Let's talk about Christmas. You probably guessed that was coming, right? I got an email from a store this morning that said " Only 3 days 'til Christmas!" WHAT? These past 23 days of December have really gotten away from me. When I was a kid, I looked forward to Christmas because of the presents. In my family, we put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving and the countdown to Christmas became real at that time. Now that I'm an adult, I look forward to Christmas time because it's a much-needed break from reality. We still put the tree up right after Thanksgiving, but I feel like I don't even recognize it's presence in our home the way I used to as a kid. I've been waiting this whole month for my last few finals to be over before I could really let myself feel any kind of Christmas spirit.
I've been listening to Christmas music today to help me out. Honestly, I am not a fan of most Christmas songs. Frosty, and Rudolph, and Jingle Bells, I'll pass on all of those. The Christmas songs I do enjoy are the ones that actually talk about the birth of Jesus. Go Tell It on the Mountain, Silent Night, Joy to the World, those mean so much more to me now than they ever did when I was singing them in children's choir. My favorite song, though, is Oh Come Emmanuel. Have you ever really listened to the lyrics of it? They're positively haunting.
"Oh come, oh come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here, until the son of God appears. Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel shall come to thee, oh Israel."
Can you imagine living in the time of Jesus' birth? God had been silent for 400 years! The Jews had gone through times of pressure and had failed in their efforts to re-establish themselves, and had given up all hope. There was a growing air of expectancy that the only hope they had left was the coming, at last, of the promised Messiah. Can you imagine? Redemption began on His birthday. The hope for Israel, and the world, was born in a stable. God has such a sense of humor, don't you think? His people are expecting something grand, something big, something they could see immediately and say, "THIS IS IT." But instead he sends a baby, to poor people, in a poor country, in a poor world. A baby to save the world. Do you think Gabriel laughed when God told him of his plans to send a baby? Do you think Jesus was cute? Do you think he cried? Do you think, even as a baby, that he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders? All questions I would like to ask someday. But for now, all I can do is marvel at the brilliant work of the God of the universe and his magnificent, creative, glorious, all-knowing plan to save a lousy sinner like me. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Monday, December 14, 2015
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
When God turns cardio into praise and worship
This morning, I went to the gym. If you lol'ed at that one, you're going to love this one. This morning, I went to the gym and ran. Yes, ran. Running is a relative term, right? I mean, running defined by my friend, Blake, means sprinting for several miles like you're being chased by zombies. Running, to me, means jogging slightly faster than my grandmother power walks. Which, for the record, is pretty fast as far as power walking grandmas go.
Anyways, I hate running. Yes, that's right, I hate it, loathe it entirely. My mother tells me I shouldn't hate people, but she never said I shouldn't hate activities. Everyone in my family runs (for exercise and FUN???), so one might conclude I am adopted, but alas, I am not. I just somehow missed that lovely strand of genetics, drew the short straw there. This running is a somewhat new phenomenon for me. I have tried for several years of my life to follow in my parents shoes. I have tried several different times to grow to love running. I read all the books, bought all the workout gear, did all the stretches beforehand, and drank 39572 glasses of water before, during, and after a running session. But the only thing I have found that can get me through it is Jesus. I recently started praying while I run. It calms my spirit. It relieves my stress. It ultimately leaves my mind and body at ease. While I'm praying and running, I often listen to praise and worship music. Sometimes I get so into it that I begin singing out loud while running on the treadmill at the gym. It's almost like I forget where I am and the fact that I'm surrounded by people.
This morning as I was running, I got so caught up in one of the songs, that I began crying. I don't know if anyone has ever tried to do cardio while crying, but it's a good way to die, really. I had to stop the treadmill and dry it up so I could catch my breath. As I was stopped trying to breathe, it hit me. God wants me to use this song in my wedding.
When my friend, Jessica, got married a few years ago, she had a worship song as part of her wedding. Right after her father gave her away, she and the groom held hands while a talented musician played a beautiful worship song. I don't think there was a dry eye on the stage. It was a special moment, and it really set the tone for the rest of the wedding.
I think we will be copying this. Jessica, maybe you started a trend. I mean, it's my wedding day, the day I marry one of the greatest gifts God has ever given me. Ryan is my good and perfect gift. It only makes sense that I would include a worship song so that I can tell everyone how gracious and merciful and loving my God is. My prayer for my wedding day and our marriage is that we can keep God and each other at the center of it. Pray for us as we continue to plan this wedding, that we can find other ways to show Christ's love and our gratitude to him for bringing us together and giving us this beautiful love and this beautiful life. Amen.
Anyways, I hate running. Yes, that's right, I hate it, loathe it entirely. My mother tells me I shouldn't hate people, but she never said I shouldn't hate activities. Everyone in my family runs (for exercise and FUN???), so one might conclude I am adopted, but alas, I am not. I just somehow missed that lovely strand of genetics, drew the short straw there. This running is a somewhat new phenomenon for me. I have tried for several years of my life to follow in my parents shoes. I have tried several different times to grow to love running. I read all the books, bought all the workout gear, did all the stretches beforehand, and drank 39572 glasses of water before, during, and after a running session. But the only thing I have found that can get me through it is Jesus. I recently started praying while I run. It calms my spirit. It relieves my stress. It ultimately leaves my mind and body at ease. While I'm praying and running, I often listen to praise and worship music. Sometimes I get so into it that I begin singing out loud while running on the treadmill at the gym. It's almost like I forget where I am and the fact that I'm surrounded by people.
This morning as I was running, I got so caught up in one of the songs, that I began crying. I don't know if anyone has ever tried to do cardio while crying, but it's a good way to die, really. I had to stop the treadmill and dry it up so I could catch my breath. As I was stopped trying to breathe, it hit me. God wants me to use this song in my wedding.
When my friend, Jessica, got married a few years ago, she had a worship song as part of her wedding. Right after her father gave her away, she and the groom held hands while a talented musician played a beautiful worship song. I don't think there was a dry eye on the stage. It was a special moment, and it really set the tone for the rest of the wedding.
I think we will be copying this. Jessica, maybe you started a trend. I mean, it's my wedding day, the day I marry one of the greatest gifts God has ever given me. Ryan is my good and perfect gift. It only makes sense that I would include a worship song so that I can tell everyone how gracious and merciful and loving my God is. My prayer for my wedding day and our marriage is that we can keep God and each other at the center of it. Pray for us as we continue to plan this wedding, that we can find other ways to show Christ's love and our gratitude to him for bringing us together and giving us this beautiful love and this beautiful life. Amen.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Reflections from the other side of the storm.
It's the week before finals, and all through my life, the tension's so thick, you can cut it with a knife!
You guys didn't know I was smooth like that, huh? No, but seriously, I have like five different assignments due on Monday, followed by two finals on Wednesday, one the week after that, and then graduation(!) on the 17th. It goes without saying that the next two weeks are going to be wild. Today during my last class, I was making a to-do list of all of my assignments due soon. I finished the list and looked over it. I began to stress terribly; how on earth am I going to get all of this done? Then a thought occurred to me from the somewhere deep down. "It's still not as bad as court reporting school." And can I tell you, when this thought occurred to me, I laughed out loud, quite literally.
So, some of you may or may not know this, but I spent four years in court reporting school before I changed my major. It was a daily struggle. Don't take that last sentence lightly. The first year, I had so much motivation. I was only 19 and all anyone talked about was how much money I could make. I breezed through that first year with straight A's. I enjoyed it. I was able to keep my job and still got my homework finished in time. It was great. The second year is where the trouble began. Things became more challenging. To pass in court reporting you have to be able to write on a steno machine at 225 words per minute with a 96% accuracy. IT IS HARD. We built speed by 10 words per minute, and we had timed tests twice a week. I dreaded those because I couldn't pass them to save my life. I got so discouraged. So I practiced harder. I practiced more diligently. I prayed, and I cried, and I practiced, and I continued to fail. I quit my job to have more time for practice. I tried every possible thing my teachers recommended. All of my friends were passing every single test, and that just made it worse. I didn't understand why I was practicing so much harder and not seeing any results. I grew depressed. I developed anxiety. I gained weight. I was tired all the time because all I did was stress. After four years of the madness, I finally gave up. Once again, I was angry at God. God, how could you allow me to spend four years of my life in this program and see no benefits? Now what am I supposed to do with my life?
To this day, I still wonder why God allowed me to suffer through that. When I think about it, it still gets me down sometimes. But then that thought occurred to me today. And I got a small glimpse of what could be the reason for all the suffering. Since quitting court reporting school and starting this current degree, everything has felt easy. Not to discredit the paralegal program, because it does have it's own unique struggles. But they do not even come close to the court reporting program. Perhaps God allowed me to suffer through that hard and challenging time so that other things will seem easy for me. I'm going to make it my motto that whenever I'm presented with a challenge, I'm going to ask myself, "Is this harder than court reporting school?" And 99% of the time, the answer will be no. And when the answer is no, I'll know that I can handle it. God has been good to me. There's always a reason for the struggle. There's always a lesson to be learned. Thank you, God, for bringing me through that storm in my life. It makes me so grateful to be on the other side.
And to my friends who managed to make it through court reporting school and now are successful and thriving, hat's off to you. As far as I'm concerned, you're all superhuman. God bless.
You guys didn't know I was smooth like that, huh? No, but seriously, I have like five different assignments due on Monday, followed by two finals on Wednesday, one the week after that, and then graduation(!) on the 17th. It goes without saying that the next two weeks are going to be wild. Today during my last class, I was making a to-do list of all of my assignments due soon. I finished the list and looked over it. I began to stress terribly; how on earth am I going to get all of this done? Then a thought occurred to me from the somewhere deep down. "It's still not as bad as court reporting school." And can I tell you, when this thought occurred to me, I laughed out loud, quite literally.
So, some of you may or may not know this, but I spent four years in court reporting school before I changed my major. It was a daily struggle. Don't take that last sentence lightly. The first year, I had so much motivation. I was only 19 and all anyone talked about was how much money I could make. I breezed through that first year with straight A's. I enjoyed it. I was able to keep my job and still got my homework finished in time. It was great. The second year is where the trouble began. Things became more challenging. To pass in court reporting you have to be able to write on a steno machine at 225 words per minute with a 96% accuracy. IT IS HARD. We built speed by 10 words per minute, and we had timed tests twice a week. I dreaded those because I couldn't pass them to save my life. I got so discouraged. So I practiced harder. I practiced more diligently. I prayed, and I cried, and I practiced, and I continued to fail. I quit my job to have more time for practice. I tried every possible thing my teachers recommended. All of my friends were passing every single test, and that just made it worse. I didn't understand why I was practicing so much harder and not seeing any results. I grew depressed. I developed anxiety. I gained weight. I was tired all the time because all I did was stress. After four years of the madness, I finally gave up. Once again, I was angry at God. God, how could you allow me to spend four years of my life in this program and see no benefits? Now what am I supposed to do with my life?
To this day, I still wonder why God allowed me to suffer through that. When I think about it, it still gets me down sometimes. But then that thought occurred to me today. And I got a small glimpse of what could be the reason for all the suffering. Since quitting court reporting school and starting this current degree, everything has felt easy. Not to discredit the paralegal program, because it does have it's own unique struggles. But they do not even come close to the court reporting program. Perhaps God allowed me to suffer through that hard and challenging time so that other things will seem easy for me. I'm going to make it my motto that whenever I'm presented with a challenge, I'm going to ask myself, "Is this harder than court reporting school?" And 99% of the time, the answer will be no. And when the answer is no, I'll know that I can handle it. God has been good to me. There's always a reason for the struggle. There's always a lesson to be learned. Thank you, God, for bringing me through that storm in my life. It makes me so grateful to be on the other side.
And to my friends who managed to make it through court reporting school and now are successful and thriving, hat's off to you. As far as I'm concerned, you're all superhuman. God bless.
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