Good gracious! Where has time gone?

I noticed that I haven't written in a while, so before I embark on the telling of all of my Christmas break adventures, I'd like to take a moment to recap everything that has happened since the fortuitous day I received my first car (and no, I have not wrecked it. Mercy is just peachy, thanks!)

The end of the semester is finally here, and I survived yet another semester of writing papers, doing service hours, taking tests and of course making loads of memories with my friends. I competed in my first taekwondo tournament (3rd place-forms, 1st place-sparring), tested for my blue belt and continued working at the Walgreens back home in FC.

And it was at Walgreens that I had one of the most profound experiences of the year. So allow me to use the rest of this post to share my story.

It all started when I got my work schedule for Thanksgiving break. The only shift they could offer me over the whole five days I was going to be home was Black Friday. Knowing that I needed the hours, I could do nothing but accept the shift and prepare myself to be at Walgreens when the doors opened at 7 a.m. My thoughts: "Oh snap."

For anyone who doesn't know, I am basically nocturnal, so waking up at 5:30 a.m. to get ready for work is a big deal! Amazingly enough, I made it to work on time, in spite of almost forgetting to pack my lunch and discovering an unexpected layer of frost on my windshield.

When I pulled into the parking lot, there were already people lined up outside the door waiting to get in. I knocked on the door, gained entrance, said hello to the store manager, clocked in and braced myself as I walked to the doors to admit the bargain-thirsty shoppers. My thoughts: "Please don't let them kill me!"

My day can be divided into two distinct parts and each of them, thank God, were completely different.

First, the sale. Top sellers included these large decorator candles on sale three for $9.99 and these little artificial potted pre-lit four-foot Christmas trees buy one, get one free. It was completely crazy. My thoughts: "Baby step to eleven o'clock, baby step to eleven o'clock."

My fifteen minute break never felt so good. Soon, though, I was back out at the cash register and ready for Round 2: the Santa. That's right, Walgreens invited a Santa to come in and take photos with the children for a couple of hours. This actually turned out to be a good thing, since for those two hours, every child in the store was on his or her best behavior. It was actually amazing. Never in my life have I been so thankful for a Santa Claus.

After Santa left, things calmed down and the melancholy that is a small-town Walgreens returned. I made my escape at 3:30 p.m., sore-footed and drained of all energy, but happy that I was a survivor.

The rest of the semester has been pretty tame compared to that one Friday, but I'm glad to have the experience! Glad it's over, though!

What's in a name?

Today I have the joy of naming my first car. She's beautiful: a muted red 2008 Hyundai Elantra. Great gas mileage, awesome safety rating, not too many miles already on it, sunroof and (possibly my favorite) cruise control on the steering wheel.

Needless to say, I am a very blessed college kid. Also easily guessed: my part time Walgreens paycheck is not going to be able to pay for this car. So how in the world did I end up driving this vehicle home today? I'm glad you asked.

My father offered me the same deal he extended to my sister when she purchased her first car six years ago: I pay the down payment and he'll take care of the rest. He did this because he knows that we will travel far and he'd rather we have reliable vehicles than purchase what we can actually afford. He wants us to be safe, and helping to provide us decent cars is one way he can be proactive in that facet of our lives.

But driving home today, I couldn't escape the feeling that I didn't deserve this. As some of you may know, a couple of summers ago I accrued a pretty rough driving record.

I totaled my mother's van because I was stupid and allowed my cell phone to distract me while driving. A few months later, I hydroplaned on a country road while driving my sister's car; I spun into a ditch and hit the same fence post three times.

It's been a running joke in my family ever since that I'm not the safest driver. I'm still living with that reputation. (My sister's boyfriend even has a bet going about how long it'll take me to wreck this car.)

So it's pretty easy to see why I have mixed feelings about receiving such a nice car today. I don't really deserve it. With my past record, I don't feel like I could ever do anything to earn such a car or the trust that goes with it. And yet, the keys are in my purse, the mirrors are adjusted to my liking and the owner's manual is mine to peruse and become knowledgeable of.

Why? Why did my parents feel the need to help me get such a nice car? They could have easily found a cheap clunker that could make it over Monteagle and leave it at that. Instead, they have given me this Elantra, in spite of the price and in spite of my past.

Isn't is so much like the grace and mercy of God? We can never do anything to deserve it, and He had to pay such a high price to offer it to us. Yet He didn't hesitate to die on the cross. Why?

Because we're worth it. We are so precious to Him, in spite of our shortcomings, that He went all the way to Calvary to pay for our salvation. All He asks of us is that we live a life of love, love for Him and love for others.

Similarly, my dad asks that, in return for his trust and his investment in me, I exercise caution and discretion in my actions. It's such a small thing to ask when I consider the sacrifices that he and my mother are making in order for me to have such a vehicle.

So, in recognition of my parents' faith in me and of the sacrifice that God made for me, I have decided to name my car Mercy.

For I have been granted mercy by both my parents and God: a chance to escape my past driving record and a chance to escape a life of sin. I can't change my past, but I can live in the light that God has cast upon me. I choose to walk in that path, in that bright future that I know God has for me.

And every time I get behind the wheel of my vehicle, I will remember to thank God for Mercy, both the action and the car.

Once upon a T[U2]esday night...

Last Tuesday, Oct. 6, 2009, was one of the most amazing nights I have ever had. Some friends and I traveled to Atlanta, Ga., for the U2 360 tour. (You can read a review of the concert that I wrote here.)

This night was a night of many firsts for me: the first time I'd been to a mainstream concert, the first time I'd been to any event where alcohol was sold, the first time I had ever bought a tour shirt, just to name a few. (I can now truthfully tell someone that I have been there, done that, got the T-shirt!)

It was also a first for one of my best friends: I was so glad to get to rock out with Richard at his first big concert experience. And we did indeed rock all night.

I decided to share a couple of my favorite songs from the concert here. Sometimes the sound quality isn't the greatest, and at times the background noise (such as the beer vendor in the second video) gets annoying, but these memories are some that I will cherish forever. I was truly "stuck in a moment" in the "city of blinding lights."

Hope you enjoy!

The greatest of these is love...

Over the past few months, I have found myself enveloped in an ongoing discussion concerning a topic of great dissension in the body of Christ: predestination.

What challenges me most in this discussion is that the two sides are coming from two different seats of emotion: predestination has a more logical, analytical structure originating in the mind and in a direct interpretation of Scripture, while free will arguments tend to originate more in the emotive parts of our reasoning.

Now, as far as I am able to discern, the main verses in support of predestination is found in Romans 8, mainly verses 29-30, which in the NKJV read, "For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. Moreover whom He predestined, these He also called; whom He called, these He also justified; and whom He justified, these He also glorified."

I can see their point.

It makes logical sense to me that these passages could be interpreted to mean that God has called a select number to repentance and has put a cap on salvation. It even makes sense that God cannot have given us free will simply because He already knows what's going to happen, so what's the point?

But since when was anything in Christianity based on solely logic? The whole idea of faith is that it is "substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen."

John 6:40 records Jesus as saying, "And this is the will of Him who sent Me, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in Him may have everlasting life; and I will raise him up at the last day.”

Everyone, eh?

I find it intriguing that Paul, who spoke so avidly of predestination in Romans 9 would write in Romans 10: "For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek, for the same Lord over all is rich to all who call upon Him. For 'whoever calls on the name of the LORD shall be saved.'"

Whoever? Or only those who are called and predestined? A predestinatarian would say that this is explicable because only the chosen would feel compelled to call on the name of the Lord.

Again, I could see that.

But the one thing that I cannot agree with or even really grasp about the doctrine of predestination is the incongruency I see in the biblically-established character of God: 1 John 4:8 states that "God is love."

1 Corinthians 13, known for its poignant definition of love, leads me to isolate a few characteristics of Love; it "bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails."

This is the part where I depart from the strict use of scripture and begin to use a few concepts that I learned in geometry class: the idea of proofs.

If God is love, and love hopes all things, is it a stretch to say that God hopes that all might be saved? Too abstract, maybe?

Sidebar: If a believer in predestination is witnessing to someone, can they honestly say "Jesus loves you"? What if it turns out they are not "chosen"? If Jesus loved them, would He not have chosen them for salvation as well? Does God love those He condemns to eternal suffering by not choosing them as one of the elect? Just a thought.

How about the idea that we are all made in God's image (Genesis 2)? If God made each of us in His image, why would He who "bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things" decide that only a select few of His creation were salvageable?

A predestinarian friend of mine recently elaborated on the idea that because God is all-present and all-knowing, the notion of free will would insinuate that a human could change the mind of God.

In my mind I have an image of God that seems to be quite different from this description. I see God with a script of the future. I can hear Him calling to each person, telling each of His creations, "Here is the script. Are you sure this is what you want? This isn't how I want it to be! But as soon as it's sealed, the choice is permanent!"

For we all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23). At some point in our lives, we were all in that place of disgrace, in that separation from God. But that voice of Mercy calls out to each of us, telling us, "NO! This isn't how it has to be!"

As the old song says, "The love of God is greater far than tongue of men can ever tell. It goes beyond the highest star and reaches to the lowest hell."

I have decided after much consideration that I do not and cannot believe in the Calvinistic concept of predestination. And if I err, I err on the side of love. For "Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away" (1 Corinthians 13:8).

Maybe I'm simply an affective fool, but "God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise" (1 Corinthians 1:27).

For these reasons, I will continue to love everyone and live in hope that everyone has the chance of being my brother or sister in Christ.

Blessings to all.

Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror, what do I see
As I stand here gazing?
Countless flaws and social faux pas,
Nothing too amazing.

My eyes are too small,
My teeth aren't all straight,
And I freckle, never tan.
My ears a crooked
Though no one will notice.
They're covered so nobody can.

My legs are too short,
My face is too long,
My hair has a mind of its own.
And I'm still surprised
That I've lived this long
With only one broken bone.

My clothes were on clearance,
My jewelry's homemade,
My shoes are falling apart.
I pay no mind to trends and styles,
And most of my shopping
Is done at Wal-Mart.

But Mirror, there must be something more
Than just the reflection I see,
For God has claimed me as His own,
And He has a different vision of me.

I am washed in the blood
That His Son shed for me,
And I am whiter than snow.
I am His adopted child,
And He loves me so much.
It's more than I could ever know.

He sees my heart,
How it beats for Him,
How I want nothing more than His will.
My life I gave to Him,
And I listen for His command
To act or simply be still.

My passion is His people,
My mission His work,
To show the world His love.
To live in a way
That no one can doubt
I live for God above.

So Mirror, you've deceived me
Because I looked with the human eye.
For my beauty surpasses the natural,
It's the beauty of the Most High.

Finding forgiveness in faith

I have read the Gospel of Luke countless times in my life, but tonight I noticed something that I had never really taken note of before: after Jesus tells the disciples that they are to forgive without limit, they automatically ask not how to accomplish such a feat of forgiveness, but rather how to increase their faith.

Perhaps the realization is slow in coming for me, but it amazes me how intrinsically related faith and forgiveness really are. One cannot forgive without faith. But one must have the right kind of faith: a faith in God. For if we forgive in faith of our human selves or counterparts, we shall surely be disappointed.

As humans, we do not have the capacity for perfection. Nor do we have the ability to forgive if we are trusting in ourselves or others to enact that forgiveness.

It's so simple, yet so wonderful! We "forgive as the Lord forgave you," and the forgiveness of God is based in God's greatness, not in our capacity to act upon it! So why do we as humans feel like when we forgive others that they are then responsible for maintaining that forgiveness?

I am such a foolish girl for ever thinking that anything in my life is rooted in this world. When I gave my life to God, He took everything. But sometimes He lets me feel like I still have control of some things, just so that when I realize He's had it all along, I can simply let go and rejoice in the awesomeness of my God.

I feel like I am now living in the freedom of forgiveness because I truly understand that when I forgive someone, it's not my forgiveness at all that I bestow. My forgiveness means nothing; it is human and will pass away like a vapor in the wind. But my Father's forgiveness is powerful enough to heal all wounds, and that's the forgiveness that I lean upon today.

I've always heard that forgiveness is such a powerful thing; now I truly believe it.

The summer of complacent discontent

Yesterday marked the official end of my summer break: I packed all my things and moved back to Lee's campus to begin the travail of the fall semester.

As I step into the current of a new academic year, I can't help but look back and reflect on a summer that, though nothing like I had planned when I left campus in May, has been a true life-changing, learning and growing experience.

This summer, I rediscovered my roots. I spent time with family, reaffirmed the bonds of old friendships, discovered the true beauty of my microcosmic world, rediscovered my artistic side and even dabbled a bit in country music.

Most importantly, I learned that God really does have to be the center of absolutely everything in our lives. He is the Potter, we are the clay. We have to be in the center of His wheel or risk being flung off, bruised, torn, messed up. But praise be to Him who always picks us up, brushes us off and sets us back on the wheel so that He can compassionately mold us into the people He wants us to be!

So if this summer has been so great, why the epithet of "complacent discontent"?

Simply because there was so much else I wanted to do. I spent most of my summer longing to be elsewhere. To make a trip. To have an adventure. To show the world what I'm made of.

Instead, I settled into the seemingly monotonous Franklin County life that I have known for 20 years now. But hindsight is 20/20.

I didn't travel outside the state of Tennessee, but I discovered magical places practically in my backyard!

I didn't have an awesome internship, but I learned about helping people you've never seen and will most likely never see again.

I didn't go on a mission trip, but I reached out to the children of my church. And they reached back to me. I don't know who got the better end of that deal because they blessed me so much this summer.

I didn't introduce myself to the world, but the world began to introduce itself to me.

If anything this summer has taught me three things:

1. Sometime the responsible thing to do may not be fun, but you will always reap the benefits of obedience.

2. A good root system will help you weather any storm.

3. I don't have to go looking for adventure; God will supply my every need and use me to supply the needs of others no matter where I go. He has me exactly where He wants me, and that's where I always want to be. Sure, the physical location may change, but no matter where I am, I know that God is there guiding my way.

Even though I feel that my calling will lead me far from the home I love, it will always be home. And I was so blessed to spend my summer-my entire summer-in such a wonderful place.

So it's with a heart full of love that I look back on summer 2009, my summer of complacent discontent, and bid it a fond farewell.

There were hard times and tears, but there were also many wonderful times and laughter.

I can't spend my time wondering what would have happened if... I now have the task of taking what happened and applying the lessons learned to the future. And let me tell you, "It's gonna be a brighter day!"

You know you're a Walgreens employee if...

I know that I have worked a lot of hours when my cheerful greeting to customers is reciprocated by some variation of "Oh hey, it's you again!"

Tonight I worked the closing shift at Walgreens for the eight, yes eighth, night in a row. I've spent a lot of time there in the past week!

This impressive streak of hours has afforded me the title of official Walgreens connoisseur: I know about sales (past, present and some future!), have organized the merchandise (especially the back-to-school section), and have answered the Walgreens phone probably more times than my own home phone.

But one thing I feel that I have become a complete specialist in is the Walgreens radio station. Let's face it, I've listened to it more than some people have listened to their own mothers (sad as that is).

And I can tell you, they play all the good music during the day. Songs like "City of Blinding Lights" by U2, MercyMe's "So Long Self," even "No Air" by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown.

Around 4:00 p.m., there's a complete shift in music: it's like a blast from the past. Normally, I like oldies (or am at least tolerant of them), but after hearing some of them for eight days in a row, I never want to hear them again.

So here it is: the top ten songs I would rather never hear again.


10. "What a Wonderful World" - The Ramones
Not that I mind remakes: Muse covered "Feeling Good," Louis Armstrong remade "La Vie en Rose," and I loved them. They took classics and made them even classier. This just doesn't do it for me.

9. "Can't Get It Out of My Head" - Electric Light Orchestra
The title and my reason for not wanting to hear it are one and the same.

8. "My Sharona" - The Knack
I actually used to like this song. But too much of a good thing is bad, very bad.

7. "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" - The Animals
I really don't have a clear reason for my disdain. This song and I just don't get along. I think it's the vocals, but I can't say for sure.

6. "A Horse With No Name" - America
I know the lyrics have potential to have awesome meaning, but I can't get past the annoying tune to dig that deeply.

5. "The Break-up Song (They Don't Write 'Em)" - The Greg Kihn Band
Is this really necessary? I mean really. To mutate the song to my liking, "Nuh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh." Translation: Big no.

4. "Born in the USA" - Bruce Springsteen
At the risk of being sacrilegious, this one made the list. I'm just so tired of it!

3. "Tall Cool One" - Robert Plant
This song basically repeats, "Lighten up, baby, I'm in love with you!" over and over again. Well-written love songs with a good beat or rhythm, I love. This one should be banned from airwaves just for the sheer redundancy.

2. "Pulling Mussels (From the Shell)" - Squeeze
Did this topic really deserve a song?

1. "Cat in the Cradle" - Harry Chapin
Maybe it's the vocal twang, maybe it's the lyrics. But I just really have a loathing for this song now.

I may not achieve my goal of never hearing these songs again, but I know one thing for sure: I won't be hearing them for at least the next three days! Oh, sweet freedom!

Thank you for shopping at Walgreens! Buh-bye, buh-bye now!

My kids...

No, I'm not a mother. No, I don't have any younger siblings that I constantly care for. But, yes, I have kids. My kids are the kids in the Tullahoma First Kids Choir, and they are all such precious children.

Today they performed in "big church" for all the adults. They were all so excited, and they were all so good! They made me so proud, I almost cried.

As I've written before, each one has a unique story. You may remember reading about Ashley and her brother. (Her brother is still quite the handful, but aside from a few small tantrums now and then, Ashley has greatly improved!) Well, I'd like to tell you another story from my family of munchkins.

Michael* (*name changed) has had a rough summer. He is one of the bus kids that the church picks up for service because the parents don't come. Earlier in the summer, Michael lost his grandfather, the man who had taken care of him since he was a very small child. He is now living with his mom, and things aren't going as well as they could be. He has many problems, poor thing, some of which a child should not have to deal with.

Today, Michael had a solo part in one of the songs. When his mom dropped him off at the church early, she promised she'd be back to hear him.

As the kids were lining up, one of the adults asked, "Is your mom here?"

"I don't know."

"Is she coming back to hear you?"

A shrug of the shoulders is all she got in reply.

"Well, is she coming to take you home?"

Again, no definite answer.

"Well, if she doesn't come, we'll be sure that you get home."

Michael and the others headed out on stage. No mom. I have never seen a child go from lighthearted to brokenhearted so fast. He'd never show it; he's a "tough guy." But you could tell that it hurt him that his mom never came.

It's for kids like Michael that I keep working with children. In spite of the hard work, long hours, exasperating tantrums and seemingly endless list of complicated situations that come with it, it's worth it. If I can make one child feel loved, even if it's just once a week, then it's worth it.

And I have faith that Michael and every single one of my children can and will grow up to be beautiful sons and daughters of God, no matter their situations now, no matter how hard a hand life seems to have dealt them.

So, if you think about it, say a little prayer for my kids now and then, will you? For all the children growing up in this world today, I say a prayer.

Happy Independence Day!

I celebrated July 4th by hanging around the house all day then spent a thrilling night at a fairly customer-forsaken Walgreens. We were bored out of our minds. Never have I wished the clock to move faster.

While I was standing there passing the time, I came up with nothing profound (I bet you thought I was going to awe you with some amazing thought, but no...Walgreens just doesn't inspire me). The only think I could think was how tired I was of working weekends. Every. Single. Weekend.

That thought was still in my mind when I got home, so I decided to see what I could learn from it. (I'm a psych major, after all!) The train of thought went something like this: "I hate working weekends. But that's what this job is: nights, weekends and holidays. So this job really stinks. So I need to get a better job. Which means I need to stay in school."

So that's it: I'm staying in school so that I can get a job that I actually like having and don't regret taking.

Then I started thinking, "Why do I hate working weekends so much?"

Simple answer: Because my work schedule is keeping me away from those I love and miss.

As stated earlier, I work nights, weekends and holidays. When I work multiple days in a row, sometimes I can go two to three days without seeing my parents. And I've been keeping up with my sister more via Twitter than by actual conversation.

This schedule has also hindered my getting to hang out with friends, especially those who live any distance away. Some of them I'll see when I go back to school in a month. Others, I'll have to be content with phone calls and instant messaging for long periods of time because school will replace work (and I might continue to work during the school year), and I'll still be in the same predicament. And that's enough to make me want to cry.

So, in light of all this, I now have three, firmly established life goals: to bless God in all that I say and do, to do what I love and love what I do, and to keep those I love close to me (emotionally and spiritually if physically isn't an option) because the pain of separation has created such a hole.

Since the first one prohibits my complaining about the latter two, I will end this little note by being "joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer" (Rom. 12:12). I thank God that I have a job, I rejoice in the coming relief (school), I ask God to keep my loved ones safely in His arms until I can see them again, and I pray for the endurance to attain my goals.

But, as Miley Cyrus says, "It ain't about how fast I get there. Ain't about what's waiting on the other side. It's the climb."

May God bless each of you in your individual climbs.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we go...

Last summer, I did something awesome: volunteered at a local dinner theater with a bunch of my friends. I was in two shows, worked tech for one show, waited tables for tips and had an awesome time. I also was flat broke by the end of the summer.

So, this summer I decided to try something different, something completely new for me! I got a "real job." On June 12, I officially became a Walgreens service clerk. I have learned a lot in the past three weeks, and I would like to share a few little nuggets of this wisdom.

1. Every day has the potential to be "one of those days."
I never really understood what "one of those days" meant until I started working. Then I realized that EVERY DAY is just "one of those days." It's that phrase you say when you really don't want to talk about it, not necessarily because the day was bad, but because either too much or too little happened to really be worth the effort of telling someone. In my case, it's normally too little.

2. Creativity is a must.
When it's 8:30 and the store is completely empty, you've refolded every t-shirt in sight and your OCD tendencies are completely satisfied, it's an awesome feeling. Until you realize that you're stuck there until 10 anyways. This requires some creativity because if you don't find something to do, you will go crazy. I personally like straightening the Hallmark aisle; I get so many good ideas in that aisle. I also convert the time remaining in my shift to seconds (it takes longer because I do it in my head). If you have any other suggestions, I'm always looking for new ones!

3. Get used to being asked how old you are.
I've been asked twice. Once because the lady wanted to set me up with a guy she knew (he was 17; it would have never worked). Once because someone couldn't believe that I actually knew who Farrah Fawcett was. I'm sure it will happen plenty more.

4. One never really gets used to selling tobacco.
This is probably the worst part of my job. I hate tobacco. I can't even really stand the smell of it, which is bad since my register is right in front of the cigarette display (I chew Orbit Crystal Mint gum. The mint flavor is so strong, it dulls my sense of smell and helps me better tolerate it). And furthermore, I know nothing about cigarettes, pipe tobacco, chewing tobacco, or any of the accompanying paraphernelia. It's almost like a game trying to find the certain brand of cigarette that the customer wants.
But it's really sad, too. One lady came in today and bought cough drops with her soft pack. When I have asked customers to help me find a product because I don't know what it looks like or where it is, many tell me how good it is that I'm not a smoker. Some even sound regretful that they use tobacco. I told my mother about the first time I sold a pack of cigarettes, and she gave me some wise advice: pray for them. So now, I pray over those cigarettes sitting behind me. I feel like maybe I've sold less since starting that tradition.

5. Optimism is a wonderful gift.
I don't think I could work at this job if I were a pessimist. I make too many mistakes and see too many hurting people (it is a pharmacy, after all). I've had quite a few people come through my line who came by on the way home from the emergency room or hospital. I've heard some sad stories, just in the past few weeks. But the only thing I can do is smile and encourage them that things will get better. Sometimes I feel like just listening to them helps. So I'll keep on smiling and telling people to "have a good evening!" as they walk out the door. I may never know it, but I pray that simple act of kindness helps someone somehow.

I've learned a lot from having a real job. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's quite serious. And though I hope that running a cash register is not my future career, I know that I'll carry these lessons throughout my life.

And, yeah, having a job has greatly put a dent in my "summer fun" from time to time, but I don't really regret my decision. But, I'd better stop writing now and get some sleep; gotta go to work in the morning!

Learning to love

I've had the absolute honor this summer to work with my church's kids this summer during Wednesday night Kids Choir. They come from all different backgrounds: some grew up in the church, some started coming on the bus program that we recently initiated, and some just wandered into our doors. Some are a bit too hyper for their own good, others barely utter a word. All of them are special, and all of them have their own stories.

But sometimes, I admit, I'm too quick to judge those that walk through our doors each week. I had always been taught not to judge, and I thought I was a fairly impartial, "love everyone" kind of girl. Sure, some of the kids grated on my nerves from time to time, but I still could look past that and find something lovable in each!

Then I met 4-year-old Ashley* and her younger brother Todd. They started coming to Kids' Choir a few weeks before I arrived home from school. They were inseparable, and they were out of control. The director couldn't deal with just those two; she had 14 other kids who needed to learn songs and dances. And she expected me to be right next to her helping with the motions. My sister, who also volunteers with the kids, was running sound. So the only person left to deal with Ashley and Todd was an older lady volunteer whose disciplinary method was yelling and threats. And that wasn't working either.

I thought I had met my match, that there was no way to connect to these two children, that they were incapable of joining the group and behaving. But God had a thing or two to teach me.

One week, the director announced that she would be out of town that next week. As Wednesday night approached, the other volunteer had to schedule an emergency trip to Nashville that would require her to miss church. So guess who was left to run Kids' Choir? Yes, that's right: my sister and me.

Things were already hectic: getting everything together for snack time, finding the music and the words, making sure the sound system was actually working. Then the kids came tumbling in. The last two through the door (and I had to go outside and make them come in) were Ashley and Todd. Within the first 5 minutes, I knew that night had potential to go very badly if we couldn't figure out some way to keep them at least minutely under control.

Thankfully, we had enlisted the help of someone who knew how to handle some pretty unmanageable children: my mother. She made it her task to watch Ashley and Todd so that I could teach the other 11 children.

At first, they were wild as ever. Ashley spent an elongated amount of time in the bathroom when she first came in, and when she finally did come out, it looked like she'd been playing in the water. She treated Todd like her baby, not letting him leave her side and insisting on picking him up, even though she is not much bigger than he is. It was very distracting for the other kids and for me. I found myself getting more and more irritated with them. Even my mother, God bless her, couldn't put a dent in their behavior.

But about halfway through the night, two things happened. First, some of the older kids started talking to Ashley about how she should be a good example for her brother. Because it came from the other kids, she started listening a little. Secondly, my mother persuaded them to separate. At the time, I had no idea how she did it, but it worked! Ashley started learning the dance and singing with the big kids (who immediately just took her under their wing). And my mother watched and played with Todd. He still didn't participate, but he at least stayed out of trouble.

It wasn't until we were on our way home that the whole story unfolded. Mom had pulled Ashley aside and talked to her, and Ashley told her a little bit of what went on at home: how she (almost 5 years old, mind you) cleaned her room and the bathroom, how Todd followed her everywhere she went, and how she was really exasperated by having to watch him all the time but he was her responsibility. Remember her long stay in the bathroom? She was cleaning. Suddenly, her constant references to herself as his momma made sense. This little girl didn't have the chance to really be a little girl!

Then I found out what my mother had done to make such a difference: she had explained to Ashley that when she was at Kids' Choir, she didn't have to watch her brother. She could just be a kid. So Mom took over watching Todd, and Ashley got to be a little girl.

I felt really ashamed of myself that night. I had not even taken the time to learn about Ashley and Todd's story. I had just assumed that someone else already knew and had taken that into consideration. Suddenly, being upset with that little girl seemed like such a foolish idea.

Ashley and Todd haven't been back to Kids' Choir yet, but I hope to see them next week. And my mother has already volunteered to watch Todd so that his sister doesn't have to worry about a thing.

I learned a valuable lesson that night. Everyone deserves to see the love of God in our lives, no matter how we see them through our eyes. God loves each and every person in spite of how they act or what they've been through. The least I can do is try to show the same love. Yes, the kids will still annoy me sometimes, and sure, I'll have to be the authority figure, but I can try to better understand why they do something instead of always just telling them to fix it on their own.

Thank you, Lord, for loving me, and for teaching me to love those that You love. Amen.

*All names have been changed.

The time has come...to talk of many things

Since leaving Cleveland to live at home for the summer, three fairly important things have happened that possibly could change my life as I know it.
1. I started helping with the Kids' Choir at my church on Wednesday nights. The pastor's wife found out that I was capable of learning and teaching small dances, and the rest is history.
2. I got a job. Not just any job, but my first job. I'm now a Walgreens service clerk. Working nights, weekends and holidays can be frustrating, but I'm thankful all the same.
3. I created this blog. This is my first blog. No, I do not count Facebook notes or contributing to the Editor's Weblog at LeeClarion.com (which, by the way, if Harrison or Michelle read this, yes, I'm still keeping an eye out for new posts over the summer and reading each as they come in).

Seeing as this is the first blog that I have ever truly owned, forgive me if from time to time I forget that it's here. As a dreamer, I have a tendency to be easily distracted by shiny objects, such as the beautiful new little Kodak Z915 that came in the mail today or the craft project that I started on for my mother's birthday recently.

I have so much to write, so many ideas. I'm hoping that they will all eventually safely make it to this little blog for you to read, hopefully enjoy, maybe learn from, and perhaps even share with others. In the meantime, I just wanted to say hello. I'm glad you are reading!

Blessings,
Sara D.