tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26637058251422048132024-03-05T18:52:52.671-08:00An OverFlow of the HeartMy marriage adventures and music endeavors...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010469425225744682noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-87756535861507406652013-10-24T15:21:00.000-07:002014-05-20T10:12:02.214-07:00A Birth Story<br />
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(I will try and share to the best of my ability. I knew having a baby would be an emotional event, but nothing could prepare me for the day of September 24, 2013.)</div>
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The week of my due date, I was showing all the signs of labor, and was sure our little one would make her debut. Every morning, I would wake up and tell Levi "today is the day", and each day, nothing. I tried to keep my spirits up, but my body was getting uncomfortable, and we were antsy to meet our little girl.</div>
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I packed my 'birthing center bag' with all of my essentials. Change of clothes, swimsuit for the birth pool, peppermint oil (I was obsessed with this during pregnancy), snacks, coconut water for hydration, toiletries, birthing ball, iPAD with loaded playlist. I had checklists for my checklists, and was beyond prepared for when the time came. Diaper bag was packed, the car was being filled up with gas daily, and every 'baby essential to do list' that I could find online was fulfilled. </div>
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After a week of false labor signs, I stopped waking up saying "today is the day". I accepted the idea that I would remain pregnant forever. My hips would hurt for 9 more months. I would pee my pants for the rest of my life, and cry uncontrollably when Subway got my sandwich order wrong. This was my fate.</div>
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The evening of the 23rd, as Levi and I were lying in bed, I turned to him and said "tomorrow afternoon I am going into labor". He smirked and agreed. Since this was the 100th time he had heard this proclamation, I knew his agreement was just to humor me. I said it differently this time, though. It wasn't a guess, or even a hopeful statement. It was a demand. More of a "I swear to God, Uterus, if you don't get this baby out of me…" type statement. The threat worked.</div>
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At 6:30 a.m. the next morning, I woke up to excruciating stomach pain. I laid there seeing if it would go away, but it stayed. I rolled myself off the bed, (gracefully sitting up out of bed was so 3 months ago), and walked to the bathroom. I thought for sure this wasn't a contraction. Those things are supposed to stop and start, right? I leaned over the bathroom counter for a good 10 minutes trying to get this thing to go away. It started to subside a little, but I was still very much aware of it. </div>
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I'm a pretty dramatic person, which is why I think most of my family/friends thought I could never handle childbirth. Being that dramatic person, I thought for sure these weren't contractions, but a heart attack, or an appendix attack. I mean, I'm 41 weeks pregnant, surely an appendix attack is more of an appropriate response to stomach pain.</div>
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I climbed into the shower, and tried to get the pain to disappear altogether with the hot water. I had read in one of my childbirth books, that in the first stages of labor one can be in denial that it's finally happening. I was in full blown stage one: DENIAL. </div>
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Along with my dramatic antics, once I think something, it takes a LOT to convince me otherwise. Since the Lord knows this, and was aware that I was convinced I was having an appendix attack, took the opportunity to get me in check. Standing in the shower, I heard His voice SO clearly say: "Get out of the shower, get Levi, you are in labor". A rush of urgency came over me, and I followed commands. </div>
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As Levi called my midwife, and packed the car, I sat on my birth ball, trying to relax between contractions. They were about 8 minutes apart at this point, but interestingly enough were manageable, now that I knew what they were.</div>
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Sidenote: I had a 'birth binder' that I was obsessed with the last month of pregnancy. I was keeping everything important in it: a very detailed birth plan, insurance documents, numbers for everyone involved, printed out plans and reminders for Levi categorized by each stage of labor. Yes, I'm a bit out of control. I whipped it out daily to go over. What was the one thing I forgot as I got in the car to head to the birthing center? The binder. God was apparently in the car when I found out, because I didn't cry or rip Levi's head off. I had that thing memorized. Crisis averted.</div>
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By the time we were in the car, driving towards the highway, it was 8:00 am. It hit both of us at the same time. We were in full blown labor in the middle of 8 o' clock Houston traffic. My birthing center was 45 minutes away on a day without traffic. This could take hours. I tried to remain calm, but my contractions were getting much stronger and closer together, and the car was not making it easy to endure. Levi was not taking my suggestions on driving 90mph on the shoulder of the interstate, or calling 911 for an escort. I tried my breathing techniques, but nothing could really get me out of how uncomfortable that front seat was making me.</div>
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We miraculously got the birth center a little after 9:00. My midwife wasn't convinced I was in labor when Levi called her. I was still walking and talking during contractions at home when Levi called, but claiming my pain was intense. She told him to still bring me in, and would send me home if I wasn't far enough along. She smiled as I walked in the door, and joked that I couldn't be in labor because she just saw me fixing my hair in the car mirror before coming inside. </div>
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We walked back to where I have my prenatal appointments (looks just like a doctors office), so she could check to see if I was dilated. Before she could ever start, I had another contraction. This one was way stronger. I jumped off the table and leaned over her counter. She rubbed my back the whole time, and once it was over said "how about we move on over to the birthing room".</div>
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The birthing room looks like a hotel suite. There is a big bed, sitting area with a fireplace, an attached room with a birthing tub, and shower. She lowered the lights, started filling up the birth tub, and called the other midwives. After another contraction, she asked me to lay down so that she could finally check my dilation. Never once was I told how far dilated or effaced I was. I asked a few times during labor how much longer I had, but was never told. This is to keep out any fear. If you are in excruciating pain, and are told you are only 3cm dilated, you are going to stress out, and tense your body up. </div>
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I now know that I was 5cm when she first checked me at 9:30.</div>
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I paced around the room for the next 30 minutes, waiting on the birth tub. I sat on my birth ball during contractions, and tried to rest in between. One of my favorite quotes was printed on the wall, and I tried to focus my mind and energy on it.</div>
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<b> "You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think". </b></div>
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Thank you, Christopher Robin, for the pep talk during labor. Finally, I got in the tub, to try and relieve some of the tension. My midwife (Alison) who was actually delivering the baby arrived, along with the center's doula. These three were at all of my appointments, and I felt a little calmer finally having everyone in the room.</div>
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Levi began making the "phone tree" calls. He contacted my mom (who was waiting for the call to get on a plane), my dad, brothers and sisters, and friends. Only a few people were forgotten, but given the circumstances, I think we did a pretty good job. </div>
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He then came inside and turned on the labor playlist and sat down by the edge of the tub. He was such an excellent coach, reminding me to breathe, and reaffirming me that I was doing a wonderful job. </div>
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The next 2 1/2 hours are a blur. I remained in the tub for most of my contractions. The water took away so much of the pain. Everyone kept reminding me to rest between contractions, but it took me a few tries to get into the swing of things. Once I got into a groove, I was actually falling asleep in the water between a few them. Levi would follow me around the tub, and hold my head above water while I rested/slept. Every 30 minutes or so, I would stand up out of the tub, so that they could check the babies heart rate. </div>
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I had one really intense contraction around 11:30 that the water wasn't helping, and decided to get out. I walked to my birth ball in the other room, but it only made things worse. My doula put me on my hands and knees for my next contraction, where she applied pressure to my lower back. This is when things got crazy, and I entered into 'transition' phase.</div>
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I started feeling very nauseous at this point, and told everyone I thought I was going to throw up. Next things I knew, there was a trash can in my face, and all modesty was out the window. I heard my doula whisper to Levi "this is a very good sign; this is what we want to see towards the end." The END. Overhearing these words gave me so much hope. </div>
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I made my way back to the birthing tub where I endured my transition phase. This is the hardest part of labor, but was the shortest. Mine lasted about 30 minutes, with contractions coming every 2 minutes, lasting about a minute each. I don't remember a lot from this stage (I actually didn't remember vomiting, until Levi reminded me the next day). All techniques we had rehearsed completely disappeared. I don't remember the music playing, I could car less that the lights were dimmed, and I sure as heck didn't remember how to do the relaxation/breathing methods I had practiced daily for the past few months. I remember sitting up in the tub, with Levi leaning over the edge. WIth every contraction, I would grab his shirt, our faces inches apart, and I would just cry that I couldn't do it anymore. He would graciously remind me that it was almost over, and that I was doing a great job. He even told me how beautiful I looked, which helped a little, considering I was red faced and soaking wet, and I knew only he could think of me like that in the current circumstance.</div>
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There was no way for me to get comfortable in this stage. I moved all around the tub during contractions. This is where the 'F' words come into the story. I went back and forth between Alison and Levi, getting right in their faces saying "I can't do it anymore, I can't do it anymore." </div>
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My sweet midwives actually described this stage to my mom as "cute". They said I was leaned over the edge of the tub, clinging to Levi's shirt, softly saying "I don't know why I thought this would be a good idea". What they didn't know was during this time, I was convinced I could communicate with Levi telepathically, and was telling him to "call 9-1-1, get me out of here, I want the epidural!". When telepathy didn't work, I tried to whisper to him to get me an ambulance, but I couldn't get loud enough for him to hear. I would have said it louder, but I knew the midwives would hear me, and I didn't want to hurt their feelings. I looked over and saw Alison put on gloves, and it was all I needed to know that we were so close to the end.</div>
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The contractions suddenly stopped. I got a few minutes in of rest, and then suddenly had the urge to push. I looked at Alison and said "I feel like I want to push". She held up her gloves, and with a smile on her face said "well, push." Surprisingly, pushing was way easier than contractions. Over the next 25 minutes, I gave 4 good pushes. The baby was crowning with the first one, and I began to get nervous that I needed to speed things up and get her out. Alison told me to relax, that tensing up wouldn't help. With the final push, I let out a scream, and felt instant relief. It was the best feeling in the world, that took over my entire body. They say you can reach a natural high while giving birth, and I absolutely agree. That feeling was one I have no words for.</div>
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Levi caught the baby, and once his sweet silent sobs stopped, he smiled at me, and the baby let out a good solid cry. She was so beautifully blue and weird looking, and I was instantly in love. He leaned further over the tub with her, and placed her in my arms. Right then and there, I forgot all the contraction pain. She took over every thought and emotion I had.</div>
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After a few minutes of crying, laughing, bonding, and more crying, I had to get out of the birth tub. That's the only problem with water births; you have to get out pretty soon after delivering, so you can deliver the placenta. I stood up, and got a wave of dizziness over my body. Everyone had their hands on me and the baby, making sure they would catch me if I fainted. They moved me into the bed where Levi layed down next to me. We just stared at our darling babe, and I delivered my placenta (which I hardly have any memory of). </div>
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It's amazing to see how babies respond with an unmedicated birth. She was so alert and responsive. She nursed as soon as we got into the bed. The midwives gave Levi and I a long time by ourselves to bond with the baby. We just laid there and thanked the Lord for her, and cried and laughed some more. Levi thanked me for not killing him during labor, and kept telling me what an incredible job I did.</div>
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The midwives came back into the room, and Levi went with them to weigh the baby, and cut the umbilical cord. I love that he was so involved with the entire process. They came and check me out afterwards. I (praise the Lord) didn't need a single stitch, and my only symptom was feeling super faint. Levi fed me Cliff bars and coconut water to get my energy up. I laid there, babe in arms, and couldn't believe I had endured the past 3 hours in the birthing center. There was no reason for me to stay at the birth center over night because I was doing so well. Alison helped me shower, pack my bags, and we were on our way home around 3:30. At the time this didn't seem too insane, but when you tell people, "she arrived at 12:25, and I was in line at chick-fil-A four hours later", you start to question if you really are insane.</div>
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From start to final push, I was in labor 6 hours. A completely unmedicated water birth to a very healthy 8 lb. 3.5 ounce baby. </div>
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I couldn't have done it without my birth team, and am so grateful for what each one of them offered me. The experience empowered me, strengthened me, and made me fall madly in love all at the same time. </div>
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<b>Jerusalem Lillian Grace</b></div>
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A few weeks prior to her arrival, I was sitting in church talking to the Lord. I had my hands on my baby bump, and I heard Him say: "she will be your rest". </div>
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Levi had suggested the name Jerusalem in the early stages of pregnancy. The Lord had told him many years ago that his first girl would be name 'Jerusalem'. It's also his favorite place in the world, so that is convenient. I wasn't absolutely sold on the name at first, because I had a dream that her name was something totally different. Once I heard the Lord say "she will be your rest", I immediately thought of the city of peace, and started researching the word. It's an abode a peace, the city where God chose to dwell, reveal himself, and return. </div>
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In different seasons of our lives, Song of Solomon has spoken deeply to our hearts. "I am a rose of sharon, a lily of the valleys". We chose Lillian based on this verse, representing beauty and innocence.</div>
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Grace. The favor of God. A Blessing. She is just that to us. An undeserved blessing, that we are so in love with.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010469425225744682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-48932168756072587632013-01-31T12:29:00.001-08:002013-01-31T12:29:05.617-08:00And then, there were 3.It all started with a little book.<br />
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For Christmas, Levi went out of his way to bless me. To the point, I actually felt like an idiot watching him unwrap the gifts I got him. It was like Santa came to our house, and skipped over Levi completely. The sad part was, I was actually thrilled to set presents out for him. In my mind, I had totally won the "who gave the most gifts/who gave the better gift" competition, that goes on solely in my head.</div>
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With wrapping paper strung out all over the floor, gifts being lost in the couch cushion, and my dog attacking the Christmas tree like a lunatic... I thought the celebration had come to an end. </div>
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That's when Levi handed me <strong>the book</strong>.</div>
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One of my first presents was a personalized journal that read "For the lyrics inside your heart" on the cover. It came along with a note that said something really sweet, like, "I believe in the songs in your heart". I assumed this next book was just volume 2 of the songwriting journal. It was the same size, shape, color. As I began to read the title, my eyes swelled with tears.</div>
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"Dreams and Words About Our First Miller"</div>
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Cue the hyperventalating. I immediately thought "what in the world? I'm pregnant?" Flashes of cute pregnancy photos on pinterest went scrolling through my mind. Then... ration hit...and I realized I would most likely be the first one to find out. So, now, I was just confused.</div>
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Levi looked at me and said, <strong>"I felt like the Lord said He wants us to start praying about our future children now, and journaling it. I'm not saying 'let's get pregnant', I just wanted something we can give our little babies down the road. <em>They can begin to have life spoken over them, and we intercede for them now'.</em></strong><br />
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It is now, the most special present I have ever been given. I don't think Levi meant for it to be the most precious gift of the morning. He was simply obedient to what he heard the Lord say. <br />
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Fast forward two weeks. I woke in the middle of the night from a dream. (In the dream) I was pregnant, and giving birth with my dear friend Kaytlyn beside me. It was so real. This feeling of peace came over me in my bedroom once I was awake, and I just knew it actually was real.<br />
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6 pregnancy tests, one trip to the doctor, and several panic sessions later.....We find out I'm pregnant.<br />
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That little book for the 'future' was actually a sweet kiss from the Lord. We were pregnant on Christmas day, just didn't know it yet. He initiated it with the book of dreams. Then, with another sweet kiss, told me in a dream. He is just so kind to my heart.<br />
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In no way was pregancy on our radar. We weren't planning it, and we weren't expecting to even this year. I think that's why the Lord was so thoughtful in revealing it to us. He is the embodiment of tenderness and kindness. He is perfect love, casting out all fear. <br />
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<strong><em>"Behold, <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-16125A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup>children are a heritage from the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>,<br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-127-3">the fruit of the womb a reward" -Psalm 127:3</span></span></em></strong><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010469425225744682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-86440658425284339892012-10-22T14:45:00.003-07:002012-12-07T09:02:39.716-08:00Grasping Hope<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am a self-proclaimed "optimist".</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Philosophers call me an "<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">idealist</span></b>". The church tells me I am full of "hope".</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The world calls me a "dreamer". </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Is my best quality now my biggest downfall?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I was raised by two wonderfully beautiful people. My mother was somewhat of a hippie when I was a child. She had a pottery wheel in the garage, and blank canvases scattered throughout the house. I would fingerpaint with ketchup at the dinner table, and I wore halloween costumes almost year-round. Coloring inside the lines was for schmucks; and learning "realism" paintings in art would always include tie-dye and glitter. I could be anything I dreamt of being. It wasn't until the 7th grade when I realized I probably wasn't going to be flown out to England to become Baby Spice because of my talent show performance. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We never failed as kids. Our punishments were never to inflict guilt or shame on us. They were always to encourage us that we could do and be better. Her main mode of "punishment" was writing essays and reading them at the dinner table. This way, we learned to express our feelings, AND, reflect on the possibility that we chose the lesser of the right decisions. She instilled AUTHENTIC manners in her kids, allowing them to learn for themselves and be grateful for the little things in life. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My dad was (and is) one of the most hard-working men I know. He blessed me radically growing up (and to this day still does). (Now, I really am not trying to boast or brag through this post. I am honestly trying to explain WHY I think the way I do, and why my mind IS the way it is.) My mom and dad had similar strategies in raising their kids. Both TRULY believed we could be whatever we wanted. Nothing would stand in the way of that. They never led onto the possibility that we couldn't. I wanted to be the President of the United States? My dad would give me Ivy League school names. An Olympic Gold Medalist?… I am now in swim lessons. The next Carrie Underwood?.. You are now singing the National Anthem in front of 9,000 people as an 11 year old. There was ALWAYS a way to attain what you wanted.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Birthdays were never celebrated lightly with my dad. I got my first dream car on my 15th birthday. My 18th was celebrated being flown to Chicago for an almost unlimited shopping spree. My 19th was a 4 bedroom house so all my friends and I could live together. My 20th was a 2010 Hummer H3. Getting the picture? I was never without. And each gift was with radical outpourings of love and words of encouragement. I was told every year how proud he was of me. How he wished he could do even more for me. Some say he spoiled me as a child. I honestly think he raised me like Jesus would. Doing everything he could for his kid. Unlimited blessing and outpouring and favor. I knew I could go to my dad for anything. I had no concept for the word 'no'. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>I only knew that my dad radically loved me and would do anything for me</b>.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now, think of these two worlds colliding. A nurturing mother who encourages your dreams of being a princess. Says you can do no wrong when it comes to creativity and expression. You hope for the best, because you've heard only that since birth. A dad who has resource and power. Who gives good gifts, and never laughs when you express your dreams of stardom at the dinner table. I had no thought that I could fail or be made a mockery of. Dreams were always reachable, and ration and reason were no acquaintance of mine.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This meant, I had no shame as a 6 year old grabbing the mic from the stewardess hand during plane flights. I wanted to be a spice girl, and damnit, there were 200 people trapped in a plane who MIGHT have connections, so I will start singing. This meant, I KNEW Disney was going to hire me as their next disney princess voiceover when I made a demo in the bathroom as a 10 year old. They would call as soon as they opened the envelope. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now think of all of this colliding with adult life. Someone forgetting your birthday is World War 2 because you have no grid for not being lavished on. Responding to your first 'no' really is the hardest thing you have ever had to do. Having a conversation with someone who gives reasons why something isn't able to happen feels like your entire world is coming down. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Things that shouldn't be that big of deal, cause you the most grief and sorrow</span>. </b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You see, growing up, it didn't matter that I always hoped in something greater. It didn't matter that I had no option of failure, or even considered things wouldn't work out for the best. Because, looking back, there was no other option. My lot in life allowed for the best outcome. I was blessed to have been born into a wealthy family of dreamers. I was blessed enough to be surrounded my family members who not only encouraged my dreams and pursuits, but gave me no other option that to believe it would happen. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Dreams always came true in our house</span></b>. And if they didn't right away, you could be distracted by glitter and Disney princesses until they did.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now that I am grown, I am faced with serious tension in my heart. Do I disown my idealism and quit hoping for the best to face life's realistic fate? Disney princesses don't have electricity bills and doctor visits to pay, and grabbing the stewardess' mic is now accredited as mentally insane. My fairy-tale marriage with prince charming actually takes time and effort, and apparently you can't wear your wedding dress every day. Dreams may take years, and believe it or not, music executives actually use the word 'no' after auditions. You have to daily fight the battle that giving up a college education to pursue your dreams and see the world, means having nothing to 'financially' show for it. Meanwhile, your childhood playmates have become engineers and now pass you on the streets with their Mercedes.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You see, I have had 23 years to create an idealist, perfect life for myself in my head. I had it all planned out and there was never failure or disappointment. You know what that does to a person who is all of the sudden faced with real life, big girl situations? <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Shit hits the fan</span></b>. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Because, there is a difference in hoping in perfection and hoping in someone who is the perfecter</span></b>. One causes division and learns to place blame. The other holds you close and allows room for mistakes. One leaves you on the floor wondering how in the hell your life got to the point it is. There other sits on the floor with you and reminds you of the inspiring times you have had. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So, when reality hits me square in the face, and all of my idealist views come crashing down, the Perfecter sees my 5 year old princess heart, and is proud I am the way I am. Because, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>He is hope</b>.<b> He is a dreamer</b></span>. So, I'll try and put my hope in that for awhile. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will allow life to have it's ups and downs. I will allow myself to fail occasionally. I will allow life to look different than the movie I made in my head. I will allow myself to become a realist. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Because, realism isn't expecting the worst. It's seeing life accurately, with hope being a perspective, and knowing perfection will never satisfy.</span></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010469425225744682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-67811424822843296052012-06-15T13:25:00.000-07:002012-11-16T13:28:11.169-08:00For those who feel they are in the midst of a storm...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIXBTKvJco657eVbLA1Y3uy5OaGB8ES0VfHC9gz2l_Q-qM-anqJJa5zpsvlHsSTnjLtDpRx4m1Pj3VDvM9BBxm_M8qNyAG0xakpUxn3opCtoxabwNULteYfFmA80nxWb_o07WYPGrzjc/s1600/life-storm-1024x640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIXBTKvJco657eVbLA1Y3uy5OaGB8ES0VfHC9gz2l_Q-qM-anqJJa5zpsvlHsSTnjLtDpRx4m1Pj3VDvM9BBxm_M8qNyAG0xakpUxn3opCtoxabwNULteYfFmA80nxWb_o07WYPGrzjc/s320/life-storm-1024x640.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Everyone has these seasons of life. Seasons of struggle. Seasons that seem to never end. Seasons that make you feel at the very bottom, starving for light and some air to your lungs.<br />
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I know for my family, it has been like that. Wishing that something would break. Wishing you could finally start coming to the surface for oxygen and hope. But, somehow, you get pushed back under before you can fully fill your lungs.</div>
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I don't have an epic pep talk for those who feel like this. Those cliche christian messages of hope never work for me in my seasons of darkness. The "wandering in the wilderness", about to reach your "promised land, just hold on a little longer" speeches just don't do it for me. </div>
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I want raw God in those moments. I want him to show up in the flesh and pick me up off the floor. I want to open my eyes, in the darkness of my bedroom, and see <b>a Jewish man stretching out his arms, offering some kind of tangible hope</b>. I want seraphim and living creatures of the book of Acts flying around my house. A supernatural occurrence that offers hope to my heart that God is alive and real.</div>
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Looking back on "seasons" of my life, I can see light at the end. From experience, I know it gets better. If only I could grasp perspective and tell my now-self that there too will be light in this one.</div>
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I wrote this song a few months ago, while feeling like I was in the midst of a storm. It's only a little snippet of it, but the part at the end always brings me hope that there is an out. <b>The revelation that these seasons are here to strengthen your soul. Holding on for dear life, that the storms will bring life instead of drown us. Believing that rain is a good thing. And hoping the winds are on our side.</b></div>
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So, take a listen. And do it with grace, for my piano is probably older than you.</div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://soundcloud.com/kellyerae/chasing-the-storm">http://soundcloud.com/kellyerae/chasing-the-storm</a></span></b><br />
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CHASING THE STORM:</div>
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I've never done this, so excuse me for asking you to say it again.</div>
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Could you tell me you love me?</div>
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I've never been there, so my heart is unaware of the way to respond,</div>
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when you say things like your scared.</div>
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These storms are drowning me out.</div>
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These winds are taking the words right out of my mouth,</div>
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Can you hear me? I said that I love you.</div>
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I know the lightning can hurt.</div>
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The pain of my words is gridded through my doubts and fears.</div>
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But, believe me.</div>
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I promise you one day</div>
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I'll respond in a new way</div>
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<b>Cause the rain only comes for a drought</b></div>
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<b>I'm convinced more than ever now</b></div>
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<b>The rains will bring life</b></div>
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<b>the winds will subside</b></div>
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<b>and baby we'll make it.</b></div>
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If we face it.</div>
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<a href="http://soundcloud.com/kellyerae/chasing-the-storm">http://soundcloud.com/kellyerae/chasing-the-storm</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05010469425225744682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-23158063814362384882012-02-12T11:41:00.000-08:002012-02-12T11:57:33.015-08:00A MessI've lost my words,<div>my thoughts have disappeared.</div><div>My pen no longer knows it's old friend, paper.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's the end of the day,</div><div>and I am alone.</div><div><br /></div><div>Alone with the thoughts in my head, that no longer make sense.</div><div>Alone with the tension in my heart.</div><div>Fighting for love. Fighting for life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Distance greets me.</div><div>Trust leaves me.</div><div>My inner self meets me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pride and humility clash like fond warriors.</div><div>My opinions are chaos, blinding me from selfless love.</div><div>Pride sure makes a mess when it clothes itself for dignity and honor.</div><div><br /></div><div>What do I want the most?</div><div><br /></div><div>My Jesus met soul says, "humility, and all things good."</div><div>My pain stained past says "your habitual responses create familiar protection".</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I build new walls,</div><div>form new callouses.</div><div><br /></div><div>Because, sometimes, it feels better to want to healed,</div><div>than actually healed itself.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-49854086235142625962011-10-05T18:50:00.000-07:002011-10-05T18:57:06.869-07:00Our Engagement Story<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; ">{On October 1st, Michael Levi Miller got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. To the best of my ability, I want to share the story with the world. (It's hard to remember with all the sobbing/snotting/crying that was going on on my part).}</span></div> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Prologue (WHAT YOU MUST KNOW)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Before I begin, there are a couple things you must know about our dating relationship that will make sense about the proposal story. Get ready to read the most epic/romantic/thoughtful engagement story of your life. (I'm slightly biased…. but it's REAL GOOD)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Part 1 (A MOUNTAIN)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After about 2 months into our dating relationship, Levi took me to a mountain called Mauna Kea on the big island of Hawaii. It's a very strange occurrence to be bundled up in coats and mittens on a snowy mountain, when just a few hours before you were on a hot sunny Hawaiian beach. That's even more of the beauty of this mountain. It's like God just thought "this island is too sweaty and sunny… put a snowy mountain on top of it". Anyhow, Levi and I spent the evening with good friends in the back of a truck, above the clouds on the mountaintop. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. We watched a sunset of many colors, above the clouds, and then watched the starry sky without any interruption. It's like you are literally IN the sky watching the universe operate around you. I felt so close to the Lord. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That was the night Levi told me he was in love with me; on a beautiful mountaintop watching the sunset.</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gXd3xawy85cZlNR5xUmCF3Bx1_jDXwF1BER-WYzhqcTyKn7WfeUEKzFr9lJi6_eXMIYoFPXcgsBygNAE3YlpIUdOTRmCX2uj-1XBQa31hcd27LSUCV-QlPAHx407BfAqdC4gVq-c4ZCk/s1600/IMG_0352.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gXd3xawy85cZlNR5xUmCF3Bx1_jDXwF1BER-WYzhqcTyKn7WfeUEKzFr9lJi6_eXMIYoFPXcgsBygNAE3YlpIUdOTRmCX2uj-1XBQa31hcd27LSUCV-QlPAHx407BfAqdC4gVq-c4ZCk/s400/IMG_0352.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660191067913452994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGXqMkvE-dUO079X3-ZT-EHvfuBlt6Td5huUrIMMMF5Sa7kaGAneima4SsXGTQduDKIjXu-B-4KD2jS40gmUKaUxzXBsIqFOcmM6i2HIWd6Y0PX-2iznmfqYNiVZXfXptApbUqUpQhZIp/s1600/IMG_0648.PNG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGXqMkvE-dUO079X3-ZT-EHvfuBlt6Td5huUrIMMMF5Sa7kaGAneima4SsXGTQduDKIjXu-B-4KD2jS40gmUKaUxzXBsIqFOcmM6i2HIWd6Y0PX-2iznmfqYNiVZXfXptApbUqUpQhZIp/s400/IMG_0648.PNG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660191063111513506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Part 2 (A RING)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Levi and I were apart for a good chunk of the summer. Before I left for L.A., I wanted to give him something special. I asked the Lord, and felt like I should write him a letter for every week, including things I felt the Lord was going to do in his heart for that specific week. So, I went to Target, bought some stationary, and began writing. I had 12 envelopes, each one labeled with "Week 1", "Week 2", etc.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The morning I left, Levi picked me up and took me to a cute breakfast cafe up the mountain (or island, whichever you prefer). We ate eggs benedict and talked about how much we would miss each other over the summer. Mushy gushy stuff… I'm sure the waiter was gagging. After breakfast, I was ready to give my well-thought through present. (Here's where it gets weird). Levi pulls out 12 of the SAME envelope stationary, each one labeled with the week number. He then says, "the Lord told me to write you a letter for each week you were gone, with what He would do in your heart that week). You heard it, same freaking present. I cried.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After I stopped crying, he gave me one of the most thoughtful presents I have ever received. (I say this hesitantly, because I have an amazing father who tends to outdo himself with presents and surprises). Levi gave me a ring he had been wearing on his left hand for almost 2 years now. He wore it as a "covenant ring" to the Lord, and said he felt to give it to me as a "promise ring". This was so dear to him, because he wore it during a year long Nazarite vow he took for all of 2009. It was a very intense and life changing season he had with Lord. Attached to the ring, was a string from his tallit. This is the proper name for the Jewish prayer garment he bought in Israel while doing ministry there. It was just so special to me, because it spoke to my heart about his commitment to the Lord first and foremost, and then to my heart.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Part 3 (LOSING THE RING).</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I put Levi's ring on a necklace my dad had given me after high school once I was in L.A. I actually put the necklace in a box about the second week in, because I didn't want to lose it doing ministry. By the time I got home in September, I went to put my necklace on for the first time, and found the ring missing. I was hysterical. For those of you who have experience my dramatics, you will know. I called April Cossey, my mom, Kaytlyn Johnson, and finally Levi...FREAKING OUT. The necklace was closed, but the ring was gone. I felt terrible. The most precious thing Levi gave me, I lost. I awarded myself the "worst girlfriend" award.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Part 4 (SEATTLE)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Last Friday, I arrived in Seattle. I knew I wasn't seeing Levi until Saturday evening, because he was 2 hours away and his car was in the shop. (I know now, this was a total lie). My mom and I were going to be driving around on Saturday looking at property (she's buying a house in Seattle), and Levi mentioned something earlier in the week about showing us some mountain. The plan was to meet him at the base of the mountain resort Saturday evening, and we would ride the gondola up together as a family and see the sunset. About an hour before we got there, Levi texted me saying he was going to be late. He said to go up the gondola without him, and he would meet us at the top of the mountain. He didn't want us to miss the sunset. We finally got to the mountain, and I stalled like crazy. I didn't want to go up without him. I was doing everything to procrastinate. My mom FINALLY convinced me to get on the gondola. After my diva fit wore off, I decided to listen to my mom and boyfriend.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Part 5 (GONDOLA RIDE).</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I handed the attendant my ticket, and he smiled back at me in the <i>creepiest</i> way. Literally, grinning ear to ear, nearly giggling. I gave him a confused look back, and started walking towards the gondola. The next attendant stopped me and said "wait, this is for you." She handed me an iPhone with headphones and a card that read "put the earphones in, and press play when the gondola departs". I was SO CONFUSED. I recognized Levi's handwriting, so I knew it was from him. I kept looking back and forth at my mom saying "wait… what? what? what? what?". (Now, I bet you are thinking "you totally knew he was going to propose by now!". Not at all. My boyfriend does epic dates ALL THE STINKING TIME, so in my mind, he is just being his sweet Levi self; tricking me that he isn't there yet, giving me cute cards).</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I sit down in the gondola and put my headphones in. I press play, and this movie on YouTube starts playing. "Realize" by Colbie Caillat is playing in the background (a song Levi and I always sing together) and there are a slideshow of pictures of us. Occasionally, the music would die down, and a voiceover of Levi talking would come on. He recorded conversations he had about me, and then used them in the movie. Things he loved about me, things that he wanted for me, anything and everything romantic you could think of. I was a sobbing, snotting mess.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The movie quit right as our gondola came to a stop. </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYP0_0S7hBMm6gH_HlCLV9I90ndNdFfHLhgJbLSQNF86QRsCBmZm3BUEUvFicdrrdIGVF1tICldfqQZCddFyxbJTlsF93EF-UiIcYsez1eT8oF33RKXsZa8_tUy3_A1QBouJEvCeQkWPX/s1600/iphone%253Acard.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYP0_0S7hBMm6gH_HlCLV9I90ndNdFfHLhgJbLSQNF86QRsCBmZm3BUEUvFicdrrdIGVF1tICldfqQZCddFyxbJTlsF93EF-UiIcYsez1eT8oF33RKXsZa8_tUy3_A1QBouJEvCeQkWPX/s400/iphone%253Acard.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660190830714909778" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a></span></p><div><br /></div><p></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jCLJqqEhF754oWC-qSuw9UBpJsZetOwQxCKCSuzCOiMEaWBCG_GSUaSo9mOpHYSBtQRvwHhYATrsqg75XM4I3XtD1O3yGEnlr9oFaSqOM190DEiNoIP7F5Ry0j02Tud_YfkUkQWBVni3/s1600/gondola+ride.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; " onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jCLJqqEhF754oWC-qSuw9UBpJsZetOwQxCKCSuzCOiMEaWBCG_GSUaSo9mOpHYSBtQRvwHhYATrsqg75XM4I3XtD1O3yGEnlr9oFaSqOM190DEiNoIP7F5Ry0j02Tud_YfkUkQWBVni3/s400/gondola+ride.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660190837727226082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><p></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Part 6 (MOUNTAIN SUMMIT)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I stepped out to see another attendant holding a sign that said "Kellye Rae Vetter". He handed me another card, and then directed me down a hill…. and said someone was waiting for me. As I walked down the hill, and turned the corner, I saw a huge platform at the summit of the mountain. In the middle, was a table with candles, rose bouquets, rose petals, wine, bread, and a box. The weather was super foggy and almost rainy, and it made it look like that was the only thing on the whole mountain. I literally couldn't see anything else but the candlelight. As I approached the platform, Levi came around the corner. I lost it again.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After we embraced, Levi grabbed my hand and led me towards the table. He then began a romantic monologue of how much he loved me, how he wanted to spend his life with me, and many other great things that I honestly don't remember due to the complete shock, confusion, and craziness running through my brain. I have always told myself I would remember every tiny detail of my engagement. Good thing my mom was there snapping photos.</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlAPw-pUuSo1hnvJBTnbjYZN-PetP1Pcyhsz3JH3z9MF_lsRyah_2Xwr38YrlY71bkxAS84sRuwLvBnm-eV9O3xsbaUO0RAkDJuPLQ-A6CTNElu1rQz7XDWY_a87Axz7k2GkEdNoYjL4WC/s1600/holding+hands%253Atable.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlAPw-pUuSo1hnvJBTnbjYZN-PetP1Pcyhsz3JH3z9MF_lsRyah_2Xwr38YrlY71bkxAS84sRuwLvBnm-eV9O3xsbaUO0RAkDJuPLQ-A6CTNElu1rQz7XDWY_a87Axz7k2GkEdNoYjL4WC/s400/holding+hands%253Atable.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660191327120580994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iU1bd5qMMR_iKDkHq7B6jiK1na66SU0HTDLAnOhEPRHvMncc_YtrSWTm94Re9jg-G3CwtFHFCBRkqDIYBQt4B9pIg6Q2PWPywkPdAU6PbL9sAh2GhnJeriFE7wy_QXzxo7B-IXhP4oPY/s1600/table.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iU1bd5qMMR_iKDkHq7B6jiK1na66SU0HTDLAnOhEPRHvMncc_YtrSWTm94Re9jg-G3CwtFHFCBRkqDIYBQt4B9pIg6Q2PWPywkPdAU6PbL9sAh2GhnJeriFE7wy_QXzxo7B-IXhP4oPY/s400/table.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660191321190147138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a></span></p><div><br /></div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Part 7 (DOWN ON ONE KNEE)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Next thing I knew, Levi was down on one knee. I couldn't breathe. My heart was racing a million miles a second. "Kellye Rae Vetter…will you marry me?". AHHHHHHHHHH. I couldn't gather my thoughts enough to say "yes", so I left him down there for quite some time. I finally spit out the words, and he put the ring on my RIGHT hand. Cutest thing you have ever seen. I died laughing (the whole mountain heard) and he got bright red. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He then said, "that's your covenant ring". As if I wasn't confused/shocked/and emotional enough. I looked at him like he was crazy and he said "I had April steal it for me". I punched him in the shoulder, and then cursed my best friend under my breath for putting me through so much heartache thinking I had lost the thing. :)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Levi only does things from the heart. He could get me any ring, but knew that one would move my heart in greater ways because of the symbolism in it. It represents covenant, and faithfulness, and promises fulfilled. Again, he outdid himself with heartfelt, prayed-through details. My heart was undone.</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuvIGawfsfxU1o_XEsOalf8DPsyQrgTBiPn-kfx_tTsvpG_oMxe1NwWmJNqFumumyEbUd-yrioknzwA5ae8GfD-Flw_R3vQDurJYUxifV1T8GJVtO2yxQ6fqR1hU1UHxZJ6q9ZmCjt653/s1600/one+knee.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuvIGawfsfxU1o_XEsOalf8DPsyQrgTBiPn-kfx_tTsvpG_oMxe1NwWmJNqFumumyEbUd-yrioknzwA5ae8GfD-Flw_R3vQDurJYUxifV1T8GJVtO2yxQ6fqR1hU1UHxZJ6q9ZmCjt653/s400/one+knee.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660191563133171362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAnc9V1UN9RKeEf5PQ9RwBGDY2CZujm609RRhEPspFU8MIicga7DDFM0tB1r-ozh6Rqqe1faFBsSf5brDmDYLNsKI1R3RU1yg_JZGwzewvoSKsVYLbF9vqwJrnJ8qLBDxhgag1xog8eLa/s1600/wrong+hand.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAnc9V1UN9RKeEf5PQ9RwBGDY2CZujm609RRhEPspFU8MIicga7DDFM0tB1r-ozh6Rqqe1faFBsSf5brDmDYLNsKI1R3RU1yg_JZGwzewvoSKsVYLbF9vqwJrnJ8qLBDxhgag1xog8eLa/s400/wrong+hand.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660191555633067490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9phdC0-qVjVjZoFCQFpXbHCUivNNfR_p_k-GJNiBJE52eOuWvZB2sLGQYvHVKIOYlT41MwxJoIzI7HMX_Uqd8DmErhp6zcZqWvbiQAf9iNeFwwh2ix8StZYjNZnbPMrA-0-Jd6uyad9J/s1600/ring+and+wine.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9phdC0-qVjVjZoFCQFpXbHCUivNNfR_p_k-GJNiBJE52eOuWvZB2sLGQYvHVKIOYlT41MwxJoIzI7HMX_Uqd8DmErhp6zcZqWvbiQAf9iNeFwwh2ix8StZYjNZnbPMrA-0-Jd6uyad9J/s400/ring+and+wine.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660191743542189138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Part 8 (PRAISE THE LORD)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Levi brought wine and bread up to the mountaintop for the proposal. As soon as he put the ring on my hand, he said "I want to take communion and honor Jesus". He held me in his arms, and thanked the Lord for every good thing He has given us, to bless our union, and just praised Jesus for a super hot fiance (jokes… but I did).</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We remembered His suffering, and thanked Him for giving us righteousness. It was the same feeling as that night on Mauna Kea when Levi told me He loved me. I felt so close to the Lord, as if I could reach out and touch him. Mountaintops help with that feeling. </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1_DUVIGTAqs9NjDygHuKJRW0scgks9OXSO8wJX-BiqJdgl1dnd9sc3l5R6SbSoePPBRvxgcALQJDgZcQjOw39XLvXrF5BAyVxodANpK73vMA8CXqRHmqCXifjl2OCqZuSt2BeVryUN-I/s1600/kissing.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1_DUVIGTAqs9NjDygHuKJRW0scgks9OXSO8wJX-BiqJdgl1dnd9sc3l5R6SbSoePPBRvxgcALQJDgZcQjOw39XLvXrF5BAyVxodANpK73vMA8CXqRHmqCXifjl2OCqZuSt2BeVryUN-I/s400/kissing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660192035051988066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYMAATeIn-hp4SC_9vLv7ow62mVyIKbuffU84P67ulTo3D7yGxbTKphqGPhOCTPTvQvoDmMIBwIihK-vgExe9c4moTTFaNW47gn8ScT0BUKEUPtXVxH3bRt2QWFJ9Aj_u2Lc_yw-5KcGf/s1600/wine+drinking.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYMAATeIn-hp4SC_9vLv7ow62mVyIKbuffU84P67ulTo3D7yGxbTKphqGPhOCTPTvQvoDmMIBwIihK-vgExe9c4moTTFaNW47gn8ScT0BUKEUPtXVxH3bRt2QWFJ9Aj_u2Lc_yw-5KcGf/s400/wine+drinking.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660192027970015106" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdLn9px4gRM2hNFuDtjF7qJvS2qfu4V3yWs_wns79gvPK2IkLfm_lbCh5qpIO1M6eISjdOZQtP9f-WskWuUdnegeRToQH9HdkHnXjOLauw6rxhB31crDOdFshhn_tr-7j-h9FJn99xit9/s1600/best+communion.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdLn9px4gRM2hNFuDtjF7qJvS2qfu4V3yWs_wns79gvPK2IkLfm_lbCh5qpIO1M6eISjdOZQtP9f-WskWuUdnegeRToQH9HdkHnXjOLauw6rxhB31crDOdFshhn_tr-7j-h9FJn99xit9/s400/best+communion.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660192030942117682" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>If I am certain of anything to this point, is that when I am with Levi, I experience the Lord in great ways, and feel loved in ways I never thought imaginable.</span></b></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-67397776629272539292011-10-05T18:28:00.000-07:002011-10-05T18:29:06.731-07:00Our Engagement StoryUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-29323680547861120892011-08-03T18:43:00.000-07:002011-08-03T19:25:31.318-07:00Reality of the CrossOut of your mouth, <div>creation was spoke into existence.</div><div>My frame formed from your very breath.</div><div><b><i>Breath of life.</i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div>So, when you speak, I listen.</div><div>I do not follow a religion of "repeat, and repeat again".</div><div>I follow the One who speaks life, and life abundantly.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I lay here and weep,</div><div>and you show me your face.</div><div>You meet me in my place of despair.</div><div>Because that's who you are. A relational God.</div><div><br /></div><div>When in the Garden, I didn't have a handbook.</div><div>My sins were not forgiven by reading from a scroll.</div><div><br /></div><div>They were through a <b>man.</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>His name is Jesus.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>He bled. He shed tears.</div><div>Was beaten to death. Suffocated. </div><div>Pierced in the side. </div><div>Whipped time and time again.</div><div>Ripped flesh hung from his torso.</div><div>Beaten, over and over again.</div><div>With every attempted breath in, flesh ripping where dry blood kept it clinging to the wood of the cross.</div><div>Blood dripping into his eyes. </div><div>Thorns, driving into his forehead.</div><div>Spit on. Yelled at. Mocked.</div><div><br /></div><div>THAT's what forgave my sins.</div><div>The purest sacrifice enduring persecution, so I didn't have to.</div><div><br /></div><div>He was a real man, who died for men.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, as I struggle and need comfort, not knowing who to turn to....</div><div>...I will not turn to page 31 of the handbook.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will turn to the MAN, Jesus. He is faithful and will meet me here.</div><div><br /></div><div>I look to the cross, there is no longer a man there.</div><div>I look to the tomb, and I find it empty.</div><div><br /></div><div>He's not there, because He is meeting me, face to face, as I weep on my bedroom floor. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-11332031098376847422011-07-20T08:26:00.000-07:002011-07-20T09:46:39.808-07:00The Secret Place<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodpEBB7vz82XCje0bZuUCbPImrTY6fG5MIVrZdKAh1NX6NeIIDQX-itW3neljEUjr7k3At4g9_u8mTLS53nXp3nSuhGhrEugj6gz_wWFSjhBt0HZGO6W3ScK3N4znraE4-EDhDJPYEZfJ/s1600/shvil+israel2_+135.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodpEBB7vz82XCje0bZuUCbPImrTY6fG5MIVrZdKAh1NX6NeIIDQX-itW3neljEUjr7k3At4g9_u8mTLS53nXp3nSuhGhrEugj6gz_wWFSjhBt0HZGO6W3ScK3N4znraE4-EDhDJPYEZfJ/s400/shvil+israel2_+135.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631476770986139122" /></a><br />I sit on a mountain<br /><div>it's peak stretches up</div><div>The ground cannot touch it,</div><div>even for the birds it is too high</div><div><br /></div><div>There, I am protected</div><div>There, I find my place</div><div>It's there I see His face</div><div><br /></div><div>Every morning when I wake,</div><div>I climb that Holy hill</div><div>Hoping to catch a glance of His eye</div><div><br /></div><div>And every morning He meets me there,</div><div>Waiting to restore my soul</div><div>and give me a fresh touch of His love</div><div><br /></div><div>That mountain is beautiful,</div><div>with it's rocky peak, and cascading clouds around</div><div><br /></div><div>To the north, I see white billows of snow</div><div>To the south, a dry valley low</div><div>Greenery all around the entire base,</div><div>The sun rising in the east</div><div><br /></div><div>Colors splash with warmth against my face</div><div>The cool wind refreshes my weary soul</div><div><br /></div><div>As beautiful as that mountain is,</div><div>the endless amount of colors I see,</div><div>the feelings against my skin</div><div><i>It's in Him where the beauty resides</i></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>He is dark and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">rugged</span></div><div>Not what I imagined when I was little</div><div><br /></div><div>But, imagination has been destroyed, and encounters replace it</div><div><br /></div><div>He <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">is</span> not clothed with robes,</div><div>or a crown today</div><div>He meets me where I am at,</div><div>with bare feet and a messy mane</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Such an attire for the Son of Man.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>He sits there, staring to the East,</div><div>His hands bringing His legs close to His chest</div><div><br /></div><div>He breathes deeply,</div><div>the air which He created</div><div>Closes His eyes as if listening to One's voice</div><div><br /></div><div>Nodding slowly, as if responding to the voice in His head,</div><div>He turns, locks eyes with mine</div><div><br /></div><div>It's the look I wake up every morning to see</div><div>Because after the glance, </div><div>He always speaks to my soul</div><div><br /></div><div>He begins to tell me secrets of His father</div><div>How old these secrets are?</div><div>I am not sure</div><div><br /></div><div>I listen to Him intently,</div><div>not to miss a word</div><div>He tells me the plans He has for me,</div><div>but to protect me</div><div><br /></div><div>He speaks of a Garden from a distant land</div><div>Tells me its creative purpose to walk hand in hand with Him</div><div><br /></div><div>These are not new concepts,</div><div>yet they sound new every morning,</div><div>as He hands me the day's mercies.</div><div><br /></div><div>His whispering voice </div><div>does something to my heart</div><div>The whisper reminds me</div><div>He talks to me alone</div><div><br /></div><div><i>No one else is here.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>He anoints my head with oil,</div><div>and fills my cup until it overflows</div><div><br /></div><div>He takes my head in His hands,</div><div>still not breaking gaze</div><div><i>"I love you. I've always loved you. I will always love you"</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>With that, I close my eyes</div><div>to embrace His words</div><div>and listen to His creation in my ears</div><div><br /></div><div>I hear the wind pick up</div><div>It nearly drowns out His whisper</div><div><br /></div><div>I strain to hear Him more</div><div>My dry and weary soul begins to no longer thirst,</div><div>for His touch has filled me up</div><div><br /></div><div>The wind is louder, different now,</div><div>It almost sounds like pages knocking against one another</div><div>Trying to use other senses to strain past it,</div><div>I open my eyes, hoping to hear Him louder</div><div><br /></div><div>I look around, surprised, as I do every morning</div><div><br /></div><div>I am back in my room</div><div>window flown open,</div><div>wind rushing in,</div><div>causing my bible to flip violently page to page</div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Tomorrow, I will meet Him again</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-48758170842960394572011-07-16T21:35:00.001-07:002011-07-19T21:55:44.703-07:00Children of the Most High.I spent the afternoon with some of the most amazing people in all of California.<div><br /></div><div>They know how to do community.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They are grateful for the simple things.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They are content with the least.</div><div><br /></div><div>Saturday afternoons, I go to the homeless community in downtown Santa Ana. It's actually just a strip of benches and grass outside the courthouse, where around 100 homeless lay their heads at night, and spend the days together. I passed out bags of watermelon, and water bottles, and held simple conversation with them. They are quick to reach out their hands and say "thank you" all at the same time; assuming you want nothing to do with conversation or relationship. They are used to people passing by without a casual "hello" or "how are you?". When I started to ask each of them their names as they received their watermelon, they got so awkward and tense. A few responded, and others looked habitually to the ground and ignored me. When they realized I was genuinely initiating conversation and not just passing out food, they began to open up. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I hear there stories, my heart gets overwhelmed to share the love of Jesus with them. They have nothing. They need everything. That's what He can give them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last week, I sat on the concrete next to an older man named Jeff. We talked about his life, how he got to California, and his history with the church. The part that captured my heart was when he began to share about his family, and specifically his siblings. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He is someone's <b>little brother</b>. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He is someone's <b>son</b>.</div><div><br /></div><div>My eyes filled with tears as I imagined my own little brother. What if he grew up, and people passed him by on the streets without a simple "hello?". He has so much to offer the world, and he deserves love. What if days went by where he never had a conversation with someone? What if he went days without food? And no one ever considered his needs?</div><div><br /></div><div>It was then that God gave me a heart for the homeless. Each one is a son or daughter of God. I can't begin to imagine the Lord's amount of grief for each of his lost children, compared to my human heart tears for Jeff. He is loved by the Creator of the Universe, how could I not love him as well?</div><div><br /></div><div>I am just like them. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My home isn't on this Earth.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I am a child of God.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will love them, just like Jesus does.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-10832087246934402292011-07-16T21:15:00.000-07:002011-07-18T16:35:17.156-07:00My Boyfriend (Really, this whole post is for my mom).<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Disclaimer: this blog is SUPER long.</div><div>Disclaimer: you may barf. (from cuteness)</div><div><br /></div>I have contemplated writing a blog about this very subject for awhile. There are pro's and con's to dedicating an entire blog post to writing about your love relationship; But, I've decided I am used to all my friends saying "barf" after every lovey dovey thing I say, or when looking through my Facebook profile pictures. So.... bring on the barf. Blog world: meet Levi Miller<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 359px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoTf2V4ICSs_QlRiCNIWpcv_8gVUhlxnitOXZ-zeBxBBW2zk_FxisU2q2OrX9kUfQnRJzEhC2gf9RnYD7Bo6xS0M0IxLAA8M7rp1rD72pBpF5sU4W8OkphzMlCvsGBqVgGEzJ-QMMt3YuE/s400/lovefeast.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630836168554193442" /><div><br /></div><div>Levi and I met through friends at Youth With A Mission. We actually met an entire year before I went out to do my DTS in Kona. I thought he was a nice boy, and rather handsome, but didn't really get to know him that well. I moved to Kona to do my DTS, and he left to lead an outreach to the Mainland. We hung out a few times in Kona before he left, and had several conversations, but nothing too serious. For some strange reason, I developed the fattest crush on the boy. I literally would find myself daydreaming about him, and get super awkward when we actually talked in person. He was the "famous YWAM worship leader" and I was just a little DTS girl. He helped pioneer one of the biggest ministries on the base (Fire and Fragrance), and in my mind was what they call "out of my league". I don't know if it was his status that made me think he was out of my league.. or just the sheer fact he is the most attractive and talented human being I know.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoA3NVyr51yj4rGfP-OC4vFHEwvE6d6fhDnufzWq-QFoh8xa-CMzL4SiYXczU0hic0zoF1KGi8yfFS0ovP9hi9Wzo0qlYUebF9W4oWYxL94dnR8RTs4rTeko0tW6FpgNRmIhjYfrax-_E/s400/IMG_0654.PNG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630836429111803154" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>With that said.. I left for 3 months to Cambodia and thought about him occasionally. I would MAYBE would look at his facebook pictures from time to time but you can't prove that :)</div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3VL0SVL4GTsLVsL_MOvcej45jq0BtarqoduikuzoTRAzhpgUfgHEVuSg5ppcibGY8-9b_E_Oh6rmH3C-BAoPH3Y2UuL6-Poo2xeP08HvWC8rmOiFgHmlyP7i5cZQ9dmoeuX7JZsEjuf67/s400/ihop.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630839853294217314" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></span><div>Fast forward to this December. All of my friends were gathering in Kansas City for the OneThing Conference (International House of Prayer). I carpooled with my best friends, Madison Wooster and Kaytlyn Johnson and had the most amazing week of my life. The first day we were there, I was walking out of the convention center and saw Levi walking in. I don't know what happened in my heart, but something shifted as soon as we locked eyes and went for the MOST awkward hug I have ever given anyone (I blame it on the nerves). We were in the same group the rest of the week hanging out, and I kept finding myself wanting to stand next to him, or keep having conversations with him. Everything he said intrigued me, every time he looked at me, my heart would jump. Yet, I was certain the feelings were not mutual. He never gave a sign that he was interested. No flirting, no asking for my number... just amazing conversation and nonstop butterflies. And with that... the week was over. (oh, then he swooped my number from Madison at the end of the week...without telling me.)</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><div><br /></div><div>Two weeks later, Levi told me he was coming to Oklahoma to try and visit all of his friends there. (I know this now, but didn't then... that he was actually coming to see me). He tried to play it cool, and told me he actually needed a place to stay since our other friends are in sorority houses, and I jumped at the chance. Cute boy staying at my house for a week? Absolutely. This couldn't get any better.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Levi flew into the Tulsa airport it was so nice outside. Probably in the upper 70's and super sunny. We drove around Tulsa, and got to stay with the amazing Wooster family while Madison showed us around the town. We went and worshipped at a friends house with Sean Feucht, and just had good conversation and amazing food. It was perfect.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseweTSfhuBEgDjGjK43eIYFDwQQroTltP-uRI_D2ZH1fUF_2OUShFIkuhsMl-9MORqhbKTBWSoQaIz-nz6XgVr3Q2tYe3gRj8VRAWrpq_F-5eOMejeSWbbfj1suTXKIUctyKdHUFZwLRq/s1600/tulsa.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseweTSfhuBEgDjGjK43eIYFDwQQroTltP-uRI_D2ZH1fUF_2OUShFIkuhsMl-9MORqhbKTBWSoQaIz-nz6XgVr3Q2tYe3gRj8VRAWrpq_F-5eOMejeSWbbfj1suTXKIUctyKdHUFZwLRq/s400/tulsa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630837726527981106" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Levi and I drove back late that night, and by the next morning there was a legit blizzard. I'm talking... snowed in for days blizzard. I truly believe it was from the Lord. BECAUSE, we were trapped in my house for 4 days with nothing to do besides getting to know each other even more. We played music, drank coffee, and talked about deep things in our hearts. I got to know about his family, and he heard my entire life story. I don't know if he feels the same way, but he became my best friend after that week. It was just so easy to communicate and we didn't have to be entertained. We just sat around for hours doing nothing but laughing and talking.</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5OSUgiPVNEgaO9EBa_kw2FbHBH2IBBjHxB0_wpWHnwBB36N6hc_U5SqePwOx2O01HLeSUo7LDY_fRzoLaBGCNuDGSdOyzwnEKvFd0OxQxfOG8q-q82tMhbv1EZeAOLPNmuu6zU3uCimn/s1600/IMG_0653.PNG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5OSUgiPVNEgaO9EBa_kw2FbHBH2IBBjHxB0_wpWHnwBB36N6hc_U5SqePwOx2O01HLeSUo7LDY_fRzoLaBGCNuDGSdOyzwnEKvFd0OxQxfOG8q-q82tMhbv1EZeAOLPNmuu6zU3uCimn/s400/IMG_0653.PNG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630837987746588802" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /><div>During the blizzard... we booked tickets for NYC. My best friend was there at the time and we wanted to surprise her. So, after a week of nonstop Levi/Kellye time... we flew together to NYC. We walked around Times Square, hung out at Starbucks, rode the subway.. you know... all the typical NYC stuff. My favorite weather is cold weather and Levi is my favorite person, so it couldn't get any better. Still, I guarded my heart the entire time we were there. I wasn't sure how exactly he felt about me, and I didn't want to be the one to initiate.</div><div><br /></div><div>After a week, I had to leave NYC and fly to Hawaii to start my training for the April school I was staffing. It was bittersweet, because I had truly developed feelings for Levi, but was leaving for 6 months and didn't know when I would see him again. He had no intentions of coming back to Kona, so I wasn't sure when our paths would ever cross again. But, I knew I could see myself with him. After all the time we had spent together, he was everything I ever wanted in a man. He is an amazing leader, pushed me in my walk with the Lord, was easy to talk to, is incredibly talented, and is so in love with the Lord. Leaving for Kona, I surrendered my feelings completely to the Lord. He had to make this one work, because it wasn't looking to good for Kellye. Living across the Pacific Ocean kind of puts a hinderance on someone pursuing you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two weeks after I arrived in Kona, Levi actually flew to Honolulu to speak in a school there.. (like I said, he is a big deal). He was only an island over from me. UGH... still giving it to Jesus.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sunday, February 27th. Levi shows up in Kona with the intention of staying for 3 days and then flying back to the mainland. </div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4BkRfGBh9ts8aj1FXbx59eUPjHHWyJzvSHMVx99LZKtOBP3jNdG2mVaDeHiNgIUHowhLXfqlp0EIdzlQrg02fkqQDkM5lq4qnzpKmGiGqHqm5CspEzTo9Gd040Gbo557-Ee394HrqThC/s400/SAM_9187_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630838585546944754" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 400px; " /></span><div>Monday February 28th. Levi takes me out on our first date. (Actually, I didn't think it to be a date, just "talking and getting coffee" which was normal for us). He took me to the sea wall downtown and begins the most romantic monologue in the entire world. Seriously, it should have been recorded and put in a movie. Telling me everything he loved about me, and how the Lord had been speaking to him about pursuing me. By the end of the night, he had decided to ditch his plane ticket back to the mainland and stay and pursue my heart. That's right... my pursuit story starts with a boy flying half way around the world just to be where I am to pursue me. Probably the most romantic thing in the world.</div><div><br /></div><div>For the next 4 months, Levi and I began our dating relationship. He was so creative in the way he pursued my heart, and it looked nothing like what I thought dating was. He would pray for me every night, or ask the Lord about things in our relationship and share them with me. We would cook dinner, and sit around and talk about our dreams, and our childhood. (I feel like a Norah Jones song would be so relevant to enter here.) Our last date before I left for Outreach, he planned out a Song of Solomon date (because I am studying that book at the moment). He brought dates, and figs, and dark chocolate and apples, and we sat around and discussed what I was learning. UGH... every boy should take notes from him.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59_KN8vrn9qTO6tAyF051V1OP6ydTxU-zAhrCVvnnPle8w8yDj3nVDQt4aaPm7ir0kyklJnlW7839W-JMhkkZsIr-i0G7CjekOuRKu1sHs8c82ygewSPtQmjAfECS923XKYf17JBH0LBr/s1600/IMG_0634.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59_KN8vrn9qTO6tAyF051V1OP6ydTxU-zAhrCVvnnPle8w8yDj3nVDQt4aaPm7ir0kyklJnlW7839W-JMhkkZsIr-i0G7CjekOuRKu1sHs8c82ygewSPtQmjAfECS923XKYf17JBH0LBr/s400/IMG_0634.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630839145271761058" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVrnq2X7W6iAmkQ0jHDB35DXV5hzk9HhAvsjzpAec4mMg45hKrKNUOxlz6ZbINj44uzC1ITszgO7UyGmiK49UnY7GfK22hyJfk3hVC7w-IVBkNuPCWP_oFbLyNP7K3a-hPcpJhBAU4Joog/s1600/IMG_0333.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVrnq2X7W6iAmkQ0jHDB35DXV5hzk9HhAvsjzpAec4mMg45hKrKNUOxlz6ZbINj44uzC1ITszgO7UyGmiK49UnY7GfK22hyJfk3hVC7w-IVBkNuPCWP_oFbLyNP7K3a-hPcpJhBAU4Joog/s400/IMG_0333.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630838892382367986" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I am in L.A. and Levi is in Washington. We have 3 months apart while I lead the most amazing outreach team in the world. It has been hard to be away from him, but there is so much grace on it. I get to press in and pursue the Lord in a whole new way, and I have honestly grown so much. </div><div><br /></div><div>Basically, if you haven't barfed yet... I will make sure you do now. My mom always asked after I went on dates in high school, <b>"did he treat you like a princess?" </b>I could never truly answer yes to that question until I met Levi. I ALWAYS feel pursued, I ALWAYS feel protected, and I know he is ALWAYS seeking the Lord about our relationship. He knows exactly what my heart needs, and guards it so well. Not to mention... he is the most attractive human being on the planet, so that helps. I still get butterflies when he tells me I am beautiful, I still get nervous singing around him, and I still melt when I hear him play music. I have no idea how I could get the most amazing man in the world to pursue my heart the way he does. :)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-59606336318851095232011-07-13T16:52:00.000-07:002012-11-16T13:29:49.280-08:00Cellar Door<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVC8tZ-2yWpOsQXOx3W6ApzNOkTPK1wu592bY6mW4_amAFmEkowFpOgiyITtz7owfdrdxjyPKytQ6XDMJBuuDFQg1PLTZHLo06MnpJucx-QTuo41hhMjybNPnK9V5vEDjgC5pz1Op9vAq-/s1600/20050220_cellar_door.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629005362929991634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVC8tZ-2yWpOsQXOx3W6ApzNOkTPK1wu592bY6mW4_amAFmEkowFpOgiyITtz7owfdrdxjyPKytQ6XDMJBuuDFQg1PLTZHLo06MnpJucx-QTuo41hhMjybNPnK9V5vEDjgC5pz1Op9vAq-/s400/20050220_cellar_door.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
I first learned that the phrase "<span style="font-weight: bold;">cellar door</span>" was the most <span style="font-weight: bold;">beautiful</span> phrase in all of the English language when I was in high school.<br />
<br />
I debated the idea, wondering how one could pick such a simple phrase out of all of our vocabulary and title it "most beautiful". With no regard for semantics, just simply based on how it sounds coming out of one's mouth. This seems so silly to just dub something beautiful without real grounds to do so. Seriously, when you look at the word, it's what my grandparents have in their backyard, with weeds grown over it. The only real use it gets is during tornado season or to hold unnecessary amounts of canned peaches. I wrestled over this concept the entire duration of my junior year. This simple phrase, being named most beautiful.<br />
<br />
Beautiful, just because the scholar knows it to be.<br />
Beautiful, just because the author says it to be.<br />
Beautiful, just because the foreigner hears it to be.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">This compound noun has unpacked so much revelation to my heart lately</span>:</span><br />
<br />
I spent the other afternoon in a town called Santa Ana. I walked up and down the gang filled streets, witnessing the homeless, the broken, the unsaved, the addicts, and the prostitutes. In a sense, I felt the way Jesus did. So out of place among a crowd of people that were nothing like me. I have nothing to offer this community from a wordly perspective. I cannot speak their language, aside from the occasional "Hola" and "gracias", and have nothing to offer the drug dealers on the corners. I can't rescue the prostitutes on the street corners, and I had nothing but a genuine smile to offer the homeless begging for a place to lay their head.<br />
<br />
Walking the streets, there was such a tension in my heart. I wanted a real, deep down, <span style="font-style: italic;">shake me to the core</span> love for the lost. I wanted revelation for how the Father feels for the unsaved and broken of the world.<br />
<br />
It was right then that I saw her. The most beautiful being I have ever locked eyes with. Her mother, dressed in barely nothing was on the other side of the porch, speaking loudly to two men in Spanish. From her body language, and the way she was dressed, I assumed the conversation was not appropriate for such a little one. She (the little one) was alone on the opposite end of the porch, humming quietly to herself, and shuffling up and down the outside staircase. No one was paying her attention. Her clothes were two sizes too small and her hair had gone days without being brushed. Not once during her mothers conversation, were eyes glanced her way. Yet, she seemed content, looking down at her feet, watching her every step up and down the stairway.<br />
<br />
I was told her house was the biggest crack house on the block. Every few days, police raids and evacuations. Occasional fires and "blowups" in the kitchen. Yet, days after evacuation, they were all back in the house. The curtains were torn, and boards put up where windows had been broken. Trash was scattered on the lawn, and loud music echoed from the living room into the street.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, I caught her attention from across the street. She giggled and ran straight up the stairs and into the house. Against the unpainted house, the unpolished lawn, the broken windows and in her own stained clothes, she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.<br />
<br />
Beautiful, because the Author created her to be.<br />
Beautiful, because the foreigner sees her to be.<br />
<br />
She is the "cellar door" to my english language. I have no grounds to prove she is beautiful. I have nothing but the sound of her giggle, and the glimmer of hope in her eyes to describe her has pure beauty. And with that, the Lord brought clarity to the phrase, and brought revelation for His eyes for the lost.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyv1CpYmyRyWbLK5CoJpiecM2MdAnVXIbJpsj9EwjIgblG-4rJZrU8-x5pL9z6J8pGxFKH3OegpVFfyynoVOJiSUpnNvhyPKVltnziPiYvotjOFixq0Tga5bZAx3avP9aZWDlWjXSF9NLX/s1600/bishop.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629004821046649570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyv1CpYmyRyWbLK5CoJpiecM2MdAnVXIbJpsj9EwjIgblG-4rJZrU8-x5pL9z6J8pGxFKH3OegpVFfyynoVOJiSUpnNvhyPKVltnziPiYvotjOFixq0Tga5bZAx3avP9aZWDlWjXSF9NLX/s400/bishop.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 225px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-36379062915308818472011-07-08T21:57:00.000-07:002011-07-08T23:02:56.127-07:00Song of Songs 4:7As a woman, it's sometimes hard for us to gain perspective on self-worth and body image. In the words of Bill Johnson, "I can't afford to have thoughts in my head about me that God doesn't have in His". I want all women to know how the Lord views them; as beautiful, spotless and pure.<br /><br />So... I wrote a song about it. Inspired by two very beautiful woman. My best friend, April Cossey, and a 6 year old Khmer girl I met in Cambodia.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Beloved:<br /></span><br />Her clothes state that of what she lacks,<br />but her smile tells of what she's gained.<br />For today she received revelation<br />she's never viewed herself this way.<br /><br />She begins to read through her bible<br />flips through the pages<br />She ends up somewhere in the middle<br />It's a love story next to the book of Praise<br /><br />As she reads, her eyes fill with tears<br />as she learns of her worth<br />The One who wrote it, begins to speak to her soul and she hears.<br /><br />He loves her with no makeup<br />He tells her of her worth.<br />Says she's flawless<br />with eyes like a dove<br />and, He calls her His Beloved.<br /><br />Her clothes state that of what she lacks<br />but, her smile says what she's gained<br />For today she received a bible, <br />its the first time, she's ever heard His name.<br /><br />She takes my hand, walks me through her village<br />Waves to her brothers as they run and play<br />They call out mean names and<br />she ducks her head, eyes fill with pain<br /><br />As she reads, her eyes fill with tears<br />as she learns of her worth<br />The One who wrote it, begins to speak to her soul and she hears.<br /><br />He loves her with no makeup<br />He tells her of her worth.<br />Says she's flawless<br />with eyes like a dove<br />and, He calls her His Beloved.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-39247386061484791772011-06-19T15:54:00.001-07:002011-06-30T18:00:26.102-07:00Meet the Team!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdonP2_nBxuslgzwfbYh4iAqORBMt-lfCppY4PUKwvyu46mEkpo0Qhr0Eusd-UKvKGRidKPNxjOguJDJCIZzdwdVVQtdB1OAiA1k_w5wltR2xm0lcd79dgleLaANVOIWaj4WxmSF088fbN/s1600/wholeteam1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdonP2_nBxuslgzwfbYh4iAqORBMt-lfCppY4PUKwvyu46mEkpo0Qhr0Eusd-UKvKGRidKPNxjOguJDJCIZzdwdVVQtdB1OAiA1k_w5wltR2xm0lcd79dgleLaANVOIWaj4WxmSF088fbN/s320/wholeteam1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624182017166396898" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOKCYWAutDt7o8Zu-NpF37kVXnYLOjhaTONgox6_jOfCPOO-wWyiiSrsVFsbx6aKCD8kjwGTU4muP1w_oMI2UznSp9gUgIo7upAnaNQyRhRtwMac3d1i1IybD-PlZksLNfTYRLKGQgmn7/s1600/wholeteam2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOKCYWAutDt7o8Zu-NpF37kVXnYLOjhaTONgox6_jOfCPOO-wWyiiSrsVFsbx6aKCD8kjwGTU4muP1w_oMI2UznSp9gUgIo7upAnaNQyRhRtwMac3d1i1IybD-PlZksLNfTYRLKGQgmn7/s320/wholeteam2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624181909307187362" /></a><br /><br />Erin Crain is a FIERY 32 year old from Tacoma, Washington. When I say FIERY, I actually mean pyromaniac. When she prays… its pure fire. When she speaks… it's pure fire. She is the definition of bold and fearless in every aspect. She loves the Lord with all of her heart and has been waiting patiently to join YWAM and enter the Mission. The Lord knew what He was doing when He put her on my team. Not only is Erin trained up in freedom and leading people into sovereign deliverance before the Lord, she is an incredibly talented rapper. You heard me… RAPPER. I have never heard anything like it. She is a preacher, teacher, evangelist, fearless leader.. but most importantly, a friend. Sometimes I feel silly being her "leader" since she is older and wiser than me. She also has really rad hair. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC20cGIjwYJ__tZ_IdABEJKHFLzNw_Nx48oz6T719EkTB2pEj94PB_T_fF-jWMEXUNActSt24VopVKysYkHPYH3yYj1wG_gbm14mRMw3-jxBW6WvMGVlYsAfmSImYwbdZJJopcGcoKsA9/s1600/Erin.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC20cGIjwYJ__tZ_IdABEJKHFLzNw_Nx48oz6T719EkTB2pEj94PB_T_fF-jWMEXUNActSt24VopVKysYkHPYH3yYj1wG_gbm14mRMw3-jxBW6WvMGVlYsAfmSImYwbdZJJopcGcoKsA9/s320/Erin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624180573694879954" /></a><br /><br />Rami Son is the most diverse woman I have ever met. When I first met her, I was thrown for a loop. Here is this incredibly beautiful little Korean girl, but then she opens her mouth and has the thickest Spanish accent while having perfect English grammar. She is from Ecuador and speaks Spanish, Korean, and English… and does them all fluently and beautifully. It is so refreshing to know we are called as a team to "go into the nations" but I feel like we are bringing all of the nations with us in this one woman. She has an amazingly tender heart before the Lord and it has been such a joy getting to know her. She is bold in her speech and not afraid to preach the Gospel to anyone around. I have had the privilege to walk with her "one-on-one" in discipleship over the past 3 months and I have seen her heart be transformed, restored and set free time and time again. I believe she is called to bring women into true restoration and will begin walking that out over the next 3 months.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX2CuqrFekWL_OLBORMyS1SqzbSAizTtCXohdKeG-yG4ERczOOZXRHnaVu5XSZ0uOyW6gpTdS4dkPI0BXUCUfeLQhxFGF01l-W3_2oPopl_5uubDxHvKrpYdCEuE2c0FCsobdG7PmOT1jM/s1600/rami.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX2CuqrFekWL_OLBORMyS1SqzbSAizTtCXohdKeG-yG4ERczOOZXRHnaVu5XSZ0uOyW6gpTdS4dkPI0BXUCUfeLQhxFGF01l-W3_2oPopl_5uubDxHvKrpYdCEuE2c0FCsobdG7PmOT1jM/s320/rami.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624180721634062290" /></a><br /><br />RoseMary Cho (aka Rosey) is an incredibly mature 18 year old from Indiana. She has a stinking cute high voice and soft speech and my heart is at peace when I am around her. She carries such authority in innocence and purity and I believe high school girls will be brought into the Kingdom just because of her friendship with the Lord. I have seen her grow and mature radically in the past 3 months and she is such an asset to our team. Did I mention she is Korean-American?! Bringing the nations with us. The first time I prayed for Rosey, I felt the Lord say these things: "joyful" "dancer" and "seeker of truth". She is marked for joy, is carrying it into America, and will release it into all the nations.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDNRj9923Q15AEW33qRQt1-EXxncld4cF3eYaK4yf9Ge_RglHJE1DJ9USm9E_wfis89ZuOAJWkRnKMuYnDGgEFLR2g0vHNoBd2g_NrCmwFDL5hiDh6FYXjPdF2_m5AAPT9HEGILuHUE4V/s1600/rosey.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDNRj9923Q15AEW33qRQt1-EXxncld4cF3eYaK4yf9Ge_RglHJE1DJ9USm9E_wfis89ZuOAJWkRnKMuYnDGgEFLR2g0vHNoBd2g_NrCmwFDL5hiDh6FYXjPdF2_m5AAPT9HEGILuHUE4V/s320/rosey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624181012826118786" /></a><br /><br />Jamie Chang is an 18 year old ALSO from Indiana. Fun fact: she and Rosey were friends before DTS and now they are on the same Outreach Team together! I am beyond excited for this joyful woman to be going to L.A. and NYC with us. She is careless, fearless, and so teachable before the Lord. She carries a boldness like I have never seen. I am excited for our friendship to blossom, especially because we are so different. My first impression of Jamie was on a "get to know you" night the first week of school we had to give "fun facts" about ourselves. Of course, mine were the following: "My name is Kellye, I love pink and I love rhinestones". Jamie's "get to know you" fact was quite the opposite: "My name is Jamie, I hate pink I think it's obnoxious". She loves MMA fighting and tattoos and has really rad converse high tops. Although from the worlds viewpoint, we are complete opposites, I see her heart before the Lord and how incredibly gifted and anointed she is, and I cannot wait to run with her and transform hearts with her. Anytime she opens her mouth to pray or speak, it does something to my heart. I do not have language for it yet, but I see something in that tiny little girl. She is pregnant with destiny and the Lord is about to push her into greater greatness. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDnpUEfncQFIrBHvTHIxf5_5ohSDKK5g_1UVIviaGNehve3bUFWqty56g-lgUNLr-J_1h6IRadDMI9nBgESAHsFYhp1RPI9ye85noYpxBLv_1M9Jz0_ZTJL_qgogWVOaC4Rv-F9Q8_a-BW/s1600/jamie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDnpUEfncQFIrBHvTHIxf5_5ohSDKK5g_1UVIviaGNehve3bUFWqty56g-lgUNLr-J_1h6IRadDMI9nBgESAHsFYhp1RPI9ye85noYpxBLv_1M9Jz0_ZTJL_qgogWVOaC4Rv-F9Q8_a-BW/s320/jamie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624181353991179122" /></a><br /><br />Nali Kim is an incredibly beautiful 20 year old from "Philly". If her style doesn't make her the stinking cutest thing you have ever seen, her accent will. She has genuinely become one of my best friends in the past 3 months and I couldn't imagine this trip without her. Best part about Nali joining YWAM and coming on Outreach: her mother tricked her into it. Yes, you heard me. She was tricked into coming. BUT, I have never seen a more teachable heart and hunger before the Lord. We have laughed together, cried together, fought for each other, and I have seen utter transformation in that woman's heart. She has a heart for the lost, and a heart for women and wants to work with those that have been trafficked. I am telling you… this woman will transform the whole world. She has truly "counted it all as loss" for the sake of knowing Jesus. Leaving her family, and friends and life back home and seek after the Lord, she has experience intimacy and relationship with Jesus in a whole new way. I had the AMAZING privilege of baptizing her in the Pacific Ocean a couple weeks ago. She has been set ablaze for the Living God, and is ready to take it to the nations! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmjenLeFmtQN37hHcK2aBCwF7nfqpPuTg-hapZ2MnYb38oCNckFwB1WOUdiQgOfmYggPJ2dA416KmSNwyGOjP8ai0vq0aircCPttWPAmVzTY1xCvt31WrUNyL7ThzpJ-UhRq0JfjV5fAUc/s1600/Nali.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmjenLeFmtQN37hHcK2aBCwF7nfqpPuTg-hapZ2MnYb38oCNckFwB1WOUdiQgOfmYggPJ2dA416KmSNwyGOjP8ai0vq0aircCPttWPAmVzTY1xCvt31WrUNyL7ThzpJ-UhRq0JfjV5fAUc/s320/Nali.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624181551058395154" /></a><br /><br />Last but certainly not least… my BEAUTIFUL co-leader Lizzie Stein. She is the most mature, joyful, and humble 20 year old I have ever met. (Pause… I feel like I am a pageant announcer in this whole blog. I can see my girls coming on stage in fancy dresses doing a stiff and rigid wrist wave, while I hold my MC mic and read there well-written bios aloud to the audience…. unpause). I met Lizzie last year during my DTS. She was in PhotogenX and would come into the cafe every morning where I worked and would order a "quad-shot Milli Vinelli". We got to know each other a little, but it was when we came back to staff we really went deep into friendship. She is an insanely talented photographer and went to India last year for her outreach (you should look her up on Facebook and creep her work). I have had close girlfriends growing up, but Lizzie really has found a unique place in my heart. She is my accountability partner, prayer partner, crying on the shoulder partner, and "Kellye, get a grip on life" partner. I am so thankful she is leading this team with me. She has a heart for University and High schoolers to radically encounter the love of Jesus and come into the Kingdom. She is a little bundle of love and freedom and carries the manifest presence of Jesus anywhere she goes. She has truly become one of my closest friends and I know we will be bonded forever after this summer.<br />Shameless Lizzie plug: http://www.elizabethannephoto.blogspot.com <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNWPaKdlIcRHel5vkN69lxn1bQCtH6DJ5SaDam9wh9-Y7DmDo5Rn0rMyqN8PIyjRWIKcYVYUbZXZtg3f_J3GvyTPmI4wskwCXxsJ1wJPW3_zmzYgJqxfrbhSiUeRjphA0ILEzmP-WyXdH/s1600/Lizzie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNWPaKdlIcRHel5vkN69lxn1bQCtH6DJ5SaDam9wh9-Y7DmDo5Rn0rMyqN8PIyjRWIKcYVYUbZXZtg3f_J3GvyTPmI4wskwCXxsJ1wJPW3_zmzYgJqxfrbhSiUeRjphA0ILEzmP-WyXdH/s320/Lizzie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624182192973794258" /></a><br /><br />THERE YOU HAVE IT. My incredible team. We head out on the 29th of this month, staying in L.A. for 7 weeks, then off to N.Y.C. for 4 weeks. We believe we will see many come into the Kingdom, we will unify the Body, and bring friendship and love everywhere we go through our little family centered around the presence of Jesus. 7 very different girls…entering a very broken nation of America…. praying for absolute revival. In the words of Erin Crain: FIRE!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-25665394821679480262011-06-18T15:16:00.000-07:002011-06-18T15:22:59.619-07:00Re-entering the City of Dreams.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij_abM35cenKCrN8EkUdIYMf0boOyPg05cNWeO-BpZePqwzJipklKYy7ZG3Y3la8O22qKnDJplg5PJ3FZn_9RvsLTU3erbnJB9BtwGlmQFcMeMT6wzm8jxWEiKDXEFalUpOrmNmd0C5OMO/s1600/jlm-stars-hollywood-sign.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij_abM35cenKCrN8EkUdIYMf0boOyPg05cNWeO-BpZePqwzJipklKYy7ZG3Y3la8O22qKnDJplg5PJ3FZn_9RvsLTU3erbnJB9BtwGlmQFcMeMT6wzm8jxWEiKDXEFalUpOrmNmd0C5OMO/s320/jlm-stars-hollywood-sign.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619687833101979330" /></a><br />I remember the first time I flew into Los Angeles. I was 18 years old and on a flight for my first season of American Idol. I remember looking out the window of the plane seeing the Hollywood sign and trying not to pee my pants. It was almost too much to handle. All the buildings, the bright lights, the busyness of it all. I fell in love all over again.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Here's the thing</span>. Ever since I was little, all I wanted to do was move to L.A. I was infatuated by the city and had never even been there. Actually, it wasn't so much the city, but what L.A. was about: Anyone who was anyone lived there, and I was set on living there too. <br /><br />(Most 8 year old girls write in their diaries about best friends or stuff that happened at recess that day… I have diary entries where I am doing nothing but praying for Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen.}<br /><br />{Majority of elementary school girls cover their notebooks with princess pictures they colored or doodles of hearts and stars…. I cut out pictures from magazines in my mom's room of celebrities and pasted them to my notebook so I would remember to pray for them daily.}<br /> <br />{My prayer requests in Sunday School were regularly for Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears. I am sure the other kids thought it was weird that I rarely prayed for a sick relative or problems in my own family.}<br /><br />{When faced with the typical childhood question of "what do you want to be when you grow up?" my answer was ALWAYS a movie star or a musician. I was always confused when I heard other kids giving answers like "veterinarian", "doctor" and "police officer". Why wouldn't you want to be on a stage? Why wouldn't you want celebrity friends? I never once desired to be anything outside of the entertainment business. That's not true… I would want to be a wedding planner. On the side, of course…. and only for celebrities :)<br /><br />The other day someone asked me if the only reason I felt "called" to Los Angeles was because I felt it could be an easier way to be famous but under the umbrella of being a missionary. They quickly corrected themselves and apologized, realizing it came across a little harsh. I wasn't offended at all, and it actually didn't phase me.<br /><br />Being "famous" was all I ever worked for growing up. I've been on a stage since I could walk. My parents have spent more money on vocal coaches, piano lessons, dance lessons, and acting classes throughout the years than I care to admit. Graduating high school, I had no intentions of "getting a real job" or even "pursuing a degree". I was pursuing further training for the stage. That's it. All I've ever though about and dreamed of.<br /><br />When the Lord encountered my heart last year, all of these intentions changed. I no longer had any desire to seek out the world. I wanted Him. Nothing but His whole heart, and His plan for my life. I assumed that would mean moving to Africa and living in a township, or in the jungles of Cambodia. I imagined He would put me as far away from the media industry and the secular world, since that is what I sought out.<br /><br />The Lord is funny in that way. He sat aside a year of my life to get my heart right before Him. Taking me to Cambodia and Hawaii and really depositing His heart into mine. He radically shifted my heart and made me fall more in love with His ways.<br /><br />And now, I am headed <span style="font-weight:bold;">back into the city</span> I dreamed of since I was little. I fly to Los Angeles in less than two weeks. I am co-leading a team of 5 amazing girls and believing the Lord to transform the entertainment industry, and the entire city of L.A. We will be joining with multiple different ministries and organizations there and partnering with them to share the Gospel. (My beautiful co-leader, Lizzie Stein)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAMTGu8IL1ZmdIXgQJLECrdApcxuafmm7XkhwKV_yarXWEGE_IHyxSjf6nX-N9D8wYGsE317CoWosdT2Ph4BaMKpK464edrXIm8e_m9tueYH7S9u3SAomUscNaJQVb32M1IHH-PpbbORU3/s1600/lizzie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAMTGu8IL1ZmdIXgQJLECrdApcxuafmm7XkhwKV_yarXWEGE_IHyxSjf6nX-N9D8wYGsE317CoWosdT2Ph4BaMKpK464edrXIm8e_m9tueYH7S9u3SAomUscNaJQVb32M1IHH-PpbbORU3/s320/lizzie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619688150141810178" /></a><br /><br />After that, we are headed to NYC. We are working with a wonderful agency called Models for Christ and joining up with other YWAMers there to work Fall Fashion Week at Lincoln Center. Some of our girls will be dressing models backstage, others photographing the Red Carpet, and others getting into the shows and loving on people inside the tent. We are going to host a 24/7 Burn during the week, and pushing hard into intimacy for what the Lord is doing that week.<br /><br />The reality is, He gave me the desires of my heart when I was little. He never wanted to take me away from the things I loved, but wanted me to be in them WITH a heart after Him. I can be in the world, but not of the world. I can be in the entertainment industry pursuing the heart of God, and not pursuing what the world offers.<br /><br />The renewal of our mind comes from the washing of he Word. I used to wash myself with the world and the fruit of it was desiring what it had to offer. I have been renewed. Washed clean, and He is sending me back into the things I love.<br /><br />The next blog post, I will introduce my team to you!!!!! Get excited to meet them!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzo3uMs1vE3svTaYNzZV3OpXpX-zD1uwpBuiJl42jhmCFZfr8qK7y0puH8UKBNTeyjZDDdGGjCEN8LKoAkKQ-j-pHnb9sNpQZsypOMImJU0L-uIIx5opi9b3jjRlwJK0TfFaudQz9uwIpI/s1600/team2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzo3uMs1vE3svTaYNzZV3OpXpX-zD1uwpBuiJl42jhmCFZfr8qK7y0puH8UKBNTeyjZDDdGGjCEN8LKoAkKQ-j-pHnb9sNpQZsypOMImJU0L-uIIx5opi9b3jjRlwJK0TfFaudQz9uwIpI/s320/team2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619687942812620706" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-21453099587853234672011-01-25T09:49:00.000-08:002011-01-25T11:08:57.383-08:00It begins again...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrj38LCupaFoovxL4hKGNdi_oDBnqKRxrC3wHGRNaKMtcNSYuJ_uae9JRTdrdSImBg15H0hJ42xUbMiwDFHe1Me6cNVaIIWc0VzrP8LtnRicEPL2PWePVsj2DzkSHQg1TW0HlN-vNN13M/s1600/39962_1222775656459_1440990663_30976868_3658096_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrj38LCupaFoovxL4hKGNdi_oDBnqKRxrC3wHGRNaKMtcNSYuJ_uae9JRTdrdSImBg15H0hJ42xUbMiwDFHe1Me6cNVaIIWc0VzrP8LtnRicEPL2PWePVsj2DzkSHQg1TW0HlN-vNN13M/s320/39962_1222775656459_1440990663_30976868_3658096_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566202588933826450" /></a><br />It was nearly a year ago when I hopped on a plane across the Pacific Ocean on a journey that would change my life. Next week, I get on a plane and head back to join Youth With A Mission for a second year, but this time as a staff member. Goodness gracious, my heart is overflowing with joy. As I enter into "full-time ministry". I thought I would write about my lifelong journey of missions, and how I became a "missionary".<br /><br /><br />My road with Missions:<br />I grew up in a church were missions was a significant ministry among the congregation. There were always opportunities to travel to foreign countries with medical teams, and I spent many Spring Breaks going on mission trips with the youth group. My mom was what I like to call a "photographic missionary". She would go with teams and document the ministry that was being walked out in those countries. My house was always decorated with black and white portraits of starving children in Nicaragua, or lines of elderly women waiting for medical attention in Honduras. I was introduced to the needs of the world at a very early age.<br /><br />Fast forward to 2010:<br />I completed my Discipleship Training School in September 2010. I spent 3 months being trained up and discipled to ready me to be sent into the nations. From there I went into the closed nation of Cambodia. After 12 weeks, our team saw over 70 salvations, 50 some healings, a church planted in an unreached village, and a bible study grow from 3 non-believers, to 14 disciples. Oh, and the dead raised. All in a country where it is illegal to preach the Gospel. The Lord wanted to move in that nation so badly, and we just happened to be His hands and feet at the time.<br /><br />After seeing the Lord work in such miraculous ways, I knew my heart would never be the same. A deep passion for the lost arose in me, and I committed my life to seeing His Kingdom come on Earth. Because, once you have tasted and seen, there "ain't" no going back. Isn't that how the verse goes? :)<br /><br />And so, my next journey begins. As a staff at the University of the Nations (Youth With A Mission) I will be participating in the exact same Discipleship Training school I just completed, but this time as a member on staff. I will be walking closely with the students during their lecture phase; having one-on-one's with girls, and processing with them on how the Lord is working in their lives. During that time I will always be leading 2 hour worship sets with my school leader, Aaron Barker, in the school's prayer room. These sets USUALLY end up with jumping and dancing around, praising the Lord for His goodness!!<br /><br />During all this time, I will be planning the 3 month Outreach that I will be leading starting at the end of June. I have sought the Lord, and feel very confident about leading a team to Los Angeles. I have felt called to this city since I was a little girl, and am so excited to start walking out the calling He has on my life. More updates to come on the minstries we will be working with while in that city. BUT, I am confident the Lord is going to work through my students in bringing the love of message of Jesus into L.A.<br /><br />I appreciate all the prayers and encouraging words from all of my friends and family. I have never felt more at peace as to what I am supposed to do with my life :) I am so confident in what the Lord will be doing in this next season of life, and am so excited to continue sharing with you all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-42256082512871747782011-01-16T11:55:00.001-08:002011-01-16T15:56:19.654-08:00The Lost FilesFound this blog post in my computer from 3 months ago in Cambodia. Whoops, forgot to upload.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Last week of Outreach<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /><br />In less than a week I will begin my travels back to the States. I know it would be cliche to start the next sentence with "time has flown by" or "I cannot believe it is already over", but that is truly how I feel. I feel like I blinked and 11 weeks went by. So, get ready America. Here I come.<br /><br />Looking back on the 3 months being here I decided the best way to recap was to make a "top 10 things" list. Except, I have about 30 "tops" so it might be quite long. It will include my favorite memories, favorite things, favorite people. There will probably be no rhyme or reason to it, but when do my blogs ever have rhyme or reason? So, here goes nothing...<br /><br />TOP THINGS I HAVE LOVED/STILL DO LOVE ABOUT OUTREACH:<br />1. Getting the opportunity to preach the Gospel and then leading a corporate salvation prayer for 10 Khmer. Oh, did I mention this was the week of my 21st birthday? Epic birthday party on Earth AND in Heaven. The Khmer were so open and ready to hear about the name of Jesus, and then commit their lives to Him. I think after 11 weeks, we saw over 70 Khmer give their lives to the Lord.<br /><br />2. Spending my 21st birthday in Cambodia. First off, who the heck does that? It started with banana pancakes in the morning (I knew right then it would be a good day), and then the girls on my team took me to get a manicure. There is a ministry in Battambang that rescues girls from sex trafficking and they all live in a house together. They learn the trade of cosmetology, which gives them jobs and let's them live in a safe community where they can learn about the love of Jesus. The girls were incredible and it was such a blessing to spend my birthday with them. Later in the day, they brought me red roses to my house. Tears were definitely shed. As if the day could not get better, my students at the University threw a surprise birthday party in my English class. It was so precious to see how excited they were to bless me with a cake and presents, not to mention, incredible fellowship. Now, I know this doesn't exactly follow the traditional 21st birthday celebration that occurs in America, but I have never been one to follow tradition :) <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZEDlcxM27ZWs88A8Tk2C3QcQdIpb0juYjCFu2sJjovbN_9JKVqajkpm7EFCJKs4n5iKB1dL5mBgh8asJbOfgFcC5rpxhGBrKDPaMTQRQG-JrsWpwFvpjQD98gg05zQgBt2_Y7-t87vuj/s1600/SAM_1783.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZEDlcxM27ZWs88A8Tk2C3QcQdIpb0juYjCFu2sJjovbN_9JKVqajkpm7EFCJKs4n5iKB1dL5mBgh8asJbOfgFcC5rpxhGBrKDPaMTQRQG-JrsWpwFvpjQD98gg05zQgBt2_Y7-t87vuj/s320/SAM_1783.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562882811394595314"></a><br /><br />3. All of my English students. We have become such a little family, have become so open with one another, and we goof around together. Friday is going to be such a hard day saying goodbye. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUj32mX9Z66Zq_JgAtpcPeAQEXCUSAw5q7a8CPG9ysLpEAYvm5CszYvyp-N6IcXUTmMrhHD6K6AI1mZs6XZmHw0gYW_FoaCQyRNs4i9V4tGFmqmn59H5X7cekuD52vZB1HtMzjEWJagxAd/s1600/SAM_1507.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUj32mX9Z66Zq_JgAtpcPeAQEXCUSAw5q7a8CPG9ysLpEAYvm5CszYvyp-N6IcXUTmMrhHD6K6AI1mZs6XZmHw0gYW_FoaCQyRNs4i9V4tGFmqmn59H5X7cekuD52vZB1HtMzjEWJagxAd/s320/SAM_1507.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562884199290549970"></a><br /><br />4. Driving a tuk-tuk. I FINALLY got the courage up to ask if I could drive it, and let me just say my next big purchase in the states will be this fine crafted automobile.<br /><br />5.Watching all of my students graduate. We had a graduation ceremony and everyone dressed up and brought their families. I couldn't be a more proud mama. They are going to go change a lost world. I believe it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdT_dluaAr6Pi7EmFrqu5iBogXSsLdSSMXJXWtUwdoVnxUTWvht1SwyG6b1ntxwlq45JcGZ4z0y-aSQspli-p7SxoCg3-p9LXA_OwkDKThXt5V-ZZ8G5fyHDVQ7WLekPJy-zybSNFovuyi/s1600/IMG_8157.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdT_dluaAr6Pi7EmFrqu5iBogXSsLdSSMXJXWtUwdoVnxUTWvht1SwyG6b1ntxwlq45JcGZ4z0y-aSQspli-p7SxoCg3-p9LXA_OwkDKThXt5V-ZZ8G5fyHDVQ7WLekPJy-zybSNFovuyi/s320/IMG_8157.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562883340724460242"></a><br /><br />6. Teaching at the village. Yes, sometimes I would complain about the 110 degree heat, and the steel roof over my head that made it even hotter. Sometimes my gag reflex would go up because of the cuts on my kids feet that I had to bandage up, since there is no doctor or hospital. Sometimes I felt extremely uncomfortable eating the food that was offered to me at the local houses (it is disrespectful to say no). Even with all that said, I LOVE LOVE LOVE the village. I love the smell of the rain there. I love the feel of the dirt road as the tuk-tuk drives us into the jungle. I love the sound my kids yelling "HELLO!! HELLO!" when we drive up. I will miss this place. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtlq1VvhYT9zFMmLpQ_MBYniHqzrVoJo0WhOOwCY5CZvSANaIv4E6Z66CjjKKbCNkpA6CPbgpPzbI-zEYLCLfzAveX5wafWFzg39DLHYZlPUOM2I6v9xgm-TwFn-GM5aQeg3438057KjBL/s1600/IMG_7171.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtlq1VvhYT9zFMmLpQ_MBYniHqzrVoJo0WhOOwCY5CZvSANaIv4E6Z66CjjKKbCNkpA6CPbgpPzbI-zEYLCLfzAveX5wafWFzg39DLHYZlPUOM2I6v9xgm-TwFn-GM5aQeg3438057KjBL/s320/IMG_7171.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562886173311138882"></a><br /><br />7. My classroom at the University. I changed my curriculum everyday to fit my "teaching style". Goodbye to boring note taking, and hello to Kellye singing to the class, and having my students dictate every word I sing. What? It teaches them to<span style="font-style:italic;"> listen</span> and <span style="font-style:italic;">write</span> even better. And, I get to practice my singing. Both parties win.<br /><br />8. Receiving flowers every day when class starts. My little girls will pick flowers and make headbands, bracelets, and bouquets everyday before class. My future husband needs to take note. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFG7WEviZcOLQP8J5q57oNMkuFxaA2YDXt5IFEdusilxm5Bgv3rt8N_tINYpazFBwcS1CofiHU0okmXmoLyPgOOLzV7koJGvBalh9exBZzZszNndebFW4gcED1LdLHVYOUuLJe2C2bH8R/s1600/IMG_8368.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFG7WEviZcOLQP8J5q57oNMkuFxaA2YDXt5IFEdusilxm5Bgv3rt8N_tINYpazFBwcS1CofiHU0okmXmoLyPgOOLzV7koJGvBalh9exBZzZszNndebFW4gcED1LdLHVYOUuLJe2C2bH8R/s320/IMG_8368.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562883823443514818"></a><br /><br />9. Becoming best friends with the most beautiful woman I know, Kelli Thomas. We have shared a twin size bed for the past 3 months so it was inevitable we became close. We have been through so much, clung to Jesus, and to each other. I am so blessed to have met her on this incredible journey. (cue the tears) <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TGCzuueVm_89QhLuiXeoyhn4pzGISjvH66DpPf93-27sQXRwlan8dbLiJGGuH3zHkuj5vZTW0JVG8hXsHQSzRKLhSXvqbmvupzyryiZE1nF-mNwB5iLwmo1TAJ9gBXDQSsSEnGRiQ-oF/s1600/DSCF0322.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 307px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TGCzuueVm_89QhLuiXeoyhn4pzGISjvH66DpPf93-27sQXRwlan8dbLiJGGuH3zHkuj5vZTW0JVG8hXsHQSzRKLhSXvqbmvupzyryiZE1nF-mNwB5iLwmo1TAJ9gBXDQSsSEnGRiQ-oF/s320/DSCF0322.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562885368298322306"></a><br /><br />10. Praying for the sick!!! (NOW, know this list of top 10 is really not in order, because praying for the sick was my favorite). Kelli and I would sprint around the market and look for people in casts and wheelchairs. Sure, they had no idea what we were praying over them, but that just made it less nerve-wrecking to call upon the fire of God to fall and heal them. It's what He told us to do: "heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead". THEN, we get to testify of WHO He is, and lead people into relationship with Him. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-iqwCsPwGC74C5wQOycLz_5s9wxXoqZ9bZ-pxLU8Ehxc2npSj6XODzimEPiSs-EyWF7_03dJnsKRCV8EzfQCDMV6ht2DRUJ3a5kW1804y_DZ0Sj4aQ94qIC7nQeSaI0TnqB_JGGC7Drq/s1600/SAM_1061.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-iqwCsPwGC74C5wQOycLz_5s9wxXoqZ9bZ-pxLU8Ehxc2npSj6XODzimEPiSs-EyWF7_03dJnsKRCV8EzfQCDMV6ht2DRUJ3a5kW1804y_DZ0Sj4aQ94qIC7nQeSaI0TnqB_JGGC7Drq/s320/SAM_1061.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562887268996139874"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVp6q-pjZOi0tIQk57LkCVcXJZO-t7LO9C3sVzv4AZMAs7DLKghAx5DRnMTJMeRG416jJuPE9rrbuX5_3bO-AsNbNh57tsuzUxHuCGcTHoFPBzyPQlMNW7YSfczZOkayuAeYpRoZZvAMPt/s1600/SAM_1060.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVp6q-pjZOi0tIQk57LkCVcXJZO-t7LO9C3sVzv4AZMAs7DLKghAx5DRnMTJMeRG416jJuPE9rrbuX5_3bO-AsNbNh57tsuzUxHuCGcTHoFPBzyPQlMNW7YSfczZOkayuAeYpRoZZvAMPt/s320/SAM_1060.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562887264236699906"></a><br /><br />CAMBODIA. It's been fun. I will miss you.<br /><br /><object id="BLOG_video-FAILED" class="BLOG_video_class" width="320" height="266" contentid="FAILED"></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-36071317726925950812010-11-14T21:06:00.000-08:002010-11-14T21:28:26.077-08:00Sweet Revelation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAsplIAZH09SkmfDnUSk0tYVVAM-TzrKi2ZSZR8y1-xtxFoKDH6Umb0nHR851xuvnV6P6QTdIbFp_iitDzJzOxl69vYvP7jNkhmtiworevJZf33l4vDz59jfKVvqpSqpiegxqPX8J1A2y/s1600/pear_tree.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAsplIAZH09SkmfDnUSk0tYVVAM-TzrKi2ZSZR8y1-xtxFoKDH6Umb0nHR851xuvnV6P6QTdIbFp_iitDzJzOxl69vYvP7jNkhmtiworevJZf33l4vDz59jfKVvqpSqpiegxqPX8J1A2y/s320/pear_tree.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539641147480205314" /></a><br />Majority of this weekend, I just sat in the prayer room at IHOP (check it out: www.ihop.org) in Kansas City, soaking in His presence. All I asked for was fresh revelation on life, my ministry and even the season I am in. So, I thought I would share some of it with you:<br /><br />Matthew 12:33<br />"Either make the tree good, and it's fruit good, or make the tree bad and its fruit bad, for the tree is <span style="font-weight:bold;">known<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> by its fruit."<br /><br />I spent a week at my mom's house recently. One day, my stepdad took me to pick pears. Instead of going to a tree close to their house, or even settling for apples from the apple tree in the front yard, we drove to a different pasture to a <span style="font-weight:bold;">specific<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> tree that he <span style="font-weight:bold;">knew<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> had the best fruit. <br /><br />At the time, I thought it was rather silly. A pear tree is a pear tree. We had to get in the truck and drive to a<span style="font-weight:bold;"> specific<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> one? This one tree was hidden in a pasture, and how he ever found it, I have no idea.<br /><br />The Lord reminded me of this, and begin to give me revelation on how my own life looked. Am I producing good fruit? Can people see the fruit I am producing? Am I attracting people by my fruit? What kind of tree am I?<br /><br />How do I become like a tree that bears good fruit? <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Abiding in His love. <span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /> "Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me, you can do nothing." John 15:2<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Positioning myself to be pruned<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /> "Every branch of mine that does not bear fruit He takes away and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit." John 15:5<br /><br /> (He gave me His best when Jesus died on the cross, so I want to give Him my best on this Earth. So, I asked Him for specific, strategic ways to produce good fruit in my daily life.)<br /><br />Daily Application:<br /><br />1.<span style="font-weight:bold;">Saturation in the Word.<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> Going deeper in the Word than I ever have before.<br />2. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Ministering to His heart daily<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>. Worshipping Him simply because He is God. There is a time for Thanksgiving, and a time for adoration. I want to spend time daily adoring Him because of His nature and His character alone. (This revelation came from my wise best friend, Kaytlyn Johnson.)<br />3.<span style="font-weight:bold;">Lifestyle of Fastin<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>g. Denying myself simple comforts in order to draw closer to Him. <br />4. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Kingdom Values<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>. Applying the Beatitudes (Matthew 5) to every area of my life. Hungering and thirsting for righteousness.<br />5.<span style="font-weight:bold;"> Eternal Mindset<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>. Fixing my eyes on eternal things over things on this Earth that please me temporarily.<br /><br /><br />There is a difference in producing good fruit, and being known by the fruit you produce. <br /><br />I want to be known by it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-49195778254028985852010-10-23T11:51:00.000-07:002010-10-23T12:24:33.240-07:00Song VomitI can't stop it..<br /> It just keeps coming...<br /> <span style="font-weight:bold;">song vomit.</span><br /><br />Since I have been home, I have been glued to my piano. It's like when you have been away from a boyfriend or girlfriend for a long period of time, and so when you get home, all you want to do is be with that person. It's almost sickening, and your other friends get mad...<br /><br /> Well, that's my relationship with my piano. Gone for so long, now I won't leave her side.<br /><br />The Lord has given me song after song since I have been back from Cambodia. While I was there, I didn't write, other than in my journal. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Being in the nations= creative juices galore.</span><br /><br /><br />I will let you sample some of the tasty treats that have been an overflow from God's heart for the nations and my time in Cambodia:<br /><br /><br /> (The inspiration for this one came from spending a day in a Buddhist temple. Inside, there was a gold statue of the "reclining Buddha" that was about half a football field long, and close to 60 feet tall. The sight of it was unbearable. My heart exploded and I was undone. I became sick with the idea that these people were giving their lives to a false idol. My eyes filled with tears and I couldn't talk to anyone around me. I just kept whispering over and over again "Jesus you are the only one for me... you are the only one". <br /><br /> We are in relationship with the <span style="font-weight:bold;">Living God</span>. He is the only one who <span style="font-weight:bold;">conquered death</span>)<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <span style="font-weight:bold;">You're the One</span><br /><br />I hold my breathe as I walk past them,<br />Casting down their crowns of Gold.<br /><br />I look past the sea of glass,<br />it's better than my eye can behold.<br /><br />With their wings they fly on past me,<br />point to the King of Kings.<br /><br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />For me.<br /><br />No rainstorm could have prepared me for,<br />the way your thunder feels.<br /><br />No lightshow could ever let my eye know<br />The way your lightning burns.<br /><br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />For me.<br /><br />There He sits on His perfect throne,<br />clothed in majesty.<br /><br />And then they sing out their perfect love song,<br />I join them in a 5 part harmony.<br /><br />And we sing...<br /><br />"Holy, is the Lord God Almighty<br />Holy, is the Lord God Almighty."<br /><br />And then I see Him, the perfect Lamb,<br />slain for my sins.<br /><br />And then I see Him, the perfect Lamb,<br />slain for my sins.<br /><br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />For me.<br /><br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />You're the one, You're the one, You're the One.<br />For me.<br /><br /><br />Here is a video of another song I wrote with my dear friend Rachael Turner last week:<br /><br /><a>href="<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/y5pzQ8HctfA?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/y5pzQ8HctfA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>"></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-66968466923710982602010-07-31T21:37:00.000-07:002010-07-31T21:38:25.714-07:00True Life: I am an English teacher.English was always my best subject in school. Now, please don’t judge this statement off of my blog posts. This things are chalked full of grammatical errors, run on sentences, there is no real structure to my paragraphs, and I will randomly CAPITALIZE everything. So, there you go. But, I promise I loved English and always got A’s. <br /><br />Let’s take it back a few years as to why English was always my strong suit. I have a mother whose degree is in journalism. Do you know what that does to a kid? Most 6 year olds who throw a fit at a restaurant get taken to the public bathroom for a “spanking”. Most 8 year olds who talk back to their parents get sent to their room with no television. Don’t eat your dinner? Standard punishment would be no desert. Pretty common disciplines. NOT at my house. If I didn’t share my toys, I would have to write an essay about it. Got a note home from my teacher saying I wasn’t “playing well at recess”? Wrote an essay about it. I’m talking this was our MAJOR form disciplining.<br /><br />I am sure you are thinking, “If it was always your punishment, how could you end up loving it?” Ya, I don’t really know the answer to that question. And honestly, I don’t think my mom even looked at it as punishment. It just went along with her “hippie” style parenting methods. Most mothers were teaching table manners, my mom was letting us finger paint at the dinner table while eating our chicken fingers. Other girls were learning how to braid their own hair and match clothes… I was still wearing my Spice Girls Halloween costumes to school. I don’t even know if she would justify it to the other moms; I think she just wanted to raise me different. So, away with the spankings, and hello to “expressing your feelings on paper.”<br />Now, as I got older, the essays didn’t stop. The actually came with criteria and she would even grade them. The best was when she got the brilliant idea of sharing them at the dinner table. This would help us work on our public speaking. So, one at a time, my brothers and I would stand up and read our “assignments” aloud. The topics would vary:<br /><br />Owen’s assignment: Why is it important to NOT lock your sister in the bathroom while she is getting ready for school. <br />Zac’s topic: Why is it NOT a good idea to zip Owen in a sleeping bag and shove him down the stairs. <br />Kellye: Do you really think it’s appropriate to wake your brothers up at 5:00 am by belting out the opening number of Les Miserables at the side of their bed? <br /><br />Whatever the topic was, there was always a main theme to these fun little assignments: “What have you learned from this situation?” And of course, “How will you make sure it doesn’t happen again”<br /><br />Now, as we got older the public speaking part of the program became much more entertaining. My older brother Zac and I would have a running competition on who could incorporate the BIGGEST vocab words. Our goal was to have it chalked full of huge words so that our parents could literally not understand the speech. I am not sure why. We would spend an extra 30 minutes looking through the thesaurus just to try to win. I looked through the box of papers from our childhood and our papers wouldn’t even make sense. But, I remember feeling so accomplished knowing that my “gaffe” beat his “error of judgment” at the end of the speech. Weird kids. Don’t judge us.<br /><br />I must admit, this method of parenting really worked. By the end of dinner, we were hugging it out and sometimes shed a few tears. We learned how to communicate effectively and became pretty good at confrontation. And most importantly, learned how necessary a thesaurus is in every day life. ☺<br /><br />Anyhow, I never had the desire to study English in college, or follow in the footsteps of my mom and become a journalist. I honestly thought all it was good for was journaling and blogging. And I would maybe pass down the discipline to my kids. But I never saw myself using it on a daily basis. Then, I came to Cambodia.<br />I know I have mentioned that I teach English here. I knew it would be a part of my summer, but I envisioned teaching little kids words like “sun”, “dog”, “and cat”. Maybe using some picture cards and some fun songs. Instead of little kids, I got University students. Instead of words like “cat” and “dog”, I got Level 8 English students whose lessons are on “Irregular Past Participles Ending in –En”.<br /><br />So, thanks mom. I knew our dinners would come in handy one day ☺Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-48502894270294847672010-07-31T20:57:00.000-07:002010-07-31T21:22:01.675-07:00CAMBODIAN COMFORTS<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNKE40YDk19pWjbvxHrg2TjTQgmQEuE7HjuPjrrI0Pbc1Qfp6G0KEf1cOQfYZkSKpbfCE9orZpxpO_2KPTLoElJXVaEV6mK2lTHFWty9mUYFNeJcxbTVzjZ18qhS3MLjVGzWR7F2NckpYU/s1600/dishes.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNKE40YDk19pWjbvxHrg2TjTQgmQEuE7HjuPjrrI0Pbc1Qfp6G0KEf1cOQfYZkSKpbfCE9orZpxpO_2KPTLoElJXVaEV6mK2lTHFWty9mUYFNeJcxbTVzjZ18qhS3MLjVGzWR7F2NckpYU/s320/dishes.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500291531277555970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgeMuOzWEcLpxU4OD1purM3WVytq9mMASykgnakPmKsle6InE_3H3sTQh4eIiB-ED_vyAhtV4Vu4Hx7La5Dn7EPhoOzBlKlK14lXMUcp6Cvio8eOBRp14sGWcHk54X6sqE_CaTFYYVZrW/s1600/laundry.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUgeMuOzWEcLpxU4OD1purM3WVytq9mMASykgnakPmKsle6InE_3H3sTQh4eIiB-ED_vyAhtV4Vu4Hx7La5Dn7EPhoOzBlKlK14lXMUcp6Cvio8eOBRp14sGWcHk54X6sqE_CaTFYYVZrW/s320/laundry.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500291522524104610" /></a><br /><br />I know it has been years since I have blogged. I will go ahead and plead my case as a disclaimer. Get my excuses out of the way….<br /><br />1. I don’t have internet<br />2. Number 1 is a slight lie… I have internet on Saturdays<br />3. By the time I get online on Saturday and check my Gmail, my endless Facebook notifications, millions of tweets, and hours of skyping family members that have been neglected all week, I am just so worn out that I forget to blog.<br />So there you go. Mom, go ahead and rebuke me. Dad, I can hear you speaking your infamous “Excuses are like butt holes” quote after reading this disclaimer. Go ahead people, speak it out.<br /><br />So, there we go. I am in Cambodia. What’s it like? There are so many emotions that are stirred up when I think about explaining what being in this nation is like. Honestly, sometimes it is too much to handle, so I just bust out in a song and dance from the Jungle Book. It’s the strangest thing knowing I am in the middle of the jungle a million miles from home. But, there is no amount of homesickness that a rendition of “Bear Necessities” can’t fix. <br />I spent 6 hours skyping my family this Saturday. It was fun answering all of their questions about being here. I will give you a run down of my favorite answers to their questions:<br /><br />1. Why yes, it is hard to not have hot showers.<br />2. Air conditioning? What is that?<br />3. No, the toilets DON’T look like the ones in America.<br />4. No, Dad. They don’t have any “cool old cars” and “no, I rarely see a 1963 Chevy”.<br />5. Washers and Dryers? OH, you mean buckets and a clothesline. I must have heard you wrong.<br />6. Yes, it is quite hot here. I sweat through about 2-3 shirts a day. Normal.<br />7. My favorite dish has definitely been the fried grasshoppers. Or even the chicken heart I found in my soup today.<br />8. If I could get a care package of ANYTHING, it would be about 100 more bottles of bug spray. Rainy Season in Cambodia=Kellye gets attacked by 1,000 mosquitoes a day.<br /><br /> My comforts have definitely been stripped. I don’t have the things of home that I usually cling to. The basics: My big comfy bed, my room full candles (that smell WAY better than my room of sweat I am living in now), my cell phone, instant access to the internet, a dishwasher, and maybe some homemade strawberry jello that my grandma makes me every week. Just some BASICS, people, THE BASICS. Other comforts: seeing my amazing family everyday, having my grandma fix me every meal, watching TV shows at night with my grandpa, going to my brother’s baseball games, spending the weekends with my dad at the lake, and going to the farm to visit my mom. I never even recognized these things as comforts. It has taken me being here to distinguish what I clung to when I was feeling sad, or needed comfort. <br /><br /><br /> At first, the comforts of daily things being stripped created homesickness, which is funny because I never got homesick as a kid. It was actually the opposite. I would get restless in the summer if I wasn’t attending at LEAST 3 camps. I loved traveling and getting away, and looked forward to spending time away from home. But, being in Cambodia is definitely not like High School Camp in Florida. I don’t have a pretty beach to lie out on, I don’t have food that I recognize, I don’t have my mom there as the “camp photographer”. But know that I have been in a 3rd world country for the beginning of my summer; I can see how the mixture of culture shock, and no comforts can create homesickness.<br /><br /> Okay, hold the phone. Stop feeling sorry for me. What I am trying to get to is the moral of the story, but I see everyone rolling their eyes while I am trying to dramatize how “rough” it is here. So, I’ll move to the moral.<br />Being here, stripped of comforts, not being able to lean on ANYTHING I am used to when I am feeling emotional has made me lean fully on Jesus. When I am feeling homesick, there is no comfort to fix it, just Jesus. When I am feeling hungry, and I don’t like the bowl of Ramen noodles I am giving for breakfast (it’s Asia people), there is no other comfort, just Jesus. When I am feeling sick because my digestive system has pretty much hated me for the past 4 weeks (I won’t give gruesome details) there is no comfort of a doctor, just Jesus. When I am feeling tired, and just want to go home and crawl into bed, there is not my normal comfort, just Jesus. When I just really want the normalcy of home, I literally CANNOT have it.<br /><br /> My relationship with the Lord changed drastically in Kona. But, I really think I will never be the same after leaving Cambodia. I have realized how blessed I am, how thankful I am for EVERYTHING I own, and how grateful I am for my relationship with the Lord. I have definitely learned a lot more than that just being here, and I will totally include those things in the next post… But I really feel like this is a season of realization for me. <br /><br />I AM BLESSED.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-77534935184154668892010-05-31T17:00:00.000-07:002010-05-31T18:11:45.246-07:00GLORY WEEKENDLast week was the 7th week of class out here in Kona, Hawaii. I have been here for a total of 9 weeks and looking back I can't believe how much has happened in such a short amount of time.
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<br />So, Week 7 was the busiest week thus far. We had our regular schedule of working in the cafe, class, prayer room, corporate worship, community outreach, small groups and One-on-One's. On TOP of that (not sure which word would be emphasized but TOP sounded like a good one.) we have an excellent teaching team that came in from Taiwan to teach us how to prepare sermons for Outreach. So everyday from 1-3 I learned how to effectively write and present a sermon. At first I wasn't sure if I would ever need this, but it ended up being SO interesting. I know in Cambodia I will be in situations where I will have to give my testimony, lead worship, lead intimate groups in bible study so the teaching came in handy!! GO TAIWAN TEACHING TEAM.
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<br />Needless to say, this weekend was MUCH needed. On Friday night I helped out a little in the cafe where the cutest little Open Mic Night. I usually work early in the mornings, so it was so much fun to be in a different enviroment at night. I have fallen in love with the cafe. My mom worked at Starbucks in high school and she always came home radiant, smelling of coffee and smiling like a lunatic. I now understand why. It is so stinkin fun to make people happy by making their Chai Latte tasting divine.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8lW0W8CznB3EIwyu6Y9bVIxFR9do4m2PjCuR0ZnbUrNkJeHKN3K3iJCx4Ls3ydympoGdnn3xg2-8IhRSDBr6gCMr_bm72w8It2tHSussSyAv4B6YNRfUM2CjbHTizLxuVVLc1edxI1j6L/s1600/92631883.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8lW0W8CznB3EIwyu6Y9bVIxFR9do4m2PjCuR0ZnbUrNkJeHKN3K3iJCx4Ls3ydympoGdnn3xg2-8IhRSDBr6gCMr_bm72w8It2tHSussSyAv4B6YNRfUM2CjbHTizLxuVVLc1edxI1j6L/s320/92631883.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477599425352776242" /></a>
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<br />Afterwards, I went and hung out with the lovely April Cossey. We stayed up late, watched tv shows on Hulu, and drank Dr. Pepper. It was WILD AND CRAZY. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8_zrymfnw1LEaBBiKSx3wWM8_gGWX1H4tbQwqXwwfHLo5At_vafVX07FYIQ8IF9bLMLquitpRExI-HJLYV76ySBqT5vtuxBGxSktPurTdYcIaKxbg0LpjNK9ZlsY4Y5pBzvzuT6CbpCrC/s1600/29308_1200273413917_1440990221_30901820_4124624_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8_zrymfnw1LEaBBiKSx3wWM8_gGWX1H4tbQwqXwwfHLo5At_vafVX07FYIQ8IF9bLMLquitpRExI-HJLYV76ySBqT5vtuxBGxSktPurTdYcIaKxbg0LpjNK9ZlsY4Y5pBzvzuT6CbpCrC/s320/29308_1200273413917_1440990221_30901820_4124624_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477600811737547074" /></a>
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<br />Saturday, my school went on a "field trip" to the beach. Who the heck takes a field trip to the beach? My best trip in school was when we got to go to the 100 year old schoolhouse and re-inact the land run. Bring your own stakes, and covered wagons and sprint across a huge field in awesome outfits that your grandmother would make you. That's my kind of field trip. So, I consider myself INSANELY blessed that I got to pile into a school bus and lay out all day. That's why I never liked college. Oklahoma City University should have added a "sunbathing, cliff diving, snorkeling" class and I would have had perfect attendance.
<br />Best thing about the beach day: got over my fear of jumping off cliffs. Sure, It was only like 15 feet high, but I jumped alright. And I LOVED IT! So much so that next weekend I am going straight for the 60 footers.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjp_U4VyrYaJbSlvYHpEqLjYL4rU3KavRaY01l8HQM7qou5E8htQVjAaZyhvCpLKhk2E4rmAxBScIv1P9TK990I_K6-xFdbQjH4zZDa8STGjoh7KoUrAuiBWWMMRIUsFQFq4lFqddzVThO/s1600/31387_10150205694580401_500580400_12408362_3775653_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjp_U4VyrYaJbSlvYHpEqLjYL4rU3KavRaY01l8HQM7qou5E8htQVjAaZyhvCpLKhk2E4rmAxBScIv1P9TK990I_K6-xFdbQjH4zZDa8STGjoh7KoUrAuiBWWMMRIUsFQFq4lFqddzVThO/s320/31387_10150205694580401_500580400_12408362_3775653_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477603750565862914" /></a
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<br />Saturday night I enjoyed a DELICIOUS meal of steak and potatoes cooked by the radiant Troi Barnum. I can only handle so much campus food before my stomach starts audibly screaming "I just want a steak". So, good thing she heard the cry and could help :)
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<br />Time out.. I feel like this post is like those people who make their facebook statuses every little thing they do throughout the day. You know the ones I am talking about.. "just tied my shoe!", "just ate a BLT for lunch", "just showered and now picking out what I am going to wear". Is it wrong that I usually end up deleting these people? I don't need to know everything you do throughout the day.. but apparently I want you all to know everything I did this weekend. Oh, well, its too late to start a new post.
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<br />SUNDAY. I like to call it sunday funday. Woke up, went on a 6 mile power walk with Lindy Conant. and then went back to Kristen's and stuffed my face with blueberry pancakes. Heaven definitely has blueberry pancakes. And, you won't need to exercise before you eat them. I CAN'T WAIT.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHAP_4XzeoS4mZXUYtDKYoOsmTx8kw_jwCUSZZBgm2FctQQ1EG4mztpMXHLxiPiVEA-C_uWeGFrqRJZ0qxJzLeUuXx8WeI0PsOlhXdu6IPOPi-610UGLXxXktoOgpPnbPbD75_MTb5ht_/s1600/29936_431601680049_567560049_6014040_213453_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHAP_4XzeoS4mZXUYtDKYoOsmTx8kw_jwCUSZZBgm2FctQQ1EG4mztpMXHLxiPiVEA-C_uWeGFrqRJZ0qxJzLeUuXx8WeI0PsOlhXdu6IPOPi-610UGLXxXktoOgpPnbPbD75_MTb5ht_/s320/29936_431601680049_567560049_6014040_213453_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477605850414174770" /></a>
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<br />Basically, my weekend was epic. So refreshing and much needed. But, I am back in the flow of class and everything again. I am about to start writing my book report over Heidi Baker's book Always Enough. Next post will most likely be about that since every page has made me cry. No joke.
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<br />Love Love Love,
<br />Kellye
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-55741431343066847122010-05-18T10:13:00.000-07:002010-05-18T15:59:41.469-07:00OBSESSED<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYonmJQA5niVqZuIWa6kjB9d5Lz_H6_a7dmZuVMIduqFqD6rlz-KYqKySRzMPk5ctqhwasM_OqsIRuMpv7XeFoVfBzPP0FSsNDN1Qiatxnyl54P6j7_PMJjpmjSE_LJ7Ugem9nG4Fa_TIY/s1600/crazy_love_large.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 271px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYonmJQA5niVqZuIWa6kjB9d5Lz_H6_a7dmZuVMIduqFqD6rlz-KYqKySRzMPk5ctqhwasM_OqsIRuMpv7XeFoVfBzPP0FSsNDN1Qiatxnyl54P6j7_PMJjpmjSE_LJ7Ugem9nG4Fa_TIY/s320/crazy_love_large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472659767637889362" /></a><br /><br />This is my current read. ( Crazy Love by Francis Chan) I actually opened the book, and on the first page fell in love with what it had to say. So much so, that I went on Amazon.com and bought a copy for my older brother for his birthday. Risky, since I was still on the first page, but I'm still perfectly happy with it.<br /><br />The first chapter completely shifted my paradigm of what it meant to pray. Majority of us say a quick prayer in the morning, before each meal, and if we are really lucky, get an hour of quiet time in and call it good. But, even in that "quiet time" we are just making alot of noise and lifting our worries and needs to the Lord. We are called to worship Him. We have become so immune to the creation around us, and even the beauty in our own lives, that we miss so many opportunities to praise Him that we focus only on casting our cares to the feet of Jesus. Once this revelation soaked into my heart, my prayers have been completely shifted. No more giving my daily worries to Him, but in turn worshipping Him.<br /><br />Sidenote:<br />Let this just set in and shift your paradigm a little....<br />We are made in the likeness of Christ. (Gen 1:26) So, if Christ lacks nothing, then we lack nothing. Then why are our prayers filled with things like "o Lord, heal the sick." or "Lord take this pain away"? Why are we lifting up weak requests to God instead of acknowledging who we are in Christ, and then DECLARING that we have power over sickness, power over pain? Can you imagine being one of the disciples, walking with Jesus for 3 years, seeing signs, wonders, miracles and then having Him look at you and say "It's better that I go and I send the Holy Spirit to be with you". What the heck could be better than having Jesus walk on Earth in the flesh next to you? I can't imagine how they felt. But yet we need to receive this revelation and proclaim that Jesus himself said that when the Holy Spirit comes, we will be able to greater things than Him. Because instead of one Jesus, in one spot on the Earth, we have the Holy Spirit living inside each one of us. AHHHH Mind Blowing!!!<br /><br />Back to the book...<br />Chapter 8 is called "Profile of the Obsessed". (Now, I am really bad at the whole citing thing in literature.. so bare with me cause there might be some paraphrasing going on. I know my mother might be the only one who really reads this blog so I shouldn't care.. but since she is a journalism major and English teacher, I will probably get a phone call or two addressing my lack of citing... and this ridiculous run-on sentence. Just love me mother)<br /><br />Obsessed: To have the mind excessively preoccupied witha single emotion or topic.<br /><br />Now, I have been obsessed with a few things in my lifetime...<br />Third grade: Zac Hanson.<br />ALL of elementary school: wanting to be a Spice Girl<br />Right now: Cheetah print everything.<br /><br />Now, what if I was completely OBSESSED with prayer. What if I was OBSESSED with worship? Most of you know how singing is an active part of my life. I have always been on a stage, always had a microphone in my face, am always singing even when I don't realize it. It's become so habitual that I have even been caught singing my order at to the cashier at Taco Bell. I want that same obsession, that same love of doing one specific thing and being consumed by it to be in my prayer life. That I become a habitually obsessed prayer warrior that I don't even realize when I am interceding for someone. That it will just flow out of my mouth<br /><br />A person who becomes OBSESSED with Jesus starts to look like Jesus. It will overflow into other aspects of your life. Now, I totally admit that I have alot more transformation and healing to go through until I look like Jesus, but I DO KNOW that He has put a burning hunger in my heart after reading this book to start stirring up things in my life to become obsessed with him.<br /><br />I understand this post is kind of like my comeback to my blog. If I ever go a couple days without tweeting I feel obligated to make a comeback with an awesomely funny tweet. Because, if I am really honest, my tweets are HILARIOUS. So, today I feel a little obligated to make this post an epic comeback. To tell everyone how much the Lord has done in my life since I have began living in Kona. But, that would take all day and night and nobody wants to read three pages of my past 5 weeks.<br /><br />Here it is in a jist.<br />1. I have experienced new freedom in Jesus.<br />2. I have encountered Jesus in a way that I can't write into words. I might not ever be able to talk about the way He encountered me on May 12th, 2010. <br />3 .I was baptized in the Holy Spirit in April 2008, but have been lukewarm in walking in the fullness of the Spirit. NOT ANY LONGER MY FRIENDS. I will walk in signs and wonders and miracles and healings and pray loud in tongues (which probably freaks many of my family members out) but I am a lover of Jesus, and if he walks in those things, then so do I.<br />4. Forgiveness is true Freedom.<br />5. The Lord has shown me my original design and I am walking in it and no longer buying into the lies of the Enemy.<br />6. Now, this one might stir up some controversy and offend some, but Jesus came to offend and make us feel uncomfortable.. so BOOM here it is: I AM A LOVER OF JESUS. If that looks like a charismatic to you, call me charismatic. I dance, and shout, and speak in tongues.<br /><br />Whew.<br /><br />This book was the first one assigned to me through my school. I have two others that I cannot wait to read, but I am going to meditate on this one and the Word for awhile. Because it is bringing me some heavy revelation.<br /><br />LOVE LOVE LOVE,<br />Kellye Rae<br /><br /><br />www.crazylovebook.com<br />(I encourage you to watch the videos on the homepage. Especially "Awe Factor"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-18702535510794199972010-04-04T19:51:00.000-07:002010-04-04T20:09:59.850-07:00Resurrection Sunday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.candlemaking.com/store/images/146.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://www.candlemaking.com/store/images/146.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Being away from home on a Holiday is definitely hard for me, since I am so close to my family. Every holiday we have the same tradition; eating lunch at Mema and Pop's house, and then dinner with my mommy. The only other time I have been out of the state for a holiday was 3 years ago, where I ironically was in Hawaii for Christmas where I celebrated His birth Hawaiian style. This year, He brought me back to the island to celebrate the Resurrection.<br /><br />All of the churches in Kona came together for an sunrise Easter service this morning. Being outside watching the sunrise and Hula dancers perform is FOR SURE my kind of Easter celebration worship. At the end of the service a helicopter flew over the field we were in and dropped HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of Plumeria flowers on top of us. If there is rain in Heaven, I know it will be just like that. Absolutely beautiful.<br /><br />After service, Krista, Lindy, Troi, Sarah and I went to a little town called Hawi about an hour and a half away. They have the cutest organic cafe that we ate lunch at (I've gone back to my Vegan ways this week, more on that later). The drive back to Kona was really when the Resurrection of Christ completely sank in. The highway is right next to the shore so you can see nothing but endless amounts of blue water. Stunning. We were blaring Misty Edwards and just soaking in creation. Her song, Arms Wide Open came on and I just sat there, staring out into the Pacific, windows down, hair in my face, completely drenched in the Lord's presence.<br /><br />“What does love look like?” is the question I’ve been pondering<br />“What does love look like?”<br />“What does love look like?” is the question I’ve been asking of You<br /><br />I once believed that love was romance, just a chance<br />I even thought that love was for the lucky and the beautiful<br />I once believed that love was a momentary bliss<br />But love is more than this<br />All You ever wanted was my attention<br />All You ever wanted was love from me<br />All You ever wanted was my affections, to sit here at Your feet<br /><br />Then I sat down, a little frustrated and confused<br />If all of life comes down to love<br />Then love has to be more than sentiment<br />More than selfishness and selfish gain<br /><br />And then I saw Him there, hanging on a tree, looking at me<br />I saw Him there, hanging on a tree, looking at me<br />He was looking at me, looking at Him, staring through me<br />I could not escape those beautiful eyes<br />And I began to weep and weep<br /><br />He had arms wide open, a heart exposed<br />Arms wide open; He was bleeding, bleeding<br /><br />Love’s definition, love’s definition was looking at me<br />Looking at Him, hanging on a tree<br />I began to weep and weep and weep and weep<br /><br />This is how I know what love is, this is how I know what love is<br /><br />And as I sat there weeping, crying<br />Those beautiful eyes, full of desire and love<br /><br />He said to me, “You shall love Me, You shall love Me<br />You shall love Me, You shall love Me”<br /><br />With arms wide open, a heart exposed<br />With arms wide open, bleeding, sometimes bleeding<br /><br />If anybody’s looking for love in all the wrong places<br />If you’ve been searching for love, come to Me, come to Me<br />Take up your cross, deny yourself<br />Forget your father’s house and run, run with Me<br />You were made for abandonment, wholeheartedness<br />You were made for someone greater, someone bigger, so follow Me<br />And You’ll come alive when you learn to die<br /><br /><br />Today was such a powerful day in my life. I am excited to continue receiving the blessings the Lord has in store for me. I'm ready to come alive and learn to die.<br /><br />Be blessed,<br />Kellye RaeUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663705825142204813.post-28640950351443557742010-04-03T17:06:00.000-07:002010-04-03T17:37:34.126-07:00Definately not in Oklahoma anymore..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92eRf06iNI2VOliglh4uUVslUL8ZjJBVXPJmOGE06-oXyCVr1eikqXRY1Yfeb9d7AoAv8JleK89jNkQKdd1tmLSOxhDRaRwUCF7VhRgNNETWfB6VQ2GLYgPCpzXlhzWaHzSqjSMvXoJG6/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92eRf06iNI2VOliglh4uUVslUL8ZjJBVXPJmOGE06-oXyCVr1eikqXRY1Yfeb9d7AoAv8JleK89jNkQKdd1tmLSOxhDRaRwUCF7VhRgNNETWfB6VQ2GLYgPCpzXlhzWaHzSqjSMvXoJG6/s320/photo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456074670797841122" /></a><br />I did it. Got over my fear of flying over the ocean and hopped on a 5 hour flight to Kona, Hawaii. <br /><br />Going to be here for 3 months with University of the Nations taking classes for a Discipleship Training School. My classes start this next Thursday so I came a little early to get moved in and spend time with my bestie Lindy Conant.<br /><br />Once my classes start I will blog about what I am learning/what the Lord is doing in my heart... So get ready :)<br /><br />For now.. Here are a few things I'm learning about living in the middle of the Pacific Ocean:<br /><br />1. There are no squirrels here. The first time someone told me this I freaked out. I love squirrels. Sure they are rodents who may or may not be carrying some sort of disease.. but they are just so darn cute. And I like to feed them peppermints. Anyhow, they have these things called mongooses.. (I am starting to think this is a myth because I haven't seen any yet.)<br /><br />2. Geckos are like Oklahoma's crickets. They are EVERYWHERE. I have been here for 6 days and I'm already getting used to geckos running over my toes while I am fixing breakfast. (I am exaggerating a tiny bit, but I feel like it's needed to emphasize how they are everywhere)<br /><br />3. Hawaii feeds it's cockroaches steroids. I swear, these things are the size of hamsters. I had my first encounter with one while getting ready for bed and my friend Krista nonchalantly says "Hey Kellye, will you reach up and kill that cockroach above your head?"... hmmm. At home, I would use a flip flop to kill an insect. Here, I need a machete on hand at all times.<br /><br />4. Apparently it is weird that I say "chunk" here. As in "I chunked a shoe across the room". No one told me that the rest of America says "chuck", which I think is stupidest thing in the world. In Oklahoma I only use that word when I am talking about a chuckwagon.<br /><br />(<br />Other than the critters and humidity.. this is the greatest place on Earth. (Other than Disney World of course). My favorite things have definitely been going to the beach and this cute little Sushi shop called Hiachis where you make your own sushi. The beach we go to is called Mile 88. I guess the locals get mad that the YWAM'ers call it this because that's not really the name of the beach. We just can't pronounce all the Hawaiian words and there is a mile marker 88 sign there.. so BOOM. Mile 88. <br /><br />That's all for now.. <br /><br />Have a Happy Easter and be blessed.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1