I've always thought that it's important to know who your favorite character in a story is. I even got anal about it back in the day, and made myself choose a favorite character from every movie I watched and story I heard. haha. Now, though, I only have a favorite when someone particularly stands out to me. This time it's Mercy from Pilgrim's Progress.
When Christiana, her boys, and Mercy get to the Gate (the beginning of Part 2 in the book), Christiana and the boys go in while Mercy remains outside. She was not invited the way Christiana had been by her husband, Christian. Mercy was timid, and fearful. She believed in God, but was hesitant to knock on the gate for herself because she felt a little bit less welcome than Christiana. Eventually, though, she gathered her courage and knocked. In boldness she summoned the Interpreter and he answered, in spite of how different her way of coming was from Christiana's.
She was different, yet she felt in her heart that her boldness was good, and therefore she refused to be turned away from the path to the Celestial City. Kinda awesome, I'd say....

Lydia

Lately, the different ways people do things and how they react to others has been on my mind a lot. Particularly in refernce to worship.
I find SUCH great joy in visiting other cultures and places, because there's always a little something that is different. Even if it's just the way they fold their napkins, it's interesting to me that they do it that way. Sure, folding napkins in half is more economical than making them into origami flamingoes, but that's the way they do it, so it's cool.
What rubs me wrong is when people judge other people for doing stuff their own way (when they tell them they shouldn't do it that way, I mean). If one of my friends was doing something totally unreasonable like the flamingo-napkin example above, I would be like, "Yo, that takes way more time", but I wouldn't tell them not to do it just because that's not how I would do it. Half the world eats with their hands. Who are we to tell them to use forks?
What I am getting at is this question that has developed in my mind. It comes from a few months of 1) studying the Bible, 2) worshipping the same God in different places, 3) discovering more about myself, and how my personality fits with my style of worship, and my relationships with other people, and 4) listening to people talk about their passions.
If someone asked you what your passion was what would you say?
If your passion was similar to mine, I would be excited, we would get along, or at least have something to talk about. But if your passions were different than mine we would probably have a short conversation, then go our separate ways.
Anyway, what I am struggling with right now is the fact that I go to this church full of people very different from me. And even while I love diversity, I find these differences to be barriers. It's not differences like skin colour or ice cream preference. It's that a whole lot of people at my church love college football, and I really really don't (there are many many other differences). And while I'm vocal about some passions, they are vocal about totally different ones. Now I don't want to get up in their business about what they're vocal about, and what they're not-it's them, I'm me-they don't need to like and talk about everything that I like and talk about. Whatever, you know. I'm just trying to find an answer to the question in my heart....is it alright to leave a church not because anything they do is Unbiblical, but rather because you don't feel like you fit?
Here's the deal: I love worship, I love praise songs, I try to love hymns, but I really don't. They (generally) seem more like death-chants than songs to me. So I want a church where only (or at least more, and more passionate) praise songs are sung. I would also like to worship in a place where people feel free to worship however they want to, and aren't looked at like freaks if they clap their hands, raise their arms, or dance in joy throughout the service. I would like for their to be a church where Megan (my awesome, yet very conservative, and less um...boisterous (annoying) ) friend would not feel weird for worshipping her way, and I would not feel weird for worshipping my way (which are probably very different ways considering we're just about opposites ;). I just don't think God made me the way I am so that I'd stick out like a sore thumb at my church.
I still have no answer, and that's cool. I know God wants me at Covenant Presbyterian right now, because that is where my Dad and Mom want me. The actual decision making comes later. For now, I'm just thinking, and praying, and all that.



Lydia


(Congratulations on making it through the longest post ever)

I'm in quite the funk. That's not quite the right phrase, but it will have to do.

I've been thinking a lot about life in the future lately. This is prompted quite a bit by my parents and my own general need to know what I'm going to do with my life. Most people probably would say now is the best time to be thinking about it. I like thinking about what I want to do with my life. Or should I say, I used to enjoy that. Now, at this point in my life, it seems like whatever I choose, determines how my life plays out. That scares me beyond imagination. I don't know what I want for my life anymore.

I'm scared that if I go to college right after high school (which is the "right" thing to do), I'll never be able to travel, do the things I've dreamed of, and really live. I'm terrified of living an "average" life the rest of my life. I don't mean that living a life much like average Americans is aweful...I just don't have a desire for that anymore.

I so badly want to go and be on my own in a place where I know no one or know very few people. I want to dive head on into different cultures. I want to experience life.

I want to go and share the love of Christ with people.

I don't want to be here.

I don't know how to do this. I don't even know where I want to start out at. I don't know how I would even afford all of this. But, I do know this: I do not want to go through my life not doing what I have always wanted to do; and then wake up one day, wrinkled and bent with age and regret not living to it's fulness the life which God has given me.

Brianna

...doing what I love on the last day of summer.

Lydia

P.S. I am wearing pants in this picture. Just to be clear on that.

Seeing how I got done with school early today, and I don't have to work for another hour or so, I thought I would take some time to quickly describe our links (the pink words down to the right).

Cliffsnotes: Hopefully every one knows what this one is, because it is so great. So great.

Emmanuel Jal Merch: This is the new-ish website that the rapper and former child soldier Emmanuel Jal has built for the selling of T-shirts and jewelry to benefit the school he is building somewhere in Southern Sudan.

Kylie's Flickr: This is a link to a friend's flickr. She's a photographer, and yeah, she has a gift. Brianna and I both love her and her work.

Samaritan's Purse: This one takes you to the website of that awesome ministry that is always where the disaster is. They provide relief aid for people everywhere.

TOMS shoes: I hope you all know what this one is too...it's the website where you can buy TOMS shoes for yourself and for some random shoeless child!

I can't resist putting this quote up. I like it very much:
"Rather than giving us the details of depraved acts, good art can reveal the depraved heart through well written stories, enlightening us to the evil we may find within ourselves. We learn nothing by being made aware of the details of sexual acts or rape. We do learn by the ruinous effects of pride, bitterness, anger, and yes, even lusts, that can be shown without the lurid details."
-Wayne Wilson

Lydia

The taste made the love, and the love made the lack. The forbidden made the passion, and the poverty. The poverty made the love leave the life. The delight was prohibited so the taste was lost. The life tore them apart, so the love became nothing. When the love became nothing, the passion was no more a thought. The love first brought the poverty, but the poverty broke the belief. The belief was really how it all began, but the forbidden bit back, and the belief did not last long against something so terrible. The passion was then gone as was the love and they did not know what to do, because the love had made the life. The lack of life then made them the lost, and the lost no longer believed.


Lydia

As I post this, I find myself blundering through the budding stage of my very own quest for simplicity. This quest has kind of snuck up on me. I didn't really recognize it until last night. The symptoms, though, have been showing themselves here and there(in me), for a while.

I'm finding myself day-dreaming and dreaming less about urban life, and more about foresty places, and country hostels.
I keep cleaning my desk and closet out over and over, searching for more stuff to get rid of.
I feel claustrophobic in my heavily-decorated room.
I've started to avoid buying new stuff.
Sleeping outside is becoming a habit.
I hardly listen to music in the car anymore.
I spend all the time I can outside.
I'm not following any shows this season (though that will change as soon as The Office comes back on, I must admit).
When I watch TV, it is often muted, and after periods of an hour or two, I get tired of it.
The sky and the ocean are on my mind a whole lot. (Think about how simple they are: just blue, and big, both of them).

A few days ago, I read something on someone's blog about simplicity, and how that is what we (church people) miss most after mission trips, and religious retreats. That article helped me recognize this growing desire in myself. I no longer want to be busy all the time. I want to take it slow, and have time to talk, think, and dream. I love finding places like that around me now, but I really would like to go somewhere so beautiful, and so unfamiliar that it scares, shocks, and excites me all at once.

Just some silly thoughts.

Lydia

I've attended two services at an Anglican church this week, and it's been interesting. Their music was absolutely wonderful. Here are a couple of lines from the praise songs:

"Break my heart for what breaks Yours."

I love that line so much. It's like the perfect summary of true friendship.

"Oh, He is jealous for me. He loves like a hurricane. I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His love and mercy..."

I want to paint that one, but I'm afraid the lyric is just too awesome, and me painting it might mess it up.

Lydia

This is my side of the story. I'm going to start with this and stop in the middle around where Lydia's story and mine converge.

Sunday night around 6:44 I got a text from Emily, saying "Everyone please pray! My non has fallen and isn't breathing they're taking her to the hospital. This is serious! Please pray!" This message was sent at 6:44. I saw the text read it, re-read it and decided it was in fact about Emily's mom. I prayed. I prayed hard, and fast.
I went about changing my clothes, because I was going out to meet my dear friend Meghan. I walked out of my room grabbed my keys and was saying to good-bye to everyone. As I was getting ready to leave I quickly told my mother, almost as an afterthought, about the text from Emily. She immediately stopped what she was doing and prayed aloud with me for Mrs. Sample, and their family.
I got on the road. I drove up to the interstate until I got to my exit where I came to a light, that was red. I checked my phone hoping to hear something from Emily. There was a text. "My mom died today. Please pray for my family." So many things went through my head, so many thoughts, so many feelings. I sat there at that light and just cried.
When the light changed I drove and parked in a parking lot for like 10 minutes and just cried and prayed and tried to think. When I finally got to Meghan's house, I was holding it together, but as soon as I saw her, I burst into tears and she held me. And I cried.
Rather than immediately leave her house, we went and talked for a little bit and then once I was not crying and was sober we left her house and went to my place of work for a smoothie. I needed to clear my head and process, but I needed a distraction. It just couldn't be true.
I kept waiting and waiting to hear from Lydia, I couldn't contact her. When we got there, we went inside (me with big red eyes) and just sat for a little bit. I got up to go to the bathroom, and to talk with one of my co-workers, who I just happen to get along with so well. I told him what happened, and he just held me for a moment. He felt my pain, even if it was just some of the pain, for just a moment.
While we were there, Meghan and I just sat and talked and talked about the whole situation. And we had times of just silence. I was waiting. Waiting to hear something else. And then came the wave, the wave of texts and phone calls.
Finally, I heard from Lydia. She called me, and I ran outside and sat on the porch and we talked, we mostly cried and cried and cried. But we talked some also. We hung up, and she got in contact with some other people trying to figure out if we should meet up at the hospital or not. While she was figuring it all out, my dad called. He wanted to make sure what they had heard was true. It was, and I was hurting so badly. He asked me what I wanted to do, and I just said I don't know. I really don't know. Lydia called, and said that people were meeting at the hospital to pray with the family, and after much deliberation I decided to go. I didn't want to be just one more person there, but I wanted to be there for my dear Emily. My dad met me and drove me there.
The first person I saw was an old friend of mine, Gloria. As soon as she saw me she ran to me and we wept and held eachother. I was waiting to see Lydia, so we could go to Emily together. As soon as Lydia was there we held eachother and cried. We pulled ourselves together just a little bit and entered the hospital Chapel.
Tis something I will never forget, ever. When we entered the chapel, there were quite a few people in there. Everyone was surrounding Emily and her father. People were praying with their hands outstretched to God and tears were flowing from everyones eyes. It was quite. So very quiet. Everyone was silent, but their pastor (or who I'm assuming was their pastor). He was praying aloud for their family. It was beautiful.
This is about where everything became the same for Lydia and I. I will say this, never have I hugged nor told so many people how I cared for them, than on this night. We all were feeling one way. Heavy and hurting.

Here's (my side of) the story:

Yesterday (Sunday) evening I got home around 6:40 p.m.* Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary were over for dinner. I checked my phone at 8:15. I opened a message from Emily (sent at 6:49) that said "My non has fallen and is not breathing. This is serious! Please pray!" I thought she was talking about her grandma because of the "non" part. But then I saw a whole bunch of other messages from friends asking if it was really true. I knew it was Mrs. Sample at that point, but was in denial. It couldn't be. I then read a message from Emily that said "My mom died today. Please pray for my family". Still I denied it in my heart. I called Brianna. The moment we confirmed the truth we started crying and trying to wrap our minds around it. I cried harder than I have ever cried over someone's death.
I then went out and told my family. I was so choked up I could barely say the words: "Mrs. Sample died about an hour ago". We shared a family hug as we all cried. Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary left.
I went back to my phone and texted other friends to let them know.

I then faced the decision of whether or not to go to the hospital. I called Molly-another of Emily's best friends. She said to come if I felt like I should. I had heard about a lot of other people who were going and was afraid Emily felt crowded. I decided not to go.
At 8:40 I got a text from Emily that said: "Lydia, I need to talk to you." I literally ran out of my room and got in the car. That was the most touching thing anyone has ever said to me. There is no feeling like that of being wanted and needed. Dad drove me to Baptist Health. Emily was in the chapel with her dad, friends, and church family when I got there. I went in and sat on a back row. Molly gestured me towards the front. I went to where Emily was. She stood up and embraced me. I am never going to forget that moment. It was what our relationship is all about. I was there for her. She felt my love for her, and I felt like I couldn't give enough. I held her and told her I loved her.

A few minutes later we all moved out of that room. I got to hug many friends who I hadn't seen in some time. God was there.

Brianna, our dads, and I went to Kroger and got all of Emily's favorite snacks as well as food and drink for the friends and family on their way to the Sample home.
We rushed through that and I actually saw an old friend working at Kroger. Another hug.
When we got to the Sample's home, all of Emily's girl friends had her on the couch laughing. She hadn't forgotten; she'll never forget-but she was distracted for the moment. For a moment it was like all the parties we have had in her living room. After she had eaten and chilled for a while, I asked her and Brianna if we could go upstairs to pray, since Brianna's dad needed to leave. So we sat on Emily's bed, held hands, and prayed. At that point I was mostly out of tears, but we cried a little bit as we prayed for traveling mercies and everything else that needed to be prayed for. We then embraced once more and left.

Today (Monday), I called Brianna when I woke up. We both had pounding heads, and huge, red eyes. We didn't know what to do.

I felt led to visit Madison, (another of Emily's closest friends-she's known Mrs. Sample since at least second grade. She is also one of my closest friends.) so I did. I go to Madison's house often and find it a very comforting place. Her parents really care about my life, and help me with Chemistry, etc. I went there to be comforted, and to comfort Madison. I wanted to see someone who was feeling what I was feeling. I am very glad I went. Mrs. Gladden told me more great things about Mrs. Sample, including: "She was one of my best friends, and I don't even know who her best friend was. She poured herself into others."
I left Madison's late this afternoon with more confirmation in my heart than ever before. So I cried as I drove down the Boulevard. I stopped at Tropical Smoothie to see Brianna. We hugged and I left-I had to get home before 5p.m.

Here I am. I felt like typing this all up would give me even more confirmation. I'm searching for rest in my heart. I am almost there, but I know Emily isn't. It will take her much longer. It was her mother. So I am praying for her and Mrs. Sample's soul mate, Stephen, along with all the other family, and us: Emily's friends, as we watch her hurt. And as we each hurt as well.

There is a tattoo on my heart that says "Love Well-MHS", because Mary H Sample loved well, and I want to love like her.

Lydia



*I'm not completely sure about most of these times, I apologize.

Oh...I do not know how to face this, but before I say what I am going to say, I just want to make it clear that though everyone always speaks well of the dead, all I say right now, I say in sincerity. Every word I here breath is truth; wonderful and terrible as it all is. And I said it when Mrs. Sample was alive too.
A woman who was like Jesus went to be with Him today. She was very young and full of love. Many good things are to be said of her, but the greatest from my relationship with her is that her sin never touched me. There is no one else who I spent so much time with and whose sin touched me so little. I never heard her say a word in anger, or refuse someone's honest request. Her sin was small, and that was because Jesus was so big in her heart. She was one of my best friends' mother. Mrs. Sample lived the life of a Christian, and she has left the world a better place. She was the mother of three spectacular children, (I am actually only acquainted with her two girls, though all I have heard of her son is positive-I'm sure he's great.) two of whom have dedicated their lives to Christ and the mission field. (Emily is planning to follow in their foot steps.) I feel so honored to have known her. As I weep, my overwhelming emotions are 1) grief and sadness, and 2) thankfulness. I am so thankful that I knew her, so thankful that I always spoke kindly to her, and just recently told her how great I think she is. She was the kind of lady who it was easy to complement. It wasn't weird to tell her great she was, because her greatness (only through Christ) was so....so, big. Finally, I am SO thankful that she raised Emily the way she did. Emily and I challenge each other. Our two faiths are entertwined with-though not dependent upon-each other. This is the work of God: God used Mrs. Sample to indoctrinate Emily with the truth. Praise be. I long for the day that I get to see Emily and her mom together in Heaven, almost as much as I long for it for myself. Oh, to be in the presence of perfect love, and glory. Oh to see my Savior's face, with which Mrs. Sample was well acquainted, if you believe that loving another is truly seeing the face of God.
May those who mourn for her find peace knowing she loved well.
I am sure I will post about this more later, but for now, I need to sleep. And pray.


Lydia

Here's a bunch of the stuff that has been donated to my sale. It is going to be September 24-25th, and really can't come fast enough-storing all of this is becoming a hassle. Praise God, though, because this is going to be the most obese garage sale fundraiser ever.

Lydia

Seeing how it's a rainy day outside, and today is my first whole day at home this school year (that's pretty bad when you're homeschooled, and it is September, mind you.) what else would I be doing besides thinking about life. And yearning to write. It's simply in my nature, I can't deny it.
Anyway, I've been noticing how things go over and over. I'm rocking with the continual ebb and flow of life, and whereas it used to bore me, I am now loving it. I've started doing things that I did before, but haven't for a while. Like school, obviously, but also running (!!!!), and looking forward to the weekend, and seeing people who I didn't get to see over the summer. It's just crazy that before a year is up, I'll be starting all of this for the last time. After that last year, then I'll start something new. What I wonder is, will that which I start repeat and repeat, or will it be different every year, every day? I wonder how many different "pieces" of my life I will be able to discern, once I near the sunset of it all. Like, will there be my childhood, my young adulthood (high school, that is), and then everything else? Or will it all be separated by different events and changes? Maybe, just maybe, it'll be one chaotic, indescribable journey that takes me to the edge of God's love and back. I would like that.
It's a curious thing, this life, and every minute takes me closer to the rest of it. All I really know is that it is going to be good. So I'm excited. I hope that you are too. Excited about your life, I mean, not mine. Well feel free to be excited about mine too...haha.

Lydia

Welcome, September!

Lydia: I am still coming to terms with summer being over. It just should not be. I've had a very full and fantastic summer, though, so it'll be a great one to always look back on. Anyway, this September, I am going to do well in school, and survive the stupid ACT. The end.

Brianna: This September, I will get a little more sleep...or at least try to sleep more. Lately, I've been running on fumes. It's not been pretty. I also will be needing pants for work. So, my goal is two find two pairs that I can wear to work. Whoop-de-do.