Familiarity

Some days, I just need clean sheets.

I don't mean that metaphorically or anything. I mean it literally. There are some days that I just need to sink into a bed that boasts freshly washed sheets, because that may very well evoke the best feeling in the world. I crave clean sheets on days like today when I've been going nonstop, when I glance at the clock in the bottom corner of my computer and it reads 12:31 a.m., and I realize this is the first down time I've had since 7:30 this morning. 

Clean sheets have a way of slowing things down. I know that, no matter what, when I climb into a bed with just-washed sheets, it'll cause an automatic exhale. I can stop worrying about the crap that clutters my mind during the day. I can stop stressing about what Global Perspectives paper proposal or Old Testament timeline is due the next morning. I get to wrap up in the clean, warm, and somehow new sheets, and stop. Stop worrying. Stop stressing. Stop thinking. I get to fall asleep feeling cozy and comfy and peaceful, and that is an absolutely beautiful feeling. 

Except I haven't had time to wash my sheets this week. Therefore, I will not be climbing into a freshly made, warm, beautifully welcoming bed. 

I'll be climbing into a cluttered, unmade mess of a bed. I'll probably have to toss aside a few articles of clothing that have been laying on the bed since I got ready this morning, only to reveal mascara stains on my pillow from not thoroughly removing my makeup in a hurry to get to bed. And since my bed also serves as my desk most days, there will probably be a frightened and overused highlighter hiding under my pillow waiting to stab me in the middle of the night, not to mention the fact that my supposedly comfy egg crate mattress will be wadded up beneath the sheets from nights of wallowing around in my sleep. 

No, I will not be getting into a peaceful, comforting bed. I'll be getting into a bed that is just as frazzled as I am. And you know what? I'm okay with that. Because even though it's frazzled and worn out and the sheets are ready to be restored with some Gain and a nice rinse cycle, it's still a bed. And I have no doubt that, once I'm done writing this and I climb into my familiar bed, I'll fall asleep right away.

Spring Break Tour 2014

This past week was probably one of the most stressful and greatest times of my life. Kingdom Players traveled to 11 different places in the span of 6 days, and, while it was hectic at times, it was such an amazing experience. We received some really great feedback from students and adults alike. I'll go into more detail in another post, but for now, here are some of the pictures that were taken last week.

 We were able to go to South Beach in Miami on Monday, and that meant going to DASH. We were absolutely geeked.

We did a chapel service at a private Christian school Wednesday morning. The arts program there was incredible. The pictures above are of a project led by the art teacher in which she asked her students to find old books at Goodwill to reconstruct. The outcome, as you can see, was amazing.

                                 

 This is the hotel we stayed at while in Miami. It was a beaut. 

We were blessed with the opportunity to perform during pre-service at Smoky Mountain Winterfest 2014. It was such an incredible experience. Also, we met Planetshakers, so that's cool.

The rest are random pictures from different moments during Spring Break 2014. Overall, my first Spring Break tour with Kingdom Players was a success. I can't express how grateful I am for this ministry and these people. God has put some pretty amazing opportunities in my path, and I pray that he continues to use this group for His glory. Ultimately, that's what it's all about.

Know Me

There's this really amazing song I love called "You Know Me," by Steffany Frizzell. I heard it at a youth camp last year, and I immediately fell in love with it. I don't know. Sometimes you just hear a song that becomes so relevant for you that you can't shake it. I'd sort of forgotten about the song until it played on my Spotify a little while ago. I immediately closed my eyes and listened to it, really listened to it.

The song is all about God knowing who we are. Our God, the one who "hung the stars and moved the sea", knows us and loves us, and that is amazing in and of itself. But when I heard the song again today, it was put into so much more perspective for me.

The bridge of the song simply says:
Nothing is hidden from your sight.
Wherever I go you find me.
You know every detail of my life.
You are God, and you don't miss a thing.
You memorize me.

After hearing that part of the song, the song that I'd sung and listened to so many times before, I cringed. There are details of my life that I wish could be hidden from the sight of God. I, like everyone else, am not a perfect person. I've slipped up, yes, but I've also deliberately pulled away from God at times. It's crazy how we do that...pull away from God even when we know He has our best intentions in mind.

I guess this song gets to me so much because it humbles me. God memorizes us. He knows every part of me that I hate. He knows every single thing I've ever done that I wish I hadn't. Yet He loves me and is in constant pursuit of a relationship with me. I am puzzled at the sight of a God who'd want anything to do with a child who has neglected Him and knowingly turned from Him at times. It doesn't make sense. I don't need to make sense of it, though, to know that it is truth. There is something strangely comforting about the idea that someone knows me better than I know myself.

I don't have much more to say about the song, but I hope that you'll listen to it and let it minister to you. It never hurts to be reminded that there is someone who knows us and knows us well. Some days, like today, it is exactly what I need.

An Epiphany

My parents bought me a laptop when I was in elementary school specifically because they wanted me to have a place to write, or at least that's what they told me. I believe it was more because they were tired of me junking up the PC with stereotypical elementary school girl poems and melodramatic lyrics that sounded too much like Jessie McCartney songs. Before discovering computers, though, I kept diaries. I remember coming home from school every day, grabbing one of my many journals, and rehashing my day onto its pages. I told those journals everything that I didn't, or couldn't, tell the people involved in my stories. Those journals hold the angry pen marks of a young girl who was made to sit in the hallway for talking too much in class, even though she had something really good to say. They hold the excited and nervous rambling of a girl who was invited to the birthday party of the boy in her class she had a crush on, and who she knew for a fact had a crush on her. They hold the tear stains of a humiliated girl who was yelled at by a lunch room lady for dropping her fork, even if it was a complete accident. In those journals are parts of my life that I do not care to remember, and parts that I never want to forget.

The point is, I've been writing for as long as I can remember. I love being able to create something from nothing. I love staring at a blank page or Word document and filling it with life. There is so much beauty, so much magic, in the creation of stories, and I love being a part of that process. But there is so much more to writing than just writing.

Later on in my life, in middle or high school, toward the end of the school year when the weather was getting warm enough to wear shorts, I would find myself tip-toeing barefoot to my back porch with a cheap spiral notebook and pen in hand. I loved to go outside right when the sun began to set and look at its effect on everything surrounding me. I noted how the water in my pool looked when the light slanted across it. I found solace in the intermittent waving of the trees and the shouting of my neighbors' children. On those evenings, I would write, describing everything I heard, everything I felt, and everything I saw. I loved the way the pen felt as it glided across the paper. I'd close my eyes and wait for the words. They were never forced. On those evenings, my thoughts about life stumbled out onto the notebook paper with ease. And on those evenings, I saw God between the lines of the pages in my ninety-nine cents spiral notebook.

Discovering that writing could be a spiritual experience was a transformational realization for me. Writing up until that point had been very physical. It was about making the intangible tangible. What I didn't know was that by making my thoughts tangible, I was changing what was inside of me. Writing was causing me to look, really look, at life, and through that my spirit grew stronger. Today, my playwriting professor talked about creating space with our writing. She said it was important to give space for characters to mature and grow on their own, to allow them to develop into their own beings. But she also said it was important to give space for the Holy Spirit to work. I don't think a lot of people understand how important that is. Writing can never be just writing. It is always so much more than that; it is a calling and an understanding that our words are instruments for God to use in order to affect the lives of His audience. 

Regardless of whether or not you are a writer, you must know that the things you do are never just physical. If you want to be a musician, you aren't simply going to make music. You're going to be affected spiritually and in turn have an effect on people with the pieces you create. Same goes for doctors, business owners, secretaries, etc. When you're called to do something, you are never just completing a job. You are being changed from the inside out. That is why it so important to allow room for the Holy Spirit in your work. For me, this means the difference in writing words that heal and writing words that destroy. When we allow God to weave Himself into our work, it becomes bigger than ourselves. That is my goal.