I dare you....

Have you ever had one of those Sundays where it's one amazing message on top of the other, so that at the end of the day all your mind-blown self can think is "Wow!" as you try to process everything? This last Sunday was one of those days. It wasn't just one mind grenade waking me up; I was in a minefield. 

Especially Sunday evening, when our youth pastor preached. Once a month we have Youth Service on Sunday night, where the teen choir sings, one of the young men directs the congregational songs, the boys take up offering, a group of teens performs the special song, perhaps a young man preaches a mini-sermon, and then the youth pastor preaches.

It was kind of like his message came in two parts. He was in I Thessalonians 2:7-13, where Paul is encouraging the Thessalonians on how they should live. Paul sacrificed so much so he "would not be chargeable unto any of you" (verse 9). It was his desire not just to preach the message God had given to him, but to help everyone he came in contact with to live it out to the fullest.

Then the message turned a slight corner, and some things my sisters had told me about their Sunday morning service were repeated.

Key word: dare.

First Paul talked about how he was gentle to the younger and weaker Christians (vs. 7), using the analogy of a nurse. Then, in verse 11, he talks about how he and his companions "exhorted and comforted and charged every one of you, as a father doth his children". The preacher pointed out that the analogy of a father implies giving instruction to more mature children, on whom greater expectations are placed. Infants and young children are treated differently than teens and young adults. 

As usual, my youth pastor threw in a sports analogy. He pointed out how coaches raise their voices a little when they want to challenge their players to do better. Yelling at a baby to eat all their carrot mush only results in tears. Yelling at a 12-year-old boy during a basketball game tends to make him run faster and put some effort into his game. The coach (analogy: God) sees the big picture and our place in it. He can't go out on the floor and play our position for us, but He directs and encourages us. We have to take the outcome of the game into our own hands. If we don't do it, there's a good chance in won't get done, because each of us has a role. One person can't stand around and expect someone else to come along and pick up the slack.

Our youth pastor talked about the competitive spirit normal human beings have, and how that is a driving force that, in moderation, causes us to excel. Then - and here is the point he was going for - that competitive spirit makes some people do crazy things when they are present with the words "I dare you". What guy won't rise to accept any challenge when it's preceded by those three dangerous little words?

As our youth pastor said: "Some people get offended; other people get determined."

It was mostly a challenge to the young men in our youth group to accept the dare of being true men of God, but it could be received in a broader sense by everyone as a challenge to live for God.

He pointed to Romans 12:1 - "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice". And I Timothy 6:11-14, where Paul "charges" us to "fight the good fight of faith", among other things.

In any good sermon, our own minds tend to latch onto certain aspects which resonate with us and add to them our own observations and experiences. At least, that's what I do. I could miss the main point of a message yet still get something truly important out of it because of one little passage or phrase that God stirred my heart about. While it was a key point of the message, it was also the one part that really stuck with me: the dare.

I thought about the oft-used analogy of the sports game, and the challenge to be participators and not spectators. 

A portion of a song I've heard on the radio kept running through my mind: "I dare you to move." I've only heard the song a few times, but the way I translate it is as a challenge to leave everything else behind and just live for God. To stop lying around and dare to live well.

Back when I was still searching for a title, I found this quote from Mother Teresa, and it also came to mind:

“Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.

Life is beauty, admire it.

Life is a dream, realize it.

Life is a challenge, meet it.

Life is a duty, complete it.

Life is a game, play it.

Life is a promise, fulfill it.

Life is sorrow, overcome it.

Life is a song, sing it.

Life is a struggle, accept it.

Life is a tragedy, confront it.

Life is an adventure, dare it.

Life is luck, make it.

Life is too precious, do not destroy it.

Life is life, fight for it.” 

And, of course, while I was searching my Goodreads quotes for the above, I came across this one from Theodore Roosevelt:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” 

Dare, verb:

1. To have the courage to try; venture; hazard.

2. To meet defiantly; face courageously.

3. To challenge or provoke (a person) into a demonstration of courage; defy.

Challenge, n:

1. A call or summons to engage in any contest, as of skill, strength, etc.

2. Something that by its nature or character serves as a call to battle, contest, special effort, etc.

3. A call to fight, as a battle, a duel, etc.

4. Difficulty in a job or undertaking that is stimulating to one engaged in it.

   v.:

5. To make or issue a challenge.

Charge, v. tr.:

1. To command; place a burden upon or assign responsibility to

   n:

2. A duty or responsibility.

3. A command, injunction, or order.

Exhort, v:

1. To urge, advise, or caution earnestly; admonish urgently.

Beseech, v:

1. To implore urgently; entreat.

Like any good challenge, there's risk involved; otherwise, it wouldn't be a challenge. But when someone emerges victorious from a challenge, it's empowering to them (and often those around them) and it shows them what they're capable of if they just try. When someone looks us in the eye and whispers with a smirk, "I dare you", we're willing to put forth a little extra effort - 110% - to prove to them that we aren't wimps. We'll risk more, try harder and longer, go to greater lengths to achieve our goal than if someone simply said, "Could you, please?"

God, through Paul, is daring us to see what we can accomplish for Him. He's challenging us to look beyond this temporal world and live with eternity in mind. He's charge us to not waste one precious second of our existence on things that don't count to anything or anybody. He's calling us to press toward the mark, to fight the good fight, to run well in our race, to live to the fullest. Challenge accepted?

First Post of the Year (true to form, three weeks late)

Happy New Year?

Seems I do everything belatedly. Ah, well. I have a good excuse this time: we moved!

And I'm sure y'all know that already.

Dad just set the computer up last night, so this is the first chance I've had to really sit down and use a computer in probably two weeks. Yes, I know we're in the third week of January, but it's been a busy month.

Whoa. Three weeks into the new year. Yikes!

I don't have much to say right now. I just needed to blog, especially with it being Tuesday. If any of my devoted readers have noticed, I changed my title, as I said I would. I don't remember when exactly I decided on it. I remembered this post, which I didn't realize until now was the first post ever for this blog! (Also, the song mentioned in that post has still not been written. It may never get written,  unfortunately.)

Around the time I settled on my new title, a friend shared this with another friend on facebook:

Life is But a Weaving
Corrie Ten Boom (The Tapestry Poem)

My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft' times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
... Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not 'til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.

 

It's not exactly the idea I had behind "Tapestry", but it's very close, so it deserves sharing. It's also just a good poem.

My right pinkie is getting numb in this cold office, so I'll be wrapping this up. (I know. Me being brief. Weird, huh?)

The new house is great! Okay, so it has its quirks, but none we can't deal with. Probably the biggest for me (yes, bigger than tricky doors and weak heating upstairs) is the well water. At least, the hot water that smells like sulfur.

The first morning here, I woke up, and in my semi-conscious state* I thought someone was cooking eggs. Then I sat up and realized that wasn't quite right. Then I realized it was someone running hot water in the kitchen.

But we're surviving. More space (I mean, way more than we've ever had to my knowledge), the ability to look out of any window and now be looking into the neighbor's house, and being surrounded by cornfields has its perks. We're not much furthur from everything, though we're trying to develop the habit of getting all of our in-town errands done in the fewest runs possible (which means I do a lot when I go in for work). Oh, and we don't have a dryer yet, because ours is gas and it's electric here. We make do.

I feel guilty having the largest room in the house, but it comes with conditions. Namely, Mom and Dad get it when guests come over (and we will be getting more guests) and I bunk with one of the girls. We raided a friend's garage when we first moved in and she shared some of her old furniture, which resulted in a bed and bookcase for me and almost a chair, but it was too wide for the stairs.

Oh, and the stairs could be implemented in a training program for hiking the Machu Picchu trail. (In that they're steep, not that they're carved out of a mountain.) (Also, I was going to use a picture with a human in it, but felt funny posting "Claire's" picture on my blog, even though it did put things in perspective as far as the stairs went.)

I'm losing feeling in my entire right hand now, so I'm going to leave. I'll be back soon, I promise.

*I didn't want to insert this into the body of the post with parentheses:
I get the dictionary.com Word of the Day, and this one came up a few days ago: hypnopompic \hip-nuh-POM-pik\, adjective: Of or pertaining to the semiconscious state prior to complete wakefulness.
As if even I would ever use this word. I'm still stumbling a bit over the pronunciation. I was going to use this word instead of "semi-conscious", but thought better of it.
Then there's Peter Pan: "You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always think of you."

A Slightly Belated Christmas Post

I suppose I should write once more before we bid adieu to 2012, huh?

Merry Christmas! (I know, I tend to be a little behind the times....)

I forgot to mention our Christmas tree in my last post. We got it about a week before Christmas. While our artificial tree lasted, we used that, but it saw its last Christmas three or four years ago and, since then, we've got a real tree every year. I think this year's is a blue spruce. And yes, it's still standing. We aren't the type to toss out our trees and take down our lights the day after Christmas, as if that's the end of it. I'm still listening to Christmas music.

Someone suggested we name the tree, and my youngest sister tossed out whatever complicated phrase is "Merry Christmas" in German. Mom just gave her a look and refused her friendly suggestion, considering my sister could barely pronounce it herself. I responded with "Feliz Navidad", and somehow the tree became "Feliz".

Feliz sat bundled up and unlit for a couple days while our lives continued in the usual crazy, rather slipshod fashion. Finally, Mom said I needed to get the lights on.

I've never lit a real tree. It's hard. Artificial trees have nice, even rows of branches. I didn't even know where to start with Feliz, and wanted to give up, but Mom wouldn't let me and, being the sweet, unfailingly obedient daughter I am, I pressed on.

My poor hands after that! All over, past my wrists, my skin was sore and blotchy red.

Then we decorated the tree, tossed under it the few gifts already wrapped, and went on our way.

Christmas week was crazy. We only had morning service for church, and then an evening service Christmas eve. After church, the girls insisted we open gifts rather than after we all dragged ourselves out of bed in the morning. After reading the Christmas story, we did.

I got gloves, tea, some jewelry, notebooks, and candy, and was told my books would be on the way soon. I got Mom a fuzzy blanket so she'd quit stealing mine, leg warmers for one sister, one of those poseable wooden figurines for the other, and had pitched in money for Dad and the brother.

After that, we sat around until 10, when we headed out on routes.

We didn't get snow for Christmas. Still don't have much to speak of. But I don't complain when it's time for papers, because I've been able to wear my sneakers most days and haven't been slowed down by sludging through snow.

When we finally got home, we all went to bed and got up when we pleased. Then we girls helped Mom get dinner ready, we all ate, and proceeded to have a very quiet day. That's Christmas around here.

Life trudges on still. I work, clean, cook a little, try to write, and have hit 90 books read this year. The last was Little Women, which I've never read before, unless you count an abridged children's version. When I wasn't laughing over Jo's mishaps, the blend of comedy and moral lessons, and the general cheeriness of the lives portrayed in the book, I was sobbing like a baby; sometimes both at once, because it went from depressing to happy all in a moment. And that was before I got to the truly sad part of the book. I'm all too easily influenced by fictional emotion. Bother.

I'm looking forward to some of the changes the New Year is bringing. Actually, I think the whole family is. Though I don't techinically do New Year's resolutions, January is a good starting point for a lot of the things I'm trying to do; mostly, sorting out my crazy life.

Oh! I'll finally be revamping the blog soon. I got a title all figured out. The minute I thought of it, I was like "Duh! How simple!". It's a one-worder, but I like it.

But whatever! Happy New Year! And hopefully I pick up on writing '13 instead of '12 pretty quickly.

The End of the World (or not). Plus: a Little Christmas Spirit, all Year Long

*WARNING: High linky usage. Proceed with caution. Do not engage linkies unless you want to waste time and maybe get a chuckle out of it.*

 

You know those days when you get a song stuck in your head, and you're playing it over and over in your head pretty much all day long? You might even look them up on youtube so you can listen to the whole song, which you've forgotten, as opposed to the one line you remember. Sometimes I like to think of those songs and theme songs for the day.

Yesterday's theme song was "It's the end of the world, as we know it, and I feel fine!"   :)

I don't know how the rest of the song goes. I just know that part because they play it on "Chicken Little" as "the sky is falling".

(Side note: I googled "Chicken little scream like a little girl" looking for the right picture and got this, which just made me happy.)

*cough* Anyway!

Opinions among my facebook friends concerning "the End of the World" are greatly varied. Some people couldn't stop cracking jokes; others were telling people to stop picking on other people. I'll admit that I posted one or two sarcastic posts and comments to posts, as well as a few pictures. And I'll also admit I was worried about how yesterday would go. Not the world ending, but the possibility of stupid people doing stupid things in honor of the world ending.

At least in our corner of the world, December 21st was here and gone without a supernatural hitch. I worked, helped deliver papers for the routes we're subbing, helped clean the house, and overall had a pretty good day.

While I have to scoff at the people who decided it was a good idea to heed the chiselings of an anciet civilization of humans as equally fallible and finite as themselves, this event served as a nice reminder to me about the uncertainty of life. We aren't given a time when Christ will return. All we are given is a warning to use this precious life carefully and make it count.

In other news, our house is picking up the so-called "Christmas Spirit" a little late this year. But then, I guess we always do. Or maybe it's just that it comes gradually for us, because we tend to start the Christmas music playing around September, and we're usually drinking hot chocolate at least at that time.

I feel bad saying I think it's going to be a good Christmas in light of the Sandy Hook shooting. Maybe it's the feeling that we kind of need a good Christmas. Having a job means I finally have money to spend on gifts, and that is gratifying. I know some people are all about making gifts, my youngest sister one of them, and I don't disagree that those make very personal gifts. However, Sometimes there are things I see that I know will bring a smile, and I'd like to give that smile. I know we don't need money to express our love for those around us, but sometimes a little money helps.

Yes, I still get excited about opening my own gifts, but here's the thing: who really remembers what they got for Christmas last year, much less the year before? It's the emotions of the day, the sense of love and happiness, the break from life, that we remember. At least, it is for me.

I don't necessarily look forward to a new year. I'll spend the next three or four months trying to remember what number to put as the date. (And then my birthday will come and I'll have to remember how old I am.) What's the fun in that? I don't techinically do "New Year's Resolutions", because the overwhelming sense of guilt when June comes and I realize I've accomplished next to nothing on that list is too much for me. But the New Year is yet another healthy dose of reality. "It's a new year. We're still here. We're new people, but we still have a life to live, and we've been given another day to live it."

Some people talk about how we ought to have that "Christmas Spirit" all year 'round: peace and goodwill, love, giving, etc. I agree. When friends complain about me singing Christmas songs in July, I tell them what my dad likes to say: Christmas is the original praise and worship music. And there's no conclusive evidence that Christ was born in December to begin with, so why limit the honoring of such a miracle to that month?

I agree that some aspects of the Christmas spirit ought to be with us all year 'round. And here's another thing:

We wake up on January 1st, Brand New Year, and see the year stretched open and promising (most of the time). We make promises to ourselves about what we're going to do, because the first day of the year is a great milestone by which to track our progress. Maybe we 're still in the same mindset on January 2nd, and possibly January 3rd. By the time March 26th rolls around, however, we're living the day-to-day like always. It's just seasons changing and time passing.

What if, like the "Christmas Spirit", we woke up every day of the year with that sense of opporunities waiting to be seized? What if we jumped out of bed singing praises that we're waking healthy and safe under another sunrise? I know I roll out of bed reluctantly most mornings. Before I'm fully concious, I'm building a to-do list. When I go to bed, I'm not rejoicing in what I accomplished; I'm starting tomorrow's list. That isn't living; that's existing. 

What if, every morning, our thoughts go to God and determine that "this is the day which the Lord hath made" and we strive to use it to His glory? Every day is a new day, a new chance, no matter what number we attach to it. We're always sinners saved by grace, pilgrims in a world that is not our home.

 

 

And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.

The night is far spent , the day is at hand : let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light. 

Let us walk honestly, as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying.

But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.

- Romans 13:11-14

Night Driving (plus a little pointless trivia)

Yeah, so.... I just need to write a prologue to copy and paste into each post which is written far too long after the previous one. In short, it's been a crazy...what? Month? I've had things to write about (namely Thanksgiving and then maybe something about Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day) but obviously didn't care enough to bother, and now those topics just aren't that relevant or whatever.

Well, now I'm back. Though I don't really have anything to write about, it's Friday, which is one of only two days a week which I originally designated to be blogging days.

Old habits die hard.

I guess I do have a little to write about. We're all getting into the Christmas mood around here. I've made lots of molasses crinkles and snickerdoodles. Mom made another batch of hot chocolate and has supplies for chex mix, peanut brittle, peanut butter fudge, and other holiday traditions. We're all making good progress with our Christmas shopping. Mom even found reindeer antlers and a red nose to put on her car, like she's been wanting to do for years. Then she saw the elf ears on someone else's car and wanted those. Right.

She and Heather decided the reindeer/car is Francine, ol' Rudolph's daughter. Didn't ask, don't care to. This led to Mom saying, "Wait. Francine's a girl, but she has antlers."

I reminded her about the reindeer we saw last year (or the year before?) at the city gardens: both male and female have antlers.

This led to a little research on my part, and I discovered something interesting:

Reindeer and caribou are the only...deer-like creatures (they have some strange Latin name for their family or species that starts with a "c", I think) where both the male and female have antlers. For reindeer, at least, both male and female get their antlers in the summer. However, male reindeer lose theirs in mid-November/early-December, and female keep theirs until spring when their young are born. Thus, if we all want to stick to the image of Santa's sleigh being pulled by antlered deer, and we don't want to resort to the excuse that it's all magic, Santa's reindeer are all female. (I always suspected Vixen and Dancer at least were female, so this is easier for me to swallow.)

And tada! That topic blends right into the main topic of the evening! Just cuz I'm that awesome.

Our family was invited to a birthday party tonight for our science teacher. You know, the totally awesome one? She's the only reason I survived chemistry. She likes chocolate and movie quotes and Jeopardy games in class. She helped with my graduation party (and she's one of few people to whom I've managed to give "thank you" notes for said party...). She's just too cool for words. Someday, she needs to write a biography, even if she can't publish it. And then she needs to write textbooks. And then play on Jeopardy.

Anyway! In the end, it was only us girls who ended up going. In my car, which means I have the right to drive. I almost forfeited the right. Why? Because it meant driving at night down country roads.

I've driven at night before, but usually with a parent in the car, unless it's 10 minutes across the city. I've driven those country roads before, but usually with a parent and always in daylight. I'm struggling with a few driving phobias, including lane-changes in downtown traffic, and night driving along deer-infested roads is high on the list.

Deep breath. At least it isn't snowing. (We got some snow last week and flurries earlier this week, but all that's left is a little mush and ice in the shady places.) Snow driving is another phobia of mine. I've yet to do it, and it's another reason I appreciate my old boat of a Chevy over Heather's sports car. Mom made sure I had instructions (though I had a hard time picturing just what she was talking about) and reminded me (or threatened) to text when we left home, when we got to the party, when we left the party, and when we got home.

We left at 6, giving us just enough time to get to the party when it started, if I drove the speedlimit. It actually didn't go too badly. Heather acted as co-pilot, offering her knowledge of the area, because neither of us was crystal clear on where we were headed or what we were looking for. We managed, and I never had to slam on my breaks to turn onto the right road. Yay!

Another perk in my car is honest-to-goodness brights. Mom's car's brights are about as bright and the normal light setting and no one would know the difference. Mine actually showed me beyond both shoulders on the road.

So there I was, maintaining a steady 55 MPH down roads lined with Michigan ditches and across bridges (cringe). I confirmed an earlier suspicion that I pull a little to the right, especially when I'm on a bridge and a semi with very bright lights is passing on the other side of the road. We made good time, arriving just a tad late to the party (and I think they started early).

There weren't many kids there (just one guy and girl Heather's and my age and all their younger siblings). I knew some of the people from church. The rest were total strangers, though some insisted they recognized me. I ate finger food and sipped punch and marveled at how my upbeat, crazy science teacher could be hosting such an almost solemn affair. Here I was thinking there'd be karaoke or something.

We sat around for a little over an hour. Heather avoiding the chocolate for some reason and kept saying weird things I'm not aloud to repeat. In the end, our teacher's daughters invited Allenna to spend the night, so it was just Heather and I on the way home.

Now that I was familiar with my route, I was able to relax a little more. (And by "relax", I mean be less uptight and likely to freak out but rather calm and focused.) Heather and I sang along to Christmas music and kept our eyes peeled for deer. We didn't see a one of 'em. Wonder of wonders.

Winter is Coming 'Round

Yeah, yeah. It's been too long. November is over half done already. Craziness.

I won't bother with a long update. Don't much care to consider the past few weeks, to be honest. Life is still trudging along.

Mom brought back a computer from Grandma's house (I think it was Grandpa's) and Wes got it set up for Allenna and I. We both suffered computer crashes in the last few months. The new computer is a good ol' desktop, and I've been avoiding having to use the keyboard. I was just getting used to Dad's, which I've now decided I don't dislike half so much as I'd said I did. There's no Microsoft Word installed yet, which means I can't access my writing files. (For some reason, they all turn to gibberish if opened with WordPad or Notepad.)

But now I'm blogging, at last.

We got snow last Tuesday. Granted, it was just flurries and it didn't stick, but it was our first snowfall of the season. Since Friday we've had foggy nights and mornings. Cool to look at, but scary to drive in. I actually haven't been the one driving yet, and I'm not too eager to try. We've also seen plenty of sunshine, which is great.

I've been fighting a cold since last Tuesday. It started as a tickle in my throat and, by the next day, had developed into a nasty head and chest cold. Then it was a stuffy nose and a cough. Now I have remnants of the cough and a slightly runny nose. And just when I was thinking I would be the only one in the family to get it, Wes and Allenna mentioned sore throats. I'll get blamed for that.

Besides the massive headaches that make it feel like my head is going to explode, having to breathe through my mouth all night, and getting a coughing fit in church, I discovered another problem with having a cold: stuffy noses make it very hard to read books out loud. I babysat on Friday night, when my cold was reduced to sniffles and a choke. I felt bad just trying to maintain a conversation with the parents. Then the kids decided they both wanted me to read a whole bunch of books to them. Normally, I'd be loving that, especially because the boy prefers to be more active and only his sister begs for me to read a third and fourth book, but they both insisted on Friday. If they understood half of what I was reading, I'd be surprised.

On Saturday, Mom, the girls, and I went on a shopping trip with some ladies from church. It's an annual thing, and the intention is to get a bulk of the Christmas shopping done. Neither Mom nor I am are much of shoppers. We both like to go, get what we need, and leave, and neither of us much cares for window shopping if we don't have money. However, on occasion I don't mind it, and the mall we go to is bigger than our own (and also nearly 2 hours away, but worth it). I've been on the last three or four trips. Last year we went twice; once with the ladies and once as a family a couple weeks later. It was nice then because I had a significant amount of money for the first time, and I got most of my Christmas shopping done.

This time, I got some things for Mom and Heather, but.... Yeah, I spent the rest of my money on myself. I do feel kind of bad about that, but the rest of the family wants things that require all of us pitching in, or things like gift cards and money to spend at the local used bookstore (don't worry, she already knows). Plus, the mall had a Teavana store!

Teavana tea was on my Christmas list, but I figured I make it easier on Mom and Dad and take care of it myself so they wouldn't have to worry about it.  :p  I also put the Underland Chronicles on my list, so it's all good. (If my family doesn't understand my desire for books as gifts, they understand tea even less so. Which usually means my Christmas presents are a complete surprise, which I enjoy.)

Okay, I know there was something I wanted to post about, but I can't think of it right now. Bother it all. I should know by now that this is what comes of waiting so long between posts. I didn't mean to. I started writing one last Tuesday, but I didn't get very far.

Oh, well.

It's hard to believe it's Thanksgiving week! For us, this means morning routes during the week and pizza for our Thanksgiving meal (still not sure how that became a tradition). Our house seems to run through a cycle of cleanliness and disorder, and, in honor of the holiday, Mom bumped things up so the clean part of the cycle is coming around. (Yes, roll your eyes. It's a stupid pattern to which I contribute and from which I ought to withdraw my support.) This means that, while I write this, the counters are waiting to be cleaned and the laundry to be put away. We're also planning to move our old, very used table out into the garage and bring in a "new" table given to us by some friends a while ago. Somehow that hasn't happened until just now.

That's life?

Someday, my prince will come?

My cousin is getting married tomorrow.

She's the first grandchild on Mom's side of the family to get married. It's a tinny bit bittersweet, since Grandpa died this May. That's where Mom and Wes are. They took a train! Of course, it was in the middle of the night, but still. A train! I'd take that over a plane any day.

Meanwhile, I'm home alone. Again.

Well, not entirely. Dad's here, just at work. By now, I'm pretty used to this routine. Possibly too used to it. I had Hershey pick the movie last night. And then I cried through the movie. ("Ms. Potter", if you were wondering.) And then I watched "Push", about superheroes. Well, superhumans. And ate macaroni pies. Which I made while listening to Christmas music.

I was going somewhere with this, I know it. I think it was going to be deep and thoughtful. Somehow.

Oh. Right. Weddings.

And, no, I'm not going to talk about my wedding dreams. (Oh, goodness! Last week I had another. Well, it wasn't the wedding exactly. And the guy had a face! But I digress.)

Years ago, when I was, like, twelve, I fantasized about being married by the time I was 18. Probably in part because that's when Mom got married. I've always been in favor of marrying young. (Not absurdly young, mind you.) As I got older, I waited and waited for "the ONE" to magically appear and sweep me off my feet.

Is it because I read too many fairytales? The only romances I like are the old classics, like Pride and Prejudice, where there's more to the plot than just the romance.

Anyway. Obviously, I'm even in a relationship yet. And whenever I consider the fact, I feel begrudingly grateful. I doubt I would have been ready emotionally for a relationship even 6 months ago.

Mind you, I don't agree with the whole attitude of "waiting till we're ready", because my experiences with life have proven that things never line up the way we imagine. That's life for you.

As time went on, I found more and more people and books talking about having contentment in singleness. For a while, I agreed with my mouth but not with my heart. Somehow I figured God would agree with me and toss a shiny knight into my path just because my heart said I was ready.I built all my dreams around it. I spent my time staring off into the distance, waiting for Mr. Right to crest the horizon, wondering if maybe his horse threw a shoe on the way over, and generally pining away for something I'd read and fantasized about and about which I still have no clue.

Finally, I got jogged on the head hard enough that it clicked: singleness is a stage of life, not a transition. Life doesn't run childhood-transition-marriage-happily ever after. After the big mental/emotional growth spurt, when we start realizing what life is about, is a new stage. Where I'd been spending all my time waiting for the next stage to arrive, thinking of it as being what my life was all about, I was wasting valuable time.

Singleness is an opportunity, just like every other stage. It has its own challenges, its own chances to grown and learn and do important things. It's to be embraced, not endured.

Some of you might be rolling your eyes. "Yeah, duh. Is that what you've been thinking all this time?" Give me a break. I take a while to catch on. I'd actually welcome a helpful slap every once in a while.

Here we go again. Another thought I can't quite put into words. Bother it all.

Okay, fairytales. Most of those ditzy princesses and scullery maids had one goal in mind: find the prince (or otherwise exceedingly dashing, witty, chivalrous, well-built, man) and fall in love-at-first-sight. Subconciously, I'd made my role model more like Ariel the dreamer (sorry, Jessi) and Snow White, the whistful maid singing into wells and listening to her own voice echoing obnoxiously. In fact, it's supposed to be more like Rapunzel (the Disney one): reading, painting, learning to cook and play guitar and make candles, and carrying on lengthy conversations with a sarcastic amphibian. You know, not wasting her time gazing out of windows thirty stories in the air. She wasn't even thinking about being resuced by a dashing rouge with what, frankly, I think is a ridiculous smolder.

Okay, so maybe not quite like Rapunzel, but I hope you get my meaning.

Yes, I really just wanted to try to make a comparison to Disney princesses. Then there's Belle, who sees the true man behind the hideous face.... Ah, I give up.

My point goes back to my ever-present theme of making the most of every moment; something I still fail at quite regularly. I spend my days waiting for the perfect man to come along, and all the while I'm not working to grow into the strong, spiritual, helpful, smart woman he deserves and is looking for. I have at my fingertips everything I need to grow into that person. Or - deep breath - I may never get married. (I hate considering that alternative, but this is reality.) Either way, God has a plan for my life, and He's shown me the kind of person I need to be in order to be the most effective, with a man at my side or all by my brave, adventurous self. I'm the same person either way. I know what I need to do, and instead of wasting time waiting for God to take my advice and just give me the guy and expect it all to work out beautifully despite my lack of efforts to prepare, I should be doing something. Anything, really.

It's an attitude I have to force myself to adopt every day. It's painful and itchy and two sizes too small for my silly day-dreaming heart, but it's the goal. I've been laying out all my dreams like the plot to a fairytale. Have you noticed they don't usually get far beyond "I do" and the happily-ever-after spiel?

Fact is, it's still life. It will still have its challenges, and I still have to be ready to meet them. A kiss doesn't magically solve everything.

So here I am, 18 and...more than a half, and learning to make the most of it. Or trying. And I'm starting to realize that, unfortunately, we never stop growing. Maybe growing up, yes, but not growing. Again, that's life. Why does it have to be so confusing?