This is a paper I wrote my Senior year in High School, for my English class. The assignment was to write about an experience or award that changed you. Being only four months after my Grandpa's death, that's what I picked: The last time I saw him. This will eventually be incorporated into 'Spontaneously Combustible', if I ever get around to finishing it. I hope you enjoy reading it, it's a piece that's very dear to my heart.
SKS
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Tear-Stained Memory
February 7th, 2000
The most recent experience that deeply changed me was on October first, last year, the day my Grandpa died. I saw him an hour after he had died, and the images are imprinted into my memory forever. It was the last time I saw him, and I’ll never forget it.
Grandpa died at two o’clock in the morning on a Friday, and my Dad woke me up fifteen minutes later with the sad, yet happy, news. I couldn’t cry, because Grandpa had been suffering for a long time, and I was happy that he was finally home. Dad said he and Mom were taking Grandma up to Villa Maria, the nursing home where Grandpa had spent the last three months, to see him before the mortician took him to the funeral home. Dad asked me if I wanted to come with them. Under normal circumstances, I would have said NO WAY!!!! But these weren’t normal circumstances. I was shell-shocked, and barely able to keep my eyes open, so I’m not surprised that I said I’d go with them. We left at two-thirty.
Riding in the back of the car on the way there, I just sat, numbly staring out the car window at the stars. It was such a clear night. Not a cloud in the sky. Just as I spotted the constellation Orion, I realized what was about to happen. I had never seen a dead body before, never been to a funeral. Now, I was about to see my Grandpa who, just an hour ago, had been alive, and was now teasing angels, making them laugh. At that instant, I wanted to jump out of the car and run home. But I couldn’t move a muscle; it was like someone else had control of my body at that point.
We got to Villa Maria at three. My mind was still racing. The monologue in my head went something like this: “Oh my God!! What the hell am I doing!! I’m going to see Gramps dead!?!? NO WAY!! GET OUT OF HERE!! Just start screaming!! Tell them you don’t want to go in!! Why am I not moving? RUN!!” My feet were now moving towards the building, and I couldn’t stop and turn around, as much as I wanted to. I see it like a video that’s playing in my mind, the memory is so vivid.
We were inside. I saw Grandma talking to the nurses. They were crying. So was Grandma, as she thanked them for being so kind. Then, we started down the hall towards the room where Grandpa had been just an hour ago. The clamor in my mind got louder and louder with each step closer. Halfway down the hall, the words turned into screaming and my head started pounding, like there was someone inside that was banging on the walls, trying to get out. Grandma was softly crying.
I remember pausing outside the door. My Grandma went in first, then my Dad, then me. My Mom was somewhere behind me, as were the nurses and the mortician. As I walked in, I saw the shell of my hero, my Grandpa. I held my breath.
He looked like he was sleeping, like he was going to wake up any second, sit up, and tell me that he wasn’t dead, but very much alive, and back to the way he used to be… but he didn’t even move. His body just lay there, his spirit no longer in it. His eyes were closed, his cheeks were like a caved-in prune, and his mouth was gaping open, like he was gasping for breath that wasn’t there. I noticed his teeth weren’t in as I heard the most disturbing sound. It was a cry of anguish, almost a moan, and it was coming from my Grandma. She bent over Grandpa, her husband of fifty-eight years, and started talking to him, kissing him over and over while stroking what little hair he had. She was telling him she always loved him, and always would. She told him she would miss him so much, and that she can’t wait to see him again in Heaven. As I stared in disbelief, it finally sunk in that he was really gone. For the first time that morning, I cried. I wanted Grandpa to tell me it was going to be all right. Most of all, I wanted to have been able to say good-bye. I cried harder, because I missed my Grandpa. I still do.
Then we left. The ride home, like the ride up, was very quiet. Halfway home, Grandma started crying softly again. Tears silently poured from my eyes.
I have never been the same. Memories from when I was little: Grandpa playing with me and building ramps for my brother and I to jump our bikes off of, going swimming together in the summer… they’re so hard to remember. I see pictures, but whenever I try to picture him in my mind, it’s the last time I saw him. The whole thing plays over and over, and I can’t deny it happened, though it feels like it was just a horrible nightmare. I wish it were. It’s so hard now, to go anywhere. I’m always reminded of Grandpa, and what a good man he was. It’s hard to tell someone how that night changed me, but I know it did. It scarred me badly, but it’s a scar very few see. It’s so hard to even be typing this. I can’t see the computer screen through the tears that are raining from my eyes. Seeing what I saw touched me so deeply, I don’t know the words to describe how. I don’t know if they even exist.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tear-Stained Memory
Monday, December 22, 2008
Spontaneously Combustible
Ok, so this is a writing project I've been working on for the past seven years. I haven't actually added anything for at least four years, but I've tweaked it some recently. I had been asked to write out my testimony for an online group I was a part of at the time, but it just kept getting longer and longer... Eventually, the group disbanded, and I kept writing for the sake of it. Writing is theraputic for me, though it's not too often I let something as personal as this be open to the public. But for whatever reason God's having me do this, here it is. Please keep in mind, this is a work in progress!!! It is not finished at this point in time, and I may never finish it.
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All right, I admit it. I'm not the most mature person you've met. But, I'm proud of the fact that my inner child has a say in my every-day life. Besides this, I've been told that I’m wise beyond my age. This is the result of experiences I've had in my twenty-one years. I think that it's time to pass on what God has taught me in my life so far. So, here's the story of me.
It's hard to know exactly where to start. So many things over so many years have helped to shape me into who I am today. So, I guess I'll start as far back as I can remember.
In 1987, I was in kindergarten. A family moved from New Hampshire to our little corner of Connecticut. The oldest of the four children was a girl my age. Her name was Tammy*, and I decided to befriend her. We became fast friends. We were practically inseparable for the next few years! Those were happy years.
Fast forward to fall 1992, when we were in fifth grade. Things were starting to fall apart… It just seemed like Tammy never wanted to hang out with me anymore…we were supposed to be life-long friends, you know? This upset me, but I didn't say anything about it.
Until December.
December 1992, three days before Christmas vacation. I was standing alone in the playground at recess, looking for Tammy. I heard laughter (giggling, actually) behind me, so I turned around to look. There was Tammy, with her two new friends. They were pointing in my direction and laughing among themselves. My heart broke. Tears burst into my eyes, and I ran and hid in some bushes for the rest of recess. I was devastated. How could my best friend do such a thing to me?
Two days before Christmas vacation started, I let Tammy have it. I had gone from devastated to furious overnight…and I was going to give her a piece of my mind, at no charge!
So, on our way to lunch that day, I cornered her, and I told her exactly how I felt, in as harsh a way I could without speaking any louder than a whisper. I didn't want any teachers to hear what I had to say.
"How could you do this to me? After how nice I've been to you over the years, and you betray me like this? How could you? I hate you, Tammy, and I never, I repeat, NEVER want to be friends with you again!"
Of course, I regretted it the next day.
Of course, I had absolutely killed any chance of a social life for the next four years. But I was too ashamed to go back and apologize to Tammy that day, and since the next day was the first day of Christmas vacation, I wasn’t able to apologize until after vacation.
And by then, it was too late.
Now, she was furious with me, and she had more “social clout” than I did. She had been my only friend.
And then, there were none.
Tammy, on the other hand, had lots of friends. Practically the entire fifth grade, plus some of the sixth, seventh, and eight grades too. Not surprisingly, I was shunned. It seemed Tammy had turned virtually the entire school against me, and I believed I didn’t deserve that.
But I was wrong.
Years later, I learned that Tammy and her friends had been pointing and laughing at someone behind me, and boy, did I feel stupid.
I mean, not only did I completely destroy my friendship with Tammy, but I had also caused myself to be outcast. Not to mention that I put myself through four years of absolute loneliness, depression and pure Hell, for nothing. Nothing!
Or so I thought.
About the time I started writing this, I realized that if I hadn’t gone through those years of sheer loneliness and the like, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. During those four years, I became insufferably shy and withdrawn. Especially during recess, when I’d just sit by myself against the building and think. Because of that, I became kind of…. well, a thinker, you might say. I’m not claiming to be any kind of a genius…. I’m far from it. I just tend to think through situations before they happen. I also tend to think very logically, though my imagination is still in full use everyday.
Come to think of it, those years when I was so lonely and extremely bored, I’d just let my imagination run free. But that’s usually where it stayed, in my head.
Over those years, the loneliness and depression left a huge scar in my personality, though, and I still suffer sometimes. I became a loner, and even now, I still tend to prefer being alone. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends to death, but I can’t think clearly around lots of people. Some of my deepest and clearest thoughts come at night, when I have both the free time and the solitude I need.
But that’s only part of who I am. It was a very rough part of my life, but that’s not where I am today. The story must go on!
Now where did I leave off? Oh, that’s right!
So now Tammy never wanted to be friends with me, and I was left friendless. It went on that way for a couple of years. By seventh grade, I was getting sick of being alone, and looking for a way out. One day, in English class, I was supposed to be taking notes on the movie we were watching, (Born Free, to this day I still hate that movie) but, being bored out of my mind, I was doodling on my paper.
All of a sudden, I found myself just writing the random thoughts rolling around in my head…some, I didn’t even know were there. Out came stuff like “nobody cares about me” and “no one loves me but my cat and my grandparents and they’re the only reason I haven’t killed myself” (not true: I never had, nor ever will have the guts to commit suicide), and other such sentences. I passed about half the class this way, until, lo and behold, I felt someone looking over my shoulder.
Panic ensued. I was caught! It was my teacher! How long she had been standing behind me, I didn’t know.
Of course, she confiscated my page of “notes”, and, of course, she read it. I saw her look up at me from her desk while the movie kept on playing. It was one of those “looks”… and I knew.
And, of course, I was called down to the guidance office (a.k.a. school “psychologist”… pardon my cynicism), along with, surprisingly, Tammy and her two friends.
Oh no.
Tammy, and her two friends, had been pulled out of their classes to the guidance office! Turns out the faculty knew the three of us had a problem with each other. The looks on the faces of Tammy and her two friends as I walked in radiated pure hatred. I could feel their eyes burning into my skin.
My worst nightmare unfolded.
The guidance counselor made them write letters of apology to me, and made them promise to be nicer to me. I sat there, silent. What had I done?! Even the slightest hope of ever being friends with Tammy again, had been eradicated unmercifully by this wacko guidance counselor…”I only have the child’s best interests in mind”. Su-u-u-u-ure. I wanted to cry, but I managed to wait until I got home to burst into tears. Now I really wanted to kill myself (afterthought… that really would have shown the guidance counselor how much of a quack she was). But, seeing how I had expressed my feelings and made my situation worse, I decided to put on a happy face and pretend everything was all right.
So I shut up. I literally stopped talking to anyone, except when absolutely necessary, because when I spoke up, I either ended up getting in trouble, or someone else would and then they’d hate me even more.
My silent years.
Two years, actually. During that time, I learned there are people I can’t trust, and at that time, that was everyone. That affected how I chose my friends, once I had the chance. It takes a lot for me to trust someone, though not as much as it used to be. Back then, I was unwilling (and unable) to trust anyone.
Towards the end of eight grade, I decided to take a chance. I wrote a quick note to Tammy, and slipped it into her locker. Basically, the note just asked if she’d change her mind, and that I would never ask her again, if she said no.
She said yes.
You couldn’t imagine my elation. Maybe my life wasn’t ruined after all! I was overjoyed.
But not for long.
I soon found out what “including you into our group” meant. They formed a circle. I was left on the outside. This was even worse than before!
That continued through the first month and a half of my freshman year. I loved high school! I met new people who didn’t know Tammy or what I had done. And they could get to know me, for who I was.
The first person I met was Roxanne. We were in the same homeroom, plus we had two classes together. She introduced me to “The Morning Group”.
They, the few, the proud, the Morning Group, accepted me as one of their own, and welcomed me into their group. They included me in their conversations, coaxing me to talk. They’re the ones who got me talking again, little by little.
I’ll never forget my first Christmas with them. That’s when I first knew these were friends for life.
By Christmas my freshman year, I had only met “The Morning Group” (as we later called ourselves) two months before. Figuring that they wouldn’t be giving me anything, since I barely knew them and they had all known each other since grade school, I had just gotten cards for them.
The day before Christmas vacation, I walked upstairs at school to the hallway where we all hung out every morning. As I turned the corner, I was bombarded. All of them were thrusting presents and cards at me, all wanting me to open theirs first. I just stood there a minute, dumbstruck. Then I burst into tears. They thought something was wrong!
“I’ve just never had real friends before. You guys really didn’t have to get me anything… having you all as friends is the greatest present I could ever ask for.”
Hugs all around.
So I sat down and opened all the gifts and cards under the anticipation-filled eyes of my new friends; Crystal Marvin, Krystal Riley, Sara Woodward, Lacey Smith, Gena Scheinfeld, Shannon Davis and Shanna Bokoff*. But something written in each of the cards genuinely perplexed me. Instead of signing “your friend”, there was five letters: “lylas”.
I turned to Crystal and asked, “What’s ‘lylas’ mean?” The answer brought tears to my eyes once more.
“Love You Like A Sister”.
They had come up with the phrase years ago…and they were including me in it! I cried harder, because I realized that finally, someone was accepting me for who I was, and loved me anyway.
True friendship. Finally!
The Morning Group taught me the meaning of true friendship: that a real friend is there for you, through it all, and will love you for who you are, no matter what you’ve done or ever will do. And even though everyone in the group wasn’t a Christian, they also taught me how a Christian should act. It didn’t matter who you were, they accepted anyone into the group who would, in turn, accept them. They set a standard for me to live up to and also set the qualities I still look for in a friend.
For the rest of that year I was so happy getting to know my new friends, and worked on getting more involved in the conversations. I wouldn’t be the same without the Morning Group.
But it doesn’t end there! THERE’S STILL MORE!!
In the summer of 1997 (after my freshman year), I went with a friend from church (Kristina…she’s been my friend since we were born, but was Tammy’s friend too…Tammy wouldn’t let her talk to me during “those years”) to a Christian summer camp called Word of Life Island. WOL actually has two camps, The Ranch (kids up to eighth grade) and The Island (high school age). The WOL Island is, wonder of wonders, actually an island! We had to take a ferry to get to the camp….too cool.
Anyway, WOLI (a lot easier to type than ‘Word of Life Island’…) is on Schroon Lake in upstate NY, just if you wanted to know. I went for a week in 1997, as well as for another week in 1998. During my week in 1997, I accepted Christ as my own. I grew up in a Christian home, and had become a Christian at a very early age. I think I was four…but that was way too long ago. But, I went to Sunday school all my life, but I had never truly accepted Christ. I don’t exactly remember how it happened, but I know one of the speakers during the week had gotten to me, and I remember breaking down crying with my counselor on my bunk one night. Also, later that week I dedicated my life to Christ. Overall, a very eventful week!
Two weeks after WOLI 1997, I went with thirty or so others from my youth group to a huge youth conference in Colorado, at the University of Colorado in Fort Collins. It was called CHIC (stands for Covenant High In Christ). Five thousand Christian teens from all over the world in one place… unbelievable week. We got there on a Saturday, left the following Saturday. Every night, everyone gathered in the big arena (called Moby) for worship time. The sheer volume of everyone singing just blew my mind. The presence of God was just…amazing. I can’t explain it. It was one of those experiences you just can’t describe. You just had to be there.
But the best part about Chic wasn’t the cool speakers they had or the worship time. Not for me, anyway.
To be honest, I had gone into Chic with a poor attitude. And the reason is really embarrassing. But, since that week was a hugely important event in my life, I’ll suffer through writing it for you, the readers.
Awhile before Chic, I had developed a crush on my friend Ollie*. Unbeknownst to me, he had figured this out (though looking back on it, it was completely obvious. I was such a dork!) About a week before Chic, I was on the phone with Ollie when he confronted me about it. Though I tried not to show it, I was heartbroken as he told me he felt we were getting too close. I tried not to cry as I agreed that it was for the best.
Even as I tried to be angry, I couldn’t. I was hurt, but he was still my friend. Despite being disappointed, in my heart I knew that I’d rather just be friends with him. And I thought I’d ruined it. Still, going into Chic, I tried to make myself angry at him.
I was horrible at it.
By the third full day of Chic (Tuesday), I had caved. God had gotten to me. He had started Monday. That day, Ollie wore a DCTalk Jesus Freak concert tour T-shirt. As soon as I saw it, part of one of the songs off that album popped into my head, and started eating away at my heart.
‘Confession is the road to healing, forgiveness is the Promised Land. I’m reaching out in my conviction and I’m longing to make amends. So I’m sorry for the words I’ve spoken, for I’ve betrayed a friend. We’ve got a love that’s worth preserving and a bond I will defend. Just between you and me, I’ve got something to say. I wanna get it straight, before the sun goes down. Just between you and me, confession needs to be made; recompense is my way to freedom now. Just between you and me, I’ve got something to say.’
(For those of you who can’t place the tune, it’s “Just Between You and Me”). No matter how hard I tried, I could not get that song out of my head, and it drove me INSANE with guilt. Though I hadn’t said anything outright mean, I had treated Ollie with a cold shoulder and some major indifference. I felt like a heel for how I had treated him, and he didn’t deserve it.
Understandably, I couldn’t fall asleep easily that night. Sometime around one in the morning, my brain suddenly stopped screaming…the mind-numbing guilt and that song still repeating through my head just stopped. Just like that! Replacing it, though, was a whisper.
“Trust me.”
Tears sprung to my eyes. Then, I tried arguing with God.
Never argue with God. He always wins.
But, I tried anyway. I finally gave up around 2am. I was tired.
“Alright God, I give up, you win. Just please; open up Ollie’s heart to what I have to tell him. Please.”
And then I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up instantly regretting opening my eyes. I hadn’t trusted anyone in years; this was going to be extremely tough. I just kept repeating that prayer the whole day, waiting for the right time to spill my guts.
I found my chance that night after worship.
I was walking all by myself back to the dorm hall we were staying in, when Ollie walked by me. Before he could pass by completely, I stopped him.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, can we take a walk?”
No turning back now!
And so, we started walking aimlessly around the campus, talking. I told him everything from kindergarten to right where we were. I started with why we needed to talk: my reaction to that phone call. I told him (and this was partly true) that I had felt like “we’re getting too close” meant he didn’t want to be friends at all. I didn’t confess to the crush until years later, when I finally got the courage.
And you know what? I got the best surprise! Ollie told me that at first he was afraid to tell me he felt we were getting too close…he was afraid of losing my friendship. I nearly cried when he asked me if he’d been a good friend to me. I told him of course, and that he was the best friend I’ve ever had.
And second only to Jesus Christ, he still is.
The most amazing thing happened during that walk. Ollie just let me tell my story, listening and nodding his head to let me know he cared. And when I finished…I was dumbfounded to find out he’d been through similar things being teased and outcast because of his hearing aids.
I was utterly speechless. I had finally found someone who understood what I’d been through…someone who knew what it was like to feel alone in this world.
A kindred spirit.
The strangest feelings welled up in my heart. Peace and joy…Joy! I was so overwhelmed with these two feelings because Ollie gave me something no one else had: he listened with his heart, not just his ears. Whether he knew it or not, he taught me how to do the same.
For the first time in my life, someone listened to me without judging me. It was also the first time I had told my whole story.
After we finished talking, there was a minute or two of silence, then Ollie, who swears he’s tone-deaf, started singing. I joined in.
“The Lord bless you and keep you / the Lord make his face to shine upon you / and be gracious / gracious / gracious too you. / The Lord lift up his countenance / upon you. / And give you / give you / give you peace.”
It was one of the songs we’d learned at Chic, and it just seamed to fit in well right then. We were walking across a parking lot, back towards the arena where we’d started, when we came upon a tree, next to the arena, where we stopped and prayed together. I don’t remember exactly what was said there, but I remember I was so choked with emotion that I couldn’t speak, and that my life was completely changed.
I finally found a friend I could trust.
To this day, trusting is still a problem for me. It’s not as hard as that first time, but I still tend to be very wary when it comes to baring my soul to someone. I want to be absolutely sure that that someone isn’t going to betray me. I’m doing pretty well so far.
I’ve only been working on this for seven years!
And just by writing this, it’s a huge step for me, and it’s incredibly hard sometimes. Several times I almost threw away the whole project. But what keeps me writing?
Hope. The hope that somehow, through this project I’ll touch someone’s life. Even if it’s just one person. After all the years that my story’s been developing, I felt God urging me, telling me it’s time for me to share my story.
This brings us back to Chic.
After praying at what would later become known as “Our Tree”, Ollie and I walked back to the dorms we were staying in, forty-five minutes after I had first taken the risk of starting the conversation.
The absolute best forty-five minutes of my life.
For the rest of Chic, I was flying high. Everything was so much better when I was in the right frame of mind. Overall, Chic was a time of renewal for me. My faith in God was strengthened, and through one person, God renewed my faith in the human race, and I started learning to trust again.
By the end of Chic, I found that I had other awesome friends in my Youth Group. I went into my sophomore year very happy. That school year went by very quickly.
During that school year, my Youth Group was planning a mission trip to Chicago for that summer (1998). I went to the informational meeting to see what it was all about. We were planning to run a week of Vacation Bible School (VBS) for inner-city kids in Chicago. It sounded like a lot of fun, so I signed up.
At the first planning meeting, we did some exercises to get to know each other better. One of the exercises was just writing down the answers to a bunch of questions, which others may not know the answers too. Some examples: What’s your middle name, what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream, what type of deodorant do you use (I am serious!), and what do you see yourself doing in the future?
For the last question, I had written (somewhat jokingly) that my friend Roxanne was planning on being a famous singer and I was going to be one of her back-up singers.
Well, my Youth Pastor (Pastor Dave) told me “Why don’t you start now? I hear they’re looking for singers to join the Youth Worship Band!”
Oh great. What did I get myself into now?
I started to decline, but several others at the meeting wouldn’t let me say no. I was practically forced to join the band!
Years later, I would thank Pastor Dave for forcing me to join.
Before I left that meting, Pastor Dave said he’d have Rick, the leader of the band, give me a call by the end of the week.
I got my call that Friday.
Rick formally invited me into the Sunday Night Live Band, and told me the next practice was in two weeks, on February 28th, 1998.
So, I anxiously anticipated my first practice with the SNL Band.
Ha! More like dreaded!
I was petrified of standing up in front of my Youth group and singing! Let alone singing into a microphone! The thought struck fear into the very depth of my heart.
But come Saturday the 28th, I went to practice besides the fact that I was scared out of my mind of singing in front of people.
I walked into the sanctuary (where everything was set up for practice), and nearly turned around to run out of there, I was so scared! I mean, not only was I scared to sing in front of people (though I’d been in school choruses since third grade); the rest of the band was made up of only guys. I’d be the only girl in the band.
YIKES!
But at that moment, Rick spotted me, and there was no turning back. He introduced me to the rest of the band. Ryan Brown, guitarist extraordinaire. Andrew Cremé on drums, Robbie Rogers also on guitar, and Rick played guitar and sang.
Four guys and me. Me!
But once we started playing, everything fell into place, and I began warming up to the microphone. It wasn’t so bad after all!
It was actually fun!
My first time with an actual audience was the next night. During the practice, Rick had practically forced me into three solos…I had never had a solo before! I was thrilled and freaked out at the same time!
My first “gig” went fine. It was awesome! The only problem I had was shaky hands and nearly passing out because I was so nervous.
But after that, I wasn’t as nervous. Eventually, I wasn’t nervous at all! The guys became like brothers to me, and the band, like a family.
Over the following years, the band, and I, changed. Robbie went away to college, Andrew left to do other things, Chris joined with his multiple talents and instruments (keyboard/guitar/trumpet/vocals), Ryan’s younger brother Mike took Andrew’s place on drums, Nathan joined on bass, and later left for college, Beth, Ben, Jess and Katelyn would all join on vocals, and later Ben would play bass too. When I left the band in the fall of 2001, we had over a dozen members!
And we got a new name. That was my idea. For over a year we called ourselves the SNL Band (Sunday Night Live was what our youth group is called), until I decided to come up with a new name for ourselves.
I ended up with three names: Fools For Christ (FFC), Bound For Glory (BFG), and Least of These (LOT). Then, I had the band and youth group vote on their favorite name.
Bound For Glory (BFG) won. Now don’t get me wrong…it wasn’t meant to be pretentious or anything. It means we’re all bound for God’s glory, not our own. And honestly, I liked Least of These better, but the popular vote was for BFG. Well, technically the popular vote was for ‘A Bunch of Kids and an Old Guy’, but that was something Chris had stuck in as a joke, and everybody voted for that one, plus a legit name!! So, we went with BFG.
And it stuck. All these years later, we still call ourselves BFG, even though the only original members left are Rick and I. Yes, that’s right! I rejoined as a leader two years after leaving. But Rick’s the one who holds it all together anyway!
Me, I’m a completely different person from the painfully shy girl who started out in the band. Through BFG I started to learn how to be myself and to actually like who the real me is. BFG is where I regained some of the self-esteem that I lost so many years before.
Standing up with my band mates and just jamming or cranking out some raucous praise tunes, I found myself truly happy again. I could smile, and mean it.
But throughout my years with BFG, my smile would be tested, and my heart broken.
Three days after my first time playing with the band, I had a real shocker waiting for me when I got home from school. My Mom was late getting home from work, and my brother told me she had to help my Grandma on my Dad’s side bring Grandpa to the hospital. Why? We had no clue.
Hours later, my Mom calls to let my brother and I know that the doctors at the nearby hospital found a blood clot in Grandpa’s brain, and that blood was leaking into his brain. So, they were transferring him to a bigger hospital in the next state, where a neurosurgeon could examine Gramps to see if he was a candidate for brain surgery.
Brain surgery! Yikes!
The absolute worst part was that my Dad was in Florida for the week on a business trip. And guess who had to tell him that his father might need brain surgery?
Me. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Well, that neurosurgeon put Gramps through a MRI to see what they could find. And find something they did.
A tumor. A tumor! My heart ached at the prospect of having to tell my Dad that news. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to.
Grandpa went into surgery the next day. The entire day at school, my hand took notes while my eyes remained transfixed on my watch. To this day, I’m not even completely sure how I managed functioning that day. When my Mom finally called home with the news, it was indeed wonderful news. No brain tumor!
What the MRI had shown to be a tumor was just a dense infection! An infection! I was shocked, to say the least. And, for a while, I was angry at the doctors. The MRIs weren’t as good in 1998 as they are now, so they really couldn’t tell between a tumor and a very dense infection.
So, the doctors put Grandpa on a bunch of antibiotics to clear up the infection. Still, it was a very hard recover, for all of us. Gramps spent several months at the hospital, then three months at a nursing home. He never walked on his own again.
During that time, I was getting ready for the Missions trip to Chicago with my youth group. And finally, it came. We left on a Saturday morning, piled into two huge vans, and headed off.
It may have been a long drive, but it went by so fast, just being with a bunch of my friends. It was so fun! We stopped for the night in Ohio. A family that had come from our church now lived there, and they were kind enough to let us camp out on the way and the way back home. Next morning, we were off again.
We reached Chicago by the late afternoon. We were staying at the North Park Campus, and we spent the rest of that day settling in and going over our plans for the Vacation Bible School (a.k.a. VBS). My friend Jess (who would later join BFG) and I were in charge of the music for the whole week. We were all so excited!! No one slept Monday night!
Monday morning, after breakfast, we headed towards the inner-city church to set up for VBS.
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*Name Changed because I've always wanted to say, "Name changed to protect pirvacy".
*Their real names... just thought you should know.
* Ok, I asked him if he wanted me to use his real name, and this is what he chose. Honest!
----------------------------------------
All right, I admit it. I'm not the most mature person you've met. But, I'm proud of the fact that my inner child has a say in my every-day life. Besides this, I've been told that I’m wise beyond my age. This is the result of experiences I've had in my twenty-one years. I think that it's time to pass on what God has taught me in my life so far. So, here's the story of me.
It's hard to know exactly where to start. So many things over so many years have helped to shape me into who I am today. So, I guess I'll start as far back as I can remember.
In 1987, I was in kindergarten. A family moved from New Hampshire to our little corner of Connecticut. The oldest of the four children was a girl my age. Her name was Tammy*, and I decided to befriend her. We became fast friends. We were practically inseparable for the next few years! Those were happy years.
Fast forward to fall 1992, when we were in fifth grade. Things were starting to fall apart… It just seemed like Tammy never wanted to hang out with me anymore…we were supposed to be life-long friends, you know? This upset me, but I didn't say anything about it.
Until December.
December 1992, three days before Christmas vacation. I was standing alone in the playground at recess, looking for Tammy. I heard laughter (giggling, actually) behind me, so I turned around to look. There was Tammy, with her two new friends. They were pointing in my direction and laughing among themselves. My heart broke. Tears burst into my eyes, and I ran and hid in some bushes for the rest of recess. I was devastated. How could my best friend do such a thing to me?
Two days before Christmas vacation started, I let Tammy have it. I had gone from devastated to furious overnight…and I was going to give her a piece of my mind, at no charge!
So, on our way to lunch that day, I cornered her, and I told her exactly how I felt, in as harsh a way I could without speaking any louder than a whisper. I didn't want any teachers to hear what I had to say.
"How could you do this to me? After how nice I've been to you over the years, and you betray me like this? How could you? I hate you, Tammy, and I never, I repeat, NEVER want to be friends with you again!"
Of course, I regretted it the next day.
Of course, I had absolutely killed any chance of a social life for the next four years. But I was too ashamed to go back and apologize to Tammy that day, and since the next day was the first day of Christmas vacation, I wasn’t able to apologize until after vacation.
And by then, it was too late.
Now, she was furious with me, and she had more “social clout” than I did. She had been my only friend.
And then, there were none.
Tammy, on the other hand, had lots of friends. Practically the entire fifth grade, plus some of the sixth, seventh, and eight grades too. Not surprisingly, I was shunned. It seemed Tammy had turned virtually the entire school against me, and I believed I didn’t deserve that.
But I was wrong.
Years later, I learned that Tammy and her friends had been pointing and laughing at someone behind me, and boy, did I feel stupid.
I mean, not only did I completely destroy my friendship with Tammy, but I had also caused myself to be outcast. Not to mention that I put myself through four years of absolute loneliness, depression and pure Hell, for nothing. Nothing!
Or so I thought.
About the time I started writing this, I realized that if I hadn’t gone through those years of sheer loneliness and the like, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. During those four years, I became insufferably shy and withdrawn. Especially during recess, when I’d just sit by myself against the building and think. Because of that, I became kind of…. well, a thinker, you might say. I’m not claiming to be any kind of a genius…. I’m far from it. I just tend to think through situations before they happen. I also tend to think very logically, though my imagination is still in full use everyday.
Come to think of it, those years when I was so lonely and extremely bored, I’d just let my imagination run free. But that’s usually where it stayed, in my head.
Over those years, the loneliness and depression left a huge scar in my personality, though, and I still suffer sometimes. I became a loner, and even now, I still tend to prefer being alone. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends to death, but I can’t think clearly around lots of people. Some of my deepest and clearest thoughts come at night, when I have both the free time and the solitude I need.
But that’s only part of who I am. It was a very rough part of my life, but that’s not where I am today. The story must go on!
Now where did I leave off? Oh, that’s right!
So now Tammy never wanted to be friends with me, and I was left friendless. It went on that way for a couple of years. By seventh grade, I was getting sick of being alone, and looking for a way out. One day, in English class, I was supposed to be taking notes on the movie we were watching, (Born Free, to this day I still hate that movie) but, being bored out of my mind, I was doodling on my paper.
All of a sudden, I found myself just writing the random thoughts rolling around in my head…some, I didn’t even know were there. Out came stuff like “nobody cares about me” and “no one loves me but my cat and my grandparents and they’re the only reason I haven’t killed myself” (not true: I never had, nor ever will have the guts to commit suicide), and other such sentences. I passed about half the class this way, until, lo and behold, I felt someone looking over my shoulder.
Panic ensued. I was caught! It was my teacher! How long she had been standing behind me, I didn’t know.
Of course, she confiscated my page of “notes”, and, of course, she read it. I saw her look up at me from her desk while the movie kept on playing. It was one of those “looks”… and I knew.
And, of course, I was called down to the guidance office (a.k.a. school “psychologist”… pardon my cynicism), along with, surprisingly, Tammy and her two friends.
Oh no.
Tammy, and her two friends, had been pulled out of their classes to the guidance office! Turns out the faculty knew the three of us had a problem with each other. The looks on the faces of Tammy and her two friends as I walked in radiated pure hatred. I could feel their eyes burning into my skin.
My worst nightmare unfolded.
The guidance counselor made them write letters of apology to me, and made them promise to be nicer to me. I sat there, silent. What had I done?! Even the slightest hope of ever being friends with Tammy again, had been eradicated unmercifully by this wacko guidance counselor…”I only have the child’s best interests in mind”. Su-u-u-u-ure. I wanted to cry, but I managed to wait until I got home to burst into tears. Now I really wanted to kill myself (afterthought… that really would have shown the guidance counselor how much of a quack she was). But, seeing how I had expressed my feelings and made my situation worse, I decided to put on a happy face and pretend everything was all right.
So I shut up. I literally stopped talking to anyone, except when absolutely necessary, because when I spoke up, I either ended up getting in trouble, or someone else would and then they’d hate me even more.
My silent years.
Two years, actually. During that time, I learned there are people I can’t trust, and at that time, that was everyone. That affected how I chose my friends, once I had the chance. It takes a lot for me to trust someone, though not as much as it used to be. Back then, I was unwilling (and unable) to trust anyone.
Towards the end of eight grade, I decided to take a chance. I wrote a quick note to Tammy, and slipped it into her locker. Basically, the note just asked if she’d change her mind, and that I would never ask her again, if she said no.
She said yes.
You couldn’t imagine my elation. Maybe my life wasn’t ruined after all! I was overjoyed.
But not for long.
I soon found out what “including you into our group” meant. They formed a circle. I was left on the outside. This was even worse than before!
That continued through the first month and a half of my freshman year. I loved high school! I met new people who didn’t know Tammy or what I had done. And they could get to know me, for who I was.
The first person I met was Roxanne. We were in the same homeroom, plus we had two classes together. She introduced me to “The Morning Group”.
They, the few, the proud, the Morning Group, accepted me as one of their own, and welcomed me into their group. They included me in their conversations, coaxing me to talk. They’re the ones who got me talking again, little by little.
I’ll never forget my first Christmas with them. That’s when I first knew these were friends for life.
By Christmas my freshman year, I had only met “The Morning Group” (as we later called ourselves) two months before. Figuring that they wouldn’t be giving me anything, since I barely knew them and they had all known each other since grade school, I had just gotten cards for them.
The day before Christmas vacation, I walked upstairs at school to the hallway where we all hung out every morning. As I turned the corner, I was bombarded. All of them were thrusting presents and cards at me, all wanting me to open theirs first. I just stood there a minute, dumbstruck. Then I burst into tears. They thought something was wrong!
“I’ve just never had real friends before. You guys really didn’t have to get me anything… having you all as friends is the greatest present I could ever ask for.”
Hugs all around.
So I sat down and opened all the gifts and cards under the anticipation-filled eyes of my new friends; Crystal Marvin, Krystal Riley, Sara Woodward, Lacey Smith, Gena Scheinfeld, Shannon Davis and Shanna Bokoff*. But something written in each of the cards genuinely perplexed me. Instead of signing “your friend”, there was five letters: “lylas”.
I turned to Crystal and asked, “What’s ‘lylas’ mean?” The answer brought tears to my eyes once more.
“Love You Like A Sister”.
They had come up with the phrase years ago…and they were including me in it! I cried harder, because I realized that finally, someone was accepting me for who I was, and loved me anyway.
True friendship. Finally!
The Morning Group taught me the meaning of true friendship: that a real friend is there for you, through it all, and will love you for who you are, no matter what you’ve done or ever will do. And even though everyone in the group wasn’t a Christian, they also taught me how a Christian should act. It didn’t matter who you were, they accepted anyone into the group who would, in turn, accept them. They set a standard for me to live up to and also set the qualities I still look for in a friend.
For the rest of that year I was so happy getting to know my new friends, and worked on getting more involved in the conversations. I wouldn’t be the same without the Morning Group.
But it doesn’t end there! THERE’S STILL MORE!!
In the summer of 1997 (after my freshman year), I went with a friend from church (Kristina…she’s been my friend since we were born, but was Tammy’s friend too…Tammy wouldn’t let her talk to me during “those years”) to a Christian summer camp called Word of Life Island. WOL actually has two camps, The Ranch (kids up to eighth grade) and The Island (high school age). The WOL Island is, wonder of wonders, actually an island! We had to take a ferry to get to the camp….too cool.
Anyway, WOLI (a lot easier to type than ‘Word of Life Island’…) is on Schroon Lake in upstate NY, just if you wanted to know. I went for a week in 1997, as well as for another week in 1998. During my week in 1997, I accepted Christ as my own. I grew up in a Christian home, and had become a Christian at a very early age. I think I was four…but that was way too long ago. But, I went to Sunday school all my life, but I had never truly accepted Christ. I don’t exactly remember how it happened, but I know one of the speakers during the week had gotten to me, and I remember breaking down crying with my counselor on my bunk one night. Also, later that week I dedicated my life to Christ. Overall, a very eventful week!
Two weeks after WOLI 1997, I went with thirty or so others from my youth group to a huge youth conference in Colorado, at the University of Colorado in Fort Collins. It was called CHIC (stands for Covenant High In Christ). Five thousand Christian teens from all over the world in one place… unbelievable week. We got there on a Saturday, left the following Saturday. Every night, everyone gathered in the big arena (called Moby) for worship time. The sheer volume of everyone singing just blew my mind. The presence of God was just…amazing. I can’t explain it. It was one of those experiences you just can’t describe. You just had to be there.
But the best part about Chic wasn’t the cool speakers they had or the worship time. Not for me, anyway.
To be honest, I had gone into Chic with a poor attitude. And the reason is really embarrassing. But, since that week was a hugely important event in my life, I’ll suffer through writing it for you, the readers.
Awhile before Chic, I had developed a crush on my friend Ollie*. Unbeknownst to me, he had figured this out (though looking back on it, it was completely obvious. I was such a dork!) About a week before Chic, I was on the phone with Ollie when he confronted me about it. Though I tried not to show it, I was heartbroken as he told me he felt we were getting too close. I tried not to cry as I agreed that it was for the best.
Even as I tried to be angry, I couldn’t. I was hurt, but he was still my friend. Despite being disappointed, in my heart I knew that I’d rather just be friends with him. And I thought I’d ruined it. Still, going into Chic, I tried to make myself angry at him.
I was horrible at it.
By the third full day of Chic (Tuesday), I had caved. God had gotten to me. He had started Monday. That day, Ollie wore a DCTalk Jesus Freak concert tour T-shirt. As soon as I saw it, part of one of the songs off that album popped into my head, and started eating away at my heart.
‘Confession is the road to healing, forgiveness is the Promised Land. I’m reaching out in my conviction and I’m longing to make amends. So I’m sorry for the words I’ve spoken, for I’ve betrayed a friend. We’ve got a love that’s worth preserving and a bond I will defend. Just between you and me, I’ve got something to say. I wanna get it straight, before the sun goes down. Just between you and me, confession needs to be made; recompense is my way to freedom now. Just between you and me, I’ve got something to say.’
(For those of you who can’t place the tune, it’s “Just Between You and Me”). No matter how hard I tried, I could not get that song out of my head, and it drove me INSANE with guilt. Though I hadn’t said anything outright mean, I had treated Ollie with a cold shoulder and some major indifference. I felt like a heel for how I had treated him, and he didn’t deserve it.
Understandably, I couldn’t fall asleep easily that night. Sometime around one in the morning, my brain suddenly stopped screaming…the mind-numbing guilt and that song still repeating through my head just stopped. Just like that! Replacing it, though, was a whisper.
“Trust me.”
Tears sprung to my eyes. Then, I tried arguing with God.
Never argue with God. He always wins.
But, I tried anyway. I finally gave up around 2am. I was tired.
“Alright God, I give up, you win. Just please; open up Ollie’s heart to what I have to tell him. Please.”
And then I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up instantly regretting opening my eyes. I hadn’t trusted anyone in years; this was going to be extremely tough. I just kept repeating that prayer the whole day, waiting for the right time to spill my guts.
I found my chance that night after worship.
I was walking all by myself back to the dorm hall we were staying in, when Ollie walked by me. Before he could pass by completely, I stopped him.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, can we take a walk?”
No turning back now!
And so, we started walking aimlessly around the campus, talking. I told him everything from kindergarten to right where we were. I started with why we needed to talk: my reaction to that phone call. I told him (and this was partly true) that I had felt like “we’re getting too close” meant he didn’t want to be friends at all. I didn’t confess to the crush until years later, when I finally got the courage.
And you know what? I got the best surprise! Ollie told me that at first he was afraid to tell me he felt we were getting too close…he was afraid of losing my friendship. I nearly cried when he asked me if he’d been a good friend to me. I told him of course, and that he was the best friend I’ve ever had.
And second only to Jesus Christ, he still is.
The most amazing thing happened during that walk. Ollie just let me tell my story, listening and nodding his head to let me know he cared. And when I finished…I was dumbfounded to find out he’d been through similar things being teased and outcast because of his hearing aids.
I was utterly speechless. I had finally found someone who understood what I’d been through…someone who knew what it was like to feel alone in this world.
A kindred spirit.
The strangest feelings welled up in my heart. Peace and joy…Joy! I was so overwhelmed with these two feelings because Ollie gave me something no one else had: he listened with his heart, not just his ears. Whether he knew it or not, he taught me how to do the same.
For the first time in my life, someone listened to me without judging me. It was also the first time I had told my whole story.
After we finished talking, there was a minute or two of silence, then Ollie, who swears he’s tone-deaf, started singing. I joined in.
“The Lord bless you and keep you / the Lord make his face to shine upon you / and be gracious / gracious / gracious too you. / The Lord lift up his countenance / upon you. / And give you / give you / give you peace.”
It was one of the songs we’d learned at Chic, and it just seamed to fit in well right then. We were walking across a parking lot, back towards the arena where we’d started, when we came upon a tree, next to the arena, where we stopped and prayed together. I don’t remember exactly what was said there, but I remember I was so choked with emotion that I couldn’t speak, and that my life was completely changed.
I finally found a friend I could trust.
To this day, trusting is still a problem for me. It’s not as hard as that first time, but I still tend to be very wary when it comes to baring my soul to someone. I want to be absolutely sure that that someone isn’t going to betray me. I’m doing pretty well so far.
I’ve only been working on this for seven years!
And just by writing this, it’s a huge step for me, and it’s incredibly hard sometimes. Several times I almost threw away the whole project. But what keeps me writing?
Hope. The hope that somehow, through this project I’ll touch someone’s life. Even if it’s just one person. After all the years that my story’s been developing, I felt God urging me, telling me it’s time for me to share my story.
This brings us back to Chic.
After praying at what would later become known as “Our Tree”, Ollie and I walked back to the dorms we were staying in, forty-five minutes after I had first taken the risk of starting the conversation.
The absolute best forty-five minutes of my life.
For the rest of Chic, I was flying high. Everything was so much better when I was in the right frame of mind. Overall, Chic was a time of renewal for me. My faith in God was strengthened, and through one person, God renewed my faith in the human race, and I started learning to trust again.
By the end of Chic, I found that I had other awesome friends in my Youth Group. I went into my sophomore year very happy. That school year went by very quickly.
During that school year, my Youth Group was planning a mission trip to Chicago for that summer (1998). I went to the informational meeting to see what it was all about. We were planning to run a week of Vacation Bible School (VBS) for inner-city kids in Chicago. It sounded like a lot of fun, so I signed up.
At the first planning meeting, we did some exercises to get to know each other better. One of the exercises was just writing down the answers to a bunch of questions, which others may not know the answers too. Some examples: What’s your middle name, what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream, what type of deodorant do you use (I am serious!), and what do you see yourself doing in the future?
For the last question, I had written (somewhat jokingly) that my friend Roxanne was planning on being a famous singer and I was going to be one of her back-up singers.
Well, my Youth Pastor (Pastor Dave) told me “Why don’t you start now? I hear they’re looking for singers to join the Youth Worship Band!”
Oh great. What did I get myself into now?
I started to decline, but several others at the meeting wouldn’t let me say no. I was practically forced to join the band!
Years later, I would thank Pastor Dave for forcing me to join.
Before I left that meting, Pastor Dave said he’d have Rick, the leader of the band, give me a call by the end of the week.
I got my call that Friday.
Rick formally invited me into the Sunday Night Live Band, and told me the next practice was in two weeks, on February 28th, 1998.
So, I anxiously anticipated my first practice with the SNL Band.
Ha! More like dreaded!
I was petrified of standing up in front of my Youth group and singing! Let alone singing into a microphone! The thought struck fear into the very depth of my heart.
But come Saturday the 28th, I went to practice besides the fact that I was scared out of my mind of singing in front of people.
I walked into the sanctuary (where everything was set up for practice), and nearly turned around to run out of there, I was so scared! I mean, not only was I scared to sing in front of people (though I’d been in school choruses since third grade); the rest of the band was made up of only guys. I’d be the only girl in the band.
YIKES!
But at that moment, Rick spotted me, and there was no turning back. He introduced me to the rest of the band. Ryan Brown, guitarist extraordinaire. Andrew Cremé on drums, Robbie Rogers also on guitar, and Rick played guitar and sang.
Four guys and me. Me!
But once we started playing, everything fell into place, and I began warming up to the microphone. It wasn’t so bad after all!
It was actually fun!
My first time with an actual audience was the next night. During the practice, Rick had practically forced me into three solos…I had never had a solo before! I was thrilled and freaked out at the same time!
My first “gig” went fine. It was awesome! The only problem I had was shaky hands and nearly passing out because I was so nervous.
But after that, I wasn’t as nervous. Eventually, I wasn’t nervous at all! The guys became like brothers to me, and the band, like a family.
Over the following years, the band, and I, changed. Robbie went away to college, Andrew left to do other things, Chris joined with his multiple talents and instruments (keyboard/guitar/trumpet/vocals), Ryan’s younger brother Mike took Andrew’s place on drums, Nathan joined on bass, and later left for college, Beth, Ben, Jess and Katelyn would all join on vocals, and later Ben would play bass too. When I left the band in the fall of 2001, we had over a dozen members!
And we got a new name. That was my idea. For over a year we called ourselves the SNL Band (Sunday Night Live was what our youth group is called), until I decided to come up with a new name for ourselves.
I ended up with three names: Fools For Christ (FFC), Bound For Glory (BFG), and Least of These (LOT). Then, I had the band and youth group vote on their favorite name.
Bound For Glory (BFG) won. Now don’t get me wrong…it wasn’t meant to be pretentious or anything. It means we’re all bound for God’s glory, not our own. And honestly, I liked Least of These better, but the popular vote was for BFG. Well, technically the popular vote was for ‘A Bunch of Kids and an Old Guy’, but that was something Chris had stuck in as a joke, and everybody voted for that one, plus a legit name!! So, we went with BFG.
And it stuck. All these years later, we still call ourselves BFG, even though the only original members left are Rick and I. Yes, that’s right! I rejoined as a leader two years after leaving. But Rick’s the one who holds it all together anyway!
Me, I’m a completely different person from the painfully shy girl who started out in the band. Through BFG I started to learn how to be myself and to actually like who the real me is. BFG is where I regained some of the self-esteem that I lost so many years before.
Standing up with my band mates and just jamming or cranking out some raucous praise tunes, I found myself truly happy again. I could smile, and mean it.
But throughout my years with BFG, my smile would be tested, and my heart broken.
Three days after my first time playing with the band, I had a real shocker waiting for me when I got home from school. My Mom was late getting home from work, and my brother told me she had to help my Grandma on my Dad’s side bring Grandpa to the hospital. Why? We had no clue.
Hours later, my Mom calls to let my brother and I know that the doctors at the nearby hospital found a blood clot in Grandpa’s brain, and that blood was leaking into his brain. So, they were transferring him to a bigger hospital in the next state, where a neurosurgeon could examine Gramps to see if he was a candidate for brain surgery.
Brain surgery! Yikes!
The absolute worst part was that my Dad was in Florida for the week on a business trip. And guess who had to tell him that his father might need brain surgery?
Me. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Well, that neurosurgeon put Gramps through a MRI to see what they could find. And find something they did.
A tumor. A tumor! My heart ached at the prospect of having to tell my Dad that news. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to.
Grandpa went into surgery the next day. The entire day at school, my hand took notes while my eyes remained transfixed on my watch. To this day, I’m not even completely sure how I managed functioning that day. When my Mom finally called home with the news, it was indeed wonderful news. No brain tumor!
What the MRI had shown to be a tumor was just a dense infection! An infection! I was shocked, to say the least. And, for a while, I was angry at the doctors. The MRIs weren’t as good in 1998 as they are now, so they really couldn’t tell between a tumor and a very dense infection.
So, the doctors put Grandpa on a bunch of antibiotics to clear up the infection. Still, it was a very hard recover, for all of us. Gramps spent several months at the hospital, then three months at a nursing home. He never walked on his own again.
During that time, I was getting ready for the Missions trip to Chicago with my youth group. And finally, it came. We left on a Saturday morning, piled into two huge vans, and headed off.
It may have been a long drive, but it went by so fast, just being with a bunch of my friends. It was so fun! We stopped for the night in Ohio. A family that had come from our church now lived there, and they were kind enough to let us camp out on the way and the way back home. Next morning, we were off again.
We reached Chicago by the late afternoon. We were staying at the North Park Campus, and we spent the rest of that day settling in and going over our plans for the Vacation Bible School (a.k.a. VBS). My friend Jess (who would later join BFG) and I were in charge of the music for the whole week. We were all so excited!! No one slept Monday night!
Monday morning, after breakfast, we headed towards the inner-city church to set up for VBS.
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*Name Changed because I've always wanted to say, "Name changed to protect pirvacy".
*Their real names... just thought you should know.
* Ok, I asked him if he wanted me to use his real name, and this is what he chose. Honest!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Best. Day. EVER!!!!!
Snowball Fight Participation: Check!
Snow Angel: Check!
Caked in Snow: OMG Check!!
Joy Reclaimed: CHECK!!!
Best. Day. EVER!!!!!
I spent the day after church with my best friend and his four year-old daughter, with the main goal of frolicking in the snow. And frolic we did!! The snow was too fluffy for decent snowballs, but that didn't stop us from trying! And there is nothing more satisfying than flopping down in the snow to high-pitched giggles of delight! Well, other than full-on tackling my friend, completely caking us both in snow.
I felt like a little girl again, running around without a care in the world, unable to wipe the smile off my face. Torturous three days of work this week? Don't care!!! A rocky relationship with my parents? Not a problem!!! There was only here, now, and how to get this packed ball of snow down the collar of my friend's jacket.
And once we got back inside and into warm, dry clothes, all I could think was how awesome it was going to be, spending Christmas with this family!! I feel like I am positively going to burst from excitement!! And that in itself fills me with this incredibly peaceful happiness.
Best. Day. EVER!!!!!
Snow Angel: Check!
Caked in Snow: OMG Check!!
Joy Reclaimed: CHECK!!!
Best. Day. EVER!!!!!
I spent the day after church with my best friend and his four year-old daughter, with the main goal of frolicking in the snow. And frolic we did!! The snow was too fluffy for decent snowballs, but that didn't stop us from trying! And there is nothing more satisfying than flopping down in the snow to high-pitched giggles of delight! Well, other than full-on tackling my friend, completely caking us both in snow.
I felt like a little girl again, running around without a care in the world, unable to wipe the smile off my face. Torturous three days of work this week? Don't care!!! A rocky relationship with my parents? Not a problem!!! There was only here, now, and how to get this packed ball of snow down the collar of my friend's jacket.
And once we got back inside and into warm, dry clothes, all I could think was how awesome it was going to be, spending Christmas with this family!! I feel like I am positively going to burst from excitement!! And that in itself fills me with this incredibly peaceful happiness.
Best. Day. EVER!!!!!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Winter Wonderland
Winter. For the past several years, I have loathed winter and all that's associated with it. Cold. Ice. Snow. Crappy driving conditions. And (ugh!) worst of all, Christmas. The obligation of Christmas cards, presents, family "togetherness", and cheerful dispositions just filled me with a sense of dread and despondency. Bah, Humbug!! I just wanted to get through it all and into the New Year, where I could hope for a change. Christmas Spirit? What's that?? I lost mine nearly ten years ago, with the death of my Grandpa, who lived for the Christmas season.Things have changed this year, finally! I've actually been *gasp* excited for Christmas!!!!! The biggest change is that I will be celebrating Christmas with my best friend and his family. And this week, I was astounded to find myself merrily filling out Christmas cards (with a personal message in each, like I used to long ago), and having to staunch my exceedingly cheerful disposition at work since my supervisor was in a decidedly bad mood all week.
And today, waking up to this Winter Wonderland, I found myself smiling. Smiling!! I felt like a little kid again, waking up to a fantastic new world. It's the perfect fluffy snow, the kind where you can see the individual flakes when they land on your dark gloves or jacket. And though I'm not a huge fan of shoveling, I relished the half an hour I spent out there, stopping often to gaze in amazement at the snow-laden trees and wonder at the unique beauty of each tiny snowflake. How could I have forgotten just how wonderful winter can be?
So, I am vowing that at least once this winter, I will play in the snow with people who have not forgotten the joy of doing so. I will participate in any snowball fight that occurs in my general vicinity. I may even start one!! I will make at least one snow-angel. I will get completely caked in snow at least once. And most of all, I will reclaim that joy that every child has when waking up to a Winter Wonderland.
Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin'?
In the lane snow is glistenin'.
A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight.
Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland.
Gone away is the bluebird.
Here to stay is a new bird.
He sings a love song, as we go along.
Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland.
In the meadow we can build a snowman,
And pretend that he is Parson Brown.
He'll say "Are you married?" We'll say "No, man!
But you can do the job when you're in town!"
When it snows, ain't it thrillin'?
Though your nose gets a chillin'!
We'll frolic and play the Eskimo way.
Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland.
In the meadow we can build a snowman,
And pretend that he's a circus clown.
We'll have lots of fun with Mr. Snowman,
Until the other kiddies knock him down!
Later on we'll conspire,
As we dream by the fire,
To face unafraid, the plans that we made.
Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland.
Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland!!
And yes, I just typed those lyrics out from memory...
:-)
Check this out!!!
Send a picture, please :-) Sara
I Stumbled on this blog earlier today, so yeah, that's me! Sweet......
Send a picture, please :-) Sara
I Stumbled on this blog earlier today, so yeah, that's me! Sweet......
Thursday, December 18, 2008
I know, and I'm here
***** This is a devotional I wrote in August 2007 for our Youth Group. I re-wrote it, only modifying a few mentions of specific time periods (like switching "This week" to "Over the summer") and a few other minor references that I expanded for a more general audience.*****
Have you ever felt like God is out of reach? Out of hearing range? Or not even there at all? And it always seems to happen when we're at our lowest times, when we need Him the most, doesn't it?
Over the summer, I went to SoulFest, a huge Christian music festival. That was at the beginning of August, and weeks before that, Pastor Dave (the Youth Pastor l work with) had asked the various youth leaders for volunteers to lead devotionals over the summer. I had agreed to do the last Sunday of our summer without a clue as to what I'd talk about. But, i knew that "God works in mysterious ways", and He's used SoulFest twice before to drive in lessons I've needed to learn: Commitment to Christ. Surrendering to His will. And this year? God's compassion for our pain and sorrow.
Have you ever felt like God is out of reach? Out of hearing range? Or not even there at all? And it always seems to happen when we're at our lowest times, when we need Him the most, doesn't it?
Over the summer, I went to SoulFest, a huge Christian music festival. That was at the beginning of August, and weeks before that, Pastor Dave (the Youth Pastor l work with) had asked the various youth leaders for volunteers to lead devotionals over the summer. I had agreed to do the last Sunday of our summer without a clue as to what I'd talk about. But, i knew that "God works in mysterious ways", and He's used SoulFest twice before to drive in lessons I've needed to learn: Commitment to Christ. Surrendering to His will. And this year? God's compassion for our pain and sorrow.
I got this pendant the thursday night at SoulFest. It's called "I Know" and symbolizes the compassion of God. It's a little bottle that God uses to capture each tear you shed. Each symbol made by Remember Me Jewelry comes with a little card telling you what the symbol represents and has a poem and Bible verse.
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This symbol represents the compassion of God. He captures each tear that drips down your face, and tenderly places them into His bottle. When you cry, you are not alone. When you think no one could possibly understand the pain you feel...He knows. He is right there beside you, collecting those precious drops. A weary mind, tears you sow / down your cheek the pain it flows / tattered...on your knees you go / He'll hold your face and say,"I Know"
Psalm 56:8 - You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. NLT
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Onto friday night. Friday night at SoulFest, I saw one of my favorite bands, Storyside:B, and finally got their new album I'd been waiting for. At the end of the day, when I got back to the campsite feeling battered, exhausted, and just plain gross from the dusty grounds and stifling heat and humidity. All I wanted to do was crash. So, I put that new CD in my discman and plugged in my headphones to block out the concerts still going on. I got to the third track, titled "Be still", and got my spark of inspiration for this devotional from the lyrics of the chorus:
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When I feel like caving in, / my heart, my soul is wearing thin / I just want to give up / nothing seems at all to add up. / Can You hear me, Lord? / My face is down upon the floor, / it's then You whisper in my ear / "Be still and know I'm here."
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You see, I've learned that God is closest to us when we're at rock bottom. When we feel like we're the most alone, face down on the floor and we've given up all but the tiniest thread of hope... That's when God is there, right beside us, collecting each tear, holding us as we cry. He's there, telling us "I know. I know what you're going through. I know every pain you've felt. I know what each and every tear you shed was for. Be still and know that I am here. I'm here with you. You are never alone.
I know it's hard to feel God; it's one of the things I still struggle with most. Sometimes it feels like the pain is more real than God is. But, now I have this reminder. So no matter where I am, no matter what I'm going through, no matter how alone I may feel, i know that God is with me, and all I have to do is listen for His whisper: "I Know, and I'm Here."
*sigh*
Ok, so I know it's been like freakin' FOREVER!!!! But yeah, too much going on, and not enough time to fill in. But, I think I'll try writing more here for a bit, see what happens. For now, I'll post one of the notes I posted on Facebook a few months back.
Sara
Sara
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