Eighteen.

Lately I've been having a difficult time controlling my emotions.

Or maybe I've been just more emotional, that's better.

I feel a lot of anxiety.

I feel depressed a bit.

I'm stressed about school.

I'm really stressed about money.

Money money money money. MONEY.

what a stupid man-made creation.

My number one prayer item lately is for PEACE.

You know I've done this thing about two or three times, where I try to focus on one of the fruits of the holy spirit per week and implement it as much as possible into my life.

I always screw up peace and don't make it past there.

I'm not quite sure that I know why.

Seventeen.

Stories that explain who I am a bit.

Part 3.

This past summer I worked with my good friend Joelle.  It was very hot some weeks.   One of

 these weeks, I decided to get some iced tea from breads and circuses (because it's the best I've EVER tasted), but we were still working so i needed it to go.

Apparently I was having a hard time with the words "to go".  Because this is how the conversation went:

Guy: Can I help you?

Me: Um, I would like to order and iced tea, that is... not for here.. but for out.. there.

Guy: ... To go?

Me: Ah yes.  That's the word I was looking for. 

I proceeded to turn red, pay, and exit.

I'm ridiculous.

Sixteen.

I took these two pictures this past summer or fall.  I like them both a lot.

Fifteen.

Stories that explain who I am a bit

Part 2

Once upon a time I went on CMU's Outtatown program (Guatemala site).  

There was one particular evening when I was feeling just rotten about myself.  I was dealing with some of my darkest points of depression while on the program, and this evening would likely constitute as one of the lowest.  While everyone else was at a worship service in another building of the camp we were staying in, I was in the dining hall alone, writing a list of everything I hated about myself.  And it was long.

What a way to spend an evening.

But I was interrupted by our speakers son, who was probably about 11, asking me where everyone was.  I told him where to go, but he said that he just couldn't see it when he went there.  So I sighed, and I got my coat on and walked him there.

Upon arrival, I walked in and the atmosphere was overwhelming.  People were praying over each other and the spirit of God was certainly present.  There was something in me that told me to leave, that I did not belong here.  But I stayed.  And I was prayed for.  And then the speaker, a man named Craig Ginn, said this to me (he didn't have a background on me for the record):

"Right now the rainbows you're seeing are grey.

But soon, soon God will show you their color again".

For your information, they're colorful again.  I got off of my  depression meds a year and a few months ago.  But that's another story.

Fourteen.

Stories that explain who I am a bit.

Part 1.

I'm going to write a few entries using stories from my life that can somewhat define me and shed light (often humorously) about who I am.

One evening when my sister was doing respite care I went over to visit.  She had to take care of the kids but their two dogs needed an evening walk.  So me, being the dog lover that I am, took them for a walk in the park near by.  We tried to find a bag but we couldn't, so I just figured it wouldn't be necessary and left.

Well I, being the genius that I am, took them into a big open field and walked a round for a while in the dark.  Naturally, Sport decided to relieve himself of a nice little job in the middle of the dark field.  I felt guilty as I left it, so after I brought the dogs home I asked Jess for a bag.  We couldn't find a bag, but we could find tinfoil.  So I waltzed back to the field on my own and spent the next 10 minutes trying to find dog poo in a dark field.  Victorious, I walked back with my silver package of joy and washed my hands and arms for a long time.