Dancing in the Rain

There's a saying that I love to quote...

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's about learning to dance in the rain"

I love that quote! For a girl who has taken numerous years of dance classes..the dancer in me loves this quote. But there's another reason I love this quote.

Throughout this blog, and in my life in general...there is something that I've struggled with that I want to take some time and talk about right now. My struggle? Anxiety.

Go back to the beginning of this blog and look through my story. Anxiety has been laced through my life for many years. No matter if it is spawned by hormones, circumstances, or just plain worry...anxiety has become (sadly) a part of my life. The crazy thing is, in a weird way, I feel like I am in a unique position. You see, I've had so many friends who have battled with anxiety and depression. I have friends who continue to struggle with anxiety and depression. But where I'm unique...is that I've learned ways to make my anxiety less invasive in my life. Each time I battle through it, I come out a little bit stronger.

As I've mentioned before, during my senior year of college, I went on birth control medications that caused me to become very depressed. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. But...as I went through that time in my life, I got to see first hand how some other people in life deal with friends and loved ones who are dealing with anxiety. A few months after ending the birth control and returning to "normal" (or as close to that as possible), one of my good friends in college began saying and doing some very scary things. The things she was saying and doing sounded familiar...because I had just gone through those same thoughts a few months earlier. I knew what she was dealing with. I printed of 4 different lists of symptoms for "How to know if someone is depressed"...and highlighted the ones that she was portraying...which turned out to be most of the lists. I knew what she was going through. And then I started turning to other friends to help me help her. And that's where things ended. No one believed me. One person even told me that I'm not a psychologist and am unable to diagnose someone else's problems. I felt defeated. Here it is I felt like I had such a good possibility of helping this friend...and didn't feel like there was much of anything that I could do.

As I've continued to battle anxiety in my own life, I've started trying to pick up on some of my thoughts and actions as I go. My goal for the last several years, has been to find a way to educate the common public on anxiety. Where I felt defeated with my friend in college...doesn't mean that all hope is lost for everyone. That's my unique position.

Here's the thing, though. There's a lesson I have to teach my students as a teacher many times. The lesson that you are not able to change another person. So many times in many classrooms that I've been in, I have students complaining about another classmate. "But SHE did that" or "HE did this". It's a tough lesson to learn that there is very little you can do to change another person.

If you're battling anxiety, the changes start with YOU. I'm still working on my thoughts on how to educate others. Sadly, some people just don't get it. They think anxiety and depression is something that can be magically switched on and off. Or they think that somehow they'll be able to just say 3 magic words and everything will be better. Or they'll only want to DO something. Anxiety is a battle of the mind. I'm here to tell you...there's not much that someone can do for you on the outside. Hugs are nice for some people. But a hug isn't always going to cure the whirlwind of thoughts circling through your mind.

So...stop waiting for the storm to pass. Stop waiting for the next drug to come out to get on. Stop waiting to find the counselor that will help you. Just STOP.

And start dancing in the rain.

Do the tough stuff. Get up. Get going. Dance.

Using my favorite analogy...dance...here are a few of my suggestions. If you are currently battling anxiety...here are some of my suggestions. Because the healing is going to start with YOU.

1. Be Prepared.
The first form of "dance" I ever took was actually a baton twirling class. My passion for dance started at a small dance studio and a dream of being a high school majorette back when I was in grade school. I took baton for several years, and eventually learned how to simultaneously twirl 2 batons. Right before middle school began, it was decided that the baton class at our studio was going to end. We would be performing at one final recital before the program was going to come to an end. The routine we were doing required us to march onto the stage with 2 batons in hand, put one down, twirl for the first half of the routine with one baton, then pick up the 2nd baton and finish the routine twirling 2 batons. While practicing for this routine, my instructor constantly alerted us to what to do "if you drop a baton". Basically what it came down to...if the baton was in a place that was reachable, pick it up ASAP and keep going. But...if it was too far away, you'd have to finish the rest of the routine with only 1 baton. "Fake it until you make it" was the mantra. But...as every dancer should know...we were supposed to keep on smiling! Make it look like it was supposed to be part of the show! For several months we were told what to do. Through practices...I caught every toss. The day of the recital came. We marched out onto the stage, set the other baton down, got ready for the first toss, TOSS....and my baton ended up on the other end of the stage. The next 30 seconds felt like a decade as I tried to keep a smile on my face, remember what I was supposed to do, bent down, picked up the 2nd baton, and glanced over at my friend to see where we were in the routine. I was mad.

After the show, my instructor came up to me. And gleamed with how quickly and seamless I had acted...with a smile still in tact. We always did our recitals at a local high school's theatre. The theatre director was an older man that seemed to never be satisfied with how things were done in the theatre. My instructor told me that after my baton drop and recover...the theater director had commented "man...she's GOOD!" I was prepared. Sure...it wasn't the most exciting situation. But I was prepared.

Same goes with anxiety. Be prepared. Know what to do. Know where to go. Know who to talk to. Just be prepared.

2. Look at things from a positive angle.
Anxiety is full of negative thought. This is the hardest thing to do, but one of my best ways to deal with my anxiety...is to try to think of things in a positive way.

When I was in high school, I remember one situation that happened during my ballet class. The class was given a basic center combination. We were to do one pirouette as a preparation...and then do 8 consecutive fouette turns. (If you don't speak ballet...look it up on YouTube). The music started. We did the pirouette. The first fouette went decently, the second didn't look too hot, by the fourth fouette, half the girls weren't even spinning a complete revolution...and by the eighth and final fouette...no one was anywhere near together. My dance teacher stopped the music and said "Well...how do you think that went?". And I responded "Well...we did the first 2 well!"

In the midst of anxiety...we have to see the glass as half full. You WILL get out of it. Every little step helps. No...maybe you really aren't created to be Wonder Woman and can do everything all the time. Do the first 2 fouettes correctly. Then strive to add more. Satan wants us to look at the 6 we did wrong. But Jesus wants us to look at the 2 we did RIGHT.

3. Don't say the C word
My old tap teacher was a very wise woman. And she had a BIG rule that we were expected to follow. We were not allowed to say the "C" word. What was the C word?  CAN'T. As she explained to all her young dancers...you CAN...as long as you keep trying and keep practicing. She even had a consequence. We had to do push ups every time we said the C word. Sometimes it seemed...she had more faith in our abilities than we did.

When it comes to anxiety and depression, the devil wants us to say that we can't do things. We can't talk to that person. We can't find a place to look. We can't go another day. We can't eat. We can't sleep. We can't.

But with God...you CAN. If you're battling anxiety and depression...keep reminding yourself that you CAN.


Satan uses anxiety as a way to rob us of our joy. He wants to rob us of our passion to be one with Jesus Christ. And the more he can make you doubt, the more he can make you miserable, the more he can make you worry...the more he will try to pull you away from God. He's always there. Until the day that Jesus returns...he's always going to be there. The storm isn't going to end. You need to learn to dance in the rain. While it's going on. Don't just dance in the puddles. Dance during the storm.

There are so many other lessons that I could take from dance and from the stage to apply to this. But it all goes back to the same point.

Dance.
Be prepared
Be positive
And don't you dare say that you can't.

Just keep going. As another one of my favorite quotes says "practice makes perfect". The more you practice these techniques and others...the more easy they will come each time you hit a time of anxiety.

An Open Letter to my Former Best Friends

Well Happy New Year to everyone!

In my last post, I talked a lot about a sweet friend that danced her way into my life, but left quite the impact on my heart. I'm happy to report, that, like so many people in college used to say "Good byes are not forever"...and "It's see ya later...not good bye". I'm pretty sure I could create a completely separate blog about my conversations, plans, and endeavors with my sweet friend. But...alas, that is not really the point of this blog.

Regardless, I don't think "good bye" was really in our vocabulary after she moved to her next mission. Before she even left, I had found out about a chocolate festival that was coming to a town that was about 3 hours away from her (easily driven for a weekend)...and was also near my relatives. Six weeks after she left...we were reunited for a quick weekend getaway. Although the festival wasn't as great as we had hoped for, the company was well worth the flights and headaches.

And...better yet, her next mission is back in Ohio! We've been doing pretty well at seeing each other every 6 weeks or so. Having her back in Ohio, though, should open up a few more additional opportunities to spend time together. Like I said in the last post...it's the moments spent together that matter the most, not the time. I cherish each of the moments I spend with her in my heart for several weeks after I see her. But I know that in God's time...another reunion will eventually take place.

Relationships has become a theme for me recently. Part of my personal testimony and story is based on the struggles I've had at various points in life regarding friendships and relationships. The even sweeter part is to see how God uses those pains and struggles to teach me new things and introduce me to new people all the time. Our zombie party group still has a handful of people that get together each Sunday night...although we currently are a zombie-less zombie party (thank you, AMC, for putting our favorite zombies on break for the next few weeks/months). But, as Matthew 18:20 says, "where 2 or 3 gather in my name, there I am with them". Believe it or not, this weekly zombie-less zombie party has become one of the biggest blessings of my life. It's a community. It's friends. It's the people that I turn to first when I want to go out to a movie and not go by myself...and some of the people I turn to first when life starts getting just a little too hectic. I've been increasingly amazed about how God has completely changed my friendships and relationships in the past few months. And to think...it started with a strange addiction to zombies that has now well-surpassed being a Halloween seasonal option.

As I look back on past relationships, I can tell one quick thing about myself. I've always been a "quality over quantity" kind of person in friendship. Another words...I'd prefer to have 1 or 2 extremely close friends instead of multiple not-as-close friends. I've also learned more recently about myself on how hard it is for me to trust people. Sure, I may claim to trust you to your face. But it takes something special for me to trust you with ALL of my deepest secrets. I've spent some time looking back on some of my past friendships...and they seem to follow a sort of pattern. We become friends. Since I prefer the quality over the quantity...I tell them SO many things about myself. Fears. Failures. Hopes. Dreams. And if they're really lucky...who the current guy is I have a crush on. Things go great. Texting and calling dates happen. And then life takes over. I call to find a time to do something...and they aren't available. I'm in the midst of a minor emotional breakdown...and they're not available to talk. Life happens...and they aren't there. Because again...I wanted the quality of only having one close friend...and not the quantity of many friends. And eventually, paths start to part, jobs change, someone gets married, or an epic fight eventually ends the friendship. They walk away...with probably some regret, some grief, and a small portion of my heart and my trust with them. I have always loved the Irish Claddaugh as a symbol of love...both between a man and a woman...and between friends. And the way I look at the Claddaugh, is that it is 2 hands holding a heart. The only way to make a relationship to work (friendship or romantic) is for both sides to be equally holding that same heart. The Claddaugh of friendship I was wearing was more like one hand holding a heart...with several bumps and chips in the other side...from other hands that had been there for a time and then gone away.

This zombie-less zombie crew is one of the greatest things. For the first time in my life...I'm getting a quality...AND a quantity of friends that I've never experienced before. I like how one of the guys said it to me at one point during a low point in life..."you know you have us...and we're not going anywhere!" Every weekend...I'm reminded of that. Every Sunday night, we share the moments...and some pretty decent amounts of time...with each other.
 
With all this lovey-dovey "I Love my Friends" stuff...some may be wondering what the title of this post is all about. Over the last several weeks, I have seen many people on Facebook sharing these "open letters". It seems like they come from a blog...they tend to be to a variety of people. A few days ago, I read one of these "open letters" that was "An Open Letter to my Former Best Friend" (there's actually more than one by that title). One of the variations of this letter really struck a chord with me. But...there were too many details that obviously did NOT pertain to me and I didn't find it necessary to "share" the one online. Instead...I decided to write my own. With a more personal approach to it. So...here is my "open letter" to anyone who used to be a Best Friend of mine.


Hey Stranger!

I kinda miss you. I miss giving you updates about every little detail of my life. And in a way, I almost miss people asking me where you are or what you're up to because apparently we were a packaged deal at one point. I miss our inside jokes. The ones only you and I would ever actually get - far beyond simply "you had to be there to understand it".

But here's the weird thing. In all the ways that I miss you...at the same time, I don't miss you at all. I don't miss feeling like I had to be something I wasn't just to gain acceptance by you. Sure, it was all personal choice to change my hair, change my clothes, change my purse, and change my make-up preferences. I told myself I was doing it because I was in need of a "fresh new look". But really...I just wanted you to notice me. I wanted to feel like I fit in. I don't miss all the days I'd wait for a response to a text or an email - and sometimes never getting one back. Your texts and calls and emails were many times the highlight of my days! Sure...maybe you thought I was being clingy and constantly needed to be reminded that we were still friends. But...I'm surprised how long we called ourselves "friends" while I was having a monologue text message with your phone. Relationships needed communication. And ours was barely existent. And I don't miss the feelings of abandonment because I had chosen you to be one of my "one and only's". You must not have understood it. Those things I told you? Were important to me. I don't trust people very easily on a deep level. But I trusted you. I trusted you enough to tell you some of my dirty secrets, my hopes and dreams, and my personal struggles. So...when you walked away...you took some of my trust and my courage along with you.

But I've moved on. It wasn't easy. Oh, Lord, it wasn't easy. There were plenty of days where I wondered if I would ever be able to call someone a friend again. There were plenty of days when I wondered if there was an online friend-finder service (like match.com for friends?). And there were plenty of days...where I felt the ultimate realization that I had exactly ONE friend at that moment: God. And do you know what God did? He brought me new friends. Friends that ONLY God could have been responsible  for bringing into my life. Friends that all I have to worry about is being myself. No one else. Friends that when I text or call them, they actually text back. And quickly. Friends that don't dismiss 6 a.m. conversations. They know my schedule. And they know sometimes that's the best time for me to talk. Friends who take the time to listen and not claim to be busy and just try to push me off to someone else.Friends who continually point me towards God and His never-ending love. These new friends...aren't just friends. They're family. Because we all share one Father. They're better than best friends.

Come to think of it, that is the main difference between you and them. You got overwhelmed because you felt like you had to be the one to solve my issues. But they already know the one who made me...issues and all. And just like how you take a broken piece of merchandise back to the store, they take my broken spirits, my failures, my anxieties, and my fears back to the One who made me. You gave me a few sweet words and a couple of really good quotes for me to use. But they give me THE word of God when I needed it most. Better soothing than honey.

My biggest hope for you in your future is that you eventually get to know my Father and creator. I still pray for you, even if I don't tell you that. There's not a chance in the world that you don't at least a few times cross my mind. You were very important to my life at one point. Who knows if we'll ever rekindle some form of a relationship. But maybe that's what that friendship was for. It wasn't to stay friends forever. It was just long enough that I could plant a seed of my Father's love into your heart. You may not have been able to handle me...but He definitely can!

Thanks for the times. Thanks for the moments. Thanks for the memories. I know that God will use what I learned from you sometime in the future to help me. But for nwo, I'mhappy that he's brought me closer into HIS family.

Take Care!
Your Old BFF

For Good

So much has happened in the last few weeks and months. I'm not even really sure if I'll be able to update much about it in one post. But that's okay. That's the great thing about blogging. I can start and stop and make each post the way I want.

There's a post on this blog called "Testimony: Take 2" (yes, before writing any post...I try to look back on some of my previous posts to avoid re-telling the same information over and over again). Over the last few weeks, I've still had this notion in my mind to share my story. I just never really figured out where to share my story...or with who. And...although my last attempt at writing my testimony finally took it down to something more manageable than the 54 pages started as...there was still quite a bit of detail to talk about.

As I've been hanging out more and more with my Fishball friends, I've been wanting to open myself up more to them. I guess it's been coming from my time this summer I was able to have with going back to the young adult Bible study again. I was actually surprised many times during that Bible study of how many people shared insights and thoughts and help over the summer that made me realize...that a lot of my struggles that I've had...are not original...and many of the people that I've been hanging out with over the last few weeks and months are actually in similar situations or have been in similar situations. And so, I've been looking more into my personal story, particularly at my past relationships. And looking at how past hurts and mistakes have formed me into the person that I am today. Originally, I was thinking of going HUGE and sharing a portion of my story with our entire church. But...upon further investigation into my own heart...it was really my friends from the Bible study and Fishball that I wanted to share this story with. Unfortunately, about the time I wanted to start sharing this story, my Zumba class moved back to Tuesday and Thursday nights...abruptly haulting that thought. But...I continued to work on writing out the details of how much my friendships and relationships have changed just in the last few months and weeks...and kept praying that God would somehow open up the time I needed and the people for me to share my story with...and give me the words to say.

In the midst of all of this, though...God was beginning to plant the seeds of a new friendship for me.

One of the first times I went back to the Bible study this summer, there was a girl there (who will go unnamed). I remember hearing her introduce herself that first night as being a traveling medical professional (how she ended up in NW Ohio...I don't really know). I remember just being struck with realizing that she was rather new to the area...and jumped in with both feet to our church and Bible study. Seriously...when I moved to NC...I SLOWLY waded into my church...and it took a few months before I started doing anything else besides just attending church there. But...I remember meeting her...and then that was about it for another month or so...until I started playing Fishball.

I don't really even remember how all of this ended up happening. Somehow, though, after a few weeks, I managed to find out that this girl had a huge passion for dance...just like me! Then again...there's a lot of other friends I know from my church who have also danced. It wasn't until a few weeks ago when I was walking through the lobby at church after church, that she turned to me...and said that a group of people were going out for lunch and asked if I wanted to join. I had ridden to church that morning with my mom...so I had to find a ride to go out to lunch...and ended up riding with her. In the like 10 minutes or less that we were in the car from the church to the restaurant, we managed to talk about Zumba, dance, and have an in-depth conversation about modern dance and the use of African drumming to dance to. By the time we got to the restaurant, I remember just thinking to myself...like it was almost like we were speaking a "language" of dance...and somehow knew exactly what the other was talking about. Even during lunch, though, we got talking about sharing testimonies, and struggling to keep our testimony to a time limit (like 5 minutes or less...). I just remember thinking about how cool that it was that it seemed like this girl "got" me. Like she understood.

Over the next few weeks...I kinda took that feeling for granted. I continued to play Fishball with her...and spending my Sunday nights watching zombie shows with a group of peeps from church including her. I knew that she was a traveling medical professional...and would be eventually moving to another state. I started talking to her a bit about her move...because I had friends and relatives that lived in the same state she'd be moving to.  It wasn't until her very last week in our area that something amazing...something profound...and something so beautiful started to happen.

Last weekend, our group of friends threw her a surprise going-away party. At this point, I didn't really know how I felt about that. I knew that I had felt like there was a special spiritual connection between us...but at the same time, I hadn't really gotten to know her that much. We gave her a couple gifts from the group...but no one really got her a card (well, one person did...but it wasn't from the group). So...the following day (since I still had another week before she left) while out shopping with my mom, I decided that I'd pick up a card and write her a nice little note in the card. Mom offered to maybe consider putting something small in the card (like a gift card). But...I wanted to do something different. As a dancer, I often try to find songs that inspire me to dance. Over the last several weeks, it seemed there were a LOT of songs mentioned, shared, and discussed via Facebook. Using my Itunes account...I found 20 songs that either inspired me to dance...or was a song someone had talked about from our group...and burned them to a CD (actually...only 19 of the 20 songs ended up on the CD...my playlist was 2 1/2 minutes too long for my CD). I actually felt really silly...because others had gotten her like pictures and other things...and here I was...giving her a mix CD.

I planned to give her the card with the CD in it the next day (Sunday) either at Fishball or after our zombie party. While at church that morning, though, I felt God nudging my heart and telling me to share my story with her. I had had it typed up and ready to go on my computer. For a second, I was pretty scared...because I didn't know this girl very well. But...I decided it was worth the risk (granted, if by some chance things got extremely awkward after I shared my story with her...she would be gone in another week and no one would need to know anything). So...after getting back from church that afternoon, I sent her a Facebook message explaining that God had laid it on my heart to share my story with her...and I attached it into the message on Facebook. I wasn't really prepared to have her read my story and tell me that it was incredible. Not really the adjective I was thinking anyone was going to use to describe my story. With that task seeming to have gone over pretty easily...I just had to worry about giving her the card and CD next.

When I got to Fishball last Sunday, I anxiously waited for her to get there...to be able to judge the awkwardness-meter. She got there...came over...and gave me a hug. Again...not really what I was expecting. Later that evening, after finishing the season finale of "Fear the Walking Dead" (a.k.a. - ZOMBIES!), as it seemed like most people were getting ready to head out...I walked over and handed her my card. Before even opening it...she pulled me aside and asked to talk to me for a bit. Not gonna lie..I was a little scared. Mostly because several years earlier, during my senior year of college, one of my friends sent me a text and asked if we could talk a few days before one of the holiday breaks. I met her at a location with another friend of ours present (to mediate the conversation)...and for the next 3 hours, we cried, we screamed, and we yelled. Our relationship was falling apart. And the meeting ended with her walking out crying and me feeling like an idiot. I tend to get a little anxious when anyone asks to talk to me personally in a private location.

As soon as we got away from the other people...we sat down...and she asked to pray with me. After we prayed, we talked. About my story. About our friends. About how "incredible" and courageous it was for me to share that story. As I drove home that night...all I could think was how perfect that encounter was. How much grace and love she extended to me. A person she barely knew! It was perfect...getting to share my story with her, and how she responded to it. When I got home...I had a text waiting for me from her...thanking me for the CD. According to her...it was perfect. Who knew that the sweetest gifts don't always have to cost a lot of money?

A few days later, still thinking about that encounter on Sunday night, I made a decision to cancel my Zumba class on Thursday night so I could see her at least one more time at the young adult Bible study. And...using the experience from Sunday as my inspiration, I decided to take another bigger step of faith...and asked to share that same story at the Bible study. I worked for the rest of the week on adding, subtracting, changing, and editing my story...and kept rehearsing what to say for this testimony.

This is where the hard part of this story comes.

As I've been trying to process the events of the last week...there's just so much. And so many WHY?s.

Why did we only become so close in this last week?
Why did she actually have to leave?
Why did she think my story was incredible (not gonna lie...it didn't feel that incredible as I was going through it)?
Why is it so incredible that I shared my story?
Why was I so blessed to meet this sweet friend...even if for such a short amount of time?
Why did it seem like we had a closer connection...even in such a short amount of time?
Why hadn't I tried harder earlier while she was here to spend more time with her? 

A couple days ago...I think I found a possible reason. Someone posted a quote on Facebook that said "Friendship is measured in moments shared...not in time shared". It's the MOMENTS that I shared with her...that I'll be carrying around with me for a very long time.

As I tried to process these events, I figured something out, though. This sweet girl is on a mission. And...knowing the title of my entire blog...and thinking of my endeavors of getting into the missions field...that's something I'm drawn to. Every 12-13 weeks, she travels to a new city, a new state, a new mission field. Although her mission is in the US and is based on being a traveling medical professional...I can still relate.

Let me put it this way. Five years ago, 9 members from our church (including me) spent 5 amazing days in Thailand with the kids we provide the care for in a couple orphanages. I'm going to take the guess...that the impact we made on those kids in 5 days...is about the same impact that this sweet sweet girl made on all of us Fishball people in 12 weeks. We provided physical help to the kids in Thailand (cups, towels, and shoes)...she provided physical friendship. We took the kids out on exciting adventures (like out to ice cream). We got to experience exciting adventures with her as well. We shared the love of Jesus to a bunch of children in Thailand...language barrier and all...but the language of God's love was the same. She shared the love of Jesus with a bunch of NW Ohioans through her personality, passions, and presence. The language of God's love was the same. We heard many stories of the trials and struggles some of our kids in the orphanages in Thailand. She heard my story of my trials and struggles.

It's a mission. I'm not losing a friend who is moving away. I've been blessed to join a sweet friend in praying for her as she continues to follow the path God has her on. I've been blessed to be maybe one of her first "partners" in her mission. And I've been blessed to learn an important lesson. Regardless on if God ever opens up the doors for me to teach English overseas...where ever I am is a mission field. My church is a mission field. My teaching job is a mission field. You don't always have to go someplace to have a mission. You simply have to be open to allow God to use you in mighty ways...could be as short as 5 days...12 weeks...or maybe even several years.

I'll probably have more thoughts on this in the coming weeks. But there's one last thing I want to leave with. The title of this post is "For Good" which I'm taking from the song of the same title from the musical "Wicked". The lyrics are listed below:

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most, to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes the sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you

I have been changed for good

I think this song perfectly sums up the way I feel about my sweet friend. Because I knew her...although it may have been a brief time...I know that I've been changed for good and for the better. And I'm so insanely glad that God brought her into my life. And I'll always hold the moments that we've shared "like a handprint on my heart".

The Heart of Worship

JOY

It's my middle name. And in some weird sense...I feel like it is my duty to live out that middle name. I've always been interested in learning as much as possible about joy. From what I've learned...Joy is NOT just simply being happy. Joy goes much deeper than that. Philippians is FULL of information about joy and tips to be joyful.

Over the last couple weeks...I have experienced this word "Joy" numerous times. Several years ago, there was a song we sang at church called "Counting on God" by Desperation Band. I was a junior in college the first time I heard this song..and I was in AWE of it! Mostly because I loved what the chorus says about joy:

Joy unspeakable that won't go away
Just enough strength to live for today
So I'll never have to worry what tomorrow will bring
Because my faith is on solid rock
I'm counting on God.

I believe we first sang this song at church shortly after my decision to rededicate my life to Christ and get baptized. While sitting in my dorm room (apparently ignoring any homework for my regular college classes) I started pondering more about this song...and ended up writing the lyrics down in Sharpie marker...color-coding certain words in the song. What I love about this song is that...if you think about what it says in reverse...it makes sense. When you are counting on God, your faith is on Solid Rock...and when your faith is in the ROCK, there's no worries about tomorrow...and when you aren't worried about tomorrow...you have the strength to get through today...and once you've experienced all of that, you end up with JOY UNSPEAKABLE! That...my friends...is what JOY...real JOY looks like. It goes beyond "happy". It's those things that happen that only God can make happen...that literally takes the words out of your mouth...and all you're left with is a creepy looking smile that you can't explain where it's coming from.

And over the last couple weeks...that's the kind of JOY I've been experiencing.

As mentioned before in this blog...I got a new job! This past week was my first week of that new job and...so far...it has gone better than most of my past "new jobs"...especially the teaching ones. I'll probably be posting more about my students and my teaching in the future...so I won't go into too much more detail about the job. But...I am experiencing some JOY from my job.

Along with the job...my schedule has opened up a bit. I guess I never really realized while I was working retail about just how much time I was sacrificing. Yes, most weeks I was only working 30 or less hours per week. But some how...with how and where those hours fell...I felt like I NEVER had time. Now, I'm working even more hours...teaching, nonetheless...and I feel like I have more time available. Once the first paycheck comes for the new job...I may also be experiencing another form of joy from this job. But...I got some joy out of that.

One of the things my new-found time in my schedule has brought me...is more time to hang out with people from church. Over the last couple years, that hasn't always been easy. With my last retail job, I never really wanted to request too many days off per week or put too many restrictions on my availability. Aside from one Bible study and my Zumba class that I'm contracted to teach...everything else was seemingly optional. Last fall, I had a class on Wednesday nights which caused me to miss my Bible study every week until Christmas break. My Zumba class has been scheduled in Tiffin on Tuesdays and Thursdays for the last year and a half...which gets in the way of another Bible study for young adults on Thursday nights. However, this summer, my Zumba class got moved to Saturday mornings. I've thoroughly enjoyed going back to our young adult Bible study. And, surprisingly, about a year ago when I stopped going to that Bible study, we weren't getting that many people into the group. But somehow...at least during this summer...we've been getting almost 20 people each week. For a girl that's grown up in the same church for 15 of the last 16 years...that's crazy to actually see NEW people coming into our Bible study.

And then...my joy continued...with a funky game called Fishball. The first couple times I went back to the young adult study, I was invited to play this weird game. I had no idea what it was, I know how badly I normally am at organized sports (I still remember the time in elementary gym class, while playing kickball...I actually caught the ball in the outfield...and my whole class applauded for me. That was like the first and only time I ever caught anything in gym class). So...the first few times, I made excuses on why I couldn't go. But then something happened. I was sitting at church one Sunday and one of the guys from the Bible study comes passing by, said hi to me...and then extended another invitation to play Fishball. It took me another couple weeks to finally join the group created on Facebook for Fishball and eventually get out to play the first time last week. Basically (and I may not be explaining this very well) Fishball takes components of volleyball, tennis, and dodgeball, and mixes it into one volleyball-ish game. (Tennis comes in with serving and we play on the tennis court...dodgeball comes in because you can get points by hitting a player on the other team with the ball...appropriately called a "snipe").

Two weeks ago, our church celebrated its anniversary with our annual chicken dinner. The following Wednesday, the music ministry of the church put on a concert at the local county fair. The next evening, the young adult Bible study held our study...but was more of a party and a bonfire. The following Sunday, there was a sweet message at church...and then my debut of playing Fishball. Two days later, on Tuesday, I played Fishball AGAIN. The next night was Wednesday night Bible study. Last night there was another party for the young adult group. Good friends. Good game. Good music. And a Good God. I have caught myself smiling randomly so many times in the last 2 weeks. And I know why.

JOY.

But there is something else that brings me joy.

Worship.

As I've mentioned before in this blog...I have pretty much grown up in the church. But even more than growing up in church...I've grown up with church music. My mom started out as an organ (the instrument) major in college, before deciding to become a nurse instead. But, she's still kept up on her skills and has played organ for weddings and churches many times. Growing up, I've always been a Momma's girl. And growing up, many times I would end up at church with my mom while she did music. And many times, it seemed like the worship leaders and music ministers she worked with began to feel more like family than just a pastoral leader at the church.

In the 16 years we've been going to Grace, we are on music minister #3. Now...in my books, this is actually a pretty good record. In the six years I was in high school (grades 7-12), we went through 4 principals. And in the six years I was in youth group at church (again, grades 7-12), we went through 3 youth pastors. So...3 music ministers in 16 years isn't too bad. I don't remember much about the first guy. We were new to the church...the church was much bigger than anywhere else we had been...and the music was a lot different then the traditional hymns we were used to singing. (This is still back when Grace had an actual organ instrument that was used regularly).

A couple years after we started going to Grace, we got a new music minister. By this time, I was pretty good about coming to church with my mom to go to the sound check for church. In our family...there were normally 2 options on how to get to church (not going wasn't normally an option). You could either go early with mom...to the sound check...and end up at church over an hour early. Or...you could go with dad...and normally if you were able to get to church to hear the FULL sermon...you were doing pretty good. Not wanting to get into any bad habits about getting places on time...I ALWAYS went with mom. I'd chat with the ladies at the coffee bar (eventually I think that would become the reasons for my coffee addiction) but occasionally, the music minister would need me to run an errand. Sometimes it was up to his office to grab something. Sometimes I'd be sent with a few sheets of music and a code to the church's copier to make copies of a piece of music. Sometimes I'd be asked to go somewhere in the middle of the sanctuary to listen to sound quality. When my mom's pages of music started blowing away, sometimes I'd sit with her and be a page turner. One time on a Wednesday night, they were trying to test some kind of sound thing...and needed someone to sing one of the songs during the practice...and I got to do that. And when I wasn't doing any of those things...I'd be sitting, reading a book or playing a game...with worship music going on in the background.

As I grew up going to Grace, as I got older, I started doing even MORE with the music ministry. I'd help with children's musicals (a couple times even dancing in the middle of one). I think I started popping into the choir to sing for Christmas programs starting when we got there. When I hit college age...I was notorious for not being able to come to choir practice on Wednesdays, but still showing up to sing on Sunday mornings. I'd run in to church, lip sync the songs through the first service, and by the second service, I could mostly sing all the songs (I generally just followed whatever the melody line of the song was).

But I've never seen my musical abilities as being all that great. My mom's studied music in college. My brother has been a drummer and has some awesome auditory skills (he's written entire songs from movies on the composing program we used to have on our computer after only hearing the song a few times). Even my dad sang. Me? I took piano lessons...but eventually didn't seem to be getting much better. When I was in 5th grade, I started playing the flute for band...and was put in the 2nd to last chair in the section. Then I switched over to bass clarinet...where I could be my own section...but there's not much of a use for bass clarinet...and I don't own my own instrument. I like to sing...but have a pretty decent soprano voice...but am generally too shy to let my soprano voice out when I'm around others. I do a lot on the outside of worship. But not much on the inside.

But apparently, even mixed in with the choir at church...I can still find JOY in singing. One of my all time favorite stories to tell is like that. A few years ago, that music minister left our church to move with his family to another state. For a few months, we had no music minister as the search began for the next one. In those few months, there were some rumors going around that whenever the new music minister came, there was a pretty good chance that choir would either not exist, or would be changing to something different...and many choir members were deciding weather to stick with choir or not. While the search continued, that spring, a couple volunteers from the choir came together and decided to help organize the choir to sing for a few last special services (mother's day, Easter, and Good Friday). The person directing the choir was also an elementary music teacher. Another volunteer played the piano and organized instrumentalists to play the backup for the song.

Good Friday evening that year, after practicing the song a couple last minute times, I started heading to go to the bathroom before the service started. As I was heading down the hall, the woman who was directing the choir stopped me and said "I just wanted to let you know how much I LOVE your smile!". I was confused. What smile? I wasn't just singing? Isn't it a cardinal rule of being on stage to smile and look like you're having FUN? She went on and told me how when I was smiling...she saw it...which made her smile. And when she smiled, it made the rest of the choir happy and smile. And that in return...would be going out to the congregation. I'm pretty sure for the rest of that Easter weekend, instead of smiling, I was making goofy faces at her.

But that wasn't the first time someone complimented me on what must be a God-given talent associated with singing and the stage. About 3 weeks after our new music minister started, I peaced out, and moved to NC. I think it was like my second week at my church in NC, while singing during the service, the person standing in the row behind me in the congregation randomly tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and they said "Wow...you have a good voice!"

A few months after that, I had been helping in the nursery of my church in NC for a while, and I was getting coffee at the coffee shop at the church. The children's minister walked up to me and said "I've heard an interesting rumor about you recently"...I asked what that was...and she said "I was told that you have a very nice singing voice". A couple weeks later...I debuted in leading children's worship for the church.

Even just a few months ago, there was a scheduling issue on a Sunday at my retail job that caused me to not be able to go to Grace for church that Sunday. So...instead I went to my assistant manager's church. Two songs into the worship set and she was telling me how beautiful my voice was and was asking why I wasn't singing on a regular basis at church.

The truth is, about the time our newest music minister started (the one I left for NC about 3 weeks later)...I was dealing with a LOT of change in my life. I had graduated from college and worked at a job that I had wanted to quit after the first week. My friends were changing, getting married, having kids, and leading what seemed like "perfect" lives...sometimes even moving miles away. I couldn't seem to find a place to serve in the church...and with a new music minister, it seemed like my chances of doing anything more with the music ministry wasn't going to do much. I was feeling burned out from my church. I was feeling like the only ministry opportunity I had left was to help in the nursery. In a church the size of mine...I thought that was ludicrous that of ALL the serving areas...I was feeling like I was limited to just one. And about the time I probably could have inquired about what was available for me to try in music ministry with the new guy...I was offered a job in NC and ran off to try to find something different.

Over the last year, I realized that I've never really given the guy a fair chance. And...I've been meaning to look into trying to get into the music ministry again. Only this time...I guess I can't really just get grandfathered in because I'm the pianist's daughter (and awkwardly stalk the other people on the ministry). Maybe this time my ministry needs to be more based on the talent God gave me and not just my family connections. Ironically, my Bible study on Wednesdays is going to be taking a bit of a break for a while in a few weeks. Maybe that's the time I need to start going back to choir practice again.

When I'm fully into worship, though...and get that little smile...that's joy. The joy of my heart and soul reaching God's.

Oh yeah...and our music minister...is one of the guys who plays Fishball. It's an interesting way to get to know one of your pastors when you're playing a game where it's completely legal to throw a ball and hit one of the other pastors' children...and other members of the church for that matter.

Joy Unspeakable.

That's what I've been experiencing these last two weeks.

Lessons From Inside the Fish

Strange name for a blog post. But (hopefully) by the end of this post...it will make sense.

But first...the moment everyone has been waiting for...my BIG news!

I GOT A NEW JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know, this has been something that I've been praying about for some many weeks and months. I've had others praying about it too. And in my heart and in my soul, I have been feeling and knowing that somehow, sometime, God was going to do something HUGE. I just didn't know what. Or when. So now...here's the REST of the story...about how this came about (and eventually...I'll explain where the fish reference comes from).

As noted earlier in this blog...things have been quite hairy for a while. At the end of the 2013-2014 school year, I had finished working a job in Toledo as a 5th grade teacher. As seems to be the story of my life more recently...things didn't quite work out the way I wanted them to. Ever since entering college to become a teacher, I've always had the thought in my mind that I'd want to teach the upper elementary grades...4th or 5th...maybe 6th. In the state of Ohio, though, the only way to accomplish that (or at least back in 2007 when I entered college and declared a major) is to go into middle school...which covers grades 4-9. I never wanted to teach "middle school" just the upper elementary. Fifth grade in Toledo seemed about right. But I struggled through that position. By the end of that year, I was beat. I felt like I'd failed. I felt like somehow I must have missed all the big DON'T DO IT signs in my life through college. And with my hopes and dreams still in ESL and going back to Thailand, I made the assumption that maybe...that was God's sign that it was time for me to get OUT of the teaching field.

So I chased down my next dream. To go to grad school and work on that masters in ESL. Everything seemed perfect...if it just worked out my way. Well...as I said was my luck...things didn't go quite my way. I never found the full time job I was hoping to find that would help pay my way through grad school. I was able to afford the first semester from the money I'd saved while working my last teaching job. But...without a full time position...there was not much chance I'd be making the payment to continue in the spring. I applied for jobs last summer...and was met many times with the cruel luck that I'd get so far into an application process...sometimes even just a couple steps away from a life-changing position...and then it would fall apart. It happened several times. I finally took on a part time retail position to at least be able to pay my car payment and insurance. I gave myself the prayer that "if this is something God wants me to do...He'll provide the way". He didn't provide the way. A few days before I was to start my second class of the spring semester, I emailed my advisors at the college and told them I had to withdraw from my second class due to not having enough money to pay for the class.

With grad school now out of the question...I started getting more "creative" of sorts with my job search. In my mind...staying in NW Ohio to attend grad school was somewhat limiting my job possibilities. Without grad school in the picture...the majority of the rest of the US opened up as potential places to look for jobs. Desperately searching for ANYTHING (but trying to stay out of education...at least in the "normal" sense) I started applying. I had looked into a couple online masters programs...mostly in higher education. So...at first I started my search in colleges and universities. Nothing. Not even one interview offer. After giving up on that option, I started looking a little more directly into the missions field. I looked into several missions organizations...nothing. I emailed the director of Asia's Hope...the organization that helps run the orphanages that our church supports...some nice advice...but no job offers. I turned my attention to other states. My mom's sister still had offered to help house me if I found a job near her in Virginia...or I was pretty sure my grandfather would do the same thing in his area. Nothing. One job I even offered to come in for an interview during vacation. Never heard from them. Feeling a bit defeated...I turned to North Carolina and started applying for jobs there....assuming I didn't move back to Charlotte...I would be able to afford to move there. Again...nothing. THEN I got the great idea to start applying for jobs in the children's ministry area at several churches. Many of those positions required no more than a bachelor's degree and several years of experience. I had a bachelor's in education and had been attending Grace for more than 10 years. Surely...THAT would get me something? I did get offered one or two interviews. But in the end...nothing.

And all this job searching was going on while I was working a part time retail job. Some days not even sure if or how I'd be able to afford to pay my car payment or insurance. Money was tight. I know as a Christian that money shouldn't be that big of an issue. But I'm not sure where to look in the Bible to find the answers for a "26 year old with a 4-year degree, living in her parents basement".

At the end of July, we went on vacation. One extremely glorious vacation. You see...jealousy and I had become pretty good buds recently. Somehow, in the year 2015, my mom has managed to go traveling I think 4 times since this year began. Me? My last vacation was last July when I went to go visit my relatives on my own. For the last 365 days, I had not left Ohio. As mom went to Thailand, the Outer Banks, a cruise, and to Virginia...I was kind of jealous. As a part time retail employee...I don't really get a "vacation" time. Basically...I can take a vacation...but it goes completely unpaid. I just don't get paid for a week. So...don't want to do that too many times. But I was desparate to get out of Ohio. So...I requested off a week for vacation between the end of July and beginning of August to go to Virginia to visit relatives.

It was a fun trip. But every night...I was back at it with applying for jobs. I remember at one point, before heading to bed at my grandpa's house...ending the night in tears. It seemed like every job...in every state...that I looked up had nothing. In frustration...I started praying...telling God "I don't know what to do anymore. I'm tired of doing this my way. What could your way possibly be?"

In the car on the way back to Ohio from VA, I again was searching for jobs. And I came across a job on Indeed.com. It was a teaching position...at a Christian school in the same county I live in. The job was almost a month old, so I had no idea if they were still even hiring for that position. As much as I didn't really want to look again into teaching, I thought that maybe if I found a good school...or just a different school...that things would be different. However, before I could even apply for that position...I had another hurdle to jump. My teaching license had expired. I had looked it up earlier (before it expired) on what to do to renew my license. Long story short...for the teaching license that I have, my only option was to extend the license for free for one year...or spend $80 to extend it for 2 more years. Sitting in the car, using what was left of my phone's battery power, I put in my application to the DOE in Ohio to do the 2 year extension (finding out along the way that somehow I had a $20 credit...so it only cost me $60). My application was approved less than an hour later.

When I got home from vacation...I applied for the position. Nothing. But that began my search again into teaching again. As I told my sweet assistant manager later...I started wondering...what if a career switch never was God's intended plan for my life? What if that was just me trying to make my life a little more comfy? What if God had always intended for me to stay in the education field? So I began my teaching job search again.

After one not-so-great day, I ended up applying for 4 jobs in one night. 1 job was for another higher education position at a local college, 1 was for a charter school I had actually applied for the summer I moved home from NC, the last 2 was for the same family of schools...but 2 jobs at 2 different locations. The next day I had 3 voicemails. Both of the schools from the same family had called me for an interview. I scheduled one interview for that Thursday and one for that Friday. I felt pretty good about the one on Thursday. But the one on Friday I went in for the interview...and they offered me the job while I was there!

For the last 2 weeks, I have been working 2 jobs...working my last 2 weeks as a part time retail employee, and putting in as many hours as possible trying to get things ready for a new teaching position. The cool thing about this school is that it specializes in teaching children with disabilities. And...it is a co-teaching position. I have an Instructional Aide working with me to provide smaller group settings to give my students more personal attention.


As I go looking back on this past year...that may not have been what I thought it would be...I started wondering. WHY did that even happen? If I was never intended to leave teaching....WHY did God let me stray for so long...before handing me another job...yet again...in record time?

For the last year or so...I have found the story of Jonah quite encouraging. A couple years ago, after moving back from NC, I actually had the hopes and plans to speak at my college alma mater's Christian organization. When asked what I'd talk about...I had loosely come up with a slight parallel of my life to Jonah's. But now...it seems even more obvious to me than before.

Now, before I go on to my parallel between me and Jonah, I'd like to throw a disclaimer that I don't always have the BEST Biblical knowledge. So...some of my thoughts and ideas may be slightly off. Also...for some Biblical references...my best knowledge comes from VeggieTales or other children's lessons. So some of my information may be a little...juvenile?

So...for a recap...the Sunday School version of the story of Jonah goes something like this. God had asked Jonah to go to a certain city to teach. Jonah didn't like that city...and decided not to do that. And walked in the exact opposite direction. He eventually hopped on a boat...with plans on going in a completely different direction. But a storm came. To lighten the load, the people on the boat started throwing things over. When that didn't help, they decided that OBVIOUSLY...someone had made their god very mad and that's why they were in such a pickle of an issue. So they cast lots (I actually heard a story of this from Adventures in Odyssey while driving back from VA...casting lots is a really weird thing). Guess who..."won"? Jonah! And they tossed him over the side of the boat. God sent a big fish to swallow him and he stayed there for a few days. And after those days were over, the fish spit Jonah back up onto dry land. And this time when God told Jonah to go...he went where he was supposed to go.

I think in my life...I've experienced this same idea...but not a legit "fish". God has used some chapters in my life to redirect me. For example...I think that my year in North Carolina was a "fish". I don't really know if a future in North Carolina was ever the intentions for my life. I sometimes wonder if I was so desperate for a job...that when the opportunity arose to also move FAR FAR AWAY from Ohio...I jumped on it. I sometimes wonder if I hadn't taken that job in NC and just stayed in Ohio...how things would be different? I turned away, I tried, I cast my lots...and lost...and 365 days later...God plopped me right back into the middle of NW Ohio.

But really...I think this past year was another time of redirection. This time...literally...I think I turned my back on what God had asked. I have the wonderful spiritual gift of teaching...and after a couple failed attempts...decided to do something else. My "boat" I hopped on...was grad school. I cast my lots about staying in grad school...and lost my own bet. But in a strange way...God sent this sweet little retail job as my "fish". And after several months...where did I get "spit" back up to...teaching!

In my own way...I believe that just as God sent a legit fish to keep Jonah safe...He's also used NC and now this retail job for the last year...as "fish" in my life. There are a few lessons I've learned from these two experiences...that I think Jonah also experienced while in the fish.

Here are my "Lessons from Inside the Fish":

1. It's Safe.

Jonah was in a fish while in the middle of a sea. He was safe. In North Carolina, I was in my own "sea"...of trying to figure out what to do about a job. But I was safe within the sweet people that God had put in my life at the time...my life group. And in this past  year...again...I was in a "sea" of financial and career-related uncertainties...but I was safe. When life was going crazy, I was in a safe place that God had strategically placed me in.

2. It May Stink.

For Jonah...literally. I don't really even like to eat fish...let alone live inside one for a few days. In both North Carolina...and this last year...I've been in some "stinky" situations between jobs and finances. Things seemed kind of stinky.

3. It Won't Last Forever

For Jonah...it was 3 days. For me...it was a year (each time). But out of 26 years of life...that isn't too bad. And it wasn't forever.

4. It Will Eventually Lead Back to God's Plan

Probably one of the biggest things I've learned over the last few years is trusting in God's plan. Everything happens for a reason...because God has it all under control. Why did I have to move 600 miles away from home, completely uproot myself...even find a new church....just to come right back a year later? Couldn't there have been an easier way for God to redirect me? Probably. But that was all part of God's plan. And why did God let me walk away from teaching, take on a retail job...just to plop me back into the teaching world again? Why couldn't I have just gotten a new teaching job last summer and skipped this past year? Not sure...but it was still all part of God's plan.


Friends, let me leave you with some words of encouragement. No matter what you may be going through...if it's what you thought you'd be doing or not...is not happening by chance. God has a bigger plan. Things will get better...this time won't last forever. And it's all part of His plan. It may stink...but you're safe where you are. Take some lessons from Jonah as he was sitting all alone in a fish. Perhaps the situation God has you in now...was the only way he was able to get your attention to redirect your path? Chin up, buttercup...God has you RIGHT where he wants you.

When History Repeats

I've always had a knack for history, especially family history. And over the last few weeks, I've gotten to get a nice peak at how sweet history can be.

Within my family, extended family has always been an interesting topic to discuss. My dad is originally from New Mexico. My mom is originally from Virginia. We live in Ohio. Growing up, I didn't have the "traditional" grandparent experience that many of my classmates and friends had. While many were able to go to grandma's house whenever...sometimes grandma even lived next door or down the street...traveling to visit my grandparents was a LONG excursion...that we liked to call "vacation"! Getting together with relatives normally only happens during the summer months...unless some kind of event warrants the family getting together at another time.

Even with the distances between families, it seemed like we were much better at getting together with my mom's side of the family than we were with getting together with dad's side of the family. I don't know why that was...personally I'm going to blame it on the fact that my mom is a twin...so they have one of those freaky twin genes...which basically means they are NOT able to be separated for more than like 2 weeks at a time (before the use of cell phones and text messaging...they would call each other every weekend to chat...taking turns doing the calling so that no one was paying more for the long distance call than the other).

Whatever the reasoning, I've always been a little closer to my mom's side of the family than to my dad's. We'd see my mom's family pretty much every summer when we traveled to Virginia to visit them, and then again around Christmas when her sister's family would come up to enjoy the snow-covered wonderland called Ohio.

My mom's mom passed away in 1996 when I was only 7 years old. Much of the last few years of her life, I only remember seeing her in a hospital bed in her house battling cancer. But, as family photo albums and old stories go...my grandmother lived an amazing life. When my mom was in school, my grandparents owned a florist in their hometown. After closing the florist (don't know when that was), as a retirement job, my grandmother took on a job at Colonial Williamsburg as a costumed re-enactor. Re-enactors are the costumed people that go around those historical venues dressed and acting to portray life in the specified time period. Nana (as we called her) played the tavern keeper Jane Vobe at the King's Arms Tavern in Williamsburg.

I don't really remember much about it. I remember making trips to Williamsburg as a kid...we have the family photos in albums to prove that. Nana loved that job and playing her role of Jane Vobe. Even to today, though, as a 26 year old, I enjoy going to Williamsburg and exploring a place where my grandmother was once employed.

My grandmother's death in 1996 was, I believe, the first family death I had been through in my life. Nana had been sick and in a hospital bed for many months (possibly years...my measurement of time at age 7 was not always the most reliable). I remember that that summer, when we went to Virginia for our annual vacation, something was different. My mom was pretty sure that my grandmother would not be living much longer. So, part of our packing for that particular trip included black clothes. She was anticipating that (assuming God's timing would be convenient for us), Nana would pass away sometime while we were there on vacation. We may have needed to miss the first day or two of the new school year, but that would be okay. We spent probably a good week or so in Virginia...and she remained alive. Surprisingly, I don't think that was much of a relief to my mom. My first memory of one of my parents crying was on the way home from Virginia that year. I remember being somewhere in I think West Virginia (there were lots of mountains around us) when I looked over to see my mom crying.

We got home from that trip, and went to the first day of school a day or two later. The morning of our second day of school, as we were getting ready to head out the door, my uncle called...to tell my mom that my grandmother had passed away that morning. We went to school that day...and mom picked us up while I was at recess...and headed BACK to Virginia for the funeral. I don't remember crying that much. But I remember my brother being a complete wreck. It was such a sad time.

But the story doesn't end there.

Several years later (I think it was like 5 years), sometime around Christmas, my mom's sister's family was in Ohio visiting for their annual holiday visit. We were in Toledo at the local Barnes and Noble store. My cousin had dragged me to the children's area so she could ask the clerk to look up a specific series of book (that the clerk had NO IDEA what she was talking about). Trying to kill time while the clerk searched the store's computer system, I found a book to look at. I was a HUGE fan of the American Girl series. Ironically...as mentioned before...my mom is from Virginia and my dad is from New Mexico. Well...of the original American Girls, Felicity's story takes place in 1774 in Williamsburg, Virginia...and Josefina's story takes place in New Mexico! I was very interested in both of those dolls...and looked at everything that AG put out. While I was standing at the children's counter with my cousin, there was a new Felicity book on display that I was interested in. So...I picked it up and starting flipping through it. The book was called "Welcome to Felicity's World: Life in Colonial Williamsburg in 1774"...or something like that.

Now, you have to understand something. When I say I flipped through the book...that's exactly what I did. I don't believe in the whole "judge a book by its cover"...so instead...I flip a book open to a random page and look...then skip another 50 or so pages and look...to determine if the words are too big or too little, to take notice of the number of pictures...and overall, how the book looks. I started flipping through the book in my normal manner. My second flip got me to page 36 (again...something like that). And I stopped. This book had a bunch of "real life" pictures from Williamsburg. The page I was on was talking about tavern keepers and other jobs in Williamsburg. At the bottom corner of the page was a picture. And I thought...huh...that lady in that picture kinda looks like my grandmother (though I wasn't completely sure...her death had been years ago. And really, I didn't know if ALL people that portrayed Jane Vobe looked like my grandmother). I left my cousin....who was still asking the Barnes and Noble clerk to look up her wanted book series...and went to find my mom. Opening the book to the page, I said "Look mom!" and held up the open page of the book. I was going to finish that sentence with something like "...this lady looks like Nana!"...but before I could get another word out of my mouth after my "Look mom!"...my mom stopped, stared, and said "Oh my gosh...it's mom". She then took the book, found her sister and showed her. Before leaving Barnes and Noble that day...we bought all 6 copies the store had of the book. My mom sent one copy back to Virginia with my aunt's family to give as a gift to my great aunt (my grandmother's sister who is still living). The book was wrapped with a post-it note that said "Turn to page 36." We got a picture in the mail a few days after New Years of my great aunt seeing the picture of her sister in that book. And I was congratulated on my great find (and I stood proud that maybe my flipping through book idea wasn't that stupid...still beats judging a book by the cover!)

That is still one of my favorite stories to tell. But in the last few years, I have gotten the urge to look for other ideas. Over the last year or two, I have done numerous Google searches of my grandmother. With this day in age being the age of the internet, I was hoping to find that picture that had appeared in the AG book and find a plethora of more like it. Surprisingly, though, I never really found where that picture originated from.

Earlier this year (2015), I re-tried my search. I came across several possible leads and started looking into them a bit more. In I think March, I found two different possible publications that, although didn't include pictures, had my grandmother's name in them. Before pursuing those any further, one day while my mom and I were in the car, I mentioned the find to her. Apparently I misunderstood what she was saying. I guess my grandfather had given my mom a lot of information or history of some sort. It seemed like these two publications were already known to my mom. My search stopped for a time...as those were the only leads I had found.

A couple months later, we were again in the car, and somehow ended up on the conversation about my grandmother's history with Colonial Williamsburg. I asked my mom is she remembered me telling her about the publications (she didn't). As I began to re-tell her about those publications, my mom wanted to know more...and to find copies of at least one publication. The publication I was telling her about was a novel that, in the Author's Note page of the novel, included an acknowledgement to my grandmother. The book had been published in 1992, went out of print, and then was re-released in 2012 as an e-book only. After doing a lot of searching, I could only find the book in e-book format. Mom sent information around to others in her family...and within about 24 hours, pretty much all of her family that was interested had downloaded the e-book onto their e-reading device. I tried to send the author an email through her website, hoping to locate a copy of the book in print, but didn't get anything back. And...just for fun...I friended her on Facebook.

Feeling quite accomplished, I looked again for the other publication (a magazine article she had written in the 1990's about Colonial Williamsburg and women's rights in the 1700's). I was a little discouraged that this publication was not as rare as the novel. My aunt already had a copy of the magazine on her shelf. Now we have one too!

A few months later, I was still bugged about the whole novel thing. Back in 1992, there was no such thing as an e-book. But I couldn't find a single TRACE of this book anywhere. I couldn't imagine how a book was published in the 90's with no trace...and now back out as an e-book. So...back to my old friend Google I went. After searching a few used books sites, I found one that had a few books listed by the same author of the novel I was looking for. This author didn't write very many books...and most of the books were the same I had already seen available through the e-books. But then I realized there was another title that I didn't recognize. After doing even more research, I discovered that when the author re-released the book in e-book form, she changed the title of the book. I ordered a copy of the book...just to make sure only the title had been changed...and the acknowledgements hadn't.

When the book arrived a few days later in the mail (which I had faithfully tracked all the way to my doorstep), I quickly flipped to the acknowledgements page...to see that her name was still one of the first acknowledgements in the book. I took a picture of it to send to my mom...and then just for fun...posted that picture on Facebook. The next day, while I was on my break at work, the author (who...remember...is my Facebook friend) commented on the picture...recognizing her book! After several comments, Facebook messages, and emails...the author sent me 2 additional copies of the book...signed with a sweet note. One book is intended for us, the other intended for my mom's sister (or at least for the Virginia folks).

But I couldn't just stop there! Since I was STILL on a roll of finding things about my grandmother, I still wanted to find those pictures! If nothing else...I wanted to find the picture that had started all of my searches...the one in the AG book. The only photo credit in the book was to Williamsburg itself. Not knowing how else to do it...I decided to attempt to send them a Facebook message. I explained how I had found her picture before, how she had died 19 years ago, but I was still finding publications and pictures about her and asked where I could locate those pictures. And pretty much decided I would probably never hear back from Williamsburg.

This past week, I got a Facebook message back from Williamsburg. After a little bit of technical difficulty, they sent me an email with 9 photos they had taken during a photo shoot of my grandmother in the early 90's. Apparently they searched through many slides and files to find the pictures. I forwarded the pictures to anyone I could think of on my mom's side of the family and just today downloaded them into my Dropbox account and posted them on Facebook.

Ironically...as I was just finishing this story, I remember how a history professor I had in college commented during our class one time about how much he HATED re-enactors. I was always a little offended about that...since he OBVIOUSLY had no idea how important one re-enactor was to me.

There is a lesson to be learned from all of this. What you do today...although maybe not obvious at the time...could have an affect in the future. I sometimes wonder if my grandmother was still living...what she would have said when I found these things with her picture and name in them. Would she have been embarrassed? Did she think that sitting down to give information to a young author or taking some pictures for a photo shoot would eventually become a treasure hunt for her granddaughter?

I think about some of the pictures and things I've said in my life, and start thinking of their affect. There are some things that I PRAY never resurface 19 years after I die! But...there are others that I wonder if anyone would remember me for.

The Bible says (somewhere) that what the devil intends for harm, God intends to help us.

Back in 2010, after my battles with birth control meds, I began seeing a "Christian" counselor. I put the word Christian in quotes because it took me a little while to eventually realize that there wasn't much Christian in the counseling I was receiving. I saw this counselor for about a year. My family doctor had told me that my depression was coming from the affects of the birth control, and I was immediately told to get off of the pill. Within the next few weeks, things started looking up. My counselor didn't see me as a "high priority" patient...so I only went to the counselor every other week. After a few months of counseling, I started getting irritated with the counselor. We were paying the counselor per session out of pocket (it wasn't covered by our health insurance). I started realizing that what was supposed to be "Christian" counseling....was lacking in use of the Bible. I started paying attention to my sessions. We'd pray before our session began and at the end. The counselor had her Bible in her lap...but there was NEVER any passages in the Bible shared. Another words...I realized we were paying a decent price for me to have a bi-weekly vent session with a stranger. It's free to have a vent session with God.:)

As my doubts about the counseling continued to grow, I began digging deeper into my own relationship with God, even occasionally sharing verses that I had come across with my counselor! Yet...somehow...we still never consulted the Bible for any answers. I finally stopped my sessions about a year after beginning them after having a weird session with my counselor.

There was a name to the therapy she was planning on doing...but I now don't remember what that was. Essentially, the goal of the therapy was that although I seemed to be doing better on the outside, there was still some kind of underlying cause to all my issues on the inside that needed to be dealt with. (I actually learned something about this in our Bible study at church a month or two ago. Unless you go to a Christian counselor who uses the Bible as their main source of answers, apparently in modern psychology, there's this belief that there is some underlying reason for everything we go through. Counselors will continue to take your money and have you come to a session so they can keep searching for this reason...never really reaching that answer).

Basically, as my counselor described it, our job was going to be to summon the Holy Spirit, and have the Holy Spirit come show ME where all my problems were. Now...keep in mind...the only issues I had really ever talked to my counselor about were broken relationships and fractured friendships from my incessent clingy-ness from being on the birth control. Somehow...we were going to have the Holy Spirit  reveal the reason I was having so many friends issues (a thought I'd been trying to figure out my whole life). The counselor went on to explain the process.

So...during my next session, we did this "therapy". The counselor prayed to ask the Holy Spirit to join us. I felt pretty uncomfortable. A lifetime of going to church and learning about the Trinity didn't make any sense to ask the Holy Spirit to join us. It was my belief that as a Christian, the Spirit was already there...living in my heart. Why were we asking it/him to come? It's like telling the guests in your house to come on in. After the counselor felt that the Spirit was with us...she asked it/him to reveal to me where my problems were. And we waited. And waited. I didn't know what was supposed to happen. Was a unicorn going to come down and whisper it in my ear? A few minutes later, the counselor asked me if the spirit had revealed anything to me yet. With the exception of my thoughts on what to have for dinner that night because I was hungry...I said no. So we waited longer. Apparently the Spirit would show it to me in it/his own way. Feeling even more uncomfortable and wanting to be done with this supposed "therapy"...I let my mind wander to the first thing I could think of. I told my counselor the Spirit had given me the answer and we stopped.

The only thing I could think of...was a picture I remember from 2nd grade. I remembered a few days after getting back to Ohio from Nana's funeral, being in my 2nd grade classroom. It was bad outside, so we had inside recess. I was still sad from my Nana's funeral and had my head down on my desk, sobbing. Two classmates came over with the teacher to ask if I was okay. I told them that my grandmother had died, put my head back down, and cried again as they walked away. Truth is...I don't know how I remember that from 2nd grade, but I do.

Before concluding our session, my counselor told me "so THAT is where all of this comes from. We will start digging into that at your next session". And prayed and ended the session.

Driving home from the session...I was mad. I had sought counseling because of broken relationships due to depression from a medication I had been on. Things that...at the time...had happened only in the past several months. And now supposedly that wasn't true and really my problems came from one experience of some 2nd graders not knowing how to comfort a classmate who had just lost a relative? How in the world could anyone even CLAIM that those two things were related? I had just started to heal from one set of wounds and now a counselor was getting ready to re-open other wounds that had finally healed years before.

I needed truth...so popped the CD of a local Christian band in my player in my car and began singing along. A couple days later, I told my mom I didn't really want to go back again to that counselor. When I called to cancel my next session with the counselor, I lied and said I'd decided to get counseling from one of the pastors at my church. Still concerned now that we'd "discovered" this root of the problems, she sent her well wishes and told me to make sure to tell the pastor what we had done.

I actually wonder now if it's from that counseling experience that spawned me to begin looking again for pictures and publications of my grandmother. I don't think it's the reason for any of my issues...but now it's a reason for my JOY.

Adventures in Tablet Buying

You know how the saying goes...where there's a will...there's a way.

Well...I have a willingness...and now I've found my way.

Computers and I have always had a very interesting history. My computer buying experience begins in 2007, after I graduated from high school.

While we were growing up, my parents taught my brother and I the importance of saving money. We even each had a bank account growing up at the local bank in our small Ohio town starting in elementary school. Throughout my growing up years, I remember being taught the importance of saving...as well as the importance of tithing to the church. Over my several years growing up and making some-what regular deposits into my bank account, I had accumulated a pretty decent amount of money (at least it seemed like a lot to my 18-year-old self at the time).

Over the years that we banked at the bank in our town, though, although the bank building stayed the same...the banking institutions that came and went changed several times. By the time I was graduating from high school, the most recent bank institution to enter the stone building in our town's downtown didn't have the greatest of rates. So, when I graduated the decision was made that I would be taking my money that I got from graduation and opening a checking and a savings account with the credit union that my mom had begun using. Conveniently located right behind the hospital she was currently working for. (A few years later, I also opened up a credit card account through the bank after a not-so-great experience with another major credit card company). My mom had told me that when I opened up that account, I would then be able to use whatever money was in the town's bank account to shop for a laptop for college.

So, in 2007, I began my first computer search. I was hoping to stay in a budget of around $500. At that time, however, desktop computers were still all the rage...and laptops were pretty pricey. My mom's sister's husband (my uncle...for anyone that couldn't figure out the family tree) has worked for an electronics company for many years and was able to provide some thoughts of what we'd be wanting to look for in a new computer. In the end...there were only a few options available. I ended up buying an Acer laptop from Circuit City (FYI...Circuit City is no longer in business). Life was grand...or so it seemed.

My first year of college, my laptop saw all sorts of issues. My college was not very "wireless" yet in 2007, so an ethernet cable was required to connect to the internet on campus. At one point of living on campus, my roommate and I had decided to arrange our beds in such a way that the only way for my roommate to get into her bed...was to climb on mine first. One time, as she was stepping down, her foot was a little close to my computer...and somehow a small piece of the ethernet port on my laptop broke off. That was eventually "fixed" in some sort with a little USB-powered device that provided a new ethernet port. Over the next year or so, though, my computer began to go slower and slower. Now...this was probably the first major electronics purchase I had ever made in my life...so to me a slow laptop was better than no laptop (plus enduring YEARS of having only dial-up internet service helped me be a TAD more patient with the computer). The Acer computer lasted through my sophomore year...but by the end of the year, it was apparent that something was wrong with the computer.

As I was getting ready to head into my junior year of college, I was going to be moving back to college early to be working for my 2nd year as a summer Orientation Leader at my college. About 2 weeks before moving back to school to do more OL work, my mom suggested that I take my laptop to a computer shop in the next town over. The shop was advertising a $25 computer diagnostic. I took the computer to them, paid the money (still seemed kind of high for my college kid finances), told them the "symptoms" my computer was having, and then waited to hear from them. They called a couple days later. The issue? The motherboard on the laptop was failing. Really, the only thing they could recommend was to buy a new laptop. (They basically said that they COULD try sending the laptop back to the manufacturer, however, the warranty had expired so I'd be paying to ship it there, for whatever parts and service, and to ship it back...probably ending up being more than just replacing the whole thing).

So, less than a week before heading back off to school for my junior year, my mom and I ran to the nearest Best Buy store to find me a new computer. Again, we were armed with suggestions of what to look for from my uncle. With a little help from the nice people at Best Buy, we ended up buying a new HP laptop. That time, there were several more options of laptops in the $500 range. If I remember correctly, since this wasn't an expected expense, I believe between my mom and I...we used about 5 methods of payments to cover the costs.

The HP laptop seemed SO much better than the old Acer (which...I later did a "Consumer Reports" search on...most people with that same Acer laptop had reported similar issues happening. Shortly after the warranty expired, major issues would happen with the computer, resulting in Acer not willing to cover the issues and the person replacing the computer). The HP laptop got me through the rest of my college career and into my first teaching job...a total of about 3 years.

In 2012, as I was moving to North Carolina, I noticed that my laptop was getting slow. Within the first week of being in NC, as my mom was still with me to help me move in, the battery on the laptop started giving in. I remember ending up running to a local battery shop in NC to buy a new laptop battery for the computer which seemed to do the trick for a while. The laptop had also started getting really hot when it was running. For years, my dad had been telling me how it's not good for a laptop to sit on a bed, desk, or human legs. For best performance, it NEEDED to be on one of those laptop/lap desk things (though I had plenty of people that told me that wasn't exactly true). But the laptop was getting so hot, I had to put either a blanket or pillow between it and my legs to make sure I didn't get burned. A couple weeks after moving to NC, I was sitting in my apartment watching Netflix (I bought a Wii a few months later with some unexpected Christmas money). In the middle of the show I was watching on Netflix, my computer froze, then turned off. I took that as God's sign to me that maybe 5 hours of watching "Bones" on Netflix was enough...and left the computer off and went to bed. The next day, I turned the computer back on and everything seemed to be alright again. For another week, at least. A week later, the same thing happened. At this point, I was already feeling over my head with stuff going on with my teaching job and being 600 miles away from home. I called my uncle for an opinion. No one seemed to know what was going on.

Again, I turned the computer back on after giving it a chance to cool back down. Two hours later, it turned off again. This time, I called my mom...in tears. I was 600 miles away from home. One of my major ways of staying in communication with people from home was through Facebook (we didn't have smart phones yet). My computer was necessary. After another call to my uncle, I made my way to the nearest Office Max store I could find, who performed a diagnostic test on the laptop. The "symptoms" I was describing about the computer seemed to be like those you'd find if the computer had a virus. They ran the scan...no virus was detected. I was told that IF there was a virus on the computer, most likely it was so deep in the computer, that it would be impossible to detect and destroy. I priced laptops while I was at Office Max. The nice people at Office Max helped me find a good laptop, and even offered to transfer all of my files and information to the new laptop...as well as get the whole laptop set up and ready to go for me. Again...I was buying a laptop with little notice. After spending money to move to a new city...I was spending even more to replace my laptop.

A couple months later, when I went to visit my aunt and uncle for a weekend, my uncle offered to do some updates and wipe the harddrive of the old laptop for me. Of the laptops he was working on, my old laptop was going slower than any others...and my uncle also noted how hot to the touch the laptop was (another words...something was REALLY wrong with that thing).

The new laptop from Office Max...another HP...again...seemed so much better after dealing with all the issues of the one before. Things went great. And then last summer rolled around...

As I was applying for various jobs last summer, I ended up getting a semi-impromptu interview for a possible Graduate Assistant position at the college I was going to begin my masters at. I ended up getting asked to do an interview for the GA position on a day I was planning on being in Virginia for a vacation for myself. The interviewer offered then to do a Skype interview. On the day of the interview as I was making sure Skype would work right, I noticed that Skype was indicating that it was having issues working through my computer. Thankfully (in a way), the interviewer had to re-schedule the interview due to being sick...and I had my cousin help me find ways to make sure my laptop would run faster. Long story short...I didn't get the position.

As I was driving back to Ohio from Virginia, trying to get through the Washington, DC traffic before it got too much worse, I got another surprise phone for a possible job with an all-online school. As I progressed through the interviews for that job (and...I'll save you the curiosity...didn't get that job either), I realized that if I were to get that job...I didn't think my laptop would be cutting it. So...a couple weeks after getting home, we scheduled to have a guy from our church come to the house to take a look at my laptop and see if he could give any suggestions, make it run faster, etc. This is a guy who owns an at-home business working on computers. The guy from church stayed over for a couple hours, took a few programs off my computer that were not needed, and showed me several programs that I could use to try to keep my computer running faster. I remember, though, when he left, he didn't think he had really done much to make my computer run faster.

Over the last year, it seems like the computer has been running even slower. Even today, as I'm typing out this post, occasionally, the computer is slowing down just not working as well as it used to.

For the last two years, I've been trying to NOT spend everything that comes my way for Christmas and Birthdays. Generally for Christmas and birthdays, I do get some cash. As a kid, I was pretty bad about just frittering the money away. But the last 2 years, I've been making more efforts to keep the money so that I can buy myself something I wouldn't normally buy myself. Last year, I saved my money and then in April, took a trip back to NC where I had lived. The money was my spending money to use on my little vacation. Since I had worked at an upscale consignment shop, I went back there and bought myself some new clothes to work towards updating my wardrobe. I did the same this year with part of my Christmas money, but I still have money from Christmas, birthday, and several other places.

So...as I've been trying to figure out what to do with that money, I decided over the last couple weeks, that maybe...especially if God really is going to be calling me into the missions field...or even to another area of the US...it would be nice to not be buying a new computer a couple weeks later. Or...if nothing else...just in general...actually looking for a computer before I absolutely NEED a computer and am just buying whatever I can find first. I realized that I probably had enough to make a pretty decent dent on buying a computer.

Last week, my mom and I were out shopping before we were going to be meeting my dad for dinner. There's a new Costco store that recently opened and we went there (my mom got a membership there with my dad). We weren't really looking for anything at Costco, but I did see their electronics while we were there. So...I decided to just take a look for fun and see what was on the market and what price I was going to be looking at. My mom had bought herself a tablet a year or so ago and thoroughly LOVES it. So...after going through 3 laptops in 8 years...I thought it would probably be okay for me now to look into a tablet rather than a laptop. I ended up finding one that I liked that seemed to be at a pretty decent price.

We still had time to kill after getting out of Costco, so my mom suggested, since I was looking at tablets, since we were in the right area, to go to Best Buy and see what they had available. So, as I was at Best Buy, I managed to get a couple of nice people helping me, who were able to suggest a great tablet and some recommendations for some other things to accessorize the tablet. A day or two later, I went back on the Best Buy website, and just in a general sense, got myself a "price range" that I was looking at. I took the list price of the tablet and the keyboard that I thought I'd get. This particular tablet also has a Micro SD card slot so that you can expand the memory usage and I was planning on getting a Micro SD card for that use. I added all the numbers up...then grabbed all my money and added that up...and I was $100 short. I actually started praying about it this week. My goal, was that if I was to buy this tablet and if God really wants me to do it...somehow I'd be able to cover the majority of the price...not just 2/3 of it. I thought maybe God would bring a good samaritan my way to pay for the rest, a winning lottery ticket to blow up at my feet, or even to possibly sell some other unwanted and unused items for some extra cash. Nothing came.

For the last few days, I've been looking at various ways to afford this tablet. The other day, as I was looking for a couple things in my room...I came across an Amazon gift card from probably 2 Christmases ago...and loaded it onto my Amazon account.  But at only $25, that still wasn't solving enough of my $100 shortage.

Just this afternoon, I decided to look again at the tablet. I had been thinking that I'd just buy the tablet and extra stuff from the Best Buy store...so that I knew I'd be getting what I wanted and excellent service. I noticed that if I bought the tablet through Amazon...it seemed a little cheaper. So...I went to the Best Buy site to compare (earlier when I compared the prices, it was about a $10 difference). Best Buy had put the tablet back at it's original price...making the Amazon price $30 cheaper! So...just for "fun"...I decided to put that in my Amazon cart. Amazon recommended pairing the tablet with a Micro SD card and a folio case...taking the price to about what I was thinking it would be at Best Buy. I really wanted a keyboard/case, though...so I replaced the folio cover for a keyboard...which turned out to be cheaper than what I had originally put in my "price range". And...I realized that the SD card they were putting with it...I could get by with a smaller one (I can buy an SD card many places...if I really want the bigger card, I can buy that later). I told my mom about the deal I was finding...and then realized I could save even MORE money...if I decided to get a blue tablet instead of a black one (seriously...who really cares what the outside of the tablet looks like?).

Put everything in my cart...and started doing the math. After subtracting the Amazon gift card, and my saved cash (which...I'll have to stop by the bank tomorrow and deposit)...the grand total that I'll be paying that's not accounted for? $17.55. My $306 order is going to be paid because of saving...mostly in cash...and I'm left to pay less than 20 bucks. AND...I signed up for an Amazon Prime membership a while back...so I also am getting FREE 2-day shipping.

No good Samaritan, no cash for unused items (though, I still have some things to figure out how to get rid of), and no winning lottery ticket blowing to my feet. Maybe it wasn't a HUGE sign from God. But with a little bit of faith, a little bit of patience...and a good calculator...I think this can still be considered an answer from God.

I should be getting my new tablet by Wednesday. :)