Last night my brother sent me this video my niece Bizzywho is now 7 and 1/2 months old:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evJm4tSTl_E&w=480&h=390]
There are two things that I love about this video, and one thing that I only think is so-so. The first I love is that I have no idea what she finds so incredibly funny. She tries to crawl, instantly falls down and just starts this deep laugh that I wasn’t even sure was possible at such a young age. And yet there she sits, laughing her little heart out.
Secondly, I love that about half-way through the video she pauses, looking into the camera and at that moment you hear my other niece, Benny (5 and 1/2 years old) yell out, “Bizzie!!” which makes me think she’s doing something silly to cause her sister to laugh. And Bizzy starts all over again.
The last thing that I only think is so-so (but would admit I think I love it too), is the fact that Bizzy seems to have inherited my laugh. I’m not sure if that’s really something that is inherited, but if you have ever heard me laugh, you know it’s true. I have one of those laughs that I kind of hate because it is so loud and I just cannot help it. Isabella has a laugh like that. However, on a baby it’s SUPER cute. Or maybe I just think it is cause she’s my niece.
I love that my brother sends me videos and pictures like the one above of Bizzy eating a french fry (which I’m pretty sure she shouldn’t be eating). I love that he tries his hardest to keep me in the loop. But on some level, it’s just not enough. I miss both of these little girls with my whole heart. I pray for them every time I think about them, which is often. Some nights I just wish I could tuck them into bed or read stories with them instead of seeing them on a computer screen or saying good night on the phone. I miss them so much it hurtsat times.
And yet, I know that I am here for a reason. I get that confirmation every few days and I’m glad to be here. I just wish that here and there were just a little bit closer. At least close enough that I could see them every couple weeks, instead of every few months. But until that is a reality again, I will keep looking at pictures and videos. I will keep praying for them and the women they will become. I will keep calling my house in hopes that Benny will be in the mood to talk to her favorite Tia rather than watch iCarly. I will continue to love them from 1000 miles away.
brown paper packages tied up with string
The other night I was sitting around with my church small group and we were talking a bit about our favorite foods. It started as my best friend and her husband talking about their favorite type of candy and how those types of candy are not shared with company.
Then last night the roomsmate and I had a couple of friends over to watch a movie and were were offering them something to drink. Now, we don’t share a lot of things in our apartment so when we have guests over we have a rule that you can only offer up your own drinks/food to the guests. So I was offering up drinks but I realized I had nothing in the fridge to offer up, except my coveted juice boxes, so Roomsmate offered up the drinks she had and after everyone was served the conversation came up about sharing things. I revealed our rule as an explanation as to why the options I gave sounded so awkward. I think I said something along the lines of, “because I don’t have any drinks so I couldn’t offer anything, except for juice boxes and we all know how I feel about juice boxes.”
To which one friend said, “I don’t know how you feel about them…” So I had to come clean, “I don’t share my juice boxes,” I replied sheepishly. Luckily he accepted that and we started the movie.
But this got me thinking about our favorite things. In our apartment, we are usually open to sharing or letting each other have some of our food with the exception of a few items. You always have to ask but mostly, we’re pretty open to sharing. Except for certain things. In living together we’ve been able to pin point those things in each other and it’s now a funny joke.
Roomsmate has her Kinders, (a bbq sauce from California that is seriously so good) hot dogs and bacon. Cat has her tea that she drinks all the time. And mine? Apple juice boxes and tortillas. My roommates know that I love these two items more than almost anything else and if they were to finish my tortillas or drink a juice box, it would be bad news.
It’s just funny to me how one way that I judge closeness with people is if they know what those few items you have to have on hand at all times. Roomsmate knows that my heart is happy when I’m eating a tortilla. I know that if she’s eating some chicken or sandwich she’s going to have her Kinders there for dipping.
What’s more is that it’s a simple way to show each other love. To share the things we love with each other is a simple way of loving each other. We often joke that Roomsmate will know when I’ve met my future husband when I allow him to have a juice box. Cause she’s not even allowed to have one.
So what are your favorite things? Do you know your roommates/friends/spouses? and how do you share (or don’t share) them?
close your eyes and see
Part of my goal this semester is to challenge myself outside of class through reading and devotional activities in order to not allow my faith to just be something I talk about in class, since there is a lot of that going on in Seminary, especially with me. So at the beginning of the semester I said that i was going to read books that challenged me and that weren’t assigned by my professor. I didn’t really start until Spring Break, and I did so on a whim…
The Monday of Spring Break I was at one of my babysitting jobs and sort of bored while the baby was sleeping and since it was Spring Break and I was leaving for Vegas later that night – I had brought no homework. So I picked up a book that looked intriguing and started reading it, knowing nothing about the author or the book. It’s called Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace and Learning the Hard Way by Shauna Niequist. That day I read the first third of the book. The following Monday I read another third and tomorrow I’m looking forward to finish it. The only reason I didn’t finish it last Monday was that I had hit an intense chapter which had made me do an internal “whoa” and therefore needed to stop and process for a bit.
The author is extremely honest and raw in this book. She talks about her feelings and her relationships in a way that’s deeply real. In her words I found a lot of myself, a lot of where I’ve been in these last few months. Learning about grace and change the hard way. I feel a strange connectedness to her, even though I’ve never met her and we live very different lives. Still, her words touch my heart and make me look at myself in a different way. It’s really intriguing.
I read a chapter called “Twenty-five” in which the author reflects on being twenty-five-ish. She speaks in a way that’s encouraging about what it’s like to be in this age range. It’s a time of life full of possibilities and yet it’s still oddly routine. People my age live in a couple of different ways, some live in the mundane of everyday life, waiting for their lives to being. They may be working a crappy job, still in school or whatever, they feel as though they are marking time until they get to whatever their life purpose is. And others live into the adventure of life, they try new things, they live life loud and without hesitation.
Being in Seminary this year I find myself falling into that first category and it’s terribly saddening. I didn’t used to be like this, how has life gotten so boring? I miss the excitement of being passionate and enjoying life. This chapter made me pause and take a hard look at myself, my faith, my relationships and where my life is going. While I realized I’m not living like I would like to, I also realized there is time to change that and to reignite that fire in my heart.
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At the airport before taking off to Vegas I picked up the book, The Year of Living Biblically: One Man’s Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs. I feel as though I’m late in joining the Christian bandwagon of those who have read this book, although in my conversations here I realize a lot of people haven’t. So I may be late on the Christian bandwagon and early on the Pastor-wannabes wagon…
Anyways, the basic premise of this book is that this guy who was formerly agnostic takes the challenge of trying to live the biblical laws literally for a year, and he documents it in this memoir. I picked it up as a light read for being poolside in Vegas and have since realized, it is not a light read. At times it’s super funny and just light-hearted, at other times it challenges my thinking on my faith and at the same time, fascinates me to see how others may view this faith of mine.
Throughout the course of the book he meets with various pastors, rabbis and extremists in the faith to discuss the laws. It’s been a crazy read to hear stories of the various things people believe and to wonder where and how this faith tradition has changed so drastically. It’s also very interesting to hear his point of view as someone learning about these things for the first time as an adult. We often read bible stories from the old testament and think, “Yeah, I learned about this in Sunday school” and just accept the weirdness, but this author reads it from the adult perspective of “I’m sorry, what??”
In a lot of ways it is making me think more and more about evangelism and how to approach biblical conversations with those who have grown up outside of the church. It’s a really interesting perspective, and I’m glad I picked it up. And I’m only about a third of the way into his year!!
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So here’s where I’m at…. I’m fighting to rediscover my passion for life and the things God has for me. I’m hoping that a few things coming up will help to aid in that as well as a few changes I’ve made in my everyday life. I’m hoping that in this season I can dig in deeper and try to really connect with God and my identity in him. I’ll keep ya updated on how it’s going.
Don't you wanna be the last one standing out?
Almost a year ago I had a phone conversation with one of my good friends in Kansas City. I remember that it was shortly after deciding to pursue Seminary full-time and the desires that I had to work within the Church were becoming more strong. I am pretty sure that I spent most of the time in that conversation venting about our generation’s lack of concern for the Church…or something along those lines. After we hung up, she got on her blog and spun some words together about our conversation and posted them for all to read. I remember the next day reading them and while I knew they were about me not being able to believe that she actually thought those things about me.
She spoke in musical metaphors and about how I don’t run from dissonance. Instead I ask the question of “how can I make this better?” It’s an interesting concept that I’m not sure I see in myself. I struggle with if I should even post this here because I’m afraid that it will sound vain or self-glorifying. But it’s something that I’ve been processing lately so bare with me.
I think often times I have a bit of a critical eye. Not that I’m a cynical person necessarily, but that I look at the world through this lens that strives for something better. I think I’ve had it all my life and I’m just now learning how to hone it, or more-so, how to use it for good. At the end of last semester our small group had the chance to affirm each other and we took the time to speak a word into each other’s lives. It was a beautiful, Spirit filled time of affirmation, and one of my fellow seminarians used the words “fight and grit” to describe me. He told me I was someone who didn’t run from the grit of life and would stick around to fight it.
Now, something you should know about our small group is that we weekly get together to share what is going on in our lives and then we take time to share with each other a word that we feel has been given to us by the Spirit for each other. Our group is fabulous. Other classmates don’t feel the same way about their groups but miraculously, our group is just really good and entering into this time together. Of the times we’ve met together I would say about 90% of the things shared with me – from my classmates from the Spirit – have been either dead on in the moment or have come around full circle in the coming days. So when Ed shared “fight and grit” with me … I was intrigued to see how that would play out.
Getting to the point now … being in Seminary has really made me question my call and my identity. I’ve had a lot of moments where I’ve stumbled and thought to myself, “I don’t want to be this person” but the problem is in identifying the person I do want to be – or more so the person that God has created me to be. Being here has made me realize that this “critical eye” (I’m struggling through a better way to name this) is something worth investing some effort in and realizing that maybe, just maybe, it’s something God had given me for Kingdom work, but only if I learn to use it right. To use it to point out injustices or places where we need to grow.
Which leads me to this blogs title, it’s from a song by the Damnwells that says:
Don’t you wanna be last one standing out?
Don’t you wanna be filling up the dark?
So just sing it loud, once you think you’ve figured out …
In a world where everyone is striving to be the same and not “rock the boat” …. Don’t you wanna be the last one standing out?
why should I gain from his reward?
One of my classes this semester is an online class called Evangelism and Discipleship. So far, I’m really enjoying it. I am finding myself challenged by the various thoughts on what Evangelism look like and how the best way is to communicate this Gospel to which I’ve given my life.
So this week’s topic is “What is the Gospel?” We had some readings to do and then a challenge of writing an essay that explains what the Gospel is in 55 words or less. It’s off this movement called 55-word fiction. This movement sort of intrigues me, as does the thought of trying to sum up the Gospel in 55 words. It seems unbelievably challenging.
I’ve tried already a couple of times and each time it comes out so formulaic. It seems so dry and impersonal. Like I’m giving the Sunday School answer of “We were created to be in community with God but then sin entered the world and we were separated from God. Then Jesus came and died for us so we could be reunited with God.” … the end, amen.
I look at my words on the screen and think, gross. So impersonal and so blah. I can almost see that cheesy diagram they pass out in tracts and draw on the board to help you understand why it is Jesus died for us. Ya know, with the two cliffs and the cross that we can walk across to get to God… yeah, that one.
But that is so not my style. Not that I don’t think those tools are helpful and have brought thousands of people to Christ. I just can’t help but feel there needs to be more.
I want to display the scandal that is the act of the cross. The fact that Jesus walked on earth as an equal to God and yet he didn’t claim that as something to place him above others. He humbled himself to the point of the most humiliating death known at that time and allowed himself to be killed by the hands of the people he was sent to save. The love and grace that takes is literally unthinkable. We cannot imagine it. We do not have the capacity as fallen creatures to understand what that feels like.
But we are called to respond. We are called to love out of that grace and love. To worship the God that stood by and watched his son die on the cross. To try and identify with that in some way, to which we cannot, at least not fully.
The beauty of the Gospel is that it is simple, “Come, all who are weary and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). All we have to do to receive that salvation is to come to him, and yet as a response to that gift we must love him and love others around us.
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Last night I went downtown to attend the worship session for Youth Worker’s Connection. It was, as always, a great night of worship and fellowship. After a great message was delivered on hope we sang the old hymn, “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us.” A hymn that I have always loved for the way that it grabs my heart right out of my chest. But last night was different.
Last night I was sitting there and listened the the verse that said,
“How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns his face away
As wounds which mare the chosen one
Bring many sons to glory”
In that moment I flashed back to sitting in the hospital next to my dad, holding his hand as he struggled to breathe. I remember the gut-wrenching pain that filled me and the amount of hatred I had for this disease that was killing him. Then I thought about how there are other words in this song that say, “It was my sin that held him there.” And I thought about the way that God must love us an unbelievable amount because he doesn’t hold that against us. Instead he pours blessings over us time and time again.
Keep in mind that I have never loved anyone perfectly and my dad probably the least of all of those. And my dad never loved me perfectly. My dad made his choices and I made mine. As heartbreaking as his death was and still is in my life, it is nothing compared to the blameless death of Christ on the cross. But for a small moment last night I had a slight glimpse into what that could have felt like. And it sucked. It makes me want to love so much more, worship so much better and all in all be better.
so now the question begs itself…. how do I put that into 55 words?
be here now
I gave up making new years resolutions a long time ago. I never really felt like it was a great idea but I know that in elementary and middle school it’s a great ice breaker for teachers to use when you get back from break so I blame them for my feeling like I always needed to have at least two or three. But in my adult life I’ve given up on them and I haven’t looked back on that decision … until recently that is.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t make a resolution this year. But at church on Sunday our pastor challenged us with a new thought. She was talking through identity and introduced this idea of “one word” … she posed the question of “If you had to describe yourself in one word, what would it be? One word that says who you are?” The idea comes from the book Eat, Pray, Love which I read last year and this thought that every city has one word that describes it and that every person has one word that describes them. It can’t be a descriptor of what you DO … example, mine can’t be student or Pastor-in-training. Rather it’s supposed to be a word that describes who you are, not what you do.
Then, she posed the question of what is one word that you want to be about this year. One word, hopefully placed on your heart by God, that you want to have define your actions this year. It was an interesting thing to reflect on. She recognized that these words may take time to come to us, hers had taken a few weeks but that they’ll flush themselves out eventually if we seek them out and pray about it.
As for my words… my doing word for the year came almost instantly, but my being word…that’s coming slower. I have ideas about what it could be but I’m not sure yet I wanna put it out there this early in the stages. Instead I’ll share my doing word ….
After our pastor finished speaking and praying for us, I got the chance to just sort of sit in silence and almost immediately I had my word. It’s something I’ve struggled with for a long time and it’s the idea of being present. I’m a mental wanderer. I suspect that I have slight ADD tendencies but more so I think I just have too many ideas and thoughts running through my head. It is extremely easy to day dream in seminary which causes you to suddenly be at the end of class and wondering where the last hour and twenty minutes have gone.
I also have struggled in my relationships in being fully present at any given moment. It’s not an endearing quality I’m sure, and it is probably quite annoying. It even spills over into my relationship with God at times, I start to pray or spend time with him and my mind just drifts. I’m sure he just sort of rolls his eyes at me while my mind wanders and waits for me to come back to what I was thinking originally.
So this year, or maybe just this semester, I’m going to work hard on being present. Fully present in whatever situation I’m in at any given time. I want to be better at listening, really listening to people. I want to fully be present in class and glean wisdom from my professors and fellow classmates. I want to be fully present in church (which requires actually getting there, which is a sub-goal of mine). I want to be fully present with my roommates. Fully present with Emmett knowing that this year is going fast and next year I won’t be with him as much. I want to not let my mind daydream about situations that are not reality but to dream about things that can become a reality.
I’m not saying that I’m going to cure myself of absentmindedness in a year, but I’m hoping that by trying to tackle it hard I will be better eventually. I also hope to be better at blogging … it’s just so therapeutic to my soul to get my thoughts out there.
and I will find you there and I will mend your heart
This title comes from the song “Mend Your Heart” by William Fitzsimmons. It is one of the songs that I have added to my epicly amazing playlist on Grooveshark that is entitled “paper writing excellence.” (See my facebook status for more info)
So I’m sitting in the library just now and I’m writing a paper on Matthew 6:9-15 which is more commonly known as The Lord’s Prayer. Now this paper has been weeks in the making. We wrote it in three parts, the first was just our interaction with the text. We had to read it and reply with no other books used than our bibles. The second stage was our research stage. We were to use 5 commentaries and do a words study with a theological dictionary. Finally we are on the third stage where we put together our thoughts and the thoughts of the scholars in order to write a comprehensive paper which we will be able to look back on if we ever need to preach on this topic.
So here I sit on the third floor of my beloved library (or cursed library, either way) typing away and sipping coffee when this line of this song slips through my thoughts and screams, “LISTEN TO ME.” So I pause, rewind the song and listen a little more intently to see what the song has for me. The song itself is about a girl and it’s a sad song (shockingly enough, a sad song by William Fitszsimmons – that’s sarcasm by the way, if you are unfamiliar with his library, it’s pretty much all depressingly sad.) The song isn’t necessarily applicable to every day life unless you are in a weird twisted relationship.
But there are a couple of lines in it that I found most intriguing. But mostly this line from the chorus, or should I say this line that IS the chorus. These two meager sentences repeated over and over make up the very simple chorus.
Before I go on to say the significance, let me share one more thing and then we’ll put it together. In my Theology and Film class this week we were talking about happiness and joy and the difference between the two. My professor was talking about the advent season. He pointed out that sometimes we are rejoicing vicariously for other people in our lives that are not in a place to rejoice. And sometimes we are rejoicing out of sheer obedience rather than actually feeling it, and that’s okay.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized that last year I was going through the motions of Christmas, obviously it was a bitter sweet moment of unbearable pain of losing my dad and the joy of the birth of my Savior. I love Christmas, we all know this. But last season I was going through the motions and looking back on it I realized how guilty I felt for doing it so half-heartedly. But that’s okay. It’s okay because in those places of immense pain, God finds us and mends our hearts.
Last weekend was the one year anniversary of losing my dad, and as awful as the weekend was, it gave me the chance to tangibly look at the places where God has entered into my life and begun mending. He has blessed me in ways I never thought possible, he has provided a place for me, far away from home and the familiar to let my guard down and be me. And to be loved for who I am.
The thing is, I know that I never fully asked God to come in and mend my heart, he found me here. He is a faithful God and knew what I needed when all I could do was sit at his feet with no words. No clue what my heart needed and what I needed from him. I did nothing extraordinary, no clear seeking out answers for my pain, I just prayed for God to be real in this place. And he is. He found me, in this place and he began the work in me until I was ready to join in the effort.
un-believable. and yet so real I can’t help but believe.
won't you let me match your stride?
About a week and a half ago I went with my friend to get our nails done. Whenever I go to nail salon’s it’s usually with large groups of girls and almost always in the summer and only for pedicures. However, my friend knew a place with a cheap mani-pedi deal so alas, I found myself getting both a pedicure and a manicure.
Now here’s something you should know about me… I cannot remember the last time I got a manicure. Although I’m pretty sure it was when I lived in New Jersey meaning it was circa 1998. Furthermore I never paint my fingernails…ever. I don’t like the fact that it chips so easily and I think it’s pretty much a waste of time. But she talked me into it and so I went through with it.
I picked out a nice deep purple and sat to be pampered. I got done faster than my friend so I had some time to let my nails dry completely before having to drive us back to campus. This ended up being an extremely good thing considering I realized that I am not used to suddenly not being able to use my fingers fully. The thing with nail polish is that it dries relatively fast but then needs to sit for a while before it’s hardened (I think that’s the right terminology).
I kept hitting my fingers on things and then immediately pulling my hand to my face to survey the damage. My friend was getting pretty sick of me and finally said, “Leesh! You have to learn to be careful for a little while. You can’t fully use your hands yet!”
I suddenly had flash backs to my mom getting her nails done and then making me do things like look for her wallet, her keys, open the car door. Basically to me, my mom getting a manicure was equal to my becoming her servant for an afternoon. I stared down at my nails (one of which I had chipped getting into the car) and realized I was not this girl. I’m not the girl that gets her nails done and then is unable to care for herself all afternoon. I hate having the though, “what if it messed up my nails?”
Now I realize that that’s a hugely over dramatic statement. I know getting one manicure doesn’t make me that girl. But more and more being here, both in seminary and in this stage of life, that I am the girl that gets her hands dirty and can do anything for herself. I do not let myself be cared for. I try so hard to care for others well and I want so badly to help others but when I need to be cared for I just withdraw into myself and push others away.
For the past week and a half I’ve been trying to let people in, I’ve been trying to allow people to see me broken. I’ve been trying to let people care for me, realizing that they are imperfect the way I am imperfect. But being part of a community is allowing people to help you up when you feel like you cannot go on.
And I figured this all out after getting a manicure for the first time in 12 years. I just love the way God shows up in the little places.
oh come all ye faithful
I love Christmas. I love almost everything about it. And for the most part – it’s not about the presents. Although I will say that I love being able to pick out the perfect gifts for those I love the most.
Today I officially rang in the Christmas season in a couple of ways but mostly by my first viewing of Elf for the season. I’m not even really sure what I did before this movie came out to officially feel Christmas-y! But alas, I watched it today with my roommate Cathy, I assembled our Christmas tree which I bought this morning at Target (at 4 a.m.) and we are ready to go!
As always, the ringing in of the season finds me a little conflicted emotionally…a little melancholy and a lot joyful for what the season brings and means to me personally.
This season was hard for me last year, dealing with my dad’s death. I remember writing in my journal how much I hated the fact that I had to celebrate Christmas while being heartbroken. Christmas is a time of family and while traditions have been hard for a few years in my family there was always the hope that some day we would be able to celebrate as a whole family again. That hope ended quite suddenly for us, for me, last year and it was hard.
Last Sunday I was in Church listening to an amazing sermon by a fellow seminarian where he talked about the verses in Acts 20 where Paul is talking about going into Jerusalem even thought he knows not what he will find there. Paul writes the words: “but I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God.” (Acts 20:24 – ESV). Tom likened the verse to race metaphors and talked about how we aren’t finished with the race yet, and how amazingly it is that we have a God that is with us, that sends a Spirit to guide us when we are weary and tired and feel like we cannot go on. That our focus should be on finishing the course – the ministry that God has bestowed upon us.
So I sat there and suddenly realized … I am weary. I am tired. I am hurt. The week before had been extremely hard on me and I sat there last Sunday and began to put my finger on just where I was emotionally. I looked back on where I had been a year ago and realized that a year ago last Sunday I was in the midst of daily visits to the hospital. Waiting to hear news on what was going on with my dad and when he would regain consciousness – if it was going to happen. I sat in Church realizing just how broken I still am – looking forward to the one-year anniversary of losing my dad. And realizing that while I am surrounded by a lot of people that I love and love me, I feel alone in this big city. I realized that I miss my family more this year than in years past and that I was coming up on a holiday season that would be hard, once again.
Enter in Thanksgiving week. A lot of people left town – which doesn’t help the loneliness. And those that did stay around tried to keep me included but I have shrunk back, taking time to myself to figure out what the next week and a half is going to look like for me. I have a few choices – do I completely shut myself off from those around me and have a “dark day” ala Luke from Gilmore Girls? or do I attempt to live into this community around me and allow people to see the real me, even if it’s a little broken.
I pray that I would have the strength to fully engage here, to allow others to see the places in me that I don’t like. That I would allow myself to fully feel and experience the emotions that are totally normal and allowed in these circumstances.
Although all these …feelings… can be found just below the surface with me lately, I do also feel a certain kind of warm fuzziness that is Christmas cheer. I do love it oh so much and am hoping it will help me a long in this grieving process.
Mostly I believe in a God that is so much bigger than all this pain and he will see me through this pain and sorrow because He is a good God. He is a God who sent his Son to the earth for us, so that we would have someone who looked like us that we could follow. And for that reason I will celebrate the Christmas season, it is (when done well) a beautiful reminder of an unbelievably gracious God.
California girls, they're unforgetable
This is Roomsmate. She’s my second roommate who has joined the amazingness of the Ladies apartment. With most of my friends I don’t remember the moment we became friends but with Roomsmate, I do. We were at a breakfast on the second day of orientation and I walked up to her and we decided to walk together to Starbucks and her house before our next event. From that moment on, we’ve been friends.
Roomsmate and I have a lot in common. We like a lot of the same things, not all the same things but a lot of the same things. She shares my love for the Gilmore Girls, the Office and Diet Dr Pepper. We both have a heart for youth ministry and we both love to sing anything and everything at the top of our lungs at any given moment of the day.
She’s outgoing, beautiful, thoughtful, caring, super smart and basically makes my life better everyday. She is one of the few people I’ve met at Seminary that I can let my guard down and be real with. Sometimes we don’t even have to talk. She finishes my sentences and enjoys my hilarious jokes.
She is a wonderful woman of God and I am unbelievably blessed to have her as part of my Seminary life and to have her as my newest roommate.
Today is the perfect example of our friendship and our interactions together. Roomsmate moved in about two and a half weeks ago and continuously commented on how we didn’t have any seating in our front room as well as the fact that we have a TV and everything to hook it up but it hasn’t been hooked up at all. So today we come home from church and Roomsmate decides to be in project mode. She took me down to the basement storage area and we picked out two love seats and then she went to one of the guys’ apartments and requested their assistance. Within 2 hours we had two love seats vaccuumed and fabreezed, our TV hooked up to basic cable and we were reclining watching football. It was glorious.
Maybe one of the funniest parts though was the fact that I had been putting off hooking up our TV because I kept saying I didn’t really watch much TV and Roomsmate’s the one who wanted it so badly. Then Roomsmate goes through all the trouble to hook it up and we end up watching football – which Hilary does not enjoy but I do.
She’s a good roommate and an even better friend. I like her … a lot.
So there ya have it, you’ve now met both my roommates here in Seminary. More to come about both of them I am sure.