Saturday, July 25, 2009

Wholesome

Sometimes I get obsessed with an idea. Not like girls are "obsessed" with the Jonas Brothers, but like really obsessed. I think about it all the time. I want to know everything about this idea. My previous obsession was the phrase "no turning back, no turning back" from the song "I have decided to follow Jesus." These days the obsession is just one word, one single concept that I have decided is something I want to have: wholesomeness.

I had to figure out what it meant to be wholesome before I could be a girl that was known for wholesomeness.

Webster's said:
Wholesome–adjective
1. conducive to moral or general well-being; salutary; beneficial: wholesome recreation; wholesome environment.

OK, I can work with that. I think Webster leaves out that to be wholesome, you have to be God-fearing. I think that it extends beyond well-being and into the ability to empathize and sympathize with all kinds of different people.

My grandmother is one of the most wholesome people I know and where I began to think that wholesomeness meant being able to put yourself in others' positions. When I talk to her, it's like she's a really wise college student. When my mom talks to her, it's like she's a mother of a 21 year old in 2009. It's amazing. Wholesome.

Another thing I think wholesomeness includes is strength. How can you be beneficial if you're falling apart? D.H. Lawrence once wrote, "We've go to live no matter how many skies have fallen."

In Panama, or actually any Hispanic country, there are these women. They're older, grandmothers probably, but they cook for you. When you go to them, they feed you. They feed you so much food that you're probably dying by the end of dinner. They cook over an open flame and get so hot that you have to feel bad. You didn't ask for dinner- they insisted that you sit and stay and eat. Then you look in their eyes and see pure joy. It's crazy to think that feeding strangers can give people joy, but these women are so happy to serve you. Wholesome.

I liked that the definition said "wholesome environment." It's easy in college to start stuff. Call an ex boyfriend, start drama. It's fun when you're bored. I think part of being wholesome (and mature for that matter) is being a peacemaker.

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the sons of God." Matthew 5:9

My daddy is a peacemaker. No matter who I have a problem with and who I have shot my mouth off to, Daddy can always fix it. Sometimes I let my 21 year old redheaded temper get in the way. Then, I need Daddy. Wholesome.

This doesn't solve my problem. Having a definition does not mean I will automatically inherit all these traits tonight. It does, however, give me something to work for. After all, I have decided to follow Jesus, no turning back...no turning back.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Bad news.


I was going to write a post about bad news. It's been a particularly horrible week in the news. The headlines are grim. Our President isn't doing our country justice. Babies are dying of rat bites and 14 year olds are getting accused with rape.

Then I saw this.

It's Lilly. She has 5 legs. Her 5th leg has 6 toes. Until now, she hasn't been able to lay down, walk or sit comfortably. She was owned by a freak-show.

Someone paid $4,000 for Lilly and another $2,000 for her surgery. Lilly is expected to live a long, healthy life.

Are you heart-warmed yet? Because you should be.

If Lilly can make it, then so can we.





Thursday, July 23, 2009

Speak the truth but ride a fast horse.

I just finished reading What I Know Now, a compilation of letters written by famous women to their younger self. One of them said "Speak the truth but ride a fast horse," and I just loved that.

So it makes me wonder- what would I tell myself? I'm only 21, so I'm far from being wise.

Here goes:

I'd tell my 4 year old self not to call the call the "Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again" woman "That d*** lady" to my mom. That spanking hurt. You'll remember it 17 years from now.

When you're 5 and Daddy has to take you out of church for talking, don't come back in and tell mom "Daddy told me to tell you he spanked me" when he really took you across the street and bought you candy.

Learn math in first grade. You'll be behind until high school if you don't.

In 2nd grade, keep being nice to that mentally handicapped kid. This will be the first of many, many times you pull for the underdog. Just don't get too attached. You're going to be heartbroken for the rest of your life because you can't save people.

Oh, and also about 2nd grade-throw those dresses away. The red, yellow and blue ones? Yea. Those. Throw them away. You'll end up wearing them in every single picture for almost a year.

Amber Tucker doesn't beat you up at Space Camp, so stop worrying.

Be more outgoing in middle school. Be nice to the nerdy kids. Be nice to the freaks. You're not mean, but your not nice to them either. Keeya will make more money than you ever dreamed of. Be nice to the kid with one hand that likes you.

In 8th grade you'll have a teacher that threatens to fail you because you won't argue pro-choice in a classroom debate. You don't argue it and you make your first B ever. Good call. She wasn't very nice.

On those 3 mission trips to Houston- love every minute. This is the beginning of a lifetime of mission trips. Take a second when you're holding Mireya, the 3 year old little Mexican girl, to memorize the way it feels. It's about 110 degrees and you're on a bus without air conditioning. She has fallen asleep in your lap. It's the exact moment that you fall in love with little Hispanic babies. That mission trip high never leaves you.

Listen to Kari more. She's right about people. You're too infatuated to see it, so just listen to her.

Be a good role model for the girls at dance. You looked up to them, so make sure you're someone they can look up to.

The years you danced with LS will be the best ones of your life. Work harder and appreciate your teachers more. They'll teach you some of the best lessons that you'll take with you the rest of your life. They'll give you your work ethic and good posture.

Listen to the kid that sits in front of you in homeroom more. He turns out to be a really neat person. To date he's still the only person who can recite almost any Edgar Allen Poe poem.

When that guy dumps you for being a good girl and immediately goes out with another not-so-good girl DO NOT tell the whole school that was the reason. Yes, it's true. That is why he picked her over you. He told you that, but it's going to be classier if you just keep that to yourself.

Pay more attention in AP Econ. And bring a jacket, dummy, that classroom was freezing!

Remember that time you and Kari got stuck in a tornado and decided to drive through the storm to get to a show you had to do that night? Yea. Don't do that. It was dangerous!

Enjoy ever minute you're on stage. Even after you think you're too mature to dance around in sparkles, you'll miss the days of entertaining everyone.

Get to know the Mayfair girls better.

Enjoy the City of Children more. You end up frustrated because you can't understand the orphans because they speak Spanish, but don't give up. Hug them and love them like that's all that matters. You're there as a missionary, so stop acting like a child. You don't think they need you--and they kinda don't. So, take it in. Use this time to realize that these kids aren't wanted by anyone and realize how blessed you are to have 2 loving parents that are still married. Besides, this is when you decide to learn Spanish. That will help you a little later in Panama.

Don't regret going to UAH. You learned you didn't want to be a nurse there. You also learned you didn't want to get married in college there. Don't regret hanging out with those guys, either. They kept you entertained and made you think a lot. Also, this is when you first discover A.W. Tozer, David Jeremiah, Max Lucado, Elisabeth and Jim Elliot, and Watchman Nee. Each one of these writers will change the way you look at things and bring you a little closer to the Father. Remember that time you decided to go to the projects and give out money to the homeless by yourself? Yea. Don't do that. It was dangerous..and stupid.

Be careful during your first semester at UA. You're too skinny. Everyone keeps saying it's because your homesick, but don't listen to them. They'll find the fibromyaligia later and know that homesickness had nothing to do with it.

Use the Pensacola mission trip to get to know your brothers and sisters in Christ. It's a good opportunity, so don't miss out.

Your snap decision to go to the Darien Rainforest will be the best you've made so far. This trip will change your life. You'll see Indians that have never seen white people. You'll hold babies that won't make it through the night. One day while you're down there, you hold a little baby for 11 hours. You wash her face off because she produces too much glucose and the bees are attracted to the sweet smell of her skin. You'll never see her again because she dies that night. But, even while you're holding her, you know that was going to happen. This is what God looks like. Don't forget it.


Have more guts during your time at the Crimson White. You have ethical questions about some of the things they do. Stand up for it. You almost quit when they print g-d in the newspaper. I still can't make a judgment call about that one. You'll learn so much there, but you should have said something about that.

Still, be nice to the weird kids in college. Especially that girl in your JN 100, 311 and 415 classes. She doesn't live to see graduation.

Have more patience with the second Panama team. They mean well. This is the first time you'll ever get to really use your Spanish, so don't be so scared. The calling was to serve, not to have perfect Spanish grammar.

So, you make it to 21 and 4 months at least. Don't lose sight of what's important. When you first got to college, you made 2 Timothy 4:7 your mantra- I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

I hope I'm wiser at 42.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

These boots were made for walking.

I've been packing up the apartment all day.

I have 5 pairs of unworn cowboy boots.

Actually, the breakdown of apartment contents is like so:
59 sundresses. Not winter dresses, sundresses.
76 pairs of shoes (only 3 of which were flip flops)
5 pairs of cowboy boots
6 denim skirts
12 pairs of jeans
45 post it notes
3 tennis rackets (I don't play tennis)
3 full books of stamps (apparently I don't mail either)
17 belts
11 pea coats
27 solid white t shirts, oh they really like me.
41 camisoles

That equals 13 of the large moving boxes, 12 under the bed boxes, one packed-full garment bag, 3 mesh laundry bags, and 3 laundry baskets full. PLUS whatever is still in my chest of drawers and all my hanging clothes (a double door closet with a double bar full)

Goodness.

But as I pack all of this up, I can't help but look back on how much I've done in college. I mean, this apartment is the only place I've ever lived outside of my house.

There's the Express skirt and heels I wore on my first day of my Tuscaloosa News internship where I had to run so far in the rain for my first story on the one millionth CrimsonRide rider.

An assortment of cocktail dresses I've worn to banquets during my "I'm only going to date soon-to-be-rich buisnessmen" phase. The parties were fun, but the conversation was terribly boring.

The completely safe blue polo dress that everyone has.

My fail-proof outfit of black top, jeans, black stilettos (those BCBG ones that everyone got in 2005. I've had them resoled twice, but they were completely worth it) and pearls. This outfit hangs together all the time in case I need it in a hurry.

A mola that was handmade for me in the middle of the Darien Rainforest by a Kuna indian woman. Reminder from the best trip of my life. It still smells like Panama. I love to see it every morning hanging in my closet.

A black strapless dress that Reba would say "was known for teaching lessons."

The J. Crew skirt I wore to my Crimson White interview. You never go wrong with J.Crew. Mark my words. Never.

A pair of brown hotpants and a brown/pink sports bra that I used to wear to competition classes.

The Coach wallet and bag that sweet Ms. Parsons brought be back from the China Olympics after I helped her for a semester with ASPA.

A child's yellow Dickies button-down that I got from Johnny in Playona. He ran a little store where he sold clothes that US Missionaries had brought down. It was his only source of income, but he gave us these so we wouldn't get bitten by redbugs in the jungle. Precious.

The free people stuff from when I went through my "I want to be the lead singer of A Fine Frenzy" phase. You know, the pretty red headed Swedish girl that sings "Goodbye my almost lover.."

I wonder what I'll be packing up in 3 more years? And who will be helping me? And where will I be moving? Will my dreams work out? Will I move to Nashville and marry a cowboy? (I already have the outfit).

It's today for which we're responsible. God still owns tomorrow.- Elisabeth Elliot

-jg

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Dump trucks.

Today, I was walking Daisy up the back stairs of my apartment. If you know Daisy, you know she's a little "special." Honestly, I think she's mentally handicapped. It's a lot like living with a handicapped child, but I just love her so much.

Well, today Daisy wanted to watch the dump trucks drive from our apartment complex to the road. I fought her and fought her yelling "I don't have time for this." I was mad and she was stubborn. The sad thing is that I wasn't really that busy. It was a perfect day and I had ample time before I had to be at work.

So, I gave in. For about 15 minutes, we sat on the back stairs and watched the dump trucks drive into and out of University Village.

I'm not usually a "stop and smell the roses" person, but I think I'll try to take a little more time to pause from now on. Like C.S. Lewis said in Surprised by Joy, "It is not settled happiness that glorifies the past, but momentary joy."

Today, Daisy and I had a little momentary joy.

God is good and the blessings outweigh the problems these days.
Who could ask for more?
Grace and Peace,
jg

Monday, July 20, 2009

The Third Paragraph boys.

I often write about boys, but the thing is, every other aspect of my life has been so richly blessed. You have to understand- I have been given more things than any one person should ever have. Family, friends, a good upbringing, unshakable faith, the opportunity to go into the world and see His creation, opportunities to study and work and do something I love every single day, His forgiveness daily, hope of glory, ect. I think complaining at all would be a sin for me, but my craziness in dating at least gives me a conversation topic. I'm positive this is how God continually reminds me of my full dependence on Him. So, amid my gratefulness, I am reminded to come daily to Him with any and all of my concerns.

So every night, I write a letter to God. I mean a real letter. In a moleskin notebook (someone wise once told me those were the best and it's true). Each letter is signed and dated with appropriate greetings and closings. Very proper. Sometimes I think that if Hemmingway or Faulkner were going to write letters to God, they would do them this way. I like to think that at least. Each one has a specific layout, too. If you're going to write the keeper of your soul, you should probably have good penmenship, too. We don't want any typos.

Paragraph 1: Thanksgiving. A reminder that the problems in the rest of the letter will always always always come after my gratitude for salvation and the daily blessing of enjoying His creation. This paragraph also includes a little bit about my day..incase He missed something. Or sometimes the things I'm most excited about that day. Like Paul used to open up his letters, first there was the little greeting to those in Corinth, ect., then there was the meat and bones of the matter. The good stuff.

Paragraph 2: Personal stuff. Things I'd like to change about myself. Things I've done wrong in the past 24 hours. (You'd be amazed how much this is!) Usually includes patience, gracefulness and a prayer for Jesus Christ himself to come put his hand over my mouth when I should stop talking. Wouldn't that be nice? Or a little reminder when my redheaded temper flares up again. That in itsself keeps me in all kinds of trouble.

Paragraph 3:Friends. Here's where my third paragraph boys come in. As I was writing yesterday, I realized that every third paragraph looks the same.

"Father, please be with (boy I'm currently dating at the time's name) and let him come to know you. Help him to be the man you want him to be.I know he can be better, Lord, if he just calls to you."

Every single time.
Of course these third paragraph boys never work out. I know going into it that they won't. If hanging around a Sunday-morning Christian is the best I can do, well, I'd rather be in the mission field alone. After all, mission dating NEVER works.
It makes me wonder, if I can look back on all my old entries and be so happy that whatever I was praying for didn't come true (think that old country song "Unanswered Prayers" type stuff) will I look back on this and be happy? Will I one day meet someone that doesn't fall into the third paragraph? That maybe even makes it to the first paragraph because of his undying faith? Or that is so driven to serve the Lord that I have to follow? I think so. Or at least I'm not giving up yet.

So, until the day that a find myself writing to God about someone in the first paragraph, it's just random happenings. It'll be worth it, though. I'm a die-hard realist, but I'm not giving up hope here.

Right now, it's just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away. I still love that song.

No more cold iron shackles on my feet...

Grace and Peace,
jg

Sunday, July 19, 2009

In queso emergency...

Every editor keeps telling me I need to blog more. So, here goes.

When I was about 15, I made this promise to break the stereotype of the "good girl." I mean, I loved dancing on stage in next-to-nothing. I loved the rhinestones, the wild songs, the dark tans, tons of makeup, and that just doesn't fit into what a good little Church of Christ girl looked like. (Are we even allowed to dance?) So, I decided to break that. Now, some girls do the same thing but they try all that black makeup "I dont' care what anyone else thinks" look. No, no. That wasn't me either.

I have a few things I will fight for.
1. I'm going to be a virgin when I get married. This has lead to heartache after heartache. I knew that. I know it more, now. I expect to hear "Really? You don't look like a virgin" on every third date. It doesn't make dating easier, but it's simply not up for debate. Consequently, I'm incredibly comfortable talking about it.
2. I didn't drink until I was 21. I will not be getting drunk (on purpose) with anyone anytime soon. I'm just not. Don't ask. It's not ladylike.
3. I'm a die-hard conservative. I'm pro-life, probably more than anyone else you know. I don't believe in gay marriage. I support our troops and whatever they have to do to save our country. America first. If you mess with the land our grandfathers made, I want to shoot you. If you don't like that, I don't care. Church, too. I do think women should keep silent. I think they should be submissive. I want to be independent, self-sufficient, and driven, but when I get married...my husband will have the final say. (If you read that passage, you know that good men love their wives enough to make them happy no matter what). I don't think it's best to argue with the keeper of our souls.
4. If I swear, you better know I'm mad.
5. I'm not afraid of global warming. God told us he wouldn't destroy the world with water again, so why are all these Christians afraid of flooding? I generally don't like environmentalists. I think it's silly.
6. Jesus Christ saved my soul. I might not look like the typical knee-length-skirt wearing good girl, but I've seen Him face-to-face and there is no turning back now. I've held dying babies in Panama. I've held a little girl during her last day on earth. I've talked to 12 year olds that have been raped by their uncles. I've held hands with the homeless.

So, that brings me back to my goal: to break the stereotype of the good girl. Of all my many blessings- they outnumber what any human should ever have- I thank God for my friends. A set of girls that are so beautiful and passionate in everything they do, that it reminds me daily that being a good girl doesn't have to be confined to tankinis, fake kindness, and all-girl movie nights. We go back, all the way back to the SVS days when our dance teachers taught us to "walk into everything like we know what we're doing," and made us walk endlessly up and down the halls in 4 inch heels until we could walk without falling. (This was in middleschool, too!)

THese girls remind me that:
1. Being a girl is a lost art. Sitting with your ankles crossed, hands folded in your lap, and making eye-contact is powerful. Pearls are perfect in all situations. A southern accent will get you out of so so so many troubles.
2. BCBG Stilettos are what I'm most comfortable in. People always say "wear what makes you comfortable," and they're usually talking about an excuse to wear something weird. But maybe I'm more comfortable in a floral dress and heels? Or a good pair of Levis and a lacy top and pearls. Heels make your butt look better, they just do. And I'm talking no less than 4 inches or why bother? Looks do matter. It's how the world sees you. So make that work in your advantage.
3. They don't agree with me on everything. Especially the political stuff, but they remind me daily to fight for whatever it is that I do believe. I encourage them to do the same. This world wasn't cut out for the wishy-washy. Mark my words, if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything.
4. They're the leaders of tough-love. They're the ones that will hit me or send me a text message saying "run" if I'm on a weird date. They're always right, too. Always. One day, I'll meet a boy that Kari likes and I'll probably do anything to keep him. She'll know, I bet. To date: she hasn't liked one yet.
5 They remind me that different isn't really good. That fake-nice isn't what being a good girl is really about. Loyalty is. Trustworthiness is. Wholesomeness is. When I become obsessed with an idea: wholesomeness, for example, they're the ones that go with it whole-heartedly.
6. They're the ones that remind me to have standards. Our mothers raised us to be well-rounded, driven, independent women and lowering my standards is like a slap in the face. They remind me to not accept text messages over phone calls, to not forgive drunken conversations, and to be picky. They remind me not to fall in love, because they know I'll let that get in my way. They know my past and remind me of all my many many mistakes that happened when I settled for less than what I deserved. THey remind me that I'm not going to change anyone. That "mission dating" isn't worth it, and that someone's place in heaven isn't dependent on me. If it's not good, if you're not happy, you will never be happy. It will not work. Cry for one night, then move on.

As I keep on my mission, I'll undoubtedly learn more. Maybe I'll finally learn to stop competing with people for no reason other than just to win. Maybe I'll learn to keep my mouth shut. Maybe not. Either way, I know those girls will be the ones to remind me that I'm tougher than I thought. They're prettier than your friends, I guarantee. They can walk better in heels, and have probably flirted with your boyfriend. In one year, I'll be chasing down some crazy dream. I'll be moving, and those girls, the closest things I've ever had to sisters, will be the only ones following. I'll forget about the college friends; I won't remember the bad dates.

Left Side will stay. Just watch.
I've been blessed with family, and I hope I remind them to "walk the walk" too.
Grace and Peace,
jg