Another semester, another bike accident

For someone who's never gotten a ticket for speeding, never had a car accident, and always wears a seatbelt, you would think that my bike safety record would be superb as well.

Well, think again.

Some of you might remember the flying-over-the-handlebars incident last semester when I made the mistake of applying my front-wheel brakes while going 25 mph down a steep hill.

Yesterday, I had another accident, and while I escaped the massive bruising of the first incident, this one was a little more dramatic in the blood department.

I was riding home from work and I decided to call Allison for her birthday and leave her a message. (Read: only one hand on the handlebars.) I was done with the message, listening to the sending options, when I hit the clear plastic bottle in the middle of the sidewalk. I remember the feeling of helplessness as my front tire wobbled out of control, and then the telephone pole was looming, my shoulder aiming right for its nail-studded side.

A jogger who happened by and saw the whole thing helped me up and hit my bike seat back into straitness. I didn't realize until he had already run on that my bike chain had slipped off the sprockets and hung useless around the pedals, but I called my roommate's fiance and they both came and helped me home. God is good!

I went to the doctor's today because there was some doubt as to whether I was current on my tetanus shots, but it turns out that those things last 10 years, so I'm ok for a while. That's my adventure!

Application essay

I just submitted my transfer application essay to Texas A&M University! (Finally!) I just thought I'd share the essay here on my blog, especially since I haven't had time to write much on here lately.

Essay A:
Though I now use various college emails for school, my primary email is the same one I have had since I was eleven: lives2read@ hotmail.com People always laugh, and I find myself laughing too, slightly self-conscious of such an extravagant declaration, even if it is just my email.

Exaggerated though it may be, I have always been enamored with books. As a skinny ten-year-old, I often escaped to the backyard where I stuffed them under my shirt. Hands free, I would climb the tree in our backyard and read for hours. Looking back, I think that homeschooling spoiled me; no child in the public school system has the luxury of free afternoons in which to lose himself in books! When I had finished my assignments and chores, I dreamed and read and wrote and played to my heart's content.

Once I left home and started high school, I began to realize that this affection for books was really only a surface symptom of a deeper love-affair with language itself. Language was so much larger than the limitations of the library. There was the spoken word, the acted word, the sung word, even the Spanish word! My high school was too small for eleven-man football, let alone a debate team, but the teachers more than compensated for the lack by hosting lively debates in class. I loved the satisfaction of presenting an argument well, of seeing understanding dawn on my listener's face. Even more satisfying was the whole-body communication achieved on the stage as I poured another persona into my voice inflections and gestures, making the audience believe. I began to see that it was not just language that I loved; I was captivated by communication.

Though I loved all of communication's various faces, I discovered my favorite in the brown-walled room where Señora Armenta taught Spanish. Somehow, by simply learning to form the sounds of another culture, that culture was no longer closed to me. We drove as a class down to an orphanage in Juarez, Mexico, for our spring break, and as I stumbled through the vocabulary to say simple things, I was rewarded with some of the sweetest smiles and hugs I have ever received.

That trip to Juarez was not my first contact with other cultures, nor was it the last. During high school there were other times in Juarez, in Mexico's interior, and in other border towns. After graduation, I traveled to a small country in Eastern Europe where I lived and served with a team of international missionaries for six months. Since my return, my friends have included Belorussians, Turks, Iranians, Russians, and Bengals. Their cultures and stories fascinate me, and because of my own experiences abroad, I can empathize with their struggles to insert themselves into our strange American culture.

I love books, I love communication, and I especially love cross-cultural communication. But I realize that all the love, talent, or training in the world is in the end just moving air and pen-scratchings if you have nothing to say. All the written and spoken words I would ever produce would just be me in love with the sound of my own voice except for one thing: the fact that Jesus Christ has completely changed my life.

I am applying for a degree in International Studies with an emphasis in both communication and media in the hopes that I can learn to better communicate the Good News of God's sacrifice and forgiveness that has transformed me. I believe that the strong academic reputation of Texas A&M University will open doors for me after graduation and give me a strong foundation upon which to continue to grow as an effective communicator. I have already grown much: I no longer live to read; I live for Christ.

Blueness

I had always heard about the crazy things that college students would do for free food. Now I guess I've become one of those crazy students!

Last week, the EnFuego homegroup dressed all in blue and gathered at Jordan's house to slather ourselves with blue tempra paint, all for the free food offered at Blue Baker for such outward displays of fanatacism. Faces, arms, legs, hair--everything was blue! We had a great time laughing at ourselves and singing the Smurf theme song as we gave each other the finishing touches in those hard-to-reach spots like the backs of our necks and the corners around our noses.In conclusion, the food was great, the memories are even better, but I still don't know what to do about my shower. :/

Last week I found a whole bag of pretty paper scraps at the craft store, took them home, and started making valentines. I can't remember when my sisters and I first started the tradition, but for years now it's been our February habit to cluster around a table cluttered with red and pink scraps of paper and ribbon and make love notes for all our family and friends.

Two Valentines Days ago, when I was in Moldova, my European friends were so confused by the mass of cards I was producing. Does Cherise have that many boyfriends? No--none! But who decreed that the Day of Love should be monopolized by couples?

One of my friends, a girl from Bangladesh, was explaining to me why she doesn't celebrate Valentines Day. "Love should not be just for one day--people you love should always know you love them." I heartily agree! But sadly, I'm not always the best at telling the special people in my life just how special they are to me. My life becomes ingrown sometimes, an unhealthy infatuation with the details of my day and the dictations of my day-planner. Appreciation requires pause. For me, Valentines Day is like an enforced pause, a moment consecrated, set aside for telling people I love you. I am so thankful that you are in my life.

Days set aside for remembrance were God's idea from the first, starting with the Sabbath, and continuing with all the Jewish holy feasts. They were like the stones set up by the Jordan; when their children would ask later, "Daddy, what does this feast mean?" or "why is there a pile of rocks here?", the things God had done would be retold, remembered, and bring praise to God. Even though Valentine's day might have some pagan roots, for me, the day is like a stone of remembrance, reminding me to pause and thank God for the love with which He's surrounded me.

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! --1 John 3:1

sister Christmas picture

The Princess who Didn't Know She Was a Princes

Today, I got to be a little girl again and live a little girl dream: to be a princess.

My sister and I have been wanting to throw a tea party for the three girls down the street for months now, ever since we first cleaned their house this summer. It was never harder to force myself to concentrate on cleaning--all I wanted that day was to lay down my sponge and bleach and play with them!

Today, we finally got to play. :)

They came all dressed up in pretty dresses, but they were soon embellished further with scarves from the closet, Sharon's necklaces, and crowns that they decorated with sequins and fluffy gold string. (Was there ever a more girly affair?)

Then we sat down to tea, lemon tarts, peanut brittle, heart-shaped pb&j sandwiches, and frozen grape pops. The frozen grapes were a smash hit--mainly, I think, because of their potential for creative construction projects.


Then they wanted a story.

"Have you ever heard of the princess who didn't know she was a princess?" I asked.

They hadn't.

"This princess," I began, "never smiled. No one had ever told her she was special. They told her she was ugly. She didn't live in a castle. She had the grossest job ever. What is the grossest job you can think of?"

They thought for a minute. "Ohh! It's the people who have to dig through trash to find people's brooches!" Paige offered.

"Yeah, that's gross," I said, "but her job was even worse. She had to clean up after pigs and feed them."

"Even their poop?" asked one of the twins.

"Yep." I could hardly keep from laughing.

Then I told them how the King knew she was a princess all along and wanted her to come live with him in the castle.
"One day" I began, "he said to his son, the prince, 'Go tell her that I want her to be my little girl and live with me. Tell her that I love her. ' So the prince went down from the castle to see her.

"The girl saw him at the fence and scowled. 'What do you want?' she asked the prince. 'I came to tell you that the King, my father, loves you and wants you to come live with him.' 'Huh,' she huffed, turning her face away. 'I don't believe you. Now get outta here!'

"He left, but the next day he was back, holding a flower. 'Here; smell this,' he said, holding it up to her nose. She sniffed, but her face turned sour. 'Ugh!' she said. 'It smells terrible!' 'No, it doesn't,' said the prince, very surprised. 'It's a rose!' 'I don't care if you call it a nose!' she said. 'It smells awful.' She sniffed the nearest dirty pig and smiled. 'Now THAT smells good!' she said. The prince just shook his head. 'You don't know you're a princess,' he said sadly.

"The next day he came back, but in his hands was a shiny violin. He started to play a beautiful song--something like what's playing on the CD", I said, nodding in the direction of the music coming from the kitchen. "But the girl just covered her ears and screeched, 'Stop it! Stop it! What a horrible noise!' The prince stopped. 'Well,' he said slowly, 'what sounds good to you?' In answer, she squealed in the perfect imitation of the pigs around her and ended with a great big snort."

"Like this?" asked Claire, and she snorted from the bottom of her toes.

"Exactly like that," I said.

"The next day, the girl was expecting him. When the prince came, his hands were empty, but he smiled and reached into his pocket. 'Here; taste this!' he said. 'It's a cookie!' She took a bite, but then she spit it out. 'Ptooooy! Yuck! What are you trying to do, poison me?' The prince's eyes became shiny with tears. 'You have lived with the pigs so long that you don't know what smells good,' he said. 'You don't know what sounds good. You don't know what tastes good. And you don't know that you're a princess!'

"The girl's face got red and hot and she turned away from the prince.

"The man who owned the pigs lived at the top of the hill. He was cruel to the girl and he carried a big whip. After the prince left, he stomped down the hill in his big boots. 'Don't listen to that stupid prince,' he growled. 'He wants to give you bad smells, hurt your ears, and poison you with cookies, but I'm going to send you where you won't ever have to listen to him again.' The girl looked up, very surprised. 'I'm going to give you a beating, and sell you tomorrow to the pig owner in the next town!' he said.

The girl started to cry. The pig-owner looked so angry and his whip was curling threateningly at his feet. The pig-owner in the next town was a big man with an even bigger whip and a big, cruel face. She knew that he would beat her every day and she had heard that he didn't ever feed his workers. Her scalp prickled with fear and her hands shook as she scooped the pig's food with the bucket. Then another thought stopped her. How would the prince ever find her? He was strange, but she had begun to like his visits. Now she would be all alone.

Her eyes were red and puffy and tears were still leaking out when the prince came the next day. 'What's wrong?' he asked. She wiped a dirty hand across her nose, smearing her tears in a muddy line. 'The pig-owner is gonna beat me with his whip and then sell me to the mean pig-owner in the next town', she croaked. The prince's face got very soft, as if he was going to cry himself. Then he looked up the hill at the house, and his jaw grew solid with anger. 'Don't cry,' he told the girl. 'I'm going to do something.' He walked up the hill and disappeared into the house.

"The sun climbed to the top of the sky and then started to sink again. Still the prince didn't come back. He was gone for so long, that she began to wonder if something terrible had happened.

"Just then, the prince came out! But now he didn't look like a prince. His clothes were dirty and old, his lip and eye were bleeding, and his hands were tied behind his back. The pig-owner was holding the other end of the rope. As they walked past the pig-pen, he shoved the pen's door open. 'Get outta here,' he snarled at her. 'I'm selling him instead, and I can't be paying for your upkeep anymore.' The prince looked at her and smiled a little smile with his swollen lip. 'Go live with the King!' he said.

"She watched them disappear down the hill, and then she stared at the open door. She finally walked through, and stood there, feeling strange. Where could she go? She couldn't go to the castle. Why would anyone want someone as ugly as her? She turned into the woods and walked until it was too dark to see. She sat down on a rock and started to cry. She was hungry, she was scared, and she missed her pigs. She also missed the prince. He was kind to her, even if he was strange. Why would he let the pig-owner tie him up and sell him instead of her?

"Just then, she heard someone laugh. The voice sounded familiar, and she looked up. There was the prince! The rope was gone, his lip wasn't swollen anymore, and he was wearing clean, princely clothes again. He was smiling at her.

"'How did you--why--?' she stuttered. He laughed again and took her dirty hand.

'Don't you know that the King is much stronger than the pig-owners? They couldn't keep me locked up.' He held her other hand. 'Come with me to the castle and be a princess. The King loves you.'

"She pulled her hands away. 'But I'm dirty,' she said.

'He loves you anyway,' said the prince.

Her eyes filled with tears. 'I stink like pigs', she said.

'He wants you to be his princess,' said the prince.

The tears spilled down and she started to sob. 'I'm ugly', she cried.

The prince pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. 'To my father,' he said, 'you're already beautiful.'

They walked together to the castle. The King met them at the door. He was tall and strong, and the girl was a little bit afraid, but then he smiled and her fear flew away. When he wrapped his strong arms around her, she forgot that she was dirty and ugly. 'I'm so glad you're home, my princess,' he whispered into her hair.

"Did she marry the King?" asked Emily. "No, silly, she married the prince," said Paige. I hadn't thought that far in the story yet. "Um...yeah, she married the prince," I said.

Then I had a flash of inspiration. "It took her a long time to learn how to be a princess," I said, "even though she already was one. She had to learn what smelled good, what tasted good, and what made beautiful music. She had always lived with pigs, so living with the King was strange at first, but the longer she lived with him, the more beautiful she became. When she married the prince, they would go together into the countryside, looking for more little girls like her, who took care of pigs. When they would found them, they would tell them that the King loved them and they brought many of them to the castle to be princesses."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't think they totally got the analogy I was going for, but that's ok; their attention spans are about as long as...a really short thing.

A Backward Glance...

The whole time I was driving the 190 miles from college to Dallas, scraps of the song I'll be home for Christmas kept floating through my thoughts. I LOVE being home with my wonderful, huggable family for this vacation!

I can't help but remember last year. Christmas of 2007 was a painful time, full of emotional upheaval, sobbing to God in the freezing garage because a friend was leaving on bad terms, I was achingly lonely, and Dad was emptying his dresser into a suitcase, leaving our family for an indeterminate time. He and Mom needed a break from each other.

The Christmas before that, I was in the tiny country of Moldova on the opposite side of the world, experiencing the familiar joy of Jesus' birthday through the jarringly unfamiliar customs of another culture.

When I think of what my amazing God has done in my family, in my circumstances, in my heart since then, I think I could just dance forever! How amazing is the love and care of God, that he carries us, not OVER our problems, but THROUGH them, intimately with us, our Emmanuel. My parents are back together, my friend recently called me to renew the relationship, and I have been surrounded this year with some of the most uplifting friendships I've ever had...and in the journey to this point I have learned to trust in ways that I never dreamed.

2008 in five pictures

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Cycling around town and Sharon's newsletter

I love bicycles. I love the way they speed your progress down the street without isolating you from the smell of trees and the smiles of other pedestrians and bicycle-riders, and I love the clicking of the chains when you change gears and feel a sudden tension on the pedals.

Today Allison let me borrow her bike to do all the errands that I'd been putting off until exams were safely behind me. I went to the local library to get a library card since the college library will be closed for the break (and what vacation is complete without lots of books??), but the cute young lady behind the counter wouldn't let me get one without proof of my address. Thing is, I don't get mail too terribly often, so I guess i have to wait until someone sends me a letter before I can get my library card? I'll have to figure something out.

After that, I rode to Hastings and bought a DVD that my government prof showed us in class, entitled Lions for Lambs. Its cast includes Robert Redford, Meryl Streep, and Tom Cruise, and it is one of those movies that you want to watch second or third times just so you can adequately absorb the heady dialog. I love movies that make me think, and this one made me think a lot, even if presents a pretty liberal spin on our country's War on Terror. It makes you examine the ways that the media, the politicians, and the average person have contributed to the current situation, even if it doesn't present any answers. Anywhoo, good movie, and you should see it!

I went grocery shopping too, and while I was in the store, I ran into a girl I've met through a group of my roommate's friends. I called her Bethany, and I think that's right, but I was so afraid that I'd gotten her name wrong and that she'd just ignored my mistake to be polite! I wish I had Bill Clinton's reputed ability for names...it would be so helpful here in College Station where you meet dozens of people every week and everyone is so friendly.

When I got home, I actually did have mail! It was from Sharon (my wonderful sister), who is going to Laos for six months this coming year. The letter was beautifully written, describing the desire God has put in her heart to serve him overseas, and detailing her plans to leave and her need for support. I am so super excited for her! She'll be going under the same organization with which I served after high school, but I am sure that her experience in Eastern Asia will be very different from the one I had in Eastern Europe.

There are some common factors no matter where you go for missions. God streaches and increases your faith, your patience, and your compassion for people, you feel lonely and isolated without family (and sometimes without a common language to talk with those around you), you come to the end of your own strength and you learn to rely on God's. You get changed in huge ways.

Hey, you should all check out her blog! it's : sharonbeekmanlaos.blogspot.com and I'm a follower of it, so you could find it under the list of blogs I follow if you don't feel like typing it in. :) Please pray for her heart as she prepares to go, and for the things she'll be doing while she's over there, that God will move powerfully!

My tender, loving Father

I drove to church yesterday feeling very convicted about how I've been spending my time. God has been showing me a lot of junk in my heart lately: pride, laziness, not believing him, loving stuff in this world, ect, and it was kind of discouraging. At the same time, I could feel his Spirit humbling me, and just the thought that He cared enough to discipline me made me feel His tenderness and love. :)

I went early to meet and pray with a friend, and as we were confessing to each other, all that God had been showing me came out in sharp focus. But it felt lighter, especially as we prayed for each other and gave our junk to God.

As we went in to worship, I could feel myself withdrawing a little from His Grace, as if I still felt dirty from the things in my heart that He'd shown me. I am so mollasses-slow sometimes to just RECEIVE the grace of my Father!

But God spoke directly to those feelings of inadequacy. In my church, we have a microphone set up in the back of the room where anyone who wants to pray aloud or share something that God impresses on their hearts can do so in the pauses between songs. Several people got up and praised him, and then a girl began to pray in a language I couldn't understand. It took a moment to see that it wasn't Spanish or some other language and to realize that she had been speaking in tongues.

In the three months I've been going to this church, no one has spoken in tongues during the service, though I knew people who did privately. Aside from my time overseas, I had never seen tongues spoken in a Biblical way, with interpretation and with a humble attitude. I stood there, wondering how the pastors would handle it.

There was a pause after she had finished, and then the worship leader said, "A tongue has been spoken. Does anyone have the interpretation?" God, I prayed, please give someone an interpretation. Another pause. Then a young man said , "God wants you to know that you are precious to him, that He delights in his children, and that He is listening."

What a tender message from God! Praise to God that he cared enough to remind us of his intimate delight in us, no matter what junk is in our hearts! While we were sinners, Christ died for us.

Goodbye Biology, goodbye Annie

God has been so good today, giving me energy and peace. I had always thought those two commodities were nonexistent during finals week! :)

In exactly 10 hours, I'll be DONE with science forever and ever. Not sure whether to dance or cry at that fact. I love science for it's ability to put me in a state of awe and amazement, but this semester of Biology II has been grueling.

But as my wonderful Turkish friend, Tugba, often reminds me, if it weren't for this class, we never would have met! And what a blessing she has been to me this fall. Her friendship, like this class, is bittersweet, because with all my heart I want her to know Jesus like I do, but she is the most devout Muslim I have ever met. She sees no need for a Savior, since the Qu'ran stresses the importance of good works for entrance into heaven.

I just came from Annie's room, which now looks like a tornado went through it. Tonight is her last night in College Station before she leaves us for eight months! Allison and I kept looking at each other with woebegone faces as the packing went on. No amount of ponchos, Kosher suckers, and other random things from her room can replace her when she leaves. Annie, we love you!

First blog

I really should be studying for my Biology final, but instead I'm sitting here in the living room with my peppermint tea, looking at the paper chains and snowflakes that we've hung all over the room. I can hardly wrap my mind around the fact that my first semester in College Station is winding to a close. Even harder to grasp is the reality that our wonderful roommate, Annie, will be leaving on Friday, not to return to Texas until next August! This apartment will feel strange next semester without her joyous laugh and infectious energy, but I know she'll have a wonderful time studying abroad in Costa Rica!

I don't think I would even be on my poor, neglected blog right now had I not just helped her establish her own blog. "It's so easy, Annie! And way less threatening than sitting down to write a whole ginormous email. You just put up a picture, or say 'hey! this is what happened today!' "

Ha ha...I'm such a hypocrite. If it's so easy, why is this my first blog entry...? Actually, it is kinda fun. :) We'll see if I write tomorrow.