Some people would call me nosy. I prefer the term, 'lovingly curious'. I always have been, and probably always will be.
I've noticed recently that I love to learn, by watching others. It is something that I always did as a child, but never really clued into. Some of my most vivid and happy memories are of watching other people work and asking countless "why" questions. Being on the jobsite with my dad would make my week, or maybe even month. Or being in school and watching a man show us how to make cheap glasses, or just standing and watching the guards assemble an appatam. The joy would escalate when they would ask me to help, to even have me hold something while they continued on. The same mentality still applies, I love to learn by watching other people do what they love and are good at. Just this last week I went to the farm with Kevin (the husband of the couple I am staying with in Carstairs) and watched them saddle and train the horses (2 of them had never been ridden before). Although many people think I am bored because I will just sit there and watch, I never am. Quite the opposite really, I love every second of it!
You know when someone is doing something that they like to brag about, and they say, "watch and learn"? Well, really, we do. In everything, whether we realize it or not. We are being watched, and everyone around us is learning about what we do, and often immitating the same in what they do. Just think about it, say you are learning how to drive a stick shift, what do you do? Do you go out and try and do it all on your own? Well maybe if you are a fool, but normally you would go out with someone else, watch them do it and then try it yourself, immitating their actions. Of course you mess up a couple times because no one can perfect it on the first try, but then you watch and learn, and try again. It's a cycle, a cycle that we repeat on a daily basis.
Now instead of thinking of yourself as watching and learning, think of yourself as the one being watched, and learnt from. How does that feel? Do not expect to shrink into the background, your behaviour, actions and habits are being noticed by everyone who comes in contact with you. Yes, true strangers may not remember them, but they are noticed. What about the people you interact with one a daily basis? Your brothers, and your sister? What about the neighbor you only nod at but never acknowledge beyond that? What about your children? They are watching and learning. So when someone is just sitting on the sidelines silently, don't think they are bored and daydreaming, because they might just be watching and taking note of everything you do. So, what will they remember?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Only 355 more to write now
So I've decided, I'm adding another thing to my life goals. I want to create one of those little witty/inspiration calendar thingy's. You know the ones that no one remembers where they are, so it stays on Jan 1st for the entire year until some businessman's wife or daughter comes in, frowns that it hasn't been flipped for 3 months and put it to the date...upon which it stays until Jan 1. Or the ones that everyone giggles at in the morning, but never really thinks anymore about. Yep, one of those ;)
So...here is Jan 1:
Life is like a woman's kitchen. Each one thinks that her own is fairly organized, and can find everything in a matter of time, but as soon as she goes into another woman's kitchen thinks that everything is messed and in the wrong order and feel the responsibility to 'clean it up'.
Oh, imagine when I'm famous. ;)
So...here is Jan 1:
Life is like a woman's kitchen. Each one thinks that her own is fairly organized, and can find everything in a matter of time, but as soon as she goes into another woman's kitchen thinks that everything is messed and in the wrong order and feel the responsibility to 'clean it up'.
Oh, imagine when I'm famous. ;)
Saturday, June 13, 2009
A New Heart
A failing heart. A process in which the most vital nutrients of the body are not pumped around at a fast enough pace, causing the entire being to suffer.
Nothing but a heart transplant, he was told. Nothing. All hope had been lost at the very words, for who would willingly give up their heart? He knew no one living, for to do such would be utter insanity. Therefore His only hope was a match, which was his objective way of thinking of another dead human beings main organ, and his life-line.
Therefore the days dragged on. Roses drooped in the vase with time, the sun rose and set every day, casting long shadows on the walls as hope faded with the dimming rays. Friends had given up on coming, they didn't seem to want to hear the depressed reports. His heart was becoming more and more crippled, both physically and spiritually.
One early drizzly morning, while the sheer curtains were drawn and the TV on low, a man in his mid-thirties walked into his room. He was surprised, for he didn't remember the face, and besides, what was he doing bothering him, it wasn't visiting hours. The stranger nodded his head and without an introduction began asking a series ofquestions. Taken aback by the abruptness of the stranger, the man simply sat there and stared. Perhaps he was a new doctor? No, too plainly dressed. A father or friend of a potential donor? No, they would never be so factual. Maybe he was just a lunatic that escaped from the psych ward. He had lost track of the questions being hurled in his direction.
"What is it you need sir?"
"Excuse me?"
"What do you need?" What on earth was this man talking about? He could use another juice box, but he doubted that was what he meant.
"Need?"
"Need."
After a pause he replied, "A new heart."
The stranger smiled, a fairly odd smile. A smile of accomplishment, as if he has just won his first Olympic gold medal.
"I am."
With that he turned and walked out of the room. I am? thought the man.
"I am what?" He yelled out the door, frustrated that he would leave with no explanation.
The day to dragged on, and the mystery to the stranger wore off. He gave no mind to the visit, nor did he mention it to anyone, for fear of having them say they it was a delusion.
Two weeks had past since the visit, and the man sat 1/2 way up in his bed, looking out the window at the sparrows playing in the bird bath. Half of him hated the hospital staff for purposely putting it near his window, where they knew it would torture the caged soul; and the other half longed to enjoy the freedom, the joy of living, no matter how stressful or unsuccessful, just as the birds did. Nurses wheeled patients past the door and some small kids peeked in his door before growing wide eyed and running away as he sneered in their direction. The doctor walked briskly in right behind them.
"We got it!"
"Well good morning to you too Doc, looks like you had a good nights rest. To bad you couldn't have hooked me up with some of that."
"We got you a heart!"
His mouth stopped in what was going to be a bitter sarcastic remark, only to find the empty words empty. Nurses soon hurried in, hooking gadgets up here and pumping things there. A new heart. Peace surrounded him as they wheeled him towards the OR.
"Doc, who was the match?"
"A man, mid-thirties."
The Stranger.
"What happened?"
"We're not sure. It's kind of gory, but we found him nailed to a tree. His organ donation card said to give his donor this paper."
The doc pulled out a small yellow paper out of his pocket and laid it beside his head. Within minutes the man was put into a deep and restful sleep, as experts claimed the dying heart and replaced it with the thriving one.
Many hours later, the man woke to the dim lights of the recovery room. He felt incredibly groggy, not able to feel any pain because of the medication. The nurses chatted quietly in the corner, not audible to the exhausted ears. He attempted to reach for the paper, which he remembered should be right by his head. The failed attempt caught the nurses attention and they both rushed over.
"The paper." Was all he could mutter. Both women looked at each other, confused.
"Read the paper." He repeated slowly. They looked around and finally caught sight of the yellow slip of paper. The younger nurse picked it up and began to read,
"Dear Sir.
I know your old heart has been failing, and it pains me to see you as so.
My love and compassion extends beyond these physical boundaries, so please
I beg of you, please, accept this gift. For I gave it before your request.
Dying without escape, I pray you'll be able to receive as I have given freely.
Now take this new blood, for which I have cleansed,
and tell many. For this gift is not to be held just for self, but for all.
Let me know if you are having any problems adjusting to the new you.
Signed,
I AM."
A year to the day that man left his house and headed to the hospital once again. He walked slowly, aware of the pain and past he had spent in these same rooms. Smiling slightly, he nodded at the familiar nurses. He passed by rows of open doors, some held foul smells and others blooming flowers. He stopped in front of his old door, paused, knocked and quietly crept in. The small boy was sleeping. As the man approached the bed, the boy opened his eyes and smiled widely.
"I'm getting better!" Exclaimed the young blonde, "Your blood is working, it's cleaning me up."
The man smiled, more sincerely than ever before as he recognized the cleansing power of the blood.
"Not I," he replied as he reached into his pocket, "but I AM."
Pulling out the small yellow slip, he began to read the note.
Nothing but a heart transplant, he was told. Nothing. All hope had been lost at the very words, for who would willingly give up their heart? He knew no one living, for to do such would be utter insanity. Therefore His only hope was a match, which was his objective way of thinking of another dead human beings main organ, and his life-line.
Therefore the days dragged on. Roses drooped in the vase with time, the sun rose and set every day, casting long shadows on the walls as hope faded with the dimming rays. Friends had given up on coming, they didn't seem to want to hear the depressed reports. His heart was becoming more and more crippled, both physically and spiritually.
One early drizzly morning, while the sheer curtains were drawn and the TV on low, a man in his mid-thirties walked into his room. He was surprised, for he didn't remember the face, and besides, what was he doing bothering him, it wasn't visiting hours. The stranger nodded his head and without an introduction began asking a series ofquestions. Taken aback by the abruptness of the stranger, the man simply sat there and stared. Perhaps he was a new doctor? No, too plainly dressed. A father or friend of a potential donor? No, they would never be so factual. Maybe he was just a lunatic that escaped from the psych ward. He had lost track of the questions being hurled in his direction.
"What is it you need sir?"
"Excuse me?"
"What do you need?" What on earth was this man talking about? He could use another juice box, but he doubted that was what he meant.
"Need?"
"Need."
After a pause he replied, "A new heart."
The stranger smiled, a fairly odd smile. A smile of accomplishment, as if he has just won his first Olympic gold medal.
"I am."
With that he turned and walked out of the room. I am? thought the man.
"I am what?" He yelled out the door, frustrated that he would leave with no explanation.
The day to dragged on, and the mystery to the stranger wore off. He gave no mind to the visit, nor did he mention it to anyone, for fear of having them say they it was a delusion.
Two weeks had past since the visit, and the man sat 1/2 way up in his bed, looking out the window at the sparrows playing in the bird bath. Half of him hated the hospital staff for purposely putting it near his window, where they knew it would torture the caged soul; and the other half longed to enjoy the freedom, the joy of living, no matter how stressful or unsuccessful, just as the birds did. Nurses wheeled patients past the door and some small kids peeked in his door before growing wide eyed and running away as he sneered in their direction. The doctor walked briskly in right behind them.
"We got it!"
"Well good morning to you too Doc, looks like you had a good nights rest. To bad you couldn't have hooked me up with some of that."
"We got you a heart!"
His mouth stopped in what was going to be a bitter sarcastic remark, only to find the empty words empty. Nurses soon hurried in, hooking gadgets up here and pumping things there. A new heart. Peace surrounded him as they wheeled him towards the OR.
"Doc, who was the match?"
"A man, mid-thirties."
The Stranger.
"What happened?"
"We're not sure. It's kind of gory, but we found him nailed to a tree. His organ donation card said to give his donor this paper."
The doc pulled out a small yellow paper out of his pocket and laid it beside his head. Within minutes the man was put into a deep and restful sleep, as experts claimed the dying heart and replaced it with the thriving one.
Many hours later, the man woke to the dim lights of the recovery room. He felt incredibly groggy, not able to feel any pain because of the medication. The nurses chatted quietly in the corner, not audible to the exhausted ears. He attempted to reach for the paper, which he remembered should be right by his head. The failed attempt caught the nurses attention and they both rushed over.
"The paper." Was all he could mutter. Both women looked at each other, confused.
"Read the paper." He repeated slowly. They looked around and finally caught sight of the yellow slip of paper. The younger nurse picked it up and began to read,
"Dear Sir.
I know your old heart has been failing, and it pains me to see you as so.
My love and compassion extends beyond these physical boundaries, so please
I beg of you, please, accept this gift. For I gave it before your request.
Dying without escape, I pray you'll be able to receive as I have given freely.
Now take this new blood, for which I have cleansed,
and tell many. For this gift is not to be held just for self, but for all.
Let me know if you are having any problems adjusting to the new you.
Signed,
I AM."
A year to the day that man left his house and headed to the hospital once again. He walked slowly, aware of the pain and past he had spent in these same rooms. Smiling slightly, he nodded at the familiar nurses. He passed by rows of open doors, some held foul smells and others blooming flowers. He stopped in front of his old door, paused, knocked and quietly crept in. The small boy was sleeping. As the man approached the bed, the boy opened his eyes and smiled widely.
"I'm getting better!" Exclaimed the young blonde, "Your blood is working, it's cleaning me up."
The man smiled, more sincerely than ever before as he recognized the cleansing power of the blood.
"Not I," he replied as he reached into his pocket, "but I AM."
Pulling out the small yellow slip, he began to read the note.
Friday, June 12, 2009
200 and counting
Post 200....I feel as if this should have some big significant meaning.
I started my blog almost, well, when did I actually start this thing - December 2006, so almost 3 years ago. And started with the intent of blogging to inform people of what was happening in my life, and that is has been, but much more too. A public journal, as I have often heard it called, but also a place to be honest. I don't think we are put through struggles and suffering just for the sake of having done it, but to be able to minister to those who are currently going through what one has previously experienced. So since my life has been eventful and interesting, I guess it just gives me more reason to write and perhaps give others a little glimpse of the Truth I have learnt. The main verse still applies a great deal,
Something I have been thinking lots about though, is whether or not we should feel satisfied; with life. I know we have a higher purpose, and we are supposed to find Him in everything that we do. But what if what we are doing, is all we can do and are able to do, and yet don't feel satisfied with that? Is that because our hearts and soul really isn't in "it" (meaning what we are doing with our lives)? Because He isn't blessing out work? Or is it because we really aren't supposed to be content with what we have here because Heaven is our real home?
So it is okay not to be satisfied with what we are doing, or have? Is it ok to desire more, or only if we are content with what already is? I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject...
I started my blog almost, well, when did I actually start this thing - December 2006, so almost 3 years ago. And started with the intent of blogging to inform people of what was happening in my life, and that is has been, but much more too. A public journal, as I have often heard it called, but also a place to be honest. I don't think we are put through struggles and suffering just for the sake of having done it, but to be able to minister to those who are currently going through what one has previously experienced. So since my life has been eventful and interesting, I guess it just gives me more reason to write and perhaps give others a little glimpse of the Truth I have learnt. The main verse still applies a great deal,
For Zion's sake I will not keep silent,Moving from the past into the present, the past weeks have been good, really good. Good doesn't mean easy, good means, well...pretty much anything you want it to mean, but to me, it means hard but profitable. I have wanted to write so many posts, but then as soon as I have a topic, I do something which makes me forget what I was going to write about.
for Jerusalem's sake I will not remain quiet,
till her righteousness shines out like the dawn,
her salvation like a blazing torch. Isaiah 62:1
Something I have been thinking lots about though, is whether or not we should feel satisfied; with life. I know we have a higher purpose, and we are supposed to find Him in everything that we do. But what if what we are doing, is all we can do and are able to do, and yet don't feel satisfied with that? Is that because our hearts and soul really isn't in "it" (meaning what we are doing with our lives)? Because He isn't blessing out work? Or is it because we really aren't supposed to be content with what we have here because Heaven is our real home?
So it is okay not to be satisfied with what we are doing, or have? Is it ok to desire more, or only if we are content with what already is? I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject...
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Mascara can be useless on emotional days....
Am I allowed to have days, where I really don't want to talk? Am I allowed to have days where self-pity is encouraged? Can I have a day where complaining is followed by sympathizing nods instead of glares? Maybe I'm just wondering why we get compassion for physical pain, but are expected to live through the emotional without any scars.
Yes I'm having one of those days. Where engaging others sounds like a great idea...and just that, an idea. Where I don't want to have to serve, but honestly, wish to be served. Where everything that seems slightly out of place rubs just the wrong way. I hate these days, because it takes so much to get through them without hurting the very people you love most. And yet I'm to stubborn to come right out and tell them that I'm having an incredibly hard time where I am at.
Yet I am being bound by my own selfishness. And it's not even justified by hormones or some big event...though I don't think it ever is. Sometimes I wish I was superhuman, and could say that I'm not phased by things like this. That I don't have hard days, or feelings of uselessness. That I'm always confident of where I'm supposed to be. But if that were the case, I guess I wouldn't need a Saviour.
Yes I'm having one of those days. Where engaging others sounds like a great idea...and just that, an idea. Where I don't want to have to serve, but honestly, wish to be served. Where everything that seems slightly out of place rubs just the wrong way. I hate these days, because it takes so much to get through them without hurting the very people you love most. And yet I'm to stubborn to come right out and tell them that I'm having an incredibly hard time where I am at.
Yet I am being bound by my own selfishness. And it's not even justified by hormones or some big event...though I don't think it ever is. Sometimes I wish I was superhuman, and could say that I'm not phased by things like this. That I don't have hard days, or feelings of uselessness. That I'm always confident of where I'm supposed to be. But if that were the case, I guess I wouldn't need a Saviour.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Captivating
She stood at the railing looking over the edge. Elbows rested on the graffiti-writ steel rail. She had a love-hate relationship with people watching. Although it gave her a sense of peace, knowing that others were around, it left her with hatred for the lives that appeared so perfect. Closing her eyes for a brief second, she heaved a sigh and pushed back from the rail, purse and bag in hand she walked down the stairs. She proceeded towards the door, not looking anywhere but where she was headed. Outside the automatic doors stood a man in his 50's holding small pieces of paper. He handed her one as she walked past, smiling and telling her, "Your beautiful". Creep, she thought. Yet stuffed the paper in her purse.
It only took her ten minutes to walk home, two steps per sidewalk slab, constantly crushing a dead leaf in her hand, half smiling, half smirking at young couples on evening walks. Despite her seemingly apathetic mood, she loved fall, pure beauty even amongst the dying.
The stairs up to her room were taken two at a time, and bags thrown unto her bed. Opening her bag she tried on her dress. Turning to face the mirror on the opposite wall, she grimaced as what at the store seemed looked like a good buy, now turned her face sour. What was wrong with her? She hated mirrors. She hated being normal. She had passed the point of sobbing in self-pity a long time ago, apathy now consumed her. She peered further into the mirror one last time, hoping to change what stood before her. Flopping on her bed she reached to retrieve some gum from her purse, the paper the 'creep' had given to her fell onto the floor. Curious, she reached down and opened it.
"Sweetheart, hear me out. I know you haven't wanted to be on speaking terms with me recently, but please hear what I have to say. I've been thinking of you constantly, and think you need to hear this. I wrote a poem about you. Please read it, I mean every word."
Below was a poem with the title "Captivating" written neatly in black cursive handwriting. And this is what it said.
Captivating
You may be surprised
My Daughter
To hear this from me,
For what I intentioned you to know,
Has to now be expressed because of sin.
I am enthralled by your beauty (Psalm 45:11)
The syllables of your name murmur like a meadow brook.
No wonder everyone loves to say your name! (Song of Solomon 1:3)
Before you knew me,
I'm named you, and declared you were a beauty, (2 Samuel 14:25)
A rare gemstone.
Your smile brings joy,
A giggle brings down the guarded spirit.
I have adorned you with grace,
Your veiled cheeks are soft and radiant (Song of Solomon 6:4)
Quintessentially feminine!
Your beauty, within and without, is absolute (Song of Solomon 7:1)
You are absolutely stunning. (Ezekiel 16:8)
For you I chose this divine characteristic
For as I AM adorned in beauty,
So are you.
Women, I want to challenge you. Did any of you read this story and imagine yourself? Or did you imagine another woman? Read it again, except this time, put your face in her place. Even though we are told that it doesn't matter if we are beautiful externally, internally is all that matters, I truly, 100% believe that if you are reading this, you are beautiful. Externally. God longs to look at you. We tear ourselves apart, both inside and out because we hate how we look. But the truth of the matter is, we can't change how we look. HE made us that way, and He delights in us that way. You are quintessentially feminine. And He finds you captivating!
It only took her ten minutes to walk home, two steps per sidewalk slab, constantly crushing a dead leaf in her hand, half smiling, half smirking at young couples on evening walks. Despite her seemingly apathetic mood, she loved fall, pure beauty even amongst the dying.
The stairs up to her room were taken two at a time, and bags thrown unto her bed. Opening her bag she tried on her dress. Turning to face the mirror on the opposite wall, she grimaced as what at the store seemed looked like a good buy, now turned her face sour. What was wrong with her? She hated mirrors. She hated being normal. She had passed the point of sobbing in self-pity a long time ago, apathy now consumed her. She peered further into the mirror one last time, hoping to change what stood before her. Flopping on her bed she reached to retrieve some gum from her purse, the paper the 'creep' had given to her fell onto the floor. Curious, she reached down and opened it.
"Sweetheart, hear me out. I know you haven't wanted to be on speaking terms with me recently, but please hear what I have to say. I've been thinking of you constantly, and think you need to hear this. I wrote a poem about you. Please read it, I mean every word."
Below was a poem with the title "Captivating" written neatly in black cursive handwriting. And this is what it said.
Captivating
You may be surprised
My Daughter
To hear this from me,
For what I intentioned you to know,
Has to now be expressed because of sin.
I am enthralled by your beauty (Psalm 45:11)
The syllables of your name murmur like a meadow brook.
No wonder everyone loves to say your name! (Song of Solomon 1:3)
Before you knew me,
I'm named you, and declared you were a beauty, (2 Samuel 14:25)
A rare gemstone.
Your smile brings joy,
A giggle brings down the guarded spirit.
I have adorned you with grace,
Your veiled cheeks are soft and radiant (Song of Solomon 6:4)
Quintessentially feminine!
Your beauty, within and without, is absolute (Song of Solomon 7:1)
You are absolutely stunning. (Ezekiel 16:8)
For you I chose this divine characteristic
For as I AM adorned in beauty,
So are you.
Women, I want to challenge you. Did any of you read this story and imagine yourself? Or did you imagine another woman? Read it again, except this time, put your face in her place. Even though we are told that it doesn't matter if we are beautiful externally, internally is all that matters, I truly, 100% believe that if you are reading this, you are beautiful. Externally. God longs to look at you. We tear ourselves apart, both inside and out because we hate how we look. But the truth of the matter is, we can't change how we look. HE made us that way, and He delights in us that way. You are quintessentially feminine. And He finds you captivating!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
And the Summer Starts
Home. Creeky Stairs. Roses. Biking in the rain. Orange Juice. Morning hair do's. Phone calls. Anticipation.
Ok, so if you were trying to find a relation or some deep meaning in those words, you probably won't find anything because, well, they were just the first words that came to mind when I thought of the many possible ways of starting this blog post....for which I haven't even decided on a topic. But hey, I'm pretty sure thats how all the ingenius inventions and writings started. Surely Bell had not thought up what he was actually making before he started. No, inventions are merely a bored man's way of filling time (hey, no critisim there, I do it daily. Hense the mass amounts of food in our house when I get bored).
Biking has been my main mode of transportation around Calgary these days. Which is nice to have freedom, and certainly cheaper than the unbelieveable 2.50 bus rides. But, I can say from personal experience, Calgary drivers are not the nicest to bikers.
I will be in Calgary until mid-June after which I will be moving to Carstairs (35 minutes away) and working in Didsbury (in the Northstar Office) until the end of August. Then, heading overseas, woohoo. But I do need stuff to do until mid-June, so if you are reading this and have anything for me to do, let me know.
Anyways, I am off to start the Orange Chicken. Wait, am I bored? An invention in the making ;)
Ok, so if you were trying to find a relation or some deep meaning in those words, you probably won't find anything because, well, they were just the first words that came to mind when I thought of the many possible ways of starting this blog post....for which I haven't even decided on a topic. But hey, I'm pretty sure thats how all the ingenius inventions and writings started. Surely Bell had not thought up what he was actually making before he started. No, inventions are merely a bored man's way of filling time (hey, no critisim there, I do it daily. Hense the mass amounts of food in our house when I get bored).
Biking has been my main mode of transportation around Calgary these days. Which is nice to have freedom, and certainly cheaper than the unbelieveable 2.50 bus rides. But, I can say from personal experience, Calgary drivers are not the nicest to bikers.
I will be in Calgary until mid-June after which I will be moving to Carstairs (35 minutes away) and working in Didsbury (in the Northstar Office) until the end of August. Then, heading overseas, woohoo. But I do need stuff to do until mid-June, so if you are reading this and have anything for me to do, let me know.
Anyways, I am off to start the Orange Chicken. Wait, am I bored? An invention in the making ;)
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Before the Hurting Ends
I thought it would get easier. You know, the more you do it, the easier it becomes? Like learning how to ride a bike. But it doesn't. I should have learned that by now, but I guess I had been in one place long enough that I actually forgot.
We remember the past and wish we had appreciated the times more, I kinda do. But if I had spent more time focusing on enjoying the time, I would have spent less time actually enjoying it, kind of defeats the purpose.
It's been a week since I've left, almost to the hour. Left my other family, the one I came to know and love through experience and hardship. This one I choose. And this one I choose to leave. Right now it seems like the stupidest decision of my life. Emotions are fickle, I know that, but I still want it all back. Is it a sin to desire the past that badly?
I'm mourning the loss of something I held so dear. And I know that my heart is only ripped as much as HE can mend it back together. But sometimes the tearing hurts so much, I ache for the mending before the pain is over. And then I try and ignore the pain...but that only lasts so long.
I want to be content where I am, I really do. But I don't think I'll get there before the hurting ends.
Heidi and Elliott...the best interns I am sure.
Rachael...best friend and roomate I adore.
Anna...the eldest, we all admire.
Mike... a smile that could start a fire.
Jared, Joel... always up to something.
Jason...processing the reasoning behind that something.
Kyle... the tall gentleman.
Viv and Dustin...the best non-married, non-dating, mom and dad I know.
Kayleen...the woman with a 24/7 glow.
Morgan... the only word that comes to mind is "firecracker"
Travis... the ultimate hockey player.
Chris... you lead when everyone else is lost (literally).
Jeff... live life sarcastically.
Jasper... the first volunteer for everything.
Steve... outdoorsy classy like a mountain-biking king.
Bo... Hairy, gentle and kind
Blake... best storyteller of mankind.
Nathan... a kind face (warning: women may swoon at the piano)
Timo... our strong hispano.
Jeff... character to lighten the mood
Peter... our Dutchman, peaceful and cool
Lance... the silent, but the words are a jewel
Dang Explore, I miss you.
We remember the past and wish we had appreciated the times more, I kinda do. But if I had spent more time focusing on enjoying the time, I would have spent less time actually enjoying it, kind of defeats the purpose.
It's been a week since I've left, almost to the hour. Left my other family, the one I came to know and love through experience and hardship. This one I choose. And this one I choose to leave. Right now it seems like the stupidest decision of my life. Emotions are fickle, I know that, but I still want it all back. Is it a sin to desire the past that badly?
I'm mourning the loss of something I held so dear. And I know that my heart is only ripped as much as HE can mend it back together. But sometimes the tearing hurts so much, I ache for the mending before the pain is over. And then I try and ignore the pain...but that only lasts so long.
I want to be content where I am, I really do. But I don't think I'll get there before the hurting ends.
Heidi and Elliott...the best interns I am sure.
Rachael...best friend and roomate I adore.
Anna...the eldest, we all admire.
Mike... a smile that could start a fire.
Jared, Joel... always up to something.
Jason...processing the reasoning behind that something.
Kyle... the tall gentleman.
Viv and Dustin...the best non-married, non-dating, mom and dad I know.
Kayleen...the woman with a 24/7 glow.
Morgan... the only word that comes to mind is "firecracker"
Travis... the ultimate hockey player.
Chris... you lead when everyone else is lost (literally).
Jeff... live life sarcastically.
Jasper... the first volunteer for everything.
Steve... outdoorsy classy like a mountain-biking king.
Bo... Hairy, gentle and kind
Blake... best storyteller of mankind.
Nathan... a kind face (warning: women may swoon at the piano)
Timo... our strong hispano.
Jeff... character to lighten the mood
Peter... our Dutchman, peaceful and cool
Lance... the silent, but the words are a jewel
Dang Explore, I miss you.
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