Thursday, May 2, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
Spring Retreat 2013
Our church has amazing youth. Amazing people. I LOVE these retreats where we as youth can all come together to both worship and delve into God's Word, and also talk and build each other up and catch up on all we've missed on each other's lives in the past couple months (or years). It's an amazing time, which I always look forward to. Here are some pictures I snapped while at the retreat: enjoy.
These girls are the. best.
After I told them to ignore me and that I was invisible, they all started laughing nervously and making funny faces at the camera. (note to self: sneak up on boys with camera next time.
Finally. Normal.
The lovely Myra. This girl is amazing.
Not exactly sure why they're both 'flying'. Don't ask.
Brother and sista.
No comment. ;)
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Remember
Remember:
+this life isn't about you+
+get outside+
+invest in lives+
+stop daydreaming and go do+
+he's out there+
Dear 14 year old (almost 15 year old) Keely:
You shouldn't forget. Forget who made you and what's most important in this life: God. And family. You so often treat them as a dumping ground for your feelings, for your roller coaster emotions. They aren't there just for you. You're there for them. You need to stop being so selfish.
Do you feel that golden sun, sifting through the windows onto your pale skin? Can you feel the radiating warmth the sun offers, beckoning you to go outside? You need to enjoy God's gorgeous creation, go outside, watch the littles ride their bikes, whatever. Just get outside.
Yes, yes: I know it's so easy to read books like Radical about investing in lives and discipling others, and then just walk away thinking: that's not me. i can't do that. No. You need to be apart of other's lives, teaching them (if only with your life) about Christ. And to teach, you have to know how to be taught yourself. And to teach others how to study the Bible, you have to know how to study It yourself. And to know how to teach others to pray, you have to know yourself. Remember these things.
You seem to love to sit, close your eyes, and dream. Slip from reality.
Stop it.
Live in the present. Stop trying to escape. Go do things.
You know that boy you sometimes keep thinking about? Like where he is, or is he out there? Well, he is. You're not ready, though, and neither is he. God will bring him into your life at the opportune moment.
Don't forget these things.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Hello, lovelies. :) It's green and lush outside (though a bit dreary) and I'm so, SO happy it's finally looking like Spring. I was wondering if you had any thoughts, ideas, stories, or photos you'd like me to post about. Let me know! If you have pictures or quotes or 'stories', link me up to them in the comment section below. Happy day to you all!
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
These are my passions.
I want to write words that are made of fire and water and burn and claw and grow, rooted, in other people’s lives. I want to see my words branch raw and ready. I want to write. Write what I’m feeling. Write what I want to happen. Write my dreams, my loves, my hates, my prayers, my passions, my desires, my struggles. I want to scrawl out lists, I want to feel shivers race up and down my spine when I write, and I want people to feel the same way when they read my words, too. I want to write. I want to write so hard and just get the words out no matter how brittle I feel or no matter what others think. I’m so often concerned with what others think. It doesn’t matter what they think. I can have my stories, and write them too. If they don’t like it, fine. If they do, fine. I want to write. I want to write like crazy, and love doing it. I want to live so I can: number one, glorify, know, and love God, number two: serve and love and give, and number three: write. It’s a flame, kindled inside me that won’t be swept out. It’s a passion. It’s real.
I want to write.
I want to see people value life, and to know that they’re
not going to be here forever. They need to know that they may not have forever
to live, and they may not be here for very long. I want to see them live each
and every moment intentionally and wholly, being present and real and raw
and vulnerable. I want to see them
pursuing their God-given passions. I want to see people who begin to care less
about what others think of them and what the trend is and stop staring wide
eyed at their devices, and start living and
making the most of the minutes God has
given them. To start serving and giving, and reading and writing,
photographing, drawing, organizing, WHATEVER it is that they love and they need
to go do. Because we need to go do those things that make God smile, and make
others smile, and that we can smile at too. We need to start valuing life, and
making the most of things. To start keeping a grateful list and stop
complaining every other minute.
I want to start seeing people value life.
I want to wake up early and read my bible for a good, long
hour. I want to journal about what God is doing in my life, and start seeing
with His eyes and His eyes alone. I’m so, so, so, so, SO selfish, and I never
truly desire to see God’s will carried out in my life. But I do. There’s this
war that’s alive in my soul, like a huge game of tug o’ war, where the Devil’s
pulling on one side, wheezing and coughing, and God’s tugging gently on the
other. I so want God to win, but I so often let the Devil win and then, how is
that pleasing God and loving him? How is that being faithful to my Daddy? I
want to obey him, no matter what. Even if that means giving up my writing. Even
if that means giving up my life. He should come FIRST. Because I was loved by
him, and he died for me, and he is faithful to me and loves me no matter what.
I want to love God.
These are my passions, whole and true. I'm finding, slowly, who I am and what I love. Thank you Jesus, for showing me, for teaching me. I love you.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Two Things
i. Life is short. We live like we're going to keep on living forever, though it won't be long before we're just a memory. If you want to keep track of life, live right now. Be all there, wherever you are. Realize that everything you do has meaning. It matters. It counts. What matters most is what you DO, NOW. Not tomorrow, or next week. Today. And you now that list, crushed in between to-do lists from a year ago, and the college applications? That list, that mentions everything you want to do? Go do them. Stop living with clenched hands.
ii. Life is beautiful. Why do we hold back in raising our voices about those unborn who have never felt the first spring rain on bare skin, or tasted chocolate, or watched the summer sunrises melt into the distance? Why don't we care? Why don't we do those things that will open the world's eyes to how beautiful a life is, how much they're depriving the world, the universe, the creation, themselves of a human life--the greatest miracle?
A few passions of mine, and some thoughts that have been screaming to be let go.XO.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
184/2
not my photo: source, unknown
She bit her lip in confusing conversations. She would slump
in chairs when she knew others were gossiping. She cried, forsaken, in her dorm
room, every night.
She was alone.
She played the ukulele, hummed Keane, and drank too much
tea. She would chew on the ends of her hair, and on pencil erasers. She hated
snow, loved summer, and adored people.
She was lonely.
People were her art. She studied their quirks, their
mannerisms, their likes and dislikes and what made them human, without ever
speaking more than two words to them.
Her only friends were books.
She scribbled in margins, and dog-eared the pages of all her
books, and memorized her favorite lines of Shakespeare, just because. Her
favorite book was Mary Oliver’s ‘New and
Selected Poems’, and her eyes shone whenever she read J. R. R. Tolkien.
She managed to get through college without speaking to more
than a handful of people. She was shy, but yearned to be an extrovert, that the
happy people around her would understand her, accept her.
She wore washed out jeans, vintage t-shirts, oversized
sweatshirts. She hated perfume, hated too short hair, and couldn’t stand skinny
jeans.
And all she needed was one person, one person to step into
her life and say hello, say the ‘how are yous’ and invite her to coffee. She needed a friend, because she had no
friends. She needed a family, because she lived a thousand miles from hers.
She’s that girl sitting all by herself at lunch.
She’s that boy who tries to fit in, but no matter how hard
he tries, he can’t.
She’s that girl who can count all her friends on one hand.
She’s that boy who just needs strength.
She’s that girl who just needs a gentle nudge in the right
direction.
Go. Reach out. Touch a
life. Invest in people. You have more influence than you know.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
1/184
via
It was the moment after the long sigh he gave,
and he said it again, running
his fingers
through his gray bleached hair: “You won’t know. It could happen
anytime:
tomorrow or two years.” His face was honestly sympathetic, and I
understood.
No emotions tumbled out unexpectedly. I just
sat there on the doctor’s
examining table,
stunned.
He nodded awkwardly, and ducked out
of the room. He left me there, alone.
After a few
minutes of numbness, I picked myself up, brushed back a wisp of brown
hair, and walked
out of the office. I found my blue mini in the parking lot, and got in.
I sat there for three or four
minutes, staring straight ahead. I’m dying...I can’t
accept this....I’m
too young....what is God doing to me? I felt something wet slide down
my cheek. I
hadn’t known I was crying. I wiped the dirty tears from my face with the
back of my hand,
and breathed deep. I gritted my teeth and told myself not to cry,
not yet: and started
the car engine.
Be strong Brynn, I commanded myself,
You have to be brave for Eric.
Yes. My husband was waiting for me
at home. What would he say? How would
he react?
Those thoughts were almost enough to
put me into tears again, but I
managed to pull
out of the parking lot and drive to our little house in the country,
about fifteen
miles outside the city, where everything was quiet, everything was
safe.
It was two past four when I pulled
my mini into our driveway. I patted my
messy bun and
smoothed my faded dress, and choked out what I hoped I could say
to Eric without
falling to pieces.
I stepped out, gingerly. So many
terrifying, stark thoughts raced through my
mind. There
wasn’t enough time in the world to take time to think through all of
them. A flash
through our recent wedding barreled through my shaky mind. I had
barely noticed
the dappled light on the woodsy floor when all of a sudden, there was
Eric, bounding
towards me before I was ready. He hugged me, asked how the
doctor’s
appointment went.
He didn’t know. He had no idea.
A huge wave of emotions surged over
me, and I let out a throaty sob as Eric
held me close. I
looked up into his gray eyes as he wondered at me, and then I said it.
“I’m dying, Eric. My heart is failing
due to that....problem I told you about.” I
choked on the
last few words, unable to say anymore.
He gazed at me wonderingly. It took
him a minute to wrap his mind around
what was
happening. “I...we...” And, to my surprise, he broke down crying too.
He breathed in deep, settling his
emotions, pushing them down where they
belonged. And
then began crying again. He squeezed my
arms tightly, and rocked
me, as if I were
going to die right then and there.
I looked up into his eyes. He
flinched, and looked away. He looked angry, and
despairing at
the same time. Was it too hard to accept? What was going through his
mind?
I buried myself into Eric’s shoulder
and cried, pouring all of my emotions into
that simple act.
How could this happen so fast? In
less than an hour? How could God be doing
this to us?
###
That night, Eric said he had to run an errand
for someone at our church. I
think he was
really reluctant to leave me. I smiled weakly and told him I’d be alright,
and that I hoped
he wouldn’t worry about me. He gave me an aching look, like he
wasn’t sure how
to respond. He left, and I stayed. I changed from my dress into a
flannel shirt and
some leggings, and pulled my hair into a high bun.
I could feel tears coming on
already. I tried to push them back, but it was
impossible.
I was dying. I still couldn’t
understand that. I was dying.
I was only twenty-two and I was
dying
Before I could think any more about
that dreadful, untouchable thought, I ran
outside. My bare
feet pounded the ground. I was half blinded by my tears, but I knew
where I was
headed: I could have walked that path
with my eyes shut.
I had read my Bible and prayed there,
on that wooden bench in our woods
ever since we
had moved into this house. It was the perfect spot. Through a break in
the trees I
could always see the sunrise, and the little grove of old, old trees around
me made me feel
as if I were in some sacred spot.
I collapsed on my bench and cried until I
could cry no more. It was so freeing
to cry, it’s
hard to explain. It leaves me feeling empty and ready to be filled with
something good
again.
I lifted my head and let the soft
wind lick the tears from my face. Right then
and there, I
prayed so, so hard. I prayed to God that he would let me not die, and that
if he did want
me to die, to let me not be miserable for my remaining days.
Finally, I felt a hand on my
shoulder, and there was Eric. He wore a look of
surprise and
anxiety.
“ I was looking for you, and I was
so...worried.” He looked ages older. “Of
course, I should
have known you’d be here.”
I smiled tensely.
“Eric...” I paused. I thought the
tears were done coming. “I don’t know
how...to...to
accept this. It seems like some nightmare, or some deep pit I can’t climb
out of.”
I watched as he knelt besides me and
buried his face in his hands.
“Yet, I know what the doctor says is
true. I can feel what he says is happening
to my heart. It
sort of hurts to breath.” I buried my face in my hands, afraid to say
the rest.
For a few minutes, the only sounds
were Eric’s muffled sobs mingled with my
own, and the
breeze in the shadowed trees.
“I’ve been praying,” I said
awkwardly, still trying to catch my breath, “and I
really think that God wants me to die.”
“How could he let you die?” Eric
said suddenly. “You’re too young! We’ve only
just been
married! How could he take you so soon?” He was shouting, and I was still
shaking.
“Eric, I know he’s in control. I was
just reading in my Bible this morning about
how....God....does
everything for our good....and...” I couldn’t help but start crying
###
I think it took us both a few weeks
before we could accept what was
It was so hard to accept my heart
failure. Left alone, I would have probably
####
Eric stood, and silently left the
pews, alive and throbbing with weeping and
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