welcome to moe's

Moo Moo Mr. Cow, please! Hold the sour cream, add some guac.  

This may or may not be a staple in my diet.  I also may or may not hold the record for most visits to Moe's in the past 3 years in the city of Knoxville.  The manager may or may not know me by name.  He may or may not know my order by heart.  He may or may not know my life story.  He may or may not know where I work.  He may or may not ask me for advice from time to time.  He may or may not have given me a Valentine two years ago.  He may or may not have met my family.  We are NOT dating.  That one I know for a fact.  

I ate a Moo Moo today for lunch.  Brad, the manager, wasn't there.  But I thought to myself about how much life Brad and I had done together just by me walking through the burrito bar line.  How many memories we'd created over Moe's bucks and a Coca-Cola Freestyle machine.  

Sometimes I get lost in my relationship with Christ thinking about how deep I want to go with Him.  I put pressure on myself to go deeper.  Then, I get scared thinking I might not reach that depth.  So, why try?  

When in all reality, I just need to do life with Him. I think about how many people I now know deeply because I started out just being in the same room as them, just spent some time with them. That will create the memories.  That will create the lessons.  That will create the relationship.  

So, go have a burrito with Jesus. 

split ends

You know how they same some situations are like ripping off a band-aid?  Just get it over with.  It's going to hurt, so just rip it quick.  The satisfaction of it being over quicker will outweigh the pain in theory.  

In the same way, I think some situations are like split ends.  

You can make a habit of temporarily picking at them to get rid of them, like me, but then that can just cause more breakage and damage in the future. Sometimes, you have to invest the time and money in a haircut.  It may hurt your pocket, and it may not be the look you wanted at first, but if can give you a different perspective and overall help the health for the future.  You could hate it, but everyone else could think it looks so good on you! Sometimes, we're too concerned with what people will think.  Sometimes, you have to depart from the hair in order to ensure overall health in a situation.  

This is gibberish to anyone reading, but in my situation currently, it makes complete since.  Maybe one day it will for you.  

t-shirts

I tell people that I could make a timeline of my life out of t-shirts.  There's definite distinction in what stage of my life I was in by my t-shirts.  You could tell a story from the state of a t-shirt: how much it's been through, how many falls it's taken, how many mistaken bleach incidents, etc.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I love stories. 

As part of my job, I have the privilege of going on adventures with students anywhere from birth to college.  Whether to the beach, outside to the playground, or, like this week, to Rome, GA to Darlington School for Summer Camp 2012, there's always a story; and usually a t-shirt.  Summer camp was a week of competition, heat, injuries, and, above all, genuine worship and life-change.  Through battle on the recreation fields, teams learned the spirit of competition.  Off the field, they taught each other, and me, about becoming rooted in the Truth through Jesus Christ, and only through Jesus Christ.  

I have the greatest job in the world.  I am humbled by the opportunity to file my taxes at the end of every year for being paid to be in ministry as a means a living.  What a blessing.  Some say it can be a curse, and at times I would agree.  And then, we have nights like tonight.  

You can tell a story from the state of a t-shirt at camp: whether it's sweaty from your perseverance on the rec field, what team you're on, if you fell off a child's scooter while coming down a hill too quickly.  

Two girls on my team gave their lives to Christ, and displayed it through publicly professing their faith in Jesus Christ through obedience in the waters of Baptism.  Incredible, how Christ can take broken people with "jacked-up" lives, and create a picture of redemption right before our very eyes.  

We sat in an acoustic worship as we watched students be baptized tonight.  In front of me, sat a girl and her boyfriend, both in high school.  The girl was wearing a henley t-shirt.  A step up from a normal t-shirt because she probably wanted to look good for her man.  The boy was in a simple black tee.  Probably the only one he had left sweat-less from the blistering hot week.  Perched beside them was her sister.  Her t-shirt was sopping wet.  

You can tell a story from the state of a t-shirt, and this one has the best story.  She came into our group questioning faith in general, and from the outside of the youth group.  She came with questions, and she came with brokenness.  I watched as my group grew together, sewing seeds in each other's lives, and becoming vulnerable to one another in their struggles.  They weren't afraid to ask for help.  Something I don't always expect out of tough high schoolers.  She listened.  I could tell she was listening. I could tell she was thinking.  Her sister was praying for her.  Her sister was trying to set an example for her.  I could tell she was watching.  And there she stood in front of me.  Holding her sister's hand, praising the Lord, and dripping.  That t-shirt was dripping.  She has a new story, and so does that t-shirt.  

diets and duvets

I have a huge four post bed white antique bed with a yellow duvet cover.  It's my safety zone. It's my comfort when I'm sick. It's so inviting at night.  It's the centerpiece and statement piece of my room.  You could say I have a love affair with my big yellow bed.  It is also my enemy: the vice to my aspirations to be a habitual morning runner.  I've heard time and time again that the best thing to do for your body is to run in the morning.  Get your blood flowing.  Jump start your metabolism. Wake yourself up.  Clear your mind.  I want all of these things for myself.  Mainly because I don't get enough time talking to God.  I used to run all the time at night, and it was my convo time with Him.  Now, when I get off of work, I'm toast.  I want to watch the Bachelorette, cook a turkey burger, and lay on the couch.  Ruins my running plans.  So does my big yellow bed.  The moral of the story is: I have a self-control problem.  I can't control my time in a way that is disciplined.  Most the time my bed calls my name despite the fact that I want to be skinny.  But my mentality has to change.  Christ was self-disciplined in every aspect of His life.  If I want to be more Christ-like, I have to be able to use my self-control to exhibit my salvation through my actions, not achieve salvation, but exhibit it.  The Spirit living in me should have divine effect on my attitude toward my bed.  Despite how much it pains me to wake up in the morning, eat right, treat my body with care, I have to give God the opportunity to manifest Himself in my body through my discipline.  I will still have days where my diet and duvet lead my astray, but I'm learning.  Self-discipline exhibits Christ.  That's worth more to me that watching the back of my eyelids.  

engagement rings

It happens all at once.  Out of the blue, you'll graduate college, and boom. Every one's got a rock.  Post-graduation, I have experienced a phenomenon of my life like no other.  I hear the term "wedding season", and think that's the next two years of my life, not a season.  I may sound cynical about the whole situation, but in reality I'm overjoyed for my friends and family that have met their match.  But the whole thing makes me happy for a totally different reason than soul mates and endless nights of dancing:  engagement rings bring stories.  And not just any stories, but I've found that the last few rings have brought a flood of stories in my own life about the paths that we take, and how we have no idea where they're going.  

Kara and Nate: I sat next to Kara to get my hair done for Beech High School's Prom five years ago (that number dropped my jaw a little).  She was just a sophomore, and was telling her hair dresser she was going with a senior. I was eavesdropping.  She had no idea who I was.  When she said his name, I recognized it.  Little did I know, five years later, I would be sleeping in a bed next to her on Spring Break laughing about how I had lied to her all night to get her out of the house so that we could set up 700 candles on the beach to spell out, "Kara, will you marry me?" 


Jamie and Chris:  I can't lie.  I had a crush on Chris in high school.  I took him to my junior prom.  And then he found Jamie.  I seriously wouldn't put any two people together today that are more perfect for each other.  Sitting in the pedicure chair, holding in a secret of Chris waiting at home with a ring for Jamie, I prayed, God, you sure do know what you're doing. Life with Jamie as my friend is never dull, full of smiles and lots of hugs.  Wearing that Guava colored bridesmaid dress will bring so much joy to my heart in 3 weeks! 


Magan and Austin: Magan's first word to me were, "What are you wearing?!" as I walked up to the volleyball courts at UT in a skirt after a birthday party.  Nice to meet you, too, is what really went through my mind, but I didn't say that.  I never would've guessed that blunt question would have lead to a friendship that included nights of laughter, sometimes tears, deep spiritual conversations, and lots of Grey's Anatomy.  If you would've asked me two years ago after those first words what Magan and my relationship would be today, Maid of Honor would have been no where in the response. 

I love how I'm always taken on a journey.  I never know where this thing is going.  Engagement rings bring stories.  Stories of a path you and I couldn't have imagined.  I love that.  I don't want to get married right now, but everyone else can keep bringing on the stories. 

hair bows

Ever since I was a child, my mother instilled in me that there was never an excuse not to look your best.  I wore my first pair of pants to school when I was 12.  It was a jumper.  I wore hair bows until I went to middle school, and a ribbon until I was a junior in high school.  It's just part of who I am now that I am either overdressed, or at least at par with the occasion.  And always with at least some mascara.  I sometimes wish I wasn't this way, and often think about if people think I'm superficial because of it.  Probably so, but I don't do it as something to make myself feel better about myself (even though it's a proven fact that if you dress up for a test or big presentation, you'll do better because your confidence is increased).  I do it because from a young age, I was taught that it was a sign of respect.  Slow your roll, killer.  I'm not saying wearing some yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt is disrespectful all the time any time, but in certain situations, I am. 

I work for a church.  It's a like a family community of staff, because it's more than just work: it's our passion, our faith, and our God that we work for everyday.  The other day, I was walking down the hallway, and one of the older men on staff stopped me to tell me how much he appreciated how I dressed.  He said even on Sunday mornings, I dressed like I was going to church which with my age, is a dying art. He left me with saying that it was more than the clothes.  It was a sign of respect for the church and my God.  I was flattered, and then had flashbacks of all of the times I've been told I dress like a soccer mom/grandma.  I realized how right he was. 

We, as a church of many generations, constantly battle the line of traditional vs. trendy.  His generation sees church as a time of reverence and respect.  Our generation sees church as a time of fellowship and extreme, head-banging faith.  It's the difference between worship services: choir or band? Or the difference between groups of community: small groups or Sunday school?  Or the difference in Sunday morning attire: suit and tie or jeans and a plaid button-down?

Last Wednesday, Tim (our college pastor) spoke on "Truth over Trends": how traditions and trends matter, but Biblical truth is what's important.  He talked about how truths are the things we hold on to with a clinched fist, while trends and traditions can rest on an open palm.

I love that I work in an environment where people are passionate about their work, and opinions and open-discussions are welcomed.  I love that we've come to this point where we have to hash out our values, and what truly does matter to us, and what is expendable.  The truth is Generation X and Y have different personal make-up than the Millennial Generation.  We were born in different times, taught different things, worship in different ways.   A heart and a brain are two very different organs, but they both keep me alive. I can't live without either.  And each of them can't survive on their own. So, who cares how we get to the Truth? I love that my church is saying, "Let's just get there together." Whether it's in an a-line skirt or uggs.

roses in a mason jar

I'm a Southern girl.  Born and raised in the great state of Tennessee. Go Vols.  I drink sweet tea, love big porches, and expect for a man to open my door.  It's common courtesy, of course.  All of this concludes one thing about all southern woman that I am no exception to: I love mason jars.  I moved into my own apartment this year in which I had to provide everything.  The furniture, the dishes, the vacuum, the trashcan, the everything.  Luckily, at the last minute I got a roommate, but I still had everything already picked out and done.  The one thing I wanted was mason jars as cups.  Oddly, my step-dad had an entire case of them in our basement.  I love my mason jars. Some of them still have some of the paper for whatever they were still used for back in the day peeling off.  They add just a touch of charm to my cabinet of dishes. 

A few days ago, my boyfriend very sweetly gave me a dozen roses for no good reason at all.  He's a gentleman, something all good Southern women also love.  I don't spend much time in my apartment, so I cut them stems off, stuck them in a mason jar, and brought them to my desk at work.  You have no idea the smile that that mason jar and roses brings to my face just by being there.  It's the little things.  I know that it has meaning behind it, but it's so awesome to me how something so simple can brighten my whole day. 

Our Christian fellowship is like this presence.  I feel bad when someone is having a bad day, and I don't know what to do to console them.  I feel like a Christian failure when the right Bible verse to tell someone in their time of need.  It's a constant battle in my mind when I'm listening to someone who has a need or is having a bad day to truly listen and fight the temptation to think about "the perfect thing to say" at that moment. It's a great feeling when a friend later in life remembers some great spiritual knowledge that you shed on them by the grace of the Holy Spirit, but I've found the times that are the most binding and helpful are the times that I'm just willing to be a presence.  Just to show I want to be there.  That in itself has meaning.  Just like Wal-Mart flowers in a Mason Jar.