DominiBlogging

This afternoon as I write, it’s cold and rainy here in Tennessee. I’ve put on sweats and made a nice afternoon cuppa tea (some English habits die-hard!). The weather today is totally different from the beginning of October when I, along with 14 others from the Otter Creek Church of Christ, spent eight days in the Dominican Republic.

I was nervous to the point of feeling terrified leading up to this trip. I honestly was looking for any excuse not to go. I don’t enjoy heat. I don’t enjoy not having electricity and/or running water. I especially do not enjoy creepy crawlies and spiders that look like small mammals! And, of course, there was the challenge of my very limited (three-word) Spanish vocabulary. I just did not know how I would survive eight whole days in the Dominican.

Our week was split into two different parts. When we arrived (and I stepped out of the airport into the sticky Dominican heat), we were driven to a small village in the middle of nowhere called Bobita. The surrounding countryside is gorgeous (think Jurassic Park; after all, it was filmed in the DR), and riding into the village on our noisy, bright blue truck/bus, the villagers stood on porches and in doorways to wave and greet us. In Bobita, there is a school, a Christian camp (which was our lodging), and a children’s home, run by Cory and Laura Beth Lamb who had moved in from the U.S. a couple of months previously. In Bobita, there are also lovely, friendly people, beautiful children and livestock of various forms roaming around. I was truly a long way from Nashville!

We were welcomed to the camp by TJ and Holly McCloud, missionaries supported by Otter Creek, and los Pescadores, the shoeshine boys TJ and Holly minister to in Rio San Juan. The boys graciously hauled our luggage to the sleeping areas, where all manner of large insects were waiting (to welcome us, perhaps?). I have to be honest and say that when I saw our cabin had no electricity, mosquito nets over the beds, and spiders the size of my hand, I felt my heart sink. How would I survive this experience?

Saturday evening, we played games with the Pescadores, an interesting and challenging experience for me because I speak no Spanish. Getting ready for bed by candlelight and hearing people scream when they encountered gigantic insects . . . well, that first night, I felt terribly discouraged. I truly believed that God had directed me to go to the Dominican, that He had something to teach me on the trip, and that I had something to offer . . . but maybe I had heard Him wrong?

Sunday was worship with the villagers and the Pescadores. Even though the whole service was in Spanish, I still felt blessed by it somehow. Later, we took the boys to the river to play . . . and suddenly, amidst the water fights and smearing mud all over each other, words didn’t matter so much anymore. Children love to have fun, and they love adults who want to have fun with them. I love children, and I love to have fun. I could do this! My spirits started to take an upturn.

Monday, we all climbed aboard the big blue bus, and headed back to Puerto Plata, the city we had landed in. This was the day I had feared most of all. In the morning, we would visit the hospital to sing, pray and distribute care packages. In the afternoon, we would visit the people who live in the dump, and pass out food, drinks and Bibles. I don’t know why I was so terrified. After all, I work in the medical field and see some pretty unpleasant things on a daily basis. Maybe it was the horror stories the previous year’s team had told of the horrifying conditions of the hospital and the stench of the dump. It had definitely put me on edge. I had prayed so much about this day, that I knew whatever strength I had would absolutely not be my own.

When we arrived at the hospital, we climbed off the bus and started dividing into two groups: one to visit the men’s ward, and one to visit the women’s. We would then go to the children’s ward together. As we were gathering our care packages, a man approached me, my sister and another teammate. He began speaking in French. No one else around knew what to do, but suddenly, my three years of high school French came in handy. His wife was in the women’s ward, and he wanted us to visit her.

The hospital we visited in Puerto Plata is a public hospital. The wards are split into large rooms filled with a dozen or more cots. The patient’s family is responsible to provide food, bedding and other basic necessities; they also must buy medicine, or else the patient won’t receive any. Every doctor in the DR must work one day each month without pay in a public hospital; therefore, the care a patient receives may or may not be the best quality. I went to the men’s ward, where we prayed over patients, sang some songs in Spanish, and gave out small care packages filled with soap, toothpaste and toothbrush, a washcloth and shampoo. Many patients had family members with them . . . but some did not. It was dirty and hot, but those people were so thankful we were there. Even if we prayed with them in English, they were thrilled.

We then went to the children’s ward and passed out coloring books and crayons along with the care packages. The Dominican children are so beautiful, and they were so glad to have anything we could give them.

Finally, a few of us went to the nursery to see the babies. It was amazing to see babies in incubators that were open and exposed, where anyone could walk in and touch them and breathe on them. I met one woman who was staying with her twin grandbabies who had been born the day before. The mother had already been sent home because there was no room for her. It was the only time I cried the whole trip. I work in a rich area (even by American standards) with people who have everything. When my patients have their babies, they are born into a world of luxury and excess . . . and yet these babies had nothing. We have so much here in America, and yet we complain and whine and demand more.

After the hospital, we went to the dump outside the city. It’s hard to put into words the sights I saw there. The people who live in the dump gathered around and we took turns singing to each other. Once again, my French came in handy, because many of the people living there are from Haiti and speak Creole. There was one man, who came to meet us carrying a Bible. He wanted us to know that he is a Christian, and that he is telling the people he lives with in the dump about Jesus. We passed out Creole Bibles and food and more care packages. The whole scene was almost unbelievable.

Tuesday, we visited the school in Bobita, and taught two sessions on hygiene. Our lesson was about germs, and why washing your hands and brushing your teeth is so important. We also taught a couple of songs (one of my teammates teaches music), along with the Chicken Dance, which they thought was pretty hilarious.

On Wednesday, our team moved to Rio San Juan, the city where TJ and Holly work. Rio San Juan is on the north coast of the Dominican. We were reunited with the Pescadores and taken to our hotel, which seemed like the Hilton after the camp in Bobita! The electricity was still iffy, and there was no hot water, but it was on the beach and it was clean (and I didn’t see large bugs lurking anywhere).

We visited a small school in Rio San Juan that day . . . an open-aired school made of wood and cardboard. Another lesson in germs, some more Chicken Dance and a few rounds of Heads Up, 7 Up. The children were so wonderful, and the teachers were so appreciative.

TJ and Holly have been in the DR for just over a year, and they have an incredible ministry to the children of RSJ. Their apartment is behind a small building that is sometimes called ‘the coffee shop’ (not sure why; they don’t serve coffee there, and it’s not a shop!). It’s more like a small community outreach center. The children congregate on the small porch until they open the doors, and then there’s music and games and fun . . . which is exactly what happened on the Wednesday night we were there. We also split into three teams and did a photo scavenger hunt all over the town. We had to take photos with a cat, a baby, in a boat, holding hermit crabs, doing the human pyramid, with a fish, riding a bike, on a motorcycle, with everyone’s feet off the ground, among other things. What crazy fun! Those kids had us running all over Rio San Juan, alarming some residents (and one very terrified cat, let me tell you!). I also really enjoyed the scavenger hunt because it gave us Americans a peek into the home lives of the kids. We got to see some of their houses and neighborhoods (one had sewage running down the middle of it). It was amazing to get a glimpse of how they live.

On Thursday, our team went to paint a house for a family in the poorest district of Rio San Juan. Painting houses is not just for cosmetic enhancement, it protects the wood from termites and the elements, thereby keeping the wood in good shape for a much longer time. A family of eight (with another due only days after our visit) lived in the small 20 by 30-foot house. We also finished the roof. Only half of the house had been roofed; the materials for the rest of the roof would have cost the family a year’s wages. Our team raised the money to cover the remainder of the house, giving the family more livable space. We even had enough paint to paint two other houses nearby. It was one of the highlights of the trip for everyone, and all the neighborhood children came out and helped (and also threw small crabs on us where weren’t paying attention, gross!).

Thursday afternoon, we hosted a craft and game time at the outreach center. The Pescadores and Princesas (the group of girls Holly has recently started working with) made necklaces, photo frames, and played some pretty competitive Twister. Afterwards, we had some free time to explore the town, for which the children acted as willing and enthusiastic tour guides.

Thursday evening, Holly had turned the photos from the scavenger hunt into a fantastic slide show (and thankfully, the electricity supply cooperated). It was our last official time with the kids, so there were many hugs, more photos and some tears. We hated to say adios.

Friday was our official day off. Most of the team went to an amazing beach, where they enjoyed kayaking, hand-caught fish and time in the sun. Five of us went to 27 Charcos, an hour-and-a-half from Rio San Juan. This is a natural wonder, deep in the Dominican forest, of 27 waterfalls and underground caves. You hike, swim and climb up the waterfalls, and then . . . you jump down them to get back. Yes, that’s right. You jump off the waterfalls. Now, I’m not a super-athletic person. I’ve also never rockclimbed, repelled or even taken a dive off of a diving board before. So whatever possessed me to do this, I cannot say. I think since I was terrified of the trip in general, I was determined to face any fears I had in a big way. All in all, the waterfall adventure was the most terrifying and most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. I paid for it dearly in the following days (talk about muscle-ache), but it was a God-given boost of trust and strength and confidence. Amazing! I would do it all over again . . . but wear much better shoes!

TJ and Holly had organized our final team devotional of the week at a cliff overlooking the beach at sunset. It was a special time of reflection and sharing and thanksgiving and worship. We were all tired – physically, emotionally and mentally – but we were all so thankful. I felt alive and full.

On Saturday morning, we walked out of our hotel to board the big blue bus one final time for our trip to the airport, and found a big group of the Pescadores waiting for us. During our time in Rio San Juan, whether we were walking to the outreach center, walking to the hotel, or walking to the restaurant that cooked our meals for us, these kids would find us. It was so humbling, but they loved us, and wanted to be with us . . . even if most of us couldn’t speak their language. That last morning, we cried and prayed with them and gave them whatever random food we had. We left them crying outside the hotel, and it was horrible.

The eight days I spent in the Dominican Republic changed my life. All my previous missions experience was in first-world English-speaking countries, which is hugely important. I think I’ll always be drawn to that kind of ministry, because I feel like I’m gifted to work in those cultures. However, I believe it was so important for me to see and experience a country that, by first-world standards, is very poor. It’s incredible all we take for granted here in America: we can turn on a tap and instantly have hot water and water that we can safely drink; we flip a switch anytime of the day or night and a light comes on; our closets are overflowing with clothes and shoes; we don’t have to cook our food over a fire; we have a roof over our heads, and our homes consist of more than just one room. The Dominicans have very little, but I saw so much joy in them. They don’t care about fancy cars, the latest digital camera, the newest Ipod. I came back to America thankful for all God has given me . . . even the car I drive that was built 14 years ago. It just doesn’t matter.

Before we left for this trip, each member of our team was challenged to choose a Bible passage that they would claim as ‘their verse’ for the week. A few weeks before our departure, I came across Psalm 91 in my daily quiet time, and I felt like God told me this was for me:
Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare of the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I am trusting Him. For He will rescue you from every trap and protect you from the fatal plague. He will shield you with His wings. He will shelter you with His feathers. His faithful promises are your armor and protection. Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night, nor fear the dangers of the day, nor dread the plague that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday . . . If you make the Lord your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter, no evil will conquer you, no plague will come near your dwelling. For He orders His angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you with their hands to keep you from striking your foot on a stone . . .” Psalm 91:1-6, 9-12 NLT

God really made those promises real to me in the Dominican. He kept us safe from harm. I didn’t get sick; in fact, no one on our team was sick. He protected me from the creepy-crawlies. He gave me rest each night under my mosquito netting. I wholeheartedly believe He sent angels to protect me on the waterfall adventure. He truly provided me with strength and safety and shelter in the moments I needed Him most that week.

The Dominican Republic is a beautiful country with warm, friendly, welcoming people. I pray I’ll have the opportunity to return someday for longer than just eight short days. I’m starting to take a Spanish class next week so I can hopefully say more that just “hello”, “goodbye”, and “how are you?”. I miss the children, and I pray for them daily. I hope that someday in the future, I’ll be back in Rio San Juan, chasing terrified cats, singing devo songs in Spanish and doing the Chicken Dance with them.

So Much on My Mind

I know that I've kind of let my blog go by the wayside, and that's totally okay, really. But lately, I've got so many things to think about and pray about. And they're big, BIG things. Writing somehow helps me to empty my brain a little bit in tangible black and white. What can I say? -- I've always been a visual learner.

I feel like I'm at a crossroads of sorts in my life. I just celebrated (maybe not the right word?) my two-year anniversary of moving from England to America. I'll be turning 30 in just a few months. I took a big leap of faith and went on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic three weeks ago. For the first time in ten years, I have not lived in/visited England. Three months from now, I will have been a member at Otter Creek for two years. In less than that, two years will have passed since I started working in a doctor's office.

Today at work, a patient came in with her seven-month old baby. It seems like yesterday this patient was pregnant, and I was the novice MA doing her weight and blood pressure every week. I saw that adorable baby, and it freaked me out that seven months have flown by. I guess I feel that my life is running away from me, but I'm . . . stuck.

I'm really completely unsure what God is doing in my life these days. I can't even guess what He's planning next for me. I feel like this is a season of waiting and preparation in my life -- but for what? I kind of feel like I was closer to the answer seven months ago, and things are getting more hazy by the day (and sometimes by the hour). Since moving back from England and completely starting over with $5 in my pocket, I feel like I've been asleep, just going through the motions and whatever is expected of me like a robot. I have never felt more alive than when I lived in England. I think it's because I knew without a doubt why I was there and that God wanted me there and that I was needed there. Each day was important and purposeful and so, so . . . real. That probably sounds really cheesy and out there, but it's true.

I recently felt those feelings of aliveness when I went to the Dominican Republic. I felt awake and tuned in and turned on and all there. The hard part about coming back was that fear of falling back asleep and just drifting back into the old attitudes, habits and routines. For the first day, I still had that energy and vibrance. But by Day Two, when I got to work and started the daily drill, it had happened. I realized sometime around 10:28 a.m. that I was back on autopilot. I so don't want to experience life this way, like I'm a statue in a museum that gets to wake up and live for only a few hours at a time.

So, while I fight against this, I'm praying constantly for God's guidance and wisdom and direction. Truly, I know the opportunities are endless. I can pretty much do whatever I want, go wherever I want, achieve whatever I want. But what does God want? I may still be relatively young, but I know that God's plans are so much better than mine. I really would like to know what ideas He's got concerning my career, my relationships and my future.

I know that throughout life there will be seasons of waiting, of setting up camp for a time in a place that is maybe not ideal or spectacular. The Israelites did that on the way to Canaan. They did it again when God told them to put down roots in Babylon because they would be there awhile. I guess that's kind of what He's been telling me for the past two years. I can't honestly say the thought excites me much, but I did read something in my quiet time lately that gave me a glimmer of hope:

It is in times of waiting that you have the opportunity to proclaim your faith in God. Some people do not think they have time to wait for His guidance, but if you rush ahead of Him, you will miss a tremendous blessing. Waiting is not a passive activity. It involves an active faith, and it is necessary if we want to hear God's voice of instruction. ("Landmines in the Path of the Believer" by Charles Stanley).

I love that. Waiting precedes God's great blessings. God promises this in Isaiah 25:9, and I'm holding on to His promise in the mediocrity of daily life: "In that day the people will proclaim, 'This is our God. We trusted in Him, and He saved us. This is the Lord, in whom we trusted. Let us rejoice in the salvation He brings!'"

Swimsuits, anxiety and blue trucks: a blog of this and that

Swimwsuits. I leave for my cruise in less than a month! In preparation for this, I am now the apprehensively proud owner of a Land's End tankini. The top, ehhn, well, it's okay, but it's the skirt that I'm crazy about. It's like a little trendy cheerleading/tennis skirt, and I kind of want to wear it everywhere I go, even to work. It's probably a blessing that my legs are as pale as they are; if they were browner, the temptation to wear my swimsuit skirt all over Nashville would be pretty tough to resist.

Anxiety. Well, as much as I love my swimsuit, I'm not sure how much I love seeing it on my body. I'm kind of nervous about other people seeing it on my body. Let's face it, I'm not a high school cheerleader anymore.

I know that the important thing is that I'm going to Mexico on a gigantic boat. I'm going to see Mayan ruins overlooking the Caribbean. I'm going to have a break from work drama. I'm going to see lots and lots of water. That's what I need to focus on. Compared to all that water, my thighs look pretty small!

Blue Trucks. Ok, this is weird. There's a guy in my apartment complex who drives a blue truck. He's cute, although I think he might be fresh out of college. The weird thing about this story? Well, we always leave at the same time every morning. Whether it's a work day or a church day, we seem to always get in our cars at the same time. Often, our cars (well, my car, his blue truck) are parked beside each other. Even weirder, our work places and churches are just blocks apart. I've followed this guy to church and work (not purposely; I'm not the stalking type). We always kind of look at each other every morning, make eye contact, get in our vehicles and follow each other to wherever we're headed that particular day. I call him Blue Truck Boy (creative, right?), and I think we might be destined for friendship. If I were a braver person, I'd say hey, and assure him that I am, in fact, not stalking him. It is only coincidence that I follow him everywhere he goes. I think this is all very funny and cute. It makes me happy to see him get in his car as I get in mine. It's like he's my little driving friend. Maybe one day we'll actually, gasp, speak, and I'll learn his name and no longer need to refer to him as Blue Truck Boy.

One final thought for this random blog: is there anything better than being a redhead?

Birthday Blog

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me . . .

You get the idea.

Today is my 29th birthday. I'm happy to announce that everyone at work yesterday was shocked when I told them how old I would be. One of my co-workers (who is now my best friend) told me that she honestly and seriously thought I was turning 21. Really and truly.

God bless her.

I guess I have my parents to thank for my youthful genes. I can only hope and pray that when I turn 49 some wonderful person will declare that they were sure it was my 29th birthday.

If I had to title my 28th year, I would call it "Light at the End of the Tunnel." My 27th year was the hardest I've ever lived due to leaving England, encountering reverse culture shock, alternating between hiding my grief and allowing myself to grieve, and starting over in a big city with a job for which I really felt no love or attraction. I would call my 27th year "Trial By Fire." It was intense, consuming, painful, and I believe that God used it to melt me down and cleanse me of some of the junk in my heart. My 28th year has been a growing year and a year where the sun began to burn through the clouds. It's been kind of like coming up for a big breath of fresh air after being underwater for a scarily long time.

I feel like I've started to grow into myself this year, something I have prayed for fervently for as long as I can remember. I've never felt comfortable being me because, I've realized, I'm not sure who I really am. My whole life I've tried to be a person who I perceived everyone would love and adore. Over the past months, the longing to just be ME and to be that person well has slowly started to overtake the desire that everyone adore me. Of course I want everyone to like me, but realistically, that's just not going to happen. So, this past year, I think that I've started to explore who I really am as a person deep, deep down inside. This search has revealed some pleasant surprises and also, some not so pleasant ones. I'm horribly selfish, easily annoyed with people, frustratingly shy, scared to let people get close to me, prone to pity-parties, and inclined to use my painful past as an excuse for why I live with a victim's mentality all these years later. BUT, I've also realized that I am generous, considerate, longing to let people get close to me, tenderhearted, and I deeply love God and want Him to reign in my life even if it means giving up some bad habits and getting out of my comfort zone. I think, finally, praise God, I've learned that I am a good and worthy and loveable person, but that I will constantly fight this battle with Satan until the day I die and will need to rely on God AND the people He places in my life to be victorious.

Being the goal-setter that I am, I'm praying about a few dreams I'd like to see this year before I turn 30 (Thirty!!).
1. I'm starting my pre-requisities for nursing school this week! I'd like to have those completed so I can start nursing school full time when I'm 30. I'm excited, because I'm a nerd and I love school, and I've secretly missed it since graduating from college seven years ago. However, this time around, I'm working full-time and have other commitments at church, so it could get tricky. Also, this time around, I'm paying for it. Ouch!
2. I appreciate Hamish, my little ancient gold Saturn, but I really am praying for a new car this year.
3. Spiritually, I'd like to go deeper with God. I wholeheartedly believe (and enjoy the fact) that fellowship with other Christians is essential for spiritual health, but I think I've focused more on being popular with other people at church this past year instead of falling more in love with the Lord. Again, I've tried so hard to be the person everyone likes, instead of being who God created me to be. I'm praying that by the time next June 2 rolls around, I will have matured more in this area.
4. I want to be more brave. I'm a scaredy cat the majority of the time, and I'm tired of it.
5. I want to celebrate life more, to be more thankful for the little things that give life sparkle and shine. I want to enjoy living, even if my life isn't the picture I have in mind for my dream life. God is still good, so life still has goodness in it.
6. My big financial goal this year is to save up enough money to take a grand 30th birthday trip to England and to Greece next summer. This is not going to be easy because my money is very stretched right now. But I want this badly, and I know with some extra discipline, it's totally possible. So, maybe next birthday when I blog, I'll be doing it from the other side of the ocean!

Because you asked me to . . .

Maybe more people read my blog than I ever imagined. In the past couple of weeks, it has been brought to my attention a few times that I need to update my blog. Amazing! I thought that I was the only one aware of my lapse in blogging. So, this one is for all my faithful blog readers who have missed reading my jumble of thoughts/experiences/musings.

I feel like I'm going through a period of internal (hallelujah, not external) growth right now, and this is good. I kind of feel like my roots are going down deep into my faith, and this is affecting several other areas of my life. A few of my closest friends know that I have two "life verses". In my own thoughts and prayers, I refer to them a lot. One is Proverbs 3:5-6 -- Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. This verse has been my anchor since I moved to England way back in 2000, and I consider it at some point each day when I'm scared, when I'm sad, when I feel hopeless or discouraged. It always points me back in the right direction.

My other special verse is Song of Songs 2:2 -- Yes, compared to other women, my beloved is like a lily among thorns. I don't know when I was made aware of this particular verse, but ever since then it has had a profound affect on my ideas about who I want to be as a Christian, as a single woman, as a friend, as a employee/co-worker . . . as a woman, period. I believe with more conviction every day that I was not called to live a mediocre life. That has never been my ambition. I believe that God created me special and unique with a carefully-designed purpose in mind. I wish I believed this more deep down in my heart and really let it explode out of me in my daily living and thinking and speaking. It's easy to get caught up in "thorn" living: just doing the bare minimum, procrastinating and being lazy, thinking only of yourself, following the crowd, withdrawing in fear, settling for less than the best, doing what feels good even if it's not the right thing, worrying instead of resting in God, striving to impress others by being someone you know you're not. I fall into this category more often than I care to think about. Most of the time, being a thorn is easy, it's safe, even fun, it gets a reaction.

This verse has stirred up a passion in me to be the Lily. In a patch full of thorns, a lily is a beautiful, rare sight. It's soft and touchable and sweet. Ask anyone, "It's your choice. Do you want the lily or a thorn?" and the great majority of the time, it's likely the lily will be chosen. Thorns are good for keeping people out. They're prickly. They hurt. They're common. Lilies are clean and inviting and lovely. But they're rare. Solomon also wrote, A virtuous woman, who can find? She is worth more than precious rubies (Proverbs 31:10). A good woman is a treasure valuable and priceless because of her rarity.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, sometimes many times in a day. I pray, "Lord, make me the Lily and not the thorns." I want to be a different caliber of woman. I think of this when I want to say mean things to or about other people. I think about this when I want to be the center of attention or impress a particular person. I think about this when I've got various responsibilities to take care of, yet all I want to do is lay on the couch and do nothing. I think about this when I'm tempted to worry about never getting married, or running out of money, or what the future may hold. I think about this when I'm burning with jealousy or my heart aches with disappointment. I want to be the lily, and that means that sometimes I'm going to have to make the hard choices and the hard sacrifices.

Honestly, I've been dealing with some very deep, intense struggles in the past few months. I've had to confront some profound, sometimes overwhelming feelings of jealousy and inadequacy. I've had to take a hard look into my childhood and some wounding experiences that happened during those formative years of my life. I've had to contend with how I see myself and how I perceive others see me. There's been some yucky, yucky stuff I've been battling, and this random verse in Song of Songs keeps me going. It's like a hopeful beam of light shining out of darkness. These are refining times, the times that purify me and make me lily-white, lily-beautiful, lily-rare.

So, blog friends, I'm back with probably more than you ever cared to know about what's going on with me these days. I feel like I'm slowly growing, slowly changing, maybe even slowly blossoming into the Lily I am so longing to be.

A few less serious thoughts:
1. I'm going on a cruise in TWO MONTHS. I have to buy a swimsuit for the first time since high school. This could be traumatic. But still, I'm going on a CRUISE!
2. I'm falling in love with my job. Who knew that working with a bunch of hormonal woman could be so much fun?
3. My birthday is less than a month away. It's my last year as a 20-something. Just one year closer to being 34 (the age I'm so excited to be).
4. I can't decide which mission trip to go on this fall: Dominican or England. I'm drawn to both for very different reasons. Praying for God's leading and clarity, because it's a tough decision.
5. It's a sunshiney Sunday and I'm sitting inside. Soooo, I'm wrapping up this long blog and heading for the fresh air. Until next time, readers (and let's face it, who knows when that will be), Adieu!

The end of blog furlough . . .

Dun, dun, dun, DAHHHHH!

I'm back to blogging, and I feel like I've got so much to say. Not so much for others to read it, but just to get it off my chest, out of my mind, from thoughts and feelings to black and white Times font.

The breakthrough came today. I've been trying to get into my blogger dashboard for a couple of months now, but couldn't remember my user name and/or password. The gods must be smiling on me today, because here I am. Somehow, one of my user name/password combo worked. Now if I can only remember which one. . . .

I can't believe that my last post was in July! That's half a year ago, which obviously means things have changed, experiences have been had, and life has moved on with or without my sporadic blogging. Thank goodness.

This is long overdue, but here you go, Tiff. I'm finally responding to your blog tag!

Three things -

That Scare me: apathy, complancency and large insects
People who make me laugh: my sister, Zach Braff, and one of the doctors I work with
I hate: uncomfortable shoes, tomatoes, and not being able to fall asleep at night
I don't understand: mathmatics that involve fractions, why I feel the need to spend a huge portion of my paycheck that day I get it, and people who never follow through on what they say they will do (ok, I fall into this category, too, from time to time)
Things on my desk: three bags of Goldfish crackers, a huge Diet Coke, and a headset that I never wear
I'm doing right now: blogging after a six month hiatus, answering the phone everytime it rings (because no one else in the office will), listening to the Faith Hill CD that's on our stereo for the millionth time today
I want to do before I die: travel as often as possible, go back to school, live in another country again
I can't do: play any stringed instruments, put air in my tires, work an Ipod
I think you should listen to: constructive criticism, CLEAN music (because, let's face it, whatever you listen to will get stuck in your head), and Mozart/Bach/Beethoven every once in awhile
You should NEVER listen to: mean-hearted criticism, ignorant people, and not-so-clean music (see above)
I'd like to learn: moderation, how to be God-ruled, not emotion-ruled, and how to say no (which kind of links to moderation, doesn't it?)
Favorite foods: peanut butter, broccoli and pasta
Beverages: Pepsi Max (which I'm UK-side), Starbucks Hot Chocolate, and PG Tips every morning
Shows I watched as a kid: Voltron, Small Wonder (anyone remember this one?) and Punky Brewster

Blog Stew

After my ranting last week in my doctor’s office etiquette blog (which, I do sincerely hope that my readers learned something), I am simply going to toss out a random mix of my life in recent days.

1. It’s been stinking hot lately. Grotesquely hot. Happily, it cooled down significantly this weekend, but the temperatures are rising again. I am not made for this kind of smothering heat and humidity. I was even thinking about winter this morning, of winter coats and warm sweaters. And, yes, of Christmas. Autumn is actually my most favorite time of year, when the air is cool and crisp and it smells like falling leaves, and I’m happy to know that it’s just a couple of months away.

2. I have recently rediscovered the joys of animal crackers and jello. Both are cheap, and not too horribly bad for you. And, identifying what the ‘animals’ actually are in the 98 cent Wal-mart bag is actually quite amusing!

3. Hard core yard-salers freak me out. Who really is passionate about getting out of bed at 5 a.m. on a Saturday?

4. I've realized lately (and really, I believe the Holy Spirit has something to do with this) that I am not a kind person. Some people are naturally kind and compassionate and 'nice.' I do not fall into this category. I think I'm kind to people I enjoy and like, but the people I don't know (and especially who I dislike), I barely treat with courtesy. I notice this particularly at work. Patients drive me crazy, and I know I've been -- to my shame -- downright rude sometimes. I feel like God is bringing this to my attention, and I need to work on this in a big way. Part of the fruit of the Spirit is kindness, and it scares me that I'm not seeing that particular 'fruit' in my life.

5. The tires (I feel weird not spelling ‘tires’ ‘tyres’ as the English do) on my car need air. I do not know how to take care of this. I own a tire gauge, and I actually do know how to use it. In fact, I can check the air pressure in my tires all by myself . . . but I’m not sure about the whole putting more air in my tires part. In theory, I know how to put air in my tires, but I’m nervous about doing it. I’m afraid I’d put too much air in and they’d explode in the gas station parking lot. Sometimes I really wish I had some close guy friends who would be willing to do the masculine things a girl’s got to do occasionally.

6. I get to go to Atlanta in a couple of weeks to see a Braves game. Am I excited? Heck, yes!

7. I just read an article online about the world’s most expensive home. Said home is close to Windsor Castle in England, and is valued at 75 million pounds ($130 million area). It has 103 rooms, five swimming pools, and a 100 plus-seat ‘screening room.’ That is not a house – it is a luxury hotel.

8. Guys who wear ‘random glasses’ are hot.

9. JT and I spent an hour on the elliptical machines at the gym yesterday.

10. And finally, because I realize this blog really has no point, I will leave you with this word of advice: A great way to enter a room is to do a forward roll. Don’t ever underestimate the power of a somersault.