'm still playing the game
for I am under the impression that it's all for me

God, your glory should be what consumes my heart
Hallowed be thy name
But I'm convinced I am the whole not just a part
much to my great shame
I need the vista from the fiery crystal sea
I need it desperately
If my perspective stays I'll never find the key
for I am under the impression that it's all for me

Oh Lord, to be consumed with thee
I wanna be wise

My Martha-mind is concerned about many things
while disregarding the one
preoccupied with all the things that have to do with me
and not with Heaven's Son
Lord, how am I supposed to apprehend anything
while I'm so big in my eyes
Like Ptolemy, thinking all the worlds revolve around me
I'm in for such a surprise
Surprise me.

Lord I wait for you to change the view from where I'm standing
to see you for who you are
and see me as this speck of dust who enthralls you
and not some shining star

from my place prostrate down in the dust
I lift my gaze, your face I'll see
And for the first time in my life I'll be
No longer under the impression that it's all for me
Then I will be consumed with thee
At last I will be wise.

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November 14, 2006

7:21 PM: new beginnings

Change is hard, and I suck at it. But after years of maintaining my loyalty to, I'm moving over to blogger. I've been putting off the move, because it's hard to leave behind so many memories. It's kind of like leaving a really good friend. I know it's not going anywhere, but still... it feels a little sad to me.

I guess it's time for a blog-warming party! Party with me!

To find a million memories of happy times, sad times, fun times, lame times, special times, hard times, easy times, and lots of other kinds of times, click here:

the old blog

Hello, my new world!


About Me

    Name: Shannon
    Age: 29
    Occupation: Editor
    Identity: Child of God
    Location: Ohio
    Yahoo: shann_79


© 2007 Shannon, the Writer of this Blog"