i find myself wondering what will last.

 

pencil, hot pink gel ink, black ink, Sharpie.
which one will last? which stands the test of time?

i know pencil probably doesn't.
what about the others?

what's going to last in this life anyway?

I know I haven't written in a while, but every September 11th since that fateful day in 2001, I feel lost in thought.

My entire family, ten-year-old Abbi included, sat down together and watched 102 Minutes, a documentary about the fall of the Twin Towers as shown from the eyes of the people. It was a compilation of amateur footage, and it was beautiful and terrifying and heart-wrenching all at once.

It makes me remember.

It makes me remember why I wanted Bush back for a second term. Why I love Rudy Giuliani. Why I want to burst with pride when I hear the anthem, or see an American flag, or the lyrics I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free... Why I am riddled with excitement because I am officially old enough to vote, and registered to do so. Why I love veterans, and how deeply I cherish the sacrifices that they made, the hard work that they did. Why I love our troops, for the hard work they are doing and the sacrifices they are making -- and their families, for loving them and supporting them. Why I hate when people rag on Bush and this country and the war and everything else.

I realize that it's your right to say bad things about America, just like it's mine to say what I believe.

But never forget how you have that right.

And never forget September 11, 2001.

AUGUST 10 = LOVE.

AUGUST 11 = LOVE.

AUGUST 12 = LOVE.

AUGUST 15 = LOVE.

 

next week = best week everrr.

it's the only thing that
there's just too little of.

I truly believe that the world would be a better place if we talked to strangers. If we told them that they look nice that day. Or even just smiled at them. Waved at them. It doesn't matter if they reciprocate the compliment, or smile or wave back.

How is it love if you're only looking to get something in return?

I'm learning.

I'm learning that I can like a song that has nothing to do with my life, or exactly what I'm doing in that moment. I'm learning that I can put on my bathing suit and show my chubby, bright-white legs, and the faintest hint of cleavage, [all the while being slightly embarrassed but not letting it stop me] and not be considered a slut. I'm learning that sweating really isn't a big deal; it's good for you and even though it's gross, it comes off in a shower. I'm learning that it's a God-thing that I appreciate little wonders, like a hot shower; or my own pillow with the butterflies on the pillow case; or the smell of fabric softener, perfume, and room sprays; or a huge hug and my name being yelled by three-year-old Matthew; or playing Wii with Sam and Alex; or watching Gilmore Girls and playing Webkinz with my sister Abbi; or wearing the same white flats while they turn tan from all the use. I'm learning that God is always exactly on time -- not too early, not too late, and even when I'm impatient He is always up to something... ALWAYS.

I've also discovered that I love Rihanna, that my feet are flat (thanks, Dad.), and that I still dream way too big for my britches.

I don't know what/who this quote is from, but it kind of describes exactly how I feel right now. [If anyone knows its source, do share.] --

"it's funny how one summer can change everything. it must be something about the heat, and the smell of chlorine, fresh cut grass and honeysuckle, asphalt sizzling after late-day thunderstorms, the steam rising while everything drips around it. something about long, lazy days and whirring air conditioners and bright plastic flip flops from the drug store thwacking down the street. something about fall being so close, another year, another Christmas, another beginning. so much in one summer, stirring up like the storm that creeps up at the end of each day, blowing out all the heat and dirt to leave everything gasping and cool. everyone can reach back to one summer and lay a finger on it, finding the exact point where everything changed. this summer would be mine."

 I am exactly who I am.
God loves every inch of my awkward and imperfect body, and my whole huge, battered heart - to the core where He resides.
Don't get the wrong idea. I still have those days - "ugly days" where makeup and hair and clothes and everything about me are just wrong and I don't like them and I'd rather stay in bed than go outside and face the world. But it's good to know that I'm not the only one that feels that way. Everybody has those days. Don't make me start singing Hannah Montana, because I will. Another thing that I've truly grasped this summer is that I am never, ever alone - YOU are never alone. There is always someone, somewhere who is feeling exactly what you're feeling and can say with sincerity "I know how you feel", without a hint of pretension.

LOVE THIS LIFE. Stop complicating it. Don't make it more or less than what it is. Breathe. Feel. Live.

In other words,
que sera sera --
Whatever will be, will be.

 

Life is so crazy right now I don't even have time to xanga anymore. So sad.

2 Timothy 4:1-5 (NIV)

In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I give you this charge: Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction. For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.

 

 

 

EDIT (8:29am, 7/8/08)

I thought I should make it clear that I posted this yesterday to make a point of this man's psychosis, not his incredible ministry. What he's doing is disturbing and sick. I'm not against the gifts of the spirit, and I'm not a nonbeliever in the move of God... but that isn't what Todd Bentley and his female angel with the gold dust are doing. He doesn't discuss Jesus with anyone. He talks about his "encounters" and has been "told by God" that he has to "get them to believe in the angel".

What?!

Listen to him! All of his blasphemy comes straight out of his mouth, nobody even has to twist it.

 

If you're truly curious, hit YouTube and check out all nine of these videos:

I've decided that I never want to hear the phrase "I'm sorry" again.

It is worthless.

"I'm sorry" doesn't mean, I know I messed up and I'm going to try my hardest not to do it again. "I'm sorry" means I don't want you to be mad at me anymore so I'm going to say something to try and fix it.

Don't bother.

You're not sorry.

And I don't want to hear it anymore.

i'm with Klare in the church coffee shop. it's pretty in here... ambiant. is that a word? well, i guess it is now... i had a vanilla cappuccino, and it was pretty amazing. i feel tired, and worn out, and kind of useless. i told God that i was done and that i didn't care what kind of person i was.

you know what i got?

a rainbow.

a full rainbow.

it isn't fair. He doesn't play the game fair. i have my own strange form of Edward Cullen. only He's alive and exists and fights for me daily.

it's hard to believe, because i know how unworthy i am.

---

edit;

 

right now, i'm sitting in my living room. the one we lived in when we went to that church. and now one of our favorite families that we'd lost touch with is here. i'm hearing Dreama singing Chris Brown and dancing, Dad and Gary doing their Jewish banter, and waiting for Tam & Ry.  it's seriously like i stepped into a time warp, with all the knowledge and wisdom and growth that i have now.

this day has been so strange.

 

Sometimes I truly hate this world.
And yet, I don't want to leave.