Caffeine...

IN HONOR OF the fact that I've had about four diet cokes in the past two hours (working on my Old Testament Survey course for my minister's license -- what a BEAST of a class)... and because I needed a mental break, visit my friend Strongbad to learn about the effects of caffeine. Also, for good measure, you should visit Li'l Brudder (I can make it on my own!).

Look what I found... my carpet!

This is my little world... a lot cleaner than usual. Photo serves as proof that it was at one point actually fairly tidy... it won't stay this way for long! (Oh, and no one's allowed to see my walk-in closet...) Carly & Amy, it's as if you've had the royal tour...

Curse you, Ben & Jerry's!

It seems I have a new enemy.

Seeing as how I can't conceivably blame myself, I shall blame Ben & Jerry's. How do they sleep at night?

Last night, I discovered "Brownie Batter Ice Cream." Absolute heaven, now available at your local Albertsons (on sale, in fact).

In fact, I discovered it all the way down to the bottom of it's cute pint-size tub. Seemed innocent enough, right? Just a cute little guy... Not a huge container like the regular ice cream. It's the size of a blizzard.

Turns out there's not too many things better in ice cream than brownie batter. You've got to try it - but beware the addiction. It's like the crack of ice cream.

Crack with (18 grams x 4 servings =) 72 grams of fat per carton. Atkins would turn over in his grave.

It's kind of pointless when you look at the label after you've partaken... I'd rather live in blissful fatty ignorance. (72 grams... Goodness. I'd have to run for a year to burn that off. So I'll probably just not run at all and call it good.)

Off to coffee with Abby... coffee with chocolate in it... sigh.

[consider yourself warned]

CURRENTLY PLAYING: Harry Connick, Jr. - Red light, Blue light. In honor of the concert that I'm missing. I love you Harry! Only you... and Hanson. Mmmmm bop...

So after my depresso post yesterday (my apologies), I was hoping something laughter inspiring (at least to me) and slightly on the ridiculous side would happen. And lo and behold (that is SO fun to say), Kevin provided the inspiration. Or, rather, his deodorant inspired me. (Kevo's such a good sport, by the way... and a featured star on several blogs...)

So it turns out that when the fine folks at Old Spice say "New Scent", what they mean is "this stuff burns your pits like fire" or "this stuff makes grown men cry..."

Poor Kev. Endured the torture and agony of burny pits ALL DAY, til he could buy a new pit-friendly product (PFP).

Running this morning... (not at noon... props to you)... burny pits. At the job interview (painful and sickening in and of itself)... burny and slightly itchy pits. During his shift at work... screaming ninja ouchy ouchy burny pits.

Poor O'Rich.

I know I should be sympathetic, but the more random the ailment, the funnier the suffering becomes. "OH, my pancreas." "He got kicked in the spleen." etc. You know you should be like, "Aw, I'm sorry," but even if you're not laughing on the outside, you're definitely laughing on the inside.

Kevin says that it's virtually impossible to subtly scratch your itchy pits at work, especially as you're checking people's groceries. He found that it tends to freak people out, actually. I can't imagine why. Maybe they quit complaining about self-check out so much. One can hope.

No worries, though, friends. Kevin is now at the movies with J&J enjoying the freedom of his PFP, his ordeal with IBPS ("Itchy Burny Pit Syndrome" for the lay person) a distant, albeit painful, memory. He is, however, considering starting a support group.

Take a lesson from O'Rich. Avoid Old Spice Red Zone Aqua Reef like the plague that it is. And quit taking your non-itchy-pits for granted.

Pits, wow... And my writing has reached a new low...

OK I'm off to watch a movie... Laters.

JULIE & STEPH, I WANT TO GO CAMPING WITH YOU CRAZY CATS!

One of those days...

***DISCLAIMER*** I had a fairly rotten day and am attempting to make sense of it, so if you're looking for a laugh, try tomorrow's post. I should be fine by then. :)

"Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself?" Quite the question, voiced by Tom Hanks in You've Got Mail... one of my favorite movies.

I feel that way pretty rarely, but there are certainly times where I look at the current version of myself and think, "That's the best we can do?" I get frustrated, but find it hard to change, at least for any consistent length of time. Mediocrity, it seems, is a specialty of mine.

My day began with waking up in a panic at 8.45 a.m., when work started at nine. Let's just say it all went downhill from there (and my schedule went increasingly haywire from there). I haven't cried much recently, but I cried four times today. Lack of sleep=emotional mess. Lack of preparation=literal mess. It was a rough day, the hardest part about it being that it was a rough day completely of my own making. If I would just get organized... plan a bit better... build some healthy habits... I'd save a lot of energy that's spent running around (wait for it...) like a chicken with its head cut off. More effort on the front end = less wasted time and less work needed on the tail end. It looks lovely on paper, but the truth is, I haven't found a way to make it translate into every day life. And I stay the same, which is so frustrating.

Maybe the real question isn't "Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself..." It's this question: "Are you ever afraid that this is the best self you're ever going to be?"

I do what I don't want to do, but I don't do what I do want to do... Paul wrote this or something very like it... He understood. His "thorn in his flesh" drove him nuts, and he pleaded with God to remove it, but He didn't. Who knows what his thorn was? I have no idea, but evidently it bothered him quite a bit.

My thorns are: procrastination; lack of confidence; disorganized-ness; at times, settling for what-I-can-get-by-with rather than excellence ... and man, did I feel like they were on display in big huge bold red letters today. I was uncomfortable enough to actually want to change some things. I'm going to look at these in more detail in private (you don't want to read it, I don't want to type it, and besides, I'm working on brevity in my little posts), but one thing I will say that gives me a bit of peace...

God's not finished with me yet... this thing's a journey. And I haven't given up yet. Frustrated, yes. Disappointed with some of my dumber tendencies, yes. Resigned to my fate as a total flake? Not quite. (Plus, I'm still stubbornly convinced that God threw some good stuff in there too when he was adding ingredients, so it's not ALL uphill).

I've got to get some rest before I set myself up for Day From you-know-where, Part II, but I'll leave with this thought:

Thank God we're not what we used to be -
Thank God this ain't all we're ever gonna be.

For God is at work in you, giving you the desire to obey Him and the power to do what pleases Him. Philippians something:or other.

[watch for buses]

CURRENTLY PLAYING: The Postal Service (Death Cab's little side project)

So I've decided I'm ready to switch seasons. Enough of this unholy heat. This kid is happiest in 70 degree weather. Perfection. Remind me on my twelfth move not to pick a third story apartment. Then again, this winter, my heat bill will be nada, because I'll steal heat from folks that live below. Then we'll see who's clever Dan. Evil laugh.

NOW CURRENTLY PLAYING, 'CAUSE KEV STOLE MY CD: Coldplay - Rush of Blood to the Head

But seriously. I'm ready to buy school supplies (there's a sick desire for eternal studenthood lodged in my little brain). And sweaters. Enough of this summer clothing... summer clothing is for tan-stick-people, not Irish whities... um, who are not stick people.

When I got back from Maui (proud of my summer glow), people said to me, "Stace, did you even go outside while you were there?" shocked at the fact I was, still, a whitie. As if I'd trade in my whitie DNA for golden-tan DNA while on the Island (they hand GT-DNA out as you leave the plane, apparently). The only thing on me that can tan is the top of my feet (and I'm quite proud of my flipflop tan).

I've tried, people! The only thing this girl gets is more freckles. And then more freckles. I suppose if I tried hard enough, I could get all my freckles to connect, and then I'd be sort of a frightening orange-ish mess (and a skin-cancer patient), but that's the best I can do.

But yeah, I love fall. Always feel like I'm starting something new in the fall, even when it's just really the same old thing. And, sick person that I am, I like the cool overcast days and yes, even the rain. (It would really be tough to live anywhere but here - I love Washington).

What's really happening is that I've done all the things I've looked forward to this summer, and am now just sort of bored. Marking time until I have something to look forward to. The only thing I've got coming up is a funeral... sigh. They put Grandpa on morphine yesterday, and so it probably won't be long. Modern medicine has its marvels, but sometimes it just keeps you alive long enough to wish you were dead long time ago. (God, please PLEASE take me before 92... unless I'm for some reason, remarkably healthy, which is doubtful given my Wendy's addiction and distaste for running).

According to www.deathtimer.com, I'll probably only live to be 81. My Projected Date of Death: June 14, 2061. (Morbid, huh?) Some buddies and I checked it out on a computer in the church office, I dunno, several months ago. We were laughing, having a good time. Then one of our late-sixties pastors came and tried it. (Then, suddenly, for some reason, it just wasn't a fun game anymore).

Then again, I guess, for all I know, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow and that would be the end of it. (Or the beginning, depending on your perspective). Or, another construction truck could cut me off on the freeway again & finish the job (I'm not bitter... I'm not). My point being, I'm not guaranteed anything. My belief that if I'm doing something for God, I'll stick around was shattered three years ago when two guys -- awesome guys I knew from my year at a small Bible college -- died suddenly. One, nearing graduation, died of appendicitis. Another, a youth pastor, lost his life in a freak accident a month after he married his college sweetheart.

God doesn't owe me anything. He certainly doesn't owe me more time.

What do I do with the moments already given me? I spend them looking forward to something else, most of the time. I find it hard to be present to the moment, especially when I'm at work, in my office-without-a-window. (Out of random curiousity, I just figured out how much of my life I've spent so far at my desk in my office-without-a-window. Two thousand sixteen hours.) Most of those hours wishing I was someplace else. That's a lot of time to lose.

Which is why, although I need to work at being more present & content at work, I'm not going to stay a lawyer's assistant forever. I work hard to do my job well because I love my boss and because I care about the quality of what I do, but paper-shuffling really isn't that important to me. In fact, to be truthful, it bores the crap out of me. Doesn't tap into my creativity or my core competencies at all -- although I read a quote the other day that challenged me...

"Any activity becomes creative when the doer cares about doing it right or doing it better - John Updike."

You'll be surprised at the juicy little nuggets you get from that decod-a-quote puzzle in the paper (further proof of just how bored I get at work -- and of what a nerd I am. Hey, I heard that developing other parts of your brain can help prevent Alzheimers, so sue me. Plus, they decode stuff on Alias, and everything they do is cool).

I can't even count how many tangents that involved. Paperpushing - creativity - deepquote - nerdy puzzle - defensiveness - Alzheimer's disease - Alias. Whoa.

Anyway, I can't spend thousands of hours a year in a job that I'm not passionate about. At least, not without going stark raving mad. I need to be a good steward of the desires and talents that God has given me. By not stepping out towards those things, I'm cheating God and cheating myself. I realized that during my time up at Western WA University, when I was still trying to avoid pursuing ministry as a full-time occupation. I knew my heart and my plans were headed in two opposite directions, but the desire to finish something kept me stubbornly moving in the same ill-fated direction. Then a car accident stopped me in my tracks. Well, actually, the first car accident didn't. I kept trying, even if it meant attending class on percoset (not altogether a bad thing). However, three months later, the second accident sent me home. Another pursuit left unfinished. Dang. Waste of time and money.

God is so good at redemption, however, and -- despite the lack of faith that had me running scared -- He redeemed this chapter of my story. Long story a tad shorter -- coming home put me in the path of Wes, my youth pastor since I was 17, who said, "Intern with me!" Scared to death, but knowing it was the right move, I said yes to the three-year-internship, with the intent of becoming a worship pastor (love worship ministry, knew I was called to full-time ministry... made sense).

Began the internship in September, then, unexpectedly, January saw a goodbye to my old church as I moved with our new church plant, NewLife. Change of plan. Then, in Maui, I realize, hey, I don't want to be a worship pastor. Not my bag. I'd rather be writing. Bummer...wonder what on earth I'll do now? Change of plan. I get back from my vacation and Wes says, "Hey, keep leading worship, but what we'll probably hire you to do is communication & writing." Cool change of plan, with a dash of confirmation. And a dash of humor... communication is what I was studying in college.

So let me get this straight... Unless the plan changes significantly, I'll be getting paid for something I went to school for and am naturally gifted in (comm/writing), for a church and pastor I love working for, while still pursuing my passion for music & worship (yet not risking killing the passion by having it be my paycheck)... Only God. Only God.

Only thing that's hard is that I have to wait. It may be six months, it may be a year, before I turn that corner and I'm on staff, writing for my living. Obviously, though, God has had it in His hands thus far, and as I seek His will, He will work it out for my good. His timing is always best. The only thing standing in between me and the
dreams I have is TIME. So I'd better learn to be patient.

Then again, that bus could be waiting for me out in the parking lot of my apartment complex. So I'd better make today count. Which reminds me, I promised myself I'd take a walk outside tonight & catch the sunset. Which is promising to be a doozie. Peace.

"For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain..."

[on humility - Thomas Merton]

Humility sets us free to do what is really good, by showing us our illusions and withdrawing our will from what was only an apparent good.
* * *
Lord, you have taught us to love humility, but we have not learned. We have learned to love the outward surface of it -- the humility that makes a person charming and attractive. We sometimes pause to think about these qualities, and we often pretend that we possess them, and that we have gained them by "practicing humility."

If we were really humble, we would know to which extent we are liars!

Teach me to bear a humility which shows me, without ceasing, that I am a liar and a fraud and that, even though this is so, I have an obligation to strive after truth, to be as true as I can, even though I will inevitably find all my truth half poisoned with deceit. This is the terrible thing about humility: that it is never fully successful. If it were only possible to be completely humble on this earth. But no, that is the trouble: You, Lord, were humble. But our humility consists in being proud and knowing all about it, and being crushed by the unbearable weight of it, and to be able to do so little about it.

How stern You are in Your mercy, and yet You must be. Your mercy has to be just because Your Truth has to be True. How stern You are, nevertheless, in Your mercy: for the more we struggle to be true, the more we discover our falsity. Is it merciful of Your light to bring us, inexorably, to despair?

No-- it is not to despair that You bring me but to humility. For true humility is, in a way, a very real despair: despair of myself, in order that I may hope entirely in You.

THOMAS MERTON, Thoughts in Solitude

[On Reading... from TM]

Reading ought to be an act of hommage to the God of all truth. We open our hearts to words that reflect the reality He has created or the greater Reality which He is. It is also an act of humility and reverence towards other men who are the instruments by which God communicated His truth to us.

Christ, the Incarnate Word, is the Book of Life in Whom we read God.

Things I'm grateful for today...

Picked myself up some flowers today!  Gerberas are so cheerful...

(We'll see how long it takes for me to kill 'em)

lunch with Mom at Olive Garden

flip flops

diet coke with lime

the sunshine we have

my fan (discussed earlier)

caramel frappuccinos at Starbucks

relaxing day at work

catching up with old friends

my deck/sanctuary...

c'mon... it just doesn't get more peaceful than that

Tangible Grace - Good Chicken

We had some good church tonight. As a friend of mine would say, "Man, that was some good chicken."

We strive to be a church full of grace and truth, and though we're not perfect, I think we got a big taste of what that looks like tonight. Talked about temptation, and how none of us are exempt. None are perfect. None have reached a place where they've "arrived" and don't have struggles with their old mind and old habits anymore. So let's be real with each other and quit acting... quit pretending. Those things only keep us in bondage.

I was so proud of my pastor for his honesty and his vulnerability. It's not easy, and it's for sure not real common. Some ministers would prefer to keep up the guise of herculean invincibility... I'm so super-spiritual... I can handle this all on my own... I never struggle, I never falter. That approach is by far probably more impressive from a distance, but it doesn't give much hope to those of us still living the lives of mere mortals. I don't know about everyone else in that room, but it helped me to know that someone who God uses phenomenally, still has bad days. Still has to keep himself in check and under accountability. If God uses him even through his humanity, then God can probably find a way to use me, too.

There was a freedom tonight. People were honest about their hangups. Some even had the courage to stand, as if to say, hey, I've got some stuff I need God to deal with me on. And there were people there to stand with them. It was so the way church is supposed to be. No one elevated above another, just all of us there saying, hey, we all need God. We all need grace.

My expectations of God have been far too low, I've realized. When God actually steps in and moves hearts and changes lives, I'm very nearly astonished. Why? God's pretty big and pretty capable. Do I pray like I actually expect God to do something? Or do I just say meaningless words because that's what a good Christian does? Where is my heart? Do I pray like I expect God to do something in me?

There are just some moments where God's grace just seems so big. So tangible. So capable of covering it ALL. The reminder of how much I'm loved by God was so refreshing. It hit me hard. I didn't realize how much I needed it til it came, and the tears flowed a bit. It was just like God whispered to my heart - Stace - I see you. My eyes are on you. And I love you. Quit trying so hard. Just know I already enjoy you. No need to try and impress Me.

It's been a long week with many responsibilities. Adding to some of the heaviness I felt this week - my grandpa is most likely in the final days of his life as I write. I've known this is coming - he's 92 and has had about a million quad-bypasses - but it's bringing up emotions I didn't know I had, for a man who is pretty rough around the edges, always hard to please, and sometimes a bit hard to love. I've often joked that Grandpa is going to die of shock a second time when he gets to heaven and sees all the people God decided to let in. Family is family, though, even when they're stinkers sometimes, and I can't help but feel pain at the fact that he is in so much pain. Plus, it's really the pot calling the kettle black for me to pass judgement on someone else for their judgementalism. God's grace covers all...

Please pray for my grandpa's peaceful passing (he's ready to go and has said so), for my Grandma (sweetest lady in the world) and for my family as we go through this time & figure out how to travel down to Stockton for services.

I've learned that when a God moment happens in your heart, you just let it resound in there for a while. Thanks for letting me share it. May God's grace resound in your heart and life this week.

Blessings, S

Eatin' good in the neighborhood...

Our weekly trip out to eat after service... what an adventure.

Gotta love halfprice appetizers!

Two hot things in one photo - Lili and buffalo wings.

 

The infamous lemon & salt contest... Kelsey & Madeline.

Alex and Kaden.  Also known as T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

But we love em' around anyway.  Especially when they prank call you,

crawl into your trunk, lock themselves in your car, and pop the hood for no reason.  (That was just tonight in the course of an hour).

Long live mischief!

Partners in ministry, partners in crime...

Love ya Lili. 

You are truly a Godsend - both to me personally and to our church.

Gorgeous girls - Em, Meredith, & Lili

Run, Stacey, Run!

Someone out there is having a great laugh at me. I will never make fun of my brother again... I will never make fun of my brother again... I got this little flyer for a race in the mail today... and the sick part is, I was tempted to train for it. Clearly the memories of my last adventure have faded a little TOO much...

This is my badge of honor from my last attempt. My pastor Wes thought it would be a real hoot for us interns to run this 12k Sound to Narrows thing with him. (12k=7.46 miles, for the "lay person"). I don't run. But that day I did. For at least three miles of that seven, I was a racing machine. Hey, a 1:45 finish is nothing to snicker at. Actually, it is, but the point is, I finished, and Lil finished, and ALL THE BOYS WUSSED OUT AND DIDN'T EVEN GO. I figured, hey, no pressure. No matter what, I've already beaten three people.

About halfway through the race, I wanted a bus to come hit me and put me out of my misery. I saw a lovely woodland squirrel sitting by his tree, and I HATED HIM IN MY HEART because I had to run and he didn't. Then there was an oldies cover band playing at the halfway point to motivate us. To me, there is nothing motivating about oldies music. I came close to hating them in my heart as well. Celebrate good times, indeed. Let's trade. I'll play guitar, and you can run this race, and then maybe we'll celebrate.

Nevertheless, I finished the race. And it was amazing the sense of accomplishment I felt. And the overwhelming sense of pain. (Lil and I both could barely move for four days... we mastered a less painful way of movement looking something like a cross between the funky chicken and the steps of a 100-year-old man). Wes, of course, looked no worse for his experience, but that is to be expected. Natural athletes inspire in me a bitterness that is difficult to put into words... :)

So we'll see what I decide to do. Crazy how there's actually a temptation to put myself in a place where I'm supposed to run. Again. Voluntarily. And pay $20 to do it. Bring on the pain!

OK I'm off... time to go see "The Notebook" with Jules & Amber & Brent. I'm wearing waterproof mascara and bringing 30 tissues. I've heard it's a doozie. Predictable? Probably. Sappy? For sure. Nothing better.

Just in case you're wondering...

My new fan is pretty tight.  Yeahhh... three speeds, baby. 

And nothin' says "I ride in high style" like chrome.

Confessions of a Flake

(This is an article I am currently working on for submission to RELEVANT, a magazine I love. We'll see what happens! Love to hear your thoughts... staceyrich1@hotmail.com)

Lying on a beach in Maui recently, enjoying the solitude and slow pace, I had some time to think. I’d looked forward for months to the chance to not have to think about my job, my bills, my to-do-list. So I didn’t. Instead I chose lighter fare – thinking about my purpose, my calling, my life’s direction. What a most likely dumb and most certainly dangerous thing to do. During my mental ramblings I experienced a rare moment of clarity. It brought about simultaneous eruptions of both fear and anger, as I heard the familiar message unmistakably: you are moving (slightly) in the wrong direction. This is not what you were made to do.

Not again, God. I look like enough of a flake already. Not again.

My moment of clarity proved fleeting, as it touched off a plane ride and several days of confusion and, to tell the truth, just plain being ticked off. I’d sacrificed so much to follow a Voice I thought I heard so clearly... and now, all over again, it’s a mistake? Have I ever heard Your voice at all, or do I just jump from whim to whim, playing this stepping-out-in-faith card whenever it’s convenient to hush those who would question my wisdom and/or sanity?

I know that this won’t necessarily win me any Faith-filled-Christian-of-the-Year award or anything, but writing is my form of confession, so I’ll say it here: God’s hand is hard for me to see sometimes. His purposes are beyond me. That’s not to say I don’t believe they’re good, I’m just saying this - Most of the time, I’m a bit confused. And in my own day-to-day craziness, there are times that it’s a gut-wrenching exercise of my faith to believe that, despite my circumstances, God is at work in me.

Every time I decide that I’ve got a clue as to what God is doing– or more specifically, why it is that He’s doing it – something happens to completely shake those assumptions up. Case in point: my college career. Perhaps "career" is too generous a term for it. I think "dabbling in college" might be a more accurate portrayal. I am one of those people who, when someone asks where I’ve got to school and what I studied, it takes a good ten to fifteen minutes to explain all the moves back and forth and the choice-of-major switches. Things seemed so solid seven years ago. What the heck happened?

I graduated high school so sure of myself. Unshakeable. I envy myself back then - the surety, the confidence I felt that I KNEW THE PLAN GOD HAD FOR ME, all five easy steps of it. The plan didn’t include three colleges, eleven moves, a serious car accident, and a still-elusive B.A., however.

The past seven years since graduation has been quite a journey, filled with more questions than answers. The main question has been this: How do I know I am in God’s will? When I step out in a certain direction, fairly sure of God’s hand in it, and then it fails, what do I do with that? Does God call me to certain paths only to lead me to another path? Or am I, as I’ve long feared, an incurable tumbleweed? Has God called me to be a tumbleweed?

I think that might be part of my dilemma. When I think I’ve heard God’s voice, I tend to view it as a mandate for the rest of my life, when it’s more likely a path for a certain season. "Stacey, for the rest of your life, you’re going to be a ___________." Oh, good. I finally know what I’m going to do when I grow up. Now the wondering can stop. The seeking You can end. My self reliance can begin. Phew. Glad that’s over. See you at the finish line, God.

I keep forgetting something about God. While He is infinitely more concerned with my well-being than I am, He’s considerably less worried about it. God is not worried about whether or not I reach my ultimate goals. My sights have been set for far too long on the end of that five step plan, whereas His have been on how close we’ll get during the ride. My seeking Him is way more important than my knowing exactly which path to take and when. Although there is not much that I can say for sure, I know this: the uncertain, tentative, yet reckless woman that I am now is a bit closer to God’s heart than she was at the age of seventeen, grabbing her diploma with self-confidence and clear visions of the path ahead.

I think Thomas Merton had it right in his prayer in Thoughts in Solitude: "Just because I think I am doing Your will does not mean that I am actually doing it. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You, and so I will trust You always, even though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will fear no evil, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone."

The more time goes on, the more I have a deeper awareness of my shakiness, my frailty. I used to crave the banishment of this constant reminder of my weakness, but more and more, I'm beginning to welcome it, even if the greeting is bittersweet. Facing my humanity squarely grants me the freedom to quit pretending I have it all together. I do not have to have the answers. I don't even have to have the right questions at this point. What I do have to have is a closeness with One whose strength doesn't waver, whose sense of direction is never off, and whose grace is big enough to cover each and every fumbling step along the way.

2 Corinthians 12:9 "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

Diary of an Old Soul

Was reading this again... man, it's good stuff. Just passing it along...

5.15
Afresh I seek thee. Lead me -- once more I pray --
Even should it be against my will, thy way.
Let me not feel thee foreign any hour,
Or shrink from thee as an estranged power.
Through doubt, through faith, through bliss, through
stark dismay,
Through sunshine, wind, or snow, or fog, or shower,
Draw me to thee who art my only day.

5.21
But he who would be born again indeed,
Must wake his soul unnumbered times a day.
And urge himself to life with holy greed;
Now ope his bosom to the wind's free play;
And now, with patience forceful, lie still,
Submiss and ready to the making will,
Athirst and empty, for God's breath to fill.

GEORGE MacDONALD

Correction...

Kevin says that if I am going to make fun of him, I at least can get my facts straight.

He ran five miles.

Kev, you are a true inspiration.

I laugh, but the truth is, I CAN'T RUN THAT FAR. So the joke is on me and my lame, I would bleed from the ears if I ran that far, self.

Speaking of not being the brightest pencil:

My brother, Kevin. Kevo. O'Rich. O'Stupid.

(Normally, smart kid. Today wasn't his day, however.)

PROLOGUE: It's approximately seven hundred degrees outside. OK, maybe more like ninety. But it's stinkin' hot. Speaking of which, I need a chocolate ice cream Reese's blizzard, pronto.

ANYWAY: I get home at lunch, and a few minutes after I'm home, Kevin stumbles in the door. At this point, he redefines the word "scarlet". You could also use him as an example of "sweating-like-a-pig". (I've always wondered... how much DO pigs actually sweat? Never having been in close proximity to pigs, I don't know. But I digress...) Poor guy looked like he would either (a) explode, (b) begin bleeding from his ears, (c) die of heat stroke, or (d) die of heat stroke.

THE OBVIOUS QUESTION: What the heck is wrong with you?

THE ANSWER: "Oh, I thought to myself, it's blistering hot outside, and there's nothing more refreshing than attempting to run four miles out in the sweltering heat of the noontime sun." That wasn't actually his answer. I can't remember what he said. I was too dumbfounded... in absolute awe of the fact that my brother was this color. Literally.

NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL IN THE FRYING PAN.

Speaking of suicide-inspiring heat, (just kidding), Mom is pretty good to us. (Cue trumpet fan-fare): We now have a second fan for our third-story apartment! I won't have to sleep out on our deck (not kidding) on top of a sleeping bag! LOVE YOU MA.

"She's not the brightest pencil in the drawer..."

Ok.  That would top it.  But probably nothing else could.

"I'm sure you already know this, but she's not the brightest pencil..."

Best thing I've heard today. Nothing like a little bit of this metaphor, a little bit of that one... NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL... Wow. I don't know if anything can top it. But, then again, it's only noon.

Who-o-oa... Amber is the color of your energy...

This is me and my other favorite part of the Gibbs family, first night at camp before camp hair and the I've-had-no-sleep-all-week zombie eyes kicked in.  We had a great time goofing off as usual.  Some people just have the gift of sunshine, this girl definitely does.  Plus, she looks dang good in her trucker hat.

Happy Birthday, Emily Barge!

 

Straight from the Looney Bin

(favorite quotes & phrases from the crazies in my life)

"This is what separates me from the rest..." - Wes Davis

"tight." - Lili "Cocoa" McFarlane (Usage: "Girl, that's tight.")

"sad-in-my-heart"*** (Usage: see also, happyinmyheart.  "Awww, that makes me sad in my heart!"

"I don't give a rat's patoot." - Kenn "White Rhino" Webb

"Backiotomy!" - Corey & Colby, river-rafting enthusiasts (Usage:  "You need a BACKIOTOMY!")
 
"Honk if you're sexy." - Our super-spiritual junior highers taking a cue from another church van that had "Honk if you love Jesus" written on it.  Sigh. 
 
"YOU CAN'T KILL THE ROOSTER!" - Paul Sedaris (Usage: yell this in angry defiance anytime life tries to get you down.  Personal favorite.)
 
"cat" - Brent (Usage: if a guy is a "cat," that's evidently a bad thing.  "I don't know about that cat, Stace.")

"You're my favorite!"*** (Usage - say this to everyone you know.)

"Sweet girl!" - Carly Rickabaugh

"lub" - Gibbs (Usage: term of endearment "Oh, to lub you!")

"Classic." - Hugh Grant and other British types.  Anything sounds cool with an accent.

"BremINGton, WaRshington" - Southerners.  (Usage: describing where I live.  I stand corrected on that whole accent-coolness thing)

"One tomato to rule them all." - Don't even ask.***

"You would." - Grace (Usage: with proper application of sarcasm, turns whatever anyone just said into an insult.  "I like pepperoni pizza."  "You would." "I lost my keys eight times today." "You would." "I just rescued a small child from drowning." "You would.")

More to come soon... if you come back, that is.  You would.

*** as far as I know, these comments are dumb in their own original way.  I don't remember pirating them from anyone cooler than me.

This is my beautiful friend Amy (first comment poster, thanks) the night before she left for Australia (and, coincidentally, the night before her house burned down. The newspaper photo showed flames shooting out the window from the couch behind us...Life is strange.) 

Carly, you get more gorgeous all the time... L.A. is lucky to have you.

Amy's making new friends Down Under... (He knows what you sent Neilie-boy as a present, Amy... and he is NOT HAPPY...) 

Aloha from Maui

Me and little brother at Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.  Went here with the 'rents and our aunt & uncle, who also happened to be on Maui.  Coconut shrimp... so choice! 


The mothership at BGS.  Looking awfully happy to be in

bajillion (yes, bajillion) degree weather.


Can we just live here forever?  Please?

 

This is the best trip EVER.  (Can you sense her joy?)


Looks like the boys found a sale. 

That, or they're true hard core Ripcurl fans.

WHAT'S UP, TOUGH?

What wonderful rashguards you have!

The better to see my bulging muscles with...

Exhibit A

Ouch! What a beaut! 

Skimboarding Champ

Wait for it... wait for it... My favorite pic I took in Maui.  This is Kevin attempting to skimboard on a boogie board in Maui last month.  Basically involved him falling in every conceivable way known to man.  A lot.  Entertaining... way better than T.V.

What's in a Name?

So here we go... my first posting. Thank you Josh Webb for the idea. Had some minor anxiety on what to name my little piece of web real estate, and then relaxed as I realized that I couldn't do much worse than "The Nerdery"... no offense Josh. Where's the picture of O'Rich?

Hmmm... so what is there to know about my small but significant life? Basic stats here... I turned 24 this year in May (How did that happen? It absolutely came out of nowhere). I share an apartment with my 21-year-old brother, furnished with the best furniture IKEA and Goodwill can provide. (By the way, you doubters... you can quit asking "How's that going?" while making that pity face. Living with my brother is muy excelente). I work as an assistant at a law office & for the first time ever have a great boss. I'm also interning with NewLife Church, working mostly in communication & writing. I'm also leading worship there and working with my awesome pal Lili, growing our fledgling youth ministy.

When I'm not doing that, I'm (a) being a lazy bum laying out on my deck (which, by the way, recently was adorned by some lovely flower pots, thank you Mom), (b) playing my guitar, (c) at Tawny & Aaron's house, because, hey, it IS posssible for married folks to still hang out with their single friends, (d) reading a book from a recent Barnes & Noble binge that I'll probably get 2/3 of the way through before moving on to something more enlightening, or (e) attempting to watch an entire DVD season of Alias in one sitting. Oh, the sweet addiction...

Just got back 4 a.m. Thursday morning from Outdoor Camp in Wenatchee... one deer, two cats, two power naps and four & 1/2 hours driving got me home. My buddy Kenn was absolutely NO HELP as he only added snoring to my trip home. It's ok White Rhino. No one's judging you.

More on camp later...