Tradition

So right now I've been inspired to write by Evangeline's blog. Despite having a horrendous time of it in the past few days, she still had the time to bask in the glory of God and the birth of our Savior. 
Christmas has been a somewhat gloomy time for me in past years, as forementioned in previous bloggings. I think a lot of it has to do with a sense of belonging, which became all the more clear to me whilst reading Vangi's blog entry about Christmastime with her family.
My Christmases as of late have consisted of celebrations on the Mainland with my extended family. Now, I love them EVER so dearly, and they (My Auntie Colleen and Uncle Ted in particular) have served as sort of surrogate parents to me over the years. However, I am also the last of my generation in a way. My cousins Ryan and Celidh (both of which I have a very close relationship with) are both married with children of their own (Isla and Ewan to Ryan, and, most recently, little Trinity to Celidh). As much as I love and am thankful for my holidays spent with them, I don't feel like I truly belong there, the outsider in the houseful of happy families, all connected in one way or another.
And now, my immediate family, which ultimately consists of my father and I, even moreso now that my brother has Dayna, as well as a little one on the way, is severely lacking.
I have excellent memories of Christmases with my family.
My family is one of traditions, you see. For instance, my brother and I had to be asleep at a certain time on Christmas Eve. We would be awoken at midnight by one of my parents, usually my mom, to come downstairs and celebrate. Naturally, we never slept. My brother and I always got along reasonably well, but Christmas was golden. We would play games and laugh and do anything to stay awake. In earlier years, I would definitely pass out by 9 or 10, but eventually I became a real trooper. 
At midnight, we would scamper downstairs, and the livingroom would be teeming with all sorts of treats, mostly appetizers, and sparkling orange juice. We would eat and sing Christmas songs, and dance to "A Very Rosie Christmas" (my mom's album of choice... any time of the year, really).  We would open most of our presents at that time as well, as was the tradition on BOTH sides of my family since my parents were little. 
Eventually, the party of four would wind down, and my brother and I would be ushered sleepily back upstairs, to await morning, and the gifts from Jolly St. Nick.
Those Christmas parties will always be a cherished memory, along with how seriously my brother took to his duty of placing the Angel at the top of the tree. Or my job, of moving baby Jesus, at the stroke of Midnight, from the top of the manger, where he had been residing with his Angel since the nativity went up, to his proper placing inside the manger with Mary and Joseph, the Shepherd, sheep, goat, cow and 3 smiling wisemen. 
In fact, that job held such importance to me, that I would practice each day in the days and weeks leading up to Christmas, setting out the porcelin characters and rearranging them in different positions several times a day. It had to be just right for baby Jesus. They had to make a good first impression on the savior of the entire world, after all. 
I took particular favour in the Wisemen. I would sit there and look at the sparkling gifts in their arms, and their bright clothing and see their smiling faces. They were so happy to see little baby Jesus. Like it was all they needed. 
And little sleeping baby Jesus. No matter how young I was, he always managed to fit cradled in my two hands, perfectly serine and content on the porecelin straw. 
As much as I loved the Christmases when our extended family would travel out ot visit us for a giant celebration, my most cherished Yuletide memories were the years when it was just us.
Myself, Momma, Daddy, Jacob, Baby Jesus and his adoring fans. 

To Build A Home

There is a house built out of stone
Wooden floors, walls and window sills
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust
This is a place where I don't feel alone
This is a place where I feel at home

And I built a home
For you
For me
Until it disappeared
From me
From you
And now
It's time to leave and turn to dust

Out in the garden where we planted the seeds
There is a tree as old as me
Branches were sewn by the color of green
Ground had arose and passed it's knees

By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
I held on as tightly as you held onto me

And I built a home
For you
For me
Until it disappeared
From me
From you
And now
It's time to leave and turn to dust

We - For Evangeline

Standing tall, we're an unstoppable foundation
Deflecting the lies, slander and soul deflation
Anxiously waiting a divine transformation
This is our calling, our lifelong vocation
We have no need for  a moments admiration
This is more than a fad, this is complete dedication
We know our purpose, and our eternal destination
We're more than just idle children, we're the new generation
We'll survive through pain, loss and manipulation
We're a wonderful design of the Lord God's creation
We are here to send out a joyous proclaimation
The wonder, the miracle, the ecstacy of salvation

Go Tell It On The Mountain

Alright, so at work today, I was bitten by the vermin of Holiday Cheer. 
I'm not sure how many people know this, but I used to LOVE Christmas. I didn't care so much for the gifts, or the money or any of that sort of stuff. I loved sneaking out the back door of my bedroom and sneaking down the spiraling staircase that ran behind my bedroom (which we didn't know existed until we realized my bedroom had TWO doors) and just stand in my livingroom and watch the lights on the christmas tree twinkle. I loved the smell of cinnamon and the sound of Christmas music. I loved the bustle, and the sounds of my family laughing. I loved how we probably had the ugliest Christmas tree on the block, because it was decked out with 25 + years of sentimental decorations - ever dough wreath, candy cane reindeer, and glittered styrofoam ball my brother and I had ever made. It was quite a sight. I could've cared less about presents, to be perfectly honest. I mean, I'm not going to say I hated getting gifts or anything, that part was great. The thing is, I can't really remember 99% of the presents I've gotten over the years, but I can recall what my house looked, smelled and felt like every single year. 
Then my mom died, and none of that really mattered to me anymore. My brother doesn't seem to recally care about it anymore, my dad doesn't even get a Christmas tree, and the ornaments my mom had been saving since well before my infancy went MIA when she did. For the past 3 years, it's been like Christmas didn't know how to survive without her. 
Today though, as I watched people Christmas shopping for their loved ones; grandmothers asking me which picture books their granddaughter may enjoy (Paper Bag Princess for the win),  little boys spending their allowance on a velveteen rabbit for their sister... or men and women alike desperately scouring the racks for cookbooks with the PERFECT Christmas dinner recipe, my teensy tiny black heart gradually warmed. I guess it's pretty lame that I was softened by mass consumerism, but it just reminded me why I loved the Holiday so much in the first place. Not because of the gifts, but because of the looks I saw on each of faces I saw today. Their compassion for their families, their joy for the season, or their heart being warmed by mass consumerism. Praise Jesus, because even though your brilliant birth is being horrifically overshadowed, you ARE love. And your love is shown on each of your childrens' faces. Your love has warmed my heart. 

An excerpt from the blog of Debora Cahn

A word about diaries.  When you find your mother’s diary, don’t read it.  DON’T READ IT.  I tell you this from experience.  I found my mother’s diary.  Not really a diary, a suitcase full of stuff she wrote for a writing class, but one of the assignments was to keep a journal, and my sister said DON’T READ IT and I read it, and I’m telling you.  DO NOT READ THE DIARY.  If they thought you should know, they’d have told you. But more importantly, I say this to the diary keepers of the world:  What the hell are you thinking?  You really think nobody’s gonna find that thing?  You really think that the box in the back of the closet is a secure location?  That an old sweater and a pair of long underwear’ll throw everyone off the trail?  You’re dead, and your poor child/spouse/best friend is tasked with going through your stuff, and they see the box with the sweater and the long underwear, and they think, I’m not going to touch that pair of long underwear, it’s clearly a box of old winter clothing, let’s just close it up again and bring it right over to Goodwill.  No, people.  Anyone who hasn’t had a lobotomy is going to move the long underwear aside, and find the diary, and read it.  And let me tell you, that little tiny lock can be picked with a bobby pin.  If you feel you must put your feelings on paper, destroy those pages once a year.  If you feel you must have a way to reconnect with your younger self, run the bonfire once a decade.  And when you find yourself visiting an oncologist or cardiologist with some regularity, take it as a sign to THROW OUT THE DIARIES. 

Always Love

To make a mountain of your life Is just a choice 
But I never learned enough 
To listen to the voice that said
Always love; Hate will get you every time
Always love; Don't wait til the finish line

Slow demands come around 
Squeeze the air and keep the rest out 
It helps to write it down
Even if you then cross it out 

Self-directed lives 
I want to know what it'd be like to 
Aim so high above 
Any card that you get dealt you 

I've been held back by something 
You said to me quietly on the stairs, 
I've been held back by something 
You said to me quietly on the stairs
You said 
Hey, you good ones
Hey, you good ones

Always Love 
Hate will get you every time 
Always love 
Hate will get you

First Day on a Brand New Planet

"Most of our life is a series of images. They pass us by like towns on the highway. But sometimes a moment stuns us as it happens. And we know that this instant is more than a fleeting image. We know that this moment, every part of it, will live on forever."

Burnt Love Letters

Okay, so in XLR8 we read this book called "Renovation of the Heart". It was a controversial book, to be sure... half of the people hated it, 3 or 4 of us loved it... Jennifer Cross didn't even end up writing her essay until the second day in Chiliwack, and she still hadn't even read the book (I'm outing you, Jen!). 
When I read the book, I took notes. It was during Christmas vacation, and I sat in the guest room at my aunts house with the book and my prayer journal and I took notes on everything. At the end of each chapter, it had all these "Steps to Renovation", like meditating on certain scripture, and committing yourself to being a psalm 1 person, rather than a Romans 1 person. Rules, basically. Which is, I suppose, why the book was such a controversy. I don't think it was the intention of the author to make it look like we had to do these things to become Holy. I just think he saw it as one of those "Well, it definitely couldn't hurt" things. I highly doubt the man was convinced he was God or anything. 
The point is, this weekend I've spent a lot of time talking to Vangi. And not just ridiculous talking about being in love with Patrick Dempsey, or videos I may or may not have of her bum from XLR8's past that I can blackmail her with. We really talked, which we haven't done since... honestly, I have trouble believing we have REALLY talked in over a year. I told her about things I'm scared of, about my relationship with Jesus. All my lies about how Jesus and I are close, just because I read my bible every day and do devotions and pray for my loved ones. Because I haven't talked to Jesus in ages. And I can blame that on anything I want. I can say it's because our group of friends have changed. I can say it's because Caitlyn Spence moved to Vancouver, or our youth pastor abandoned us, or I didn't have anyone to keep me accountable. But none of that has anything to do with it. I'm sure it doesn't help, but those are just excuses. I'm not close with Jesus because other things HAVE become more important. I can say Jesus is first in my life, but if He was, I wouldn't be having this problem. And I'm scared that the reason I can't pinpoint the thing that is coming between us is because there are too many things.
Anyway, in the book, one of the "Steps to Renovation" was to write a letter to Jesus.
So that's what I'm going to do. That's what I have to do.
I used to write letters to my mom a lot. Probably once a month I'd write to my mom and fill her in on my life, and my hurt, and the secrets that were killing me to keep inside. When she was alive, I used to tell my mom everything.
It used to make me feel better, to think that my mom saw what I was writing, and that she knew what was going on. That years after she died, she still could "know" me. 
I want Jesus to know me again.

SALVOLOVE

So today at church I spearheaded a prayer meeting for the Internation Day of Prayer for the persecuted church. I didn't really know what was expected of me today, just that it was something I had to do. I have never been so in love wth my corps before. Major Martin made an announcement that I would meet anyone interested on the stage after the service and have a half hour or so of prayer and discussion. I was actually really nervous, until one of the older ladies in our church introduced me to her friend, who looked at me and exclaimed "you're right! She has such a lovely smile!" I was so moved during the prayer of how important this was to a lot of people in my church. There were about 15 people who stayed behind with myself and the Major, and so many of them were so passionate about it, and about 10 of them were driven to tears. I felt a little uneasy at first, being the only one under 50 in the mix, until I was joined by a young mother and her 6 year old daughter, who also both took part in the waterworks. 
One of the highlights of my day was, as I was getting ready to leave, two older women approaching me and saying, 
"If you ever need to talk about ANYTHING, or need prayer or any guidance, just know that we love you very much and we are always here to talk and love you."
I just feel that everything in my life is such a phenominal blessing.

And yeah, I love my corps.

Paint it Golden

Run away from money
Quit your job and climb a tree
One with hearts instead of leaves
Build a sandcastle big enough for us to sleep
Paint it golden with the sunrise

Cause we are
Like a wingless bird
Crashing down
To the helpless earth
And if something's gonna break it
See it all around you
Feel it in your body
You'll be hiding in the shadows
Where love is still alive
'Til all of it is burning

Through a field we're walking
Empty as the open sky
We escape from all the troubles
Found a waterfall and
Took a dive to cool our skin
Finally we found this feeling

Run away from money
Quit your job and climb a tree
One with hearts instead of leaves

The pros and cons of parachute repair

Sometimes my walk with God reminds me of music.
I know how to play 3 instruments; the alto sax, the clarinet, and the recorder.
(As far as skill goes, it's not exactly in that order.)
In grade 4, like the majority of students of my generation and general location, I got to
embark on the arduous and toilsome task of leaning an instrument.
For the young students in BES, it was the recorder.
Sometimes I'd wonder if my little plastic recorder could even be classified as an instrument.
I definitely wouldn't call the sound that came out of it 90% of the time "music"; just noise.
Yet every day, we'd march into music class and practice until the pads of our fingers were
imprinted with the shape of the little holes, and every night I would practice until the awful noise
coming out of it wasn't half as awful.
In hindsight. I would like to apologize to my mother, father, brother AND dog for invoking that torture on them.
(I also extend the remorse of my music teacher, Ms.McLeod. Really, it was her fault, rather than mine.)
When I moved up to middle school, we got to choose REAL instruments with which to inflict pain. My newest weapon of choice being the clarinet. Now, after you discover the secret of playing the clarinet without it tickling your tongue, it's pretty much smooth sailing from there. The rest is learning the notes and making The Face. The Face is pretty much what it all depends on. Strong chops. You learn pretty early on that if you don't get a proper hold on The Face, the noise that escapes is rather recorder-esque in nature.
I suppose it's like that for most instruments, there's always those one or two things that determine what comes out. In grade six, the majority of the fruit we reaped in band class were bum notes. I again extend my deepest sympathies to my parents, and even more so, my then-sixteen year old brother, for having to sit through some of those concerts (Mostly my brother; dragged there by force).
However, as the months and years wore on, the noise escaping my instrument seemed to improve for the most part. By highschool, the concerts were actually pretty enjoyable. I suppose practice at my house was a tad less nerve-racking, as well. Overtime "Hot cross buns" became "La Belle and Le Capitaine".
Regrettably, there was a year or so when I just wasn't interested in practice at all, and I fell behind quite a bit. I wasn't nearly as bad as when I had started out, but it seemed a lot worse, because I was making a lot more mistakes than my peers.
I loved the times in band class when I wouldn't be playing, and I got to sit and listen to the symphony surrounding me. Every once and awhile, there may have been a bum note, but in the grand scheme of things, it was true beauty.
See, I kind of view my walk with God like that. Maybe when you first start out, or maybe half way through like me, the music you make with God isn't at its best. Maybe it seems like all you're making is mistakes, if you compare yourself to those around you. However, if you work at it, if you practice each day and you focus on making that beautiful music again, it gets easier.... you start to make a few less mistakes, and in time, you're part of a brilliant orchestra. It's not always perfect, we all hit a bum note sometimes, even the most incredible musicians have their bad days.... but in the long run, the music can be breathtaking.

Love as a Verb

So I'm currently reading Joshua, because I decided to real Samuel, and it starts with "After the death of Joshua", which made me realize I don't know how Joshua died. I mean, it's perfectly reasonable to assume he died; if he had not, it'd be fair to say I'd be more than a little shell shocked. Anyway, I decided to read Joshua. It was upon doing so that I became exceedingly grateful that God, for the most part, grew out of His "smite" phase. I mean, He was just offing people like none other back in the Old Testament. I guess having a son softens you up a bit. I bet Jesus is sitting next to Him saying "Dad, chill out. Deep breath. Count to ten. Give 'em grace." I know I could definitely not be so forgiving. I mean, growing up, I had an ant farm. It was super gross and my mom hated it. It was a terrible present from my cousin. Now I took care of those ants and fed them and watched them, and had some sort of wacky power over them, I guess... and if they would've like, caused a revolt, I must say, I would've been deeply hurt. Now if they'd mocked, tortured, and killed my son, carried him into their little tunnels and completely ostracized him, I would have done nothing less than throw their stupid plastic box right out the window. But loved them? Fat chance. (not to mention they were ants).
To be fair, I only had that stupid ant farm for maybe a week before I realized how completely boring ants are. Now, we as humans, I guess we're not so boring... but just think of how tiring it must be to watch the people you created and raised and took care of and built a wonderful home for repeatedly mess up and slander you and break your heart thousands of times over?
Much worse than watching my ants crawl through the same tunnels day in and day out and not GET anywhere. You see, I didn't create my ants, I didn't even really care for them much... and they probably weren't even really aware of my presence in their little ant lives. We're not like that. We're aware of God. I didn't give my ants a little ant Bible, I didn't perform little ant miracles. God is a constant force in our lives, and yet we continue to hurt him... and he just sits by and waits. He loves us so much that he just waits. Waits for us to smarten up. He has a lot of faith in us, for a group of people who don't seem to put a lot of faith in Him.
What I was getting at originally, I think, is that I'm so grateful that God isn't quite as vengeful as he used to be. And we should all be grateful. And show our gratefulness by just listening to Him, for ONCE. Because eventually, even though you don't think it matters much, (since we have SUCH a forgiving God), one day it is GOING to matter. One day, God is gonna go all Old Testament on your butt.
Alright,
That's all I wanted to say.

The remedy

"I just don't want to do or say anything else remotely moronic"

"I'm afraid that once your heart is involved, it all comes out in moron"

My Desperate Eyes They Grow So Tired

So, when I read a book, I know it's a good book because, even if it's fiction, it CHANGES my LIFE. I feel things I haven't quite felt before, I'm pulled in all directions.
I have 3 or 4 books in particular that do that to me.
The first is "One of Those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies" by Sonya Sones... not because I relate to the character in such obvious ways, but because it's written so eloquently, and, although a work of complete fiction, actually helped me with some of my "mom" stuff.
The second is "The Truth About Forever" by Sarah Dessen... who is, legit, my favourite author. Furthermore, she wrote the books that my favourite movie is based off of... which I found out only weeks ago. Intense. I love this book because the ideas are so profound and I love how the character grows through these people around her trying to get her to be a certain person, and then an entire different group can obscure her view on life to find who she really is. I just love it a lot.
The third is "Before I Die" by Jenny Downham... it's probably the most moving book I have ever read. It's about this girl, Tessa, dying from cancer, who writes a moving list of things to do before she dies. She ends up completing quite a few... doing something completely out of the ordinary, steal her fathers car, spend a day showing her little brother she loves him, get her parents back together, fall in love... the last few chapters of her lying there while she listens to her loved ones talk to her, but not being able to respond, are heartbreaking... but it made me feel truly alive.
In the novel, Tessa writes letters to her best friend, her best friend's baby-to-be, her little brother, her boyfriend (promise me you'll travel and go to school and fall madly in love) and her father... his also included her burial requests (in a nature reserve by a nice tree that they can visit and maybe picnic next to), rules for raising her little brother, and a list of songs to be played at her funeral... and to use the money in her sock drawer to go and get wasted after, if they feel they must, as long as they don't scare the kids.
Anyway, the point of this post is, in a completely unmorbid way, to make a list of songs I'd want to be played at my funeral... because they kind of speak my life... I don't know.
I just think it's a beautiful thing. Death breathes life and whatnot.

So if you find this years from now, whoever you are, keep it. It's important (hah)


Life in Technicolor - Coldplay (no words, but lovely nonetheless)
All The Trees Of The Field Will Clap Their Hands - Sufjan Stevens
The Unwinding Cable Car - Anberlin
Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin (Just for my mama)


...there may be more when I'm not so sleep deprived.
But this is all for the time being.




All The Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands

If I am alive this time next year,
will I have arrived in time to share?
And mine is about as good this far.
And I'm still applied to what you are.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.

And I heard from the trees a great parade.
And I heard from the hills a band was made.
And will I be invited to the sound?
And will I be a part of what you've made?
And I am throwing all my thoughts away.
And I'm destroying every bet I've made.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you

puddles

I still remember how much it hurt when I realized you were going to miss my 16th birthday. We'd planned so much for it, but I guess all our late night conversations disappeared when you did. And now, I realize you're going to be missing my 19th birthday, too. It's still so surreal, that I'm having all these experiences and you can't experience them with me. That I'm growing up and you're not here to see it. Whenever I think about it, I always see the same image in my mind. We're walking in front of our old house in youbou and you're smiling and it's raining, but it doesn't matter... I just keep jumping in puddles while you just keep on smiling. And that's when I can't wrap my head around the fact that you're missing all of this. That you're actually not standing there smiling while I grow and screw up and jump in some really big puddles. Because when I think of that smile, it doesn't seem possible that you wouldn't be here forever. But what about life really makes sense anyway.

polaris

I feel that when I'm old
I'll look at you and know
The world was beautiful

Mama Gothel

Little monarch sits high in her tower
Peering at the hysteria playing out below
Ash-hued locks fall across her pale porcelain face
As she gazes out at the mighty windmill
Looming upwards like a protective parent
Of which she'd never known
She stands as tall as her paltry frame will allow
And she spins
And she twirls
Around and around until she up and takes flight
Higher and higher
Above the ample archways
Beyond the battle still raging below
Casting away the conceited crusaders
Dismissing the diabolical dragons
Escaping the ever afters.
[END SCENE]

Molly Woodford

Scarlet

Is this what was prayed for?
Thiefs made of our fathers
Our brothers turned to liars
Fallen tears like fallen snow
Cover the blackened asphalt
Until it is wholly what we see

Is this what was worked for?
To have gashes scab over
Until all we have to show of our efforts
Are barely noteworthy scars?
Cry out for triumph
Pray on every fallen tear

Lift arms and raise voices
Palms stretched upwards
Are leering satellites
Singing til our tongues are parched
Dancing til our feet give out
Until voices erupt, shatter windows
And tear open scars; reopen war wounds
The battle is not over
The carnage has only just begun


Molly Woodford

Wrong Body

If I make it to heaven
I may be as bloody as hell.
Would you still take me?
I'm afraid that you might say,
"Depart from me, I never knew you."

I'm in the wrong body.
I'm in the wrong body.
I'm in the wrong body.
I must have stumbled in.

All the love I want to give,
Gets caught between every rib.
What does that make me?
I have good intentions,
But no exit for them to come out right through.

I'm in the wrong body.
I'm in the wrong body.
I'm in the wrong body.
I must have stumbled in.

immortality

Hands placed, palms open
Pushing out, pulling apart by force
Strangled cries break the lull
Screaming
Can You hear them screaming?

Your grace and strength
How sweet the sound
Those chords don't play here anymore
My ears ache, they bleed
All that is left is a faint and dismal ring

My eyes are burning
Crimson fiery coals
My feet are heavy
Dense and burdened bricks
How can I reach them
From high on this tower?

I strain
I stretch for You
But my vision blurs
My legs grow weary under the weight
How can I see You
With eyes cast downward?

They bend and break
Their figures shrink into obscurity
The higher I climb
How long 'til I fall?
Like the proverbial King Kong
Swerving and swaying
Caught in the crossfire

Molly Woodford

the quiet things that no one ever knows

Tonight I was doing that thing where you're so sensationally lost and void that you absentmindedly click on random icons on your desktop. That was when I came across some very ancient playlists. One of them was from back in grade 10, and when the first song played, I actually felt like I couldn't breathe. It's a pretty scary experience when you genuinely feel yourself getting sucked into the past. It wasn't like a walk down good ol' memory lane, it was like I was getting pulled apart and condensed all at once. All of the sudden, I was 15 again, I was sitting at my computer desk at my grandma's house, in the room that was far too big for someone who just wanted to shrink away. I remember curling up in a ball in that computer chair in the dark and talking to Chris until 3am, when he finally couldn't do it anymore and would go to bed. After that, I would just... Sit there, until it was time for school. I remember the smell of the room, the smell of the shampoo I used to use, the exact temperature in the room, and hearing that song.
It's bizarre, I remember so little from that time, never a full day out of those 6 months... And yet one song can dredge up so much that I apparently have worked relatively hard to forget.

We saw the western coast
I saw the hospital
Nursed the shoreline like a wound
Reports of lover's tryst
Were neither clear nor descript
We kept it safe and slow
The quiet things that no one ever knows

So keep the blood in your head
And keep your feet on the ground
If today's the day it gets tired
Today's the day we drop out
Gave up my body and bed
All for an empty hotel
Wasting words on lower cases and capitals

I contemplate the day we wed
Your friends are boring me to death
Your veil is ruined in the rain
By then it's you I can do without
There's nothing new to talk about
And though our kids are blessed
Their parents let them shoulder all the blame


I lie for only you
And I lie well
Hallelujah

things I gain from late night buffy the vampire slayer episodes

"Passion... it lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us... passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have?
Passion is the source of our finest moments; the joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank... without passion, we'd be truly dead."

sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug

so, tonight with no real way to remedy my chronic insomnia, I started reading through old documents on my computer... Lame, I know. Strangely enough, though, it brought me a strange sense of relief. Old journal entries that never really made it online, English papers from grade 11, and, my personal favorite, a letter to Taryn from early in grade 12... What a letter THAT was. (fortunately for both mine and Taryn's relative sanity, I don't recall ever sending it). What they all taught me was a) sometimes I'm better at admitting things to a word processor than to myself, b)I desperately miss writing, and I love how my writing matured as I did. Finally, I realized how much I truly have matured since the journal entries from grade eleven, or the letter from 2 years ago (has that much time truly passed?). I read all the things I was saying to others and myself, and I see so strongly the person I was trying desperately to be, and even more, I remember the person I WAS, and how hard that person was trying to fit into the mold I had laid out. But it just didn't... Fit. Despite my stresses and worries and all the hesitation and change I'm facing in my life, I'm starting to discover that, realistically, they'll always exist in my life. I know better than anyone that change is constant, and sometimes, so is the pain... But at least I can say that, for the most part, I know who I am now. And.I'm comfortable in this mold. It fits quite nicely.

words to live by

My current haphazard remedy to insomnia.
My favorite quotes from some of my favorite books.
So let's do this...


- I’d long ago learned not to be picky in farewells. They weren’t guaranteed or promised. You were lucky, more than blessed, if you got a goodbye at all.

-I was always That Girl. The girl with the dead parent. Everyone knew. It was always out in the open, written on my face. But the fact that I was angry and scared, that was my secret to keep. They didn’t get to have that, too. It was all mine.

- Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It’s so easy in the past tense.

- Who knew three dots could make such a difference? Like everything else, a love or a wish or whatever, it was all in the way you read it.

- But that was the problem with having the answers. It was only after you gave them that you realized they sometimes weren’t what people wanted to hear.

-I can't count the number of times Wes has tried to secretly fix the hole in the driveway. I just think that some things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic. It’s the universe’s way of providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. It’s how life is.

- There’s an entirely different feel to quiet when you’re with someone else, and at any moment it could be broken. Like the difference between a pause and an ending.

- I’d tried to hold myself apart, showing only what I wanted, doling out bits and pieces of who I was. But that only works for so long. Eventually, even the smallest fragments can’t help but make a whole.

- For any one of us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred years from now. You can never know for sure, so you’d better make every second count.• The truth is, nothing is guaranteed. So don’t be afraid. Be alive.

- Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, to how it holds you to a place.

- That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about. It was twenty minutes, or a hundred years, or just this instant, or any instant I wished would last and last. But there was only one truth about forever that really mattered, and that was this: it was happening. Right then, as I ran with Wes into that bright sun, and every moment afterwards. Now. Now. Now.

- When I got to my own face, I found myself staring at it, so bright with dark all around it, like it was someone I didn't recognize. Like a word on a page that you've printed and read a million times, that suddenly looks strange or wrong, foreign, and you feel scared for a second, like you've lost something, even if you're not sure what it is.

- All you could do was take on as much weight as you can bear. And if you're lucky, there's someone close enough by to shoulder the rest.

- I wasn't used to seeing her this way. She had always been the stronger, the livelier, the braver. The girl who punched out Missy Lassiter, the meanest, most fiendish of the pink-bike girls that first summer she moved in, on a day when they surrounded us and tried to make us cry. The girl who kept a house, and her mother, up and running since she was five, now playing mother to a thirty-five-year-old child. The girl who had kept the world from swallowing me whole... Because life is an ugly, awful place to not have a best friend.

- When I pictured myself, it was always like just an outline in a coloring book, with the inside not yet completed.

everything's gonna be just fine

So I've been thinking a lot about the next few impending weeks. The first day of moms and tots is just winding down (I am currently sitting in the dining hall watching Chelle, Dan, Marci and Jess play Dutch blitz) and after that we have our last 2 weeks of holiday camps and one last vbs before I'm nanaimo-bound once more. Its bizarre to think that the summer is half over, and it truly feels like home here. Essentially, this place has been my home for over a month. It feels natural to get up on the weekends and go to jump off the pier or tan by the pool, and sitting in front of maple til the wee hours talking with Chelle. Last night as we were falling asleep, I related for the first time, my fears of returning to nanaimo to Chelle. How I'll revert back to the person I hate, or how being away from these people, I won't be able to survive on my own. Chelle told me that its always hard to leave, but that its not the kind of place you can stay forever... Its not real life.
Besides, next year will be around in no time... Chelle's coming back next year, I'll have another years experience... And we'll have a car if we ever need to escape into town... Oh yeah, I almost forgot... My dad got me a car! The idea of going home is intimidating, but I know it'll definitely be interesting.

Best VBS Team Ever '08

My team is such a glorious blessing.
We sit and laugh for hours, and we never fight and VBS's run smoothly and we've mastered teamwork. I cannot believe how amazing it all is.
We walked down the downtown eastside last night with our arms around one another talking about how lucky we are to have no drama, and no arguments or clashing personalities and we're a constant support to one another.
But I better get back to the team massage train.
BLESSINGS!!

quote of the day

Kristy:I can't believe I have a queen bed all to myself and no one wants to sleep with me.

Jill: I would, but its too hot in that room

Josh: I would, but I'd be fired.

Quote of the day:
Setting; in chapel devotional. Broke off into partners for prayer.

Marky: we're kind of like doctor Phil. We counsel the kids and such.

Molly: and we're bald?

Marky: okay, well maybe we're not bald men


Molly: you're a man.

Marky:okay. New analogy. so we're like spiderman. We help people out and we... Uh... Are spiders?
Okay, so we're like Batman. We have our staff shirts, he has a bodysuit, he has a sidekick, we have the LIT's. And uh...

Molly:these analogies suck.

Marky: so we're like camp counselors...

reign in me

So I have discovered that I can, in factl blog with my phone. How much I'll be taking that opportunity has yet to be seen. I mean, it's only staff training right now and when we're not busy, we're bonding and laughing and playing soccer and taking part in epic massage trains. But I shall try my darndest. As for staff training so far, it's been incredible with little dashes of terror. I've already learned so much and can feel myself growing and I truly feel like I'm coming into my own, yet there's a lot of pain with Chelle's sickness and bits of drama from back home and gallons of dramatics from right here. Overall though, it's truly shaping up to be a fantastic experience. The very night we arrived, it was wonderful, even if that just meant spending the night laughing with Chelle, trev, Jose, Ethan and Josh because none of the other staffers had arrived yet. It's a great experience to spend so much time with people who mean so incredibly much to me, and to meet new people and know in my heart that by the end of all this, they'll be like true brothers and sisters. I am just so thankful for all of this and everything that god if laying on my heart. I especially love Jill, my VBS leader, and a woman I have always admired. I love how close we've gotten... How close the entire staff is! It's such a blessing. I am so strengthened by my relationship with Chelle, and that we've somehow grown even closer. I don't know if I'd feel near as fantastic as I do now if I didn't have my bestfriend on this ride with me. But now I've realized it is far passed curfew and my body is begging me for sleep. Blessings to everyone!

Feel the rain on your skin

I've been on this life-love kick lately.
Like I'm on this crazy incredible ride through life and everything is bliss.
Ever since the year after my mom passed away, I've had the firm belief that I can overcome anything. That everything that happens to me is just a chunk of my life, and that it can only get better. When everything was happening with my dad and I wasn't sure how I was going to get to the next day, I'd always tell myself that one day it would all be over and behind me. That one day I'd be successful and happy and have my own family. This was only a bump.
I have become obsessed with just marinating in God's grace and the beauty around me. Things are hardly ever perfect, and I get hurt and hurt others, but in the long run, the world can be so beautiful. We just never stop to experience it. We're too busy stuck in our present worries and resentments and the belief that our feelings for right now will never go away. I will "always be mad at him" or "always love her" or "always be here".
These feelings come and go, and I used to define everything, my happiness, my success, my self, by these emotions. Like my entire life was in ruins because of something someone said or thought of me. These things are so temporary. And the truth is, so is this beautiful day and world and the people who matter the most to us. Beauty is temporary. Thank God for every day you have the privilege to experience it.

Snakeskin

So I've kind of spent the last few days in reflection.
I've been reflecting back on the past year, 2 years, my life.
As a snake grows and develops, as the seasons turn, it gets too big for it's skin and sheds it's entire exoskeleton. As it's shedding it's old self, a new skin replaces it. The new skin is never quite the same; like snowflakes. The snake is still a snake, but kind of like a polished version of itself, or if not, at least an alternate version, that is open to experience new and exciting chapters of it's snake-y life.
I feel like a snake, shedding it's skin. Every couple of years I seem to mold into an entirely new version of myself. It's not like I'm on a set schedule, or experiencing some kind of growth spurt (don't I wish). It's like I learn more about who I am, who I truly am, and I'm able to shape myself and become the person I am destined to be one day. Sometimes the transitions aren't always perfect, sometimes the new skin doesn't fit at all... but it's a learning process. Maybe it's a growth spurt after all. Maybe I'm growing into a child God will be proud of.

Please Sir don't you walk away...

Found on Rachael Yamagata's (singer extraordinaire) myspace page.

Influences:
still hot sauce.. always the hot sauce. thought i'd update this thing since it had outdated information.. like 3 cats with ex boyfriend and this Pollyanna optimism that just makes me want to friggin... nah - just kidding.. still optimistic. smile. cheers. i'm happyyyyyy. but let's come clean here. now there are only 2 cats. henry in heaven. also can't quite seem to write in complete sentences or use capitol letters. they say you are supposed to act totally normal around your other cats when one passes away or they freak out so i'm doing my best to not putter around whining 'heeeennnry' and bursting out into tears. i find a tuft of orange fur and it's all over, but i just keep explaining to them that i'm emotional over other things and don't they want some friskies and let's just forget all that and give me the number so i can call...sorry - slipped into who is that - harry chapin? god - 'harry' is almost 'henry'... even my subconscious has been taken over by that little guy.. not harry - henry. don't worry.. i'm not nuts. really - i've overcome the pain/i've learned to take it well/ i only wish my words could just convince myself/that it just wasn't real.. but that's not the way i feel..god he was good (harry, not henry). and it was real - that little tuft of hair proves it. was it even harry? henry was hairy. anyway, i'm pretty sure this should be a blog or something.. all the other sites have music and movies listed in this section and clever metaphorical life things like sunshine and a rainstorm that give insight to their personality.

Let God Arise!

Hear the holy roar of God resound
Watch the waters part before us now
Come and see what He has done for us
Tell the world of His great love

Our God is a God who saves
Our God is a God who saves

Let God arise
Let God arise
Our God reigns now and forever
He reigns now and forever

His enemies will run for sure
The church will stand, she will endure
He holds the keys of life, our Lord
Death has no sting, no final word

Say this is what it's for

Yeah, I think I love you for it.

DEANNASCOTLANDPULAK

Deanna is freaking home!
Although, she still calls Scotland home, but she was so sorely missed here in Canada.
Today was incredible; Luke came to church ad actually ENJOYED it and I got to have wicked awesome times with Carlye and Deanna.
...
ps. We're awesome.

The Youth Pastor Chronicles Pt.4(?)

So this weekend I've been spending some Q.T with the youth group. Recently, David Hossini became our pseudo youth pastor. He's just filling in for the summer.
He's been going to our church for as long as most of us can remember, so we were all really stoked when we learned that the person coming in was someone we all knew really well.
It's funny, when Shawn left, he was worried that we'd alienate the new youth pastor and compare him to Shawn. It's completely the opposite. Shawn came to youth group last night, and everytime he told us to do something, we'd just kind of disregard it.
"Alright everyone.. sit down"
"I dunno... Dave-Hos didn't tell us to sit down."
"Yeah, who's this guy telling us to do stuff."
"I think I'm just going to stand here"
"Hey David, should we sit down?"
"Alright guys, take a seat"
"sure thing, David!"

I suppose it's kind of a jerk move, but it's how we naturally communicate with Shawn now. We're teenagers, it's what we do. And at least we're accepting Dave-Hos with open arms.
I'm actually really bummed out that I'll be away all summer and wont get to spend time with him as the YP. He's already won over all the youth, and he's really funny and caring. So far he's an incredible youth pastor.
Today we all got together at 5am to help clean up the Relay for Life, and it was definitely worth it, we already have tons of inside jokes with David, ("You know, that's just the sausage industry trying to brainwash you. Our Lady Peace is their biggest client. And ICP... that's why all the Juggalo's are so overweight"; "You know, i think Girdeen is the national colour of India";
"We are dumping sand in the light of God"; "I'm easy... TO MAKE SANDWICHES FOR!")
and some of the youth who were still pretty sketchy about accepting someone new, he managed to win over without even trying.
I haven't laughed as hard as I did this weekend in a really long time.
We all have come to the conclusion that we REALLY want him to stay past august, but he has to go back to school.
Maybe God will perform some sort of miracle and he will stay.

Secret Love and The Fastest Way to Lonliness

So life has been pretty exceptional lately.
It's like I'm on a road leading home, and for the first time in a long while, I'm not constantly wondering when I'll reach the end, I'm just enjoying the trip.
I'm reading this incredible book called Cold Tangerines, and at one point the author remarks on how we spend our lives waiting for the "Big Thing". That huge life altering moment, and everything afterward is forever changed. The Big Award, The Big Game, The Big Love. Movies and books are full of them. It builds up til that pinnacle moment when they accomplish the Big Thing, and everything afterward is bliss.
The thing is, we spend our entire lives holding out for that big thing, and we never slow down long enough to see that our lives are filled with big moments. Schooling and jobs and first loves and marriages and children. The road is never easy, there is never pure bliss, but the moments are worth the bumps and bruises.
I guess that's my resolve right now.
My road will always be bumpy, but Lord knows it's an incredible journey.

How can I keep from singing?!

There is an endless song
Echoes in my soul
I hear the music ring
And though the storms may come
I am holding on
To the rock I cling

How can I keep from singing Your praise?
How can I ever say enough?
How amazing is Your love!
How can I keep from shouting Your name?
I know I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing!

I will lift my eyes
In the darkest night
For I know my Savior lives

And I will walk with You
Knowing You'll see me through
And sing the songs You give

I can sing in the troubled times
Sing when I win
I can sing when I lose my step
And I fall down again

I can sing 'cause You pick me up
Sing 'cause You're there
I can sing 'cause You hear me, Lord
When I call to You in prayer

I can sing with my last breath
Sing for I know
That I'll sing with the angels
And the saints around the throne

Cold Tangerines

"I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don't want to get to the end, or tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines and sing loud in the car with the windows open and wear pink shoes and stay up all night laughing and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets and throw parties and eat ripe tomatoes and read books so good they make me jump up and down, and I want my everyday to make God belly laugh, glad that He gave life to someone who loves the gift."

Shauna Niequist

Fine, call me a stupid girl. I've warranted it. For so many years I've been thrown in and out of a never-ending loop of shallow promises that have always seemed to break. But then something will happen, and it always makes me wonder if they were ever broken to begin with. Nothing was ever finalized. I know those feelings will always be there despite who we love or what happens, but it gets tiring because no one compares. I hate it. And then when I get close to moving on and no longer caring, aliens land, and the universe finds it 100% necessary to throw him back into my life in the most abrupt manners...but it isn't necessary anymore. I feel like screaming to the world to cut both the five and one out of the number system forever. I feel like calling all the satellite radio stations and telling them to stop playing our song. I feel like texting him, or iming him, or writing him, and telling him to just stop thinking about me.

Who I Am

Hungry

Your hand reaches into my heart
Into my life;
My entire being quakes in Your presence.
I am humbled by Your soul song
Consume me, quench me;
Blanket me in Your grace.

I thirst for You hours on end
Hunger pains keep me subdued on the ground,
Yet I refuse to seek You;
The eternal bread and water,
and quench my thirst with foolish desires.
Hurling me further into this pit of reckless abandonment and hunger;
Always hungry.

Mahala Sarah Woodford

I see the King of Glory coming on the clouds of fire

So I'm going to be completely honest, I do not even want to blog right now.
But God is totally kicking me in the butt right now, and that's obvs the best reason.

XLR8 was INCREDIBLE... kind of.
Thursday night, I cried for hours, and prayed that I'd just get to go home.
Then, for the sake of community and intimacy with our sessionmates, we had to hand in our
cellphones and ipods. My ipod I could care less about, but no cell meant no Chelle, and I honestly didn't know how I was going to get through it without her.
Like, I can handle 4 days without her, but I just really didn't want to be there at all.
So much had happened between February (the last retreat) and now. I felt so disconnected from my XLR8 session, from my brothers and sisters in Christ.
During worship, I fully broke down into the most intense sobs ever. It was not pretty.
(Literally... I was red and blotchy, my nose was running, and my eyes were bloodshot)
When I finally unwound myself from the fetal position I had taken the form of on the floor, Tyler was there to wrap his arms around me and he didn't release me or stop rubbing my arm until I stopped crying. He is fully one of the greatest friends.
After that, things kind of calmed down a bit. I spent that night hanging out with Ty and Jose, because we were the only ones not stupid enough to go swimming in the freezing lake at 11pm.
My tooth was in such terrible pain all weekend, but I still slowly managed to have a really great time. It felt good to reconnect with Kate again, even though, realistically, she only lives a few blocks away. Slowly, my heart began to warm again. I realized I had shut myself off to these people. I'd convinced myself that I couldn't open up to them, trust them. I ignored God's small voice telling me that were my family, my brothers and sisters, and just like me, they were his children. On Saturday, Dave Ivany spoke to us about the discipline of silence. That sometimes it's good to just listen, not just talk God's ear off. He has some pretty important stuff to tell us.
So that afternoon, we had to meditate on psalm 139 and stay silent on our own and wait for what God told us.
I went out on the lake in a kayak and prayed that God would speak to me, because I was ready to listen. Instead, I had some song stuck in my head. I asked God to remove those thoughts from my head so I could hear Him, but it just got louder. That's when I realized, it wasn't a song that was replaying in my head, but a poem, by Bradley Hathaway. And get this, it's called... Silence.
Crazy.
God is incredible, because on Sudnay when we fianlly got our ipods back, the first thing I listened to was Silence, and it contained the answers to all the questions I'd been begging God to respond to. After that, I ended up writing a poem too, and Clint recorded my telling of the experience during the Silence, as well as a clip of me reading my poem, which was a bit unnerving.
He's posted my poems on Send The Fire before, but they weren't attached to my face, I didn't have to read them outloud, and it wasn't one that I'd written an hour before.
I'm a bit sketched out that a video of my poetry is going on there, especially since this one was probably the most raw heartfelt one I've written in years. It came from my soul.

I should definitely go to bed, I've been staying up far too late lately with Chelle and co. (totally worth it) and I work at 6am.
More updates later.

Peace and love.




Silence - Bradley Hathaway

What’s happening here?
I was once so alive and now I’m so full of dread and almost dead
Show me your wounded head that is lead to communion with the father
But where did he go?
His presence seems farther and farther away each day
but I’m trying so hard to steer his way
Yet still lonely and confused on this cold hard ground I lay

Speak to me wise mouth and say “it’s all good kid, it’s nothing that you did, and though it feels like I’m not here with you right now just be still and silent and listen for that sound..
Shhh..
Did you hear it?
Listen again.
Did you hear it?
That silent voice that just spoke nothing, that is me, I’m listening to your plea with open ears Counting all your tears flowing from your irritated eyes
Searching the skies looking for that hope that beyond there lies.

Oh you young worrisome sparrow, find rest
Lay your battered head upon my omnipresent breast and make it your nest
No strong cold wind could ever blow and carry you from this your home
Look around, see the life shooting up from the ground
Spring colors springing fourth and celebration of your trusting

It’s a constant process this is
Growing you into the man you are to become
But when you sense the setting of the sun know it is only rising and has just begun
Now go fourth, sing songs of faith, and lift up others in the midst of this race
And if you can’t keep the pace or lose sight of my face
Know that I’m always near so you need not fear
But don’t worry about all that right now
Just sit here and enjoy the peace I offer in my silence
When I am silent I am listening, and not abandoning.

I guess for me this is enough

Mols Broken hearts like promises are left for lesser knowns says:
Chelle, I don't want to like him!
Mols Broken hearts like promises are left for lesser knowns says:
but I do, don't I
Chelle says:
thought that might be an issue
Mols Broken hearts like promises are left for lesser knowns says:
STOP KNOWING THINGS

Forces of Nature

"I always thought that there was this one perfect person for everybody in the world. And when you found that person the rest of the world kind of magically faded away. And, you know, the two of you would just be inside this kind of protective bubble. But there is no bubble. I mean, if there is you have to make it. I just think life is more than a series of moments. You know, we can make choices. And we can choose to protect the people we love, and that's what makes us who we are. Those are the real memories."

This is the correlation of salvation and love

So today I went on a grand adventure to Victoria with Chelle.
We had a fantastic time, and at some point during the trip, I realized even more so how truly incredible she is. Like, I've always known it, but little things about her reveal themselves the more years I know her. She's always been there for me through everything since the day we met. She got me through everything with my dad, and everything else since. Even when we grew apart temporarily, as soon as things cleared up, she was sure to make up for lost time.
Sometimes I feel like if everyone else kind of faded away, I still think I'd be okay, because I have her. Not in like, a totally dependent way. Just that she's always there, even when everything is a complete tornado around her. Like she just loves without barriers. And sometimes even without just cause. Kay, I think I'm done now.

ps. I got a really awesome bathing suit today, too!

The truth is so undeniable

Found this blog posting from May 2nd, 2 years ago.
I was pretty intense for a 16 year old.


I was thinking today.
I was thinking about special feelings; good and bad.
The kind of feeling you get once in a blue moon.. or the bad feeling that you get, sometimes too often.
Like when you make a new bestfriend; you know, the time you realize while talking/laughing with/crying to, a close friend, that "wow they're my best friend."
But what about those other times... the special times, the rare and beautiful friendships. When you meet someone and you know, they're going to be my friend forever.
I remember feeling that, knowing that, when I met Rachel.
Well, no.
When I first met Rachel, we hated eachother.
But when we first realized how amazing we found the other to be... our first little inside jokes (HE DECLARED) how excited we were when we'd see eachother each month.. those feelings.
I just... knew.

There's always the not so good feelings.
Like that time when you realize that your friendship with someone is changing.
Or that time when you discover you don't love a boyfriend or girlfriend anymore.. not like you used to.
The sudden, unwanted changes of heart.
And then there's the only ones worse...
the times when you see it coming.
When you know.... this is changing...
when you know there's nothing you can do.
When your heart sinks and your stomach turns... and you just have to get on with life.

That's happened to me a few time in life.
I'm grateful that it hasn't happened more.
Whether it's a friend, or something more...
it's never easy.
But be thankful for those other special moments.
Special friends, true loves, grade 3 crushes, second chances.
Be mindful too, of the pain.
Lost friends, broken hearts, unfair disadvantages.

Live your life...
but never forget the little things.

I hear You calling me; You want to set me free with Your love

Sometimes I wonder why I'm such a terrible hypocrite.
I mean, I just spent the past 3 hours talking to my friend about how he can't believe the lies spoken over him. That he is good and kind and has never been anything short of wonderful to me. It breaks my heart to know that he doesn't see that. All he feels is his brokenness, and all he sees are his failures. I put my heart into trying to show him the truth, and to be stronger than the lies.
And yet, I cannot rise up against my own.
I worry that I'll always be the wounded little girl who's mother died and who's father didn't know how to do anything but lie to her and run away. That I'll always feel like people are going to abandon me, and that there must be something wrong with me, if people only ever want to leave.
I won't stand for it any more.
I'm tired of feeling worthless.
I have worth and I am perfect because of a refiner's fire.
As heartbreaking as my conversations with said friend can be, it brings such joy to my life to know that he has God in his life, as well, and I will be forever thankful for how he has reminded me to practice what I preach.

Lennie Low P2

Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
in short, I guess little Molly's all grown up, eh?
√L3NN! says:
seems as such
√L3NN! says:
you were always most resistant
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
haha to what?
√L3NN! says:
growing up
√L3NN! says:
not in the stay a kid sorta way
√L3NN! says:
just in the everything's meaningless sorta way
√L3NN! says:
pointless, immaturity in mature situations of being an adult
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
I have no idea what that means, or if I'm totally being insulted
√L3NN! says:
really tired
√L3NN! says:
no
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
haha
√L3NN! says:
see
√L3NN! says:
im just making much less sense now that i need sleep
√L3NN! says:
you were always awesome molly <33

Lennie Low

Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
Do you ever feel like you've lived 300 lives?
√L3NN! says:
no, but i feel 19 years old
√L3NN! says:
i feel very much like this is my first life
√L3NN! says:
and its the first time any of this has ever existed
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
Random, I know... but like, when I talk to you, it's so bizarre. Because way back when, we spent hours on the phone, talking until one of us fell asleep, and hung out every day and all this crazy stuff. We knew everything about eachother. There were no secrets. We were like... in sync.
And now we're complete strangers.
√L3NN! says:
yeah, i think about things like that
√L3NN! says:
and how even though its been our life, its been broken up into so many completely different pieces that don't really fit together if looked at on the whole

Turner

Alright. So as positively draining as it is to spend 14 straight hours tending to the needs of 2 toddlers and a pair of 7.5 year old's with serious schemes ALWAYS brewing in their little heads, I can't think of many things I'd rather do than spend my time with the Turner kids.
Despite Kiana's bossiness, Kiran's temper tantrums, Olivia's terrible twos, and Madison's teething, those kids are incredible. I pretty much swoon every time Kiana hugs me and tells me she wants to be just like me when she's my age (never thought I'd hear that one), or Olivia calls out "Molly! Molly!" and when I respond with a distracted "yes, Livvie?" she blows a slobbery 2 year old kiss and says "I love you!" Or the first time a huge grin spread across Maddie's face when she woke up and saw me standing by her crib. That girl is such an angel. I love her 4 teeth, her giggle, how she bounces whenever she can grab hold of anything sturdy, and how her strawberry blond hair is more like fuzz than anything else.
I also love Kiran's unbelievable innocence and how Kiana has way more maturity than any 8 year old I've ever met. She's so grounded, and I love how Kiran's a little dreamer.
And how he innocently asked me tonight if I had a boyfriend, and when I told him I certainly did not, he replied with "oh... good."
I love the talks I have with Barb when she drives me home every night about how she's worried about how much she works with her company, and whether her kids know that she does it because she loves them so much. I love reassuring her that her kids know how hard she works and that she's teaching them with her actions all about dedication, hard work, and love.
And how I admire the way that after working from 5am til 9pm, she still stays up til 1am making the kids homemade muffins for breakfast and fixing Kiran's broken hockeystick.

I love that entire family in more ways than I could ever possibly express.

Cause it'll change with the season and you'll be the reason why

I miss you.
I remember we used to sit down and talk about everything.
You wouldn't let me walk away until I told you EXACTLY what was wrong.
We haven't talked in MONTHS. I see you enough, and sometimes you even ask me how I am... but when my answer is merely "fine", you seem completely content with that answer, and go on your merry way. A year ago, 6 months ago, I never would have gotten away with that answer.
I've been hurting a lot lately, and I'm not going to convince myself that you just didn't notice. I've seen you notice, and sometimes that's even worse than you just not noticing me. The fact that you just choose to disregard me instead. We don't even know who you are anymore. You were like a father to me for 3 years of my life. You were that to so many people, but they seem to be all the people that mean nothing to you anymore.
Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you all this. But would you even hear me?

I hear You calling me; You want to set me free with Your love

Lately I've been thinking about the past.
Not the recent past, that's more like a nightmare I'd much rather forget.
Not the far off past either; back when my mom hugged me and I spent my weekends hanging out in the shed behind Shannsy's house. I'm thinking a lot about last year. Back when we were so full of the Holy Spirit. When we would sit at the beach praying, or stay at the church after bible study until the silent alarm went off because we were crying too hard. Or when we would get kicked out of the church we would sit out in the cold in front of the building, because we just weren't finished.
Now, bible study barely happens. When people actually show up, we sometimes have a topic, sometimes a pretty good one... but when was the last time we all prayed together?
I go to the beach every couple of days with Michelle, but we sit in her car discussing life and work and boys. I miss that community. I miss leaning on one another. We see eachother all the time, but the priorities aren't what they used to be. We're all fighting this battle and growing with Jesus, I have no doubt about that. But why can't we fight together?

This Is Love

So I was thinking today about the other day when I was driving with my friend. We were talking about how we don't NEED boyfriends, but maybe we just WANT them. And how she's sure that she's ready since her last relationship. We drove around, considering the idea... but I realized today that I not only don't need a boyfriend, but it would be in my best interest not to have one.
I mean, I can fully admit that about 6 months ago I was ready. I believe that the moment you stop wanting a relationship, you're ready for one. Because you no longer feel that it is a necessity. If you can't be alone, you shouldn't be with someone else. It wont make it easier.
So now I'm back where I started. And I know that if I get into anything now, it wont be for any of the right reasons. And I'm not going to start reasoning my way around this. That's how I got myself into this mess.
Besides, who needs a boyfriend, when I have the purest form of love surrounding me 24/7?


Gracious Father you have called me
Coming closer
Your arm around me is the one true thing
That I know

So help me believe
Help me believe
This is the truth you've spoken over me

This is love that you have loved me
This is love that you have set me free
This is love that you have met me
As I am, as You are
So your love whispers to my heart

You still want me
When I'm broken
So I'm open
To hear you speak my name
Call me out on my shame
Into your grace

Cause you set me free
You set me free
With the truth you've spoken over me

This is love that you have loved me
This is love that you have set me free
This is love that you have met me
As I am, as You are
So your love restores to my heart

This is love, oh this is love
This is love, oh this is love.

Exclusive Best Friends

Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
I don't know if she likes me or not.
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
Or what to do about it.
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
...ask her?
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
Haha, yeah.
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
I wanna sit down and be like, so I like you, but I know you're not exactly the relationship type, but we enjoy our time together, so why not just be exclusive best friends? And work something out about not being long distance.
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
exclusive best friends?
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
I'm interested to hear the definition of that gem
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
Lol
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
It's like, friends, that aren't dating, but will eventually, and won't date other people. Like dibs-ing.
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
You want to "Dibs" another human being?
...she's not a seat on the school bus, or the last blue freezie
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
Well I know!
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
I just don't know if either of us want to be dating RIGHT NOW.
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
Alright Craig, if you say so.
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
I just like hanging out, and maybe I'd like to kiss her now and then. We hold hands and cuddle and stuff. We have tons of fun together.
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
Don't you hold hands and cuddle with everyone?
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
A lot of people.
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
Well..
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
No.
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
Not lately.
Taylor HOME UNTIL 4 WORK UNTIL 1 says:
I held hands with Ben last night.
Molly The trigger trips the hammer, but the bullets never come says:
Hey, no shame, Ben's a looker.

Desperate, we will lift up our hands

So, I still hate money.
hate hate HATE.
I was discussing all my dreams last night with Luke. About how I want to go to Seattle Pacific or Davis, or even Columbia (in... wait for it... Abbotsford...ugh)
How I want to study Journalism and Literature and Theatre and Theology. That I don't want to let go of my dream to be a screenwriter or journalist, or how maybe I can one day gain enough influence to actually make a difference. Make people listen. Or maybe, God willing, even get the chance to get into Video Journalism.
As Luke was relating his dreams of traveling the world taking photos, I felt my heart breaking. I would love to go to school and learn and grow and travel. It'd be so awesome to zoom around the world with Luke, molding what I see into descriptive sentences and pairing them with his glossy photographs. It would be a dream come true. But deep down, I know that's all it is. A dream. I don't have the money or the means to get into Davis. I'm about 20 grand short. Probably more. People like me don't get into amazing schools like that. Don't travel the world, moving people with their words. They don't even stay grounded in their suffocatingly familiar province and do all that.
They sit behind a desk in a dreary office, building up their pension until they're 65 and can take a cruise to Alaska and then maybe buy a condo in a retirement village like Qualicum.
Huzzah.

My So-Called Disappointment

I think that if they knew the last episode of My So-Called Life was going to be the last one, then during that pivotal moment where Brian Krakow admits to writing the beautiful love letter to Angela, it just should have ended in them sharing an epic cinematic kiss.
I mean, come on, she kissed Jordan when she thought he;d written it. They made out in the hallway before homeroom.
It's just not fair.
My love for you is eternal, Brian Krakow.



Dear Angela,

I know in the past I've caused you pain, and I'm sorry. And I'll always be sorry til the day I die. And I hate this pen I'm holding, because I should be holding you. And I hate this paper under my hand because it isn't you. I even hate this letter because it's not the whole truth. Because the whole truth is so much more than a letter can even say. If you wanna hate me, go ahead. If you wanna burn this letter, do it. You could burn the whole world down. You could tell me to go to hell. I'd go. If you wanted me to. And I'd send you a letter from there.

Sincerely,

Jordan Catalano

Hide behind your half smile but the truth is so undeniable

Despite some things that aren't picture perfect in my life right now, I look out the window at the bright street and listen to the happy bird songs and I wonder how someone couldn't feel so blessed today.
The warmth of summer always manages to brighten up my heart and soul, without fail.
I can't wait for the summer to get into full swing. Friends, laughter, and love.
Life is never perfect, but as I sit here and the sun warms my face, I wonder how anything could possibly go wrong when the world is feeling this glorious.

Infatuation Turning Into Disease

So I realized something pretty huge today. I thought, in passing, of my mom.
In passing.
It was bizarre. I was sitting listening to my ipod and I was like "hey, at one point in time, I had a mother" and it was the craziest thing. Not because I forgot or anything. I blogged about her death last night, and I glanced at her photo album last night as I was climbing into bed.
It's not as if I forgot she ever existed, or that she doesn't anymore, so much.
It was the realization that I'm not in mourning. I mention her, I think about her while listening to my ipod, and I'm sad... but it's more of an "aw shucks, I miss that lady" than the old "how will I ever survive without her?".
I used to wonder daily is I'd ever be a normal girl with normal problems. Boys, school, friends... without the underlying mom drama. Everything seemed so juvenile in comparison. Sometimes I wonder if that's how I kept out of trouble for all those years, and steered clear of my boy induced dramas, because I was too busy focusing on my lack of maternal slush.
And now as I reflect on the past few months, I had a bit of a revelation.
I am a normal girl with normal boy drama, friend drama, drama drama.
And I realized something else... it blows.
I'm so tremendously grateful to God for removing that ache from my heart and providing me with the strength to move on.
But come on now, throw me a bone here!
I'm new to this teenage girl thing, remember?

Oi.

I don't need a miracle to believe

Michelle Marie Latour


Never give up on or doubt yourself.
Don't second guess who you are or anything you stand for,
You're beautiful and I live to hear you giggle.
I pray you never lose that sparkle in your eye.
You're a superstar, and never EVER think you're anything less.
Don't settle. Only accept the best.
Only the one who fits each of your requirements.
You deserve only the best.
Heck , we both do.
I'm so proud of you.
Never doubt that either, kay?
I love you, Chellebaby.
Bestfriends.