Confessions of your friendly neighborhood barista

I just love people.

Watching people, that is. 

Have you ever thought about how funny people are? One of my favorite things to do (although admittedly very creepy) is just sit and watch the behavior of those around me. My job as a barista at our campus coffee shop affords me the perfect opportunity to observe human behavior in my customers.

After 4 semesters behind the bar at McConn, I've watched a lot of people. The funny thing about people is, they tend to fit into groups. If you've ever been a barista or worked in some kind of service industry, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Every waiter, cashier, barista, or lunch lady subconsciously (or even consciously) sorts their customers into specific categories.

I can laugh at these groups.

I'm allowed to laugh at these funny people.

Why?

Because I have been all of them at one point or another. I was a customer before I was a barista, and I continue to be a customer in several other areas of life. You have been all of these people, too, if you're honest with yourself. So, it's not a malicious kind of laughter. It's enjoyment of the general quirks and idiosyncrasies in everyone that make life so interesting.

Here we go.

The Barista Confessions, part 1

"The Timepiece"

     These customers are so dependable, you could time your shift around them. They grace your coffee shop with their presence at the same time every day, with the same order, and generally the same attitude. They are more predictable than Indiana weather or the quality of Baldwin's food and nearly as consistent as Dr. Lo calling the student body "Dear Ones" in chapel. Depending on who the person is, they might be the highlight of your day or the thing you dread most about coming in to work.

When you see a Timepiece approaching the register, you already had their order entered in to the system 10 seconds ago, because it never changes and it never will.

If it ever does....well, let's not consider that situation. The world just might fragment into shatters of reality.

"The Stiff Arm"

     With their no-nonsense attitude, these customers charge the register with an apparent lack of working elbow joints as they hold out their student ID for me to swipe before they've even uttered one syllable. My introductory greeting is overrun by their directly delivered and well-rehearsed order. When you know how the system works and you know what you want, common pleasantries are inconsequential. 

I like to think that the Stiff Armers are losing an internal battle against the need to purchase caffeine - they need to order fast before they can reason themselves out of the decision, and I am the enabler, fueling the legally addictive habits of the students populating our campus.

"The Live-In"

     I am entirely convinced that there are students on this campus who do not actually go to this school. Either that or they simply skip their classes all of the time. How else do you explain a person who comes to a coffee shop before it opens in the morning and stays until closing time at night? One of these days, I would like to conduct surveillance on the student center overnight and catch one of these creatures sneaking a mattress behind the bar to sleep.

Now, there are two different breeds of the Live-In.

The first is the Hibernator. This sub-species of the Live-In remains in one chair at one table for hours at a time. On occasion, I will surreptitiously pass by the table of a Hibernator to ensure that they are still breathing. It would, of course, reflect poorly on my company if a customer were to expire in our dining area without anyone noticing.

The second is the Migrator. This type of Live-In is unsatisfied to remain in one spot for too long, but floats from table to table, taking advantage of the many relationships they have established in order to secure a permanent residence in the area.

"The Jesus-Gazer"

     You can spot this one a mile away. 

Almost literally a mile away, because they hover a significant distance away from the register. Just close enough to make you aware of their presence, but far enough away that it's not yet socially acceptable to engage them in casual conversation or, worst of all fates, ask them "What can I get for you?" before they have fully decided.

Even after deliberating for several minutes, they cautiously approach the register and stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed in front of the counter, staring at the menu screens mounted from the ceiling as if Jesus had just ascended from behind me and currently occupies the space above my head. They stay that way long enough that they just might experience the second coming. 

The Jesus-Gazer is faced with a dilemma - to order the safe, pedestrian sounding, and familiar White Mocha, which is unlikely to disappoint or present with any surprises, or to be bold and order the more esoteric and mysterious London Fog or Midnight Grae, which, despite one's mention of foreign cities and the other's eccentric spelling, give you absolutely no hint as to what will actually be inside of your drink. 

What inevitably follows is one of my favorite questions: "Can you tell me what I want?"

While your friendly neighborhood barista has many unique talents that could potentially pass as super-powers, reading minds is not one of them. 

I do, however, have the ability to control minds it seems. Whatever drink I ultimately recommend is almost invariably their final coffee decision.

With great power comes great responsibility, Peter Parker.

     

This is the Flip Side

Every once in a while, a moment happens in a person's life when everything changes.

Sometimes, a person can feel the presence and power of God so keenly and intimately that the hair on the back of his neck stands up and tears involuntarily stream down his laughing, uplifted face.

The world explodes in a revelation of understanding, and you cannot comprehend how you didn't see it before. The facts in your head didn't change, but the way you perceive them made a fundamental shift in perspective, like the difference between black and white and color.

Suddenly, my picture of heaven and eternal worship sounds like a cacophony of Spanish, Creole, English, and hundreds of languages harmoniously interwoven and looks like a tapestry of beautifully contrasting skin side by side with arms and hands lifted in praise to Jesus.

Welcome to the DR, April.
Welcome to a world where the reality of how small and insignificant you actually are is acutely evident, and yet the enormity of God's incomprehensible love for you is reinforced to such a degree that you cannot force your face to stop smiling. My heart was so full that I literally could not hold it in. Every part of me longed to spill love out on other people.
That is the way to live!
Wow.

Would you like to take a minute or two and hear about what happened?
Here we go.

Saturday, March 2 - Day 1
Travel is both exciting and exhausting.
Day 1 started at 2:00 in the morning in Indiana and didn't end until 9:00 at night on the Students International base in Jarabacoa. 1.5 hours in a van to Indianapolis, 2 hours to Newark, 4 hours in an airport waiting room, 4.5 hours over the Atlantic ocean, and 3 hours in a bus up through the island mountains equals 20 worn out and sleep deprived travelers.
Thankfully, our hosts knew just what we needed and sent us straight to bed.
My thoughts as the day ended:
"I felt helpless and stupid, not sure of what I was doing or where I was going. I've never had problems communicating with other people before. I've never been in a place where the primary language was not my own. It's awkward and uncomfortable. I don't think I ever really thought it through before. 
I feel very out of place in this world where nothing makes sense, funeral houses are painted in light baby blue, and dozens of people cram into the back of a pick-up truck while trash swirls around the tightly winding streets."

Sunday, March 3 - Day 2
Part of our team went to a Haitian church for Sunday worship. I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying, but the joy on the people's faces as they sang praise to God was so infectious!
In the afternoon, we had a crash course on the history of the Dominican and Haitian people and learned more about the culture of the country
"It's been a day of meeting new people and making new friends.
I just love people. I love learning about others and connecting with them in new ways. My heart was so full today. It's not about me, guys, it's not about me."

Monday, March 4 - Day 3
"Birds sing, roosters crow, and cars rattle past on the busy road as the sleepy tropical sun rises behind the mountains, illuminating the palm trees and overcast skies of this beautiful island. The air is cool and fresh, refreshing and invigorating as the breeze blows across the bare skin on my arms. I can hear the kitchen staff chattering happily among themselves in Spanish, and the delicious scent of breakfast wafts across the air, tempting my empty stomach.

As I sit and ponder my surroundings and circumstances, my heart is full to bursting with wonder and gratitude. Who am I that God would see fit to bless me with such an experience and adventure as this?"
The first day of the week brought an exciting start as I met my site leader, her translator, and the four other students I would be working with closely over the next five days. My site leader runs a community health clinic in Jarabacoa, providing health care to people who cannot afford the services of a hospital. In addition to an office in the city, she also runs traveling clinics out in the outlying rural mountain communities. We stayed in her office for the day, getting to know each other and seeing a few patients throughout the day.

Tuesday, March 5 - Day 4
My site group traveled up the mountain to our first rural clinic for the week.

"As we bounced along in the jeep with our heads brushing the ceiling and fearing every minute that a piece would fall off the bottom of the car, I was struck by the beauty of the land and the poverty of the people. The mountains are breathtaking - green and glorious with a wide variety of tropical plants and trees, ever changing in color under the influence of the piebald sky. There were houses made of wood slabs, covered in dirt and mud, standing adjacent to stables made of cardboard. The whole scene was straight out of a picture and my mind had a difficult time reconciling the discrepancies between the lifestyle of these people and my own way of life back home."

I struggled a lot with the language on our first day out in the mountains.
So many times I felt completely lost and frustrated at my inability to communicate. Even though the day was draining, in the end it was so rewarding as I made progress in understanding others and making myself understood. There is nothing quite like the feeling of seeing the light in someone else's eyes when they comprehend what you are trying to say in your mangled version of their language, your language, and plenty of universal hand gestures.
Tuesday ended with a powerful worship night as God spoke to all of our hearts, whispering to us when we were raw and so ready to hear his voice.

Wednesday, March 6 - Day 5
In the middle of the week, we set up clinic in a Haitian community.

Wednesday holds a very special place in my heart because of our very last patient of the day. She asked my site leader and me if we would pray with her. "Rachel prayed in English and then she [the patient] prayed in Spanish. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I was crying by the end. This woman, this beautiful woman who lives in another world, was praying for me, connecting to the very same god that I worship and after whom I seek. We prayed in different languages and from different backgrounds, but he understood us both and loves us both equally with the same intensity and passion."

In the evening, we were given the incredible opportunity of spending a night in the community, eating dinner in the house of a Dominican family. The dinner we ate is known as the "Dominican flag," the most popular meal in the DR, containing most of the food staples in that country - white rice, beans, chicken, and yucca. We also had cabbage salad and fried eggplant.
IT. WAS. DELICIOUS.
Seriously some of the best food I've ever had in my life.
Their house was amazing. The father of the family we visited built it himself, "poco un poco" for sixteen years.
"Our dinner was such a blessing to me...we played Dominoes to end the night, with lots of laughter and joy. Carlos seranaded us on the guitar in Spanish, and I was overjoyed to feel this connection with such a wonderful family with all the love of God in their hearts.
     We are all people. We are all valued in the heart of God. I am happy. I am so happy.
          And humbled.
               And blessed."

Thursday, March 7 - Day 6
Our last day of traveling clinic.
It was a great day of Spanish practice, and I was amazed at how much progress I made from Monday to Thursday! By the end of the day on Thursday, I was holding very simple (and, I'm sure, painfully slow) conversations with some of the patients while they waited to see Rachel.
We made a house visit to one of the patients in the town - an elderly woman who is one of the most generous, giving, and joyful people I've ever met. Even though she has next to nothing, she kept offering us everything she had!

Our entire site group at clinic on Thursday

Friday, March 8 - Day 7

"In the morning, we took an open flatbed truck up to a waterfall on the side of the mountain. The sight was absolutely astounding, and the drive up was so memorable - standing up in the bed with the breeze blowing in my face and hair, surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of the Dominican... We spent the morning reveling in the beauty of God's creation. I climbed up the side of the waterfall along the rocks to sit at the top and take it in. I had forgotten just how much I love to be close to creation, clinging to the rocks and feeling their security, my insignificance, and God's power."

In the afternoon, we traveled back Jarabacoa, to see patients there in Rachel's office. I was sad to see the day end, because it meant the end of the week and the end of my time working with patients in the clinic, but I truly believe that God will bring me back to this country someday, so it is not goodbye so much as it is see you again, God willing.

Saturday, March 9 - Day 8

You can never have enough mountains.

"The glory and splendor of God is so tangibly evident through the beauty of his creation. Our entire team went hiking in the mountains this morning to another waterfall along the river. As the water flowed constantly down the hard, unyielding rock, my heart rejoiced in the moment. I felt so free, so ALIVE, so passionate. The roaring water filled my ears. The pinks, greens, blues, and purples of the rocks danced across my vision, and the rough caresses of the boulders kissed my skin as I scampered across them like an insect in comparison. Jumping into the deep, clear pool, my breath caught in my throat from the shock of the cold water...I wanted to laugh, cry, sing, and dance all in the same moment. I stood on the pinnacle of a boulder and felt my own heart beating in my chest and pounding in my ears. What a powerful reminder of my life, and the frailty of it! 

Ah, rejoice in the Lord, oh my soul! Praise his holy name! The rocks cry out in praise of you, they declare the glory of God!"

We walked around the city in the evening, eating at a Dominican restaurant to end the day, and preparing to leave early the next morning.

Sunday, March 10 - Day 9

Another long day of travel. Day 9 started at 7:20 in the morning in Jarabacoa and ended at 12:30 in the morning the next day in Indiana. My mind was considerably more full than at the beginning of this adventure and my heart rejoiced in all the ways that God revealed himself to me and all the lessons that he taught me throughout the week.

Nine days was all it took.

Nine days when everything changed.

I feel like I've said so much, but I also feel like I haven't said anything at all. I could talk for hours and still not fully explain all the thoughts that I have about everything that happened.

Maybe that's okay. Maybe it will motivate you to go and see for yourself.

The world is a book...

...and those who do not travel read only a page.

Here I am.
On the eve of World Adventure #2.

Many of my friends and family know this, but for those of you who missed the memo on being constantly updated about every detail of my life, I will be escaping from my school-shaped prison traveling to the Dominican Republic for 10 days with a group from my university to work with a missions organization in that country.

Hard to believe it's been less than a year since my trip to the United Kingdom. Two overseas trips in 12 months? This a good pace; I'd like to keep this up for, oh, say forever?
Seriously though, I am blown away by God's generosity and provision toward this young, inexperienced college student with limited resources.

My first expedition out into the world was one of the best periods of my life - my thinking, vision, and attitudes changed; I grew in maturity and as a child of God; I made life-long friends and connections. That initial global contact in the United Kingdom reminds me of the feeling you get when you touch something unexpectedly cold. Fingertips brush the surface, and the icy chill travels like lightning up the arm, across the neck, down the spine, and out through the toes, heightening every sense and imbuing life and energy. It shocks you straight out of your stupor and oblivious ignorance.

I want to think that the same will happen with this trip to the Dominican. However, I have no idea how it will happen or in what form. It would be futile and ridiculous to compare the Dominican with the United Kingdom. Not only are the countries themselves vastly different, but the reasons and motivation behind my excursions are fundamentally different. So, I am attempting to enter this [second world adventure] with an open mind and malleable heart, praying that my Jesus will use me to impact other people, and be eternally changed in return.

Every once in a while, I come across a verse that stands up from the pages of my Bible and slaps me across the face. My cheek is still red and stinging from the open palm of Luke 10:9 -

"Heal the sick who are there, and tell them, 'The kingdom of God is near you.'"

Um, wow. My life's mission, purpose, and desires beautifully, simply, and concisely wrapped up and snugly tucked in to one short verse like a breakfast burrito of good thoughts and Jesus.

     1.) Take care of other people

     2.) Proclaim Jesus and his kingdom

That's all I want to do in my life. That is my passion and my purpose. Love on other people and heal them.

Heal their {bodies} with my hands.

   Heal their {hearts} with my words.

      Heal their {SOULS} with the hope of a Savior that I carry within.

I cannot imagine a better life than that. 

Pray for me.

Please.

In these next ten days, pray that Jesus will bring healing to the people around me. Pray that the kingdom of God will be near to those people. Pray that I will live, breathe, speak, and act this kingdom of God.

When I get back, I'll let you know how it went.

Catch ya on the flip side,

April

Confessions

I confess with my mouth that Jesus is LORD.

And believe in my heart that God raised him from the dead.

I. AM. SAVED.

He is Christ. The Son of God. Savior of the world.

Holy.

Holy.

Holy.

Amen and Amen.

I know the truth. And the truth has set me free.

I. AM. FREE.

Praise his precious name.

Snow White knows what's up

There are so many thoughts in my head right now, all squirming in their seats like a classroom full of preschool children with hands raised in the air, bursting with impatience and energy as they clamor for attention saying, "Pick me! PICK ME!"

This semester, I have been attempting to take seriously the commandment about the Sabbath – taking a period of rest every week to refresh, recharge, and refocus. These past few days, I've been thinking and planning in anticipation of today’s “Sabbath Sunday.” What would I do during my day of rest? I finally decided to write another blog post; it’s been far too long since my last one and so much life has happened in-between then and now.

A little too much life, actually. Sitting here on my couch, scanning the imaginary preschool classroom of my brain, I can’t quite decide on which thought should be selected and developed. At the break-neck pace of my last semester in college, there simply hasn't been time for me to fully think through all of the things that I want to say. With that being said, this post might be a little chaotic, but, after all, who doesn't love a little chaos?

Well, me, actually. I don’t love chaos. Neither do most other people I know.

Okay, never mind.

Have you ever noticed that life seems to come in themes?

Like a chapter in a book or a scene in a movie, each stage or season of life seems to focus on one central issue or point in the plot.

If my story were recorded on the big screen in the pages of a book (psych. Always a book. Books are so much better), well first of all, that would be a really boring book and would probably only be used to prop up the short leg on the kitchen stool. Secondly, it would have the theme of anticipation.

As I think back on all of the conversations with friends, journal entries, and thoughts I've had in the past 3 months, they have all revolved around this anticipation of the future. I'm constantly looking ahead, looking forward, thinking about what is to come.

Going to the Dominican Republic

         My sister's wedding

                  GRADUATION

We all watched Snow White and the Seven Dwarves when we were kids, right? Who else couldn't sleep at night after watching the scene where Snow White is lost in the woods and all the trees become monsters with glowing eyes and gaping mouths, tearing at her skirts with their skeletal branch-hands? 

Girl, I feel ya. No matter where I go, it seems like I can't escape that one question everyone just loves to ask.

"What are you going to do after you graduate?"

I know that no one means any harm by it, and I appreciate the fact that they are genuinely interested in my life, but sometimes I feel like pulling a Snow White - screaming and falling to the floor of the Student Center in a dead faint.

Not really. Although potentially hilarious, that would be excessively dramatic.

The problem is that I'm not really sure what is going to happen at this point. I have ideas. I have dreams. But no feasible, concrete plan of action to get where I want to go. Where do I even start? In 21st century America, the land of options and opportunities, you can get lost before you even begin looking. There are pressures on me from every side, and none of them I need nor want. 

My professors have expectations. They've been developing me and investing in me for the past four years, and I know that they want me to go far and achieve much.

I want to make my parents proud. I'm pretty sure they would still be proud of me if I moved to Southern Arkansas and lived in a hut eating Ramen noodles and wearing burlap sacks for the rest of my life, but still. 

I want to follow God's will. How can I ensure that the plans I am following are what he desires for me to accomplish and not just my own selfish ambitions?

So much to think about. So much to decide.

Wouldn't it be nice if we only had to wrestle with one worry at a time? But no, it doesn't work like that.

In the midst of this graduation fiasco, another nagging little devil has reared its ugly head.

I love my school. It's great. 

However, with a "relationship" chapel every other service, an engagement or two every weekend, and the majority of my friends either taken or "talking", it can be rough place for a chronically single girl to live. I'm pretty sure my flaming ginger locks spring straight from my feisty and fiercely independent personality. Most [if not all] days, I am just fine without a man on my arm. Every so often, though, a wayward lonely thought will pierce my heart and begin a string of questions that I cannot sufficiently answer.

I have a friend who is very similar to me, in both physical appearance and personality. Not only do we have the same taste in guys, but we also have the same level of experience and expertise when it comes to dealing with men. (Read that as: No freaking clue what we're doing) Whenever I would have these wayward thoughts, I would think of her and say to myself, 

"Look at this tall, confident, beautiful young woman who has never dated a man before. There's nothing wrong with her and she's been single her whole life, so there probably isn't anything wrong with me."

Wouldn't you know it, this friend up and found herself a man in the most romantic and fairy-tale way possible. I won't go into details, but there were strangers and coffee shops and serendipitous run-ins involved. While I am beyond happy for her, I can't help but feel slightly envious. It leaves me wondering and questioning what I'm doing wrong. Is there something wrong with me? Do I have some fundamental flaw?

It's not an uncommon question for a woman to have. Put your hands up if you're surprised that a girl is questioning her self-worth based on the attentions, or in this case in-attentions, of a male figure. wow. look at all of those hands.

My struggle right now is how to move beyond that to a place where my identity is so deeply rooted in Christ that the presence or absence of a man in my life does not affect me emotionally. Maybe I will have a relationship some day. Maybe I won't.

Maybe that's not a bad thing.

In any case, I've got a lot to think about and ponder and anticipate in these next few months. I don't know where this life is going, but I guess I'll find out soon, and I'll keep you posted.

Ships and Storms

Picture this:
A ship out on the open water.
Beautiful and delicate, gently bobbing up and down on the rolling ocean swells.
Suddenly, a storm blows through, powerful and oppressive. The strength and might of this storm - the size of the crashing waves, the slyly cutting wind, the currents underneath - overtake the vessel, burying it and submerging it under the water.
This picture is the very definition of the word "Overwhelmed". It means to bury or drown beneath a [huge mass], to defeat completely. When you are drowning or defeated by something, that thing consumes your entire mind, heart, and thoughts. It is the only thing you are afraid of, the only thing you think about, the only thing to which you give your allegiance and that commands your attention and directs your actions.

This semester, I have gained a new appreciation for the word Overwhelmed. I have been buried by responsibilities and time commitments. Everyone and everything seems to be vying for chunks of my time, demanding that I give them my full energy and attention. My time is being ripped out of my hands until I'm left with nothing and feeling exhausted and discouraged. It caught me completely by surprise, too. I entered this semester full of high hopes and expectations, beyond excited to dive head-first into my last semester of college. How was I to know that when I hit the water, it would swallow me whole and not let go, holding me down until it feels like I can't breathe? Drowning. Panicking. Fighting for a way to escape. Feeling like, at any second, I could fall to pieces.

This is what happens to me when I allow myself to be eaten away with the stress that is so present and so evident in my life at this time.

But.

When I think about the state of being overwhelmed, I realize that you can really only be that way with one thing at a time. My thoughts can't be filled and my actions directed by two simultaneous masters. I can't be completely submerged by two different things. That's not how it works.
So. What if, instead of drowning and panicking in my own personal storm of stress, worry, and fear, I allow myself to be taken over by God's grace, mercy, goodness, and love? Losing myself completely in the fierceness of His power, the might of His love, and the intensity of His provision? If I am overwhelmed by God, He will be the only one I revere. The only one I think about. The only one to which my heart bows its knee and owes its allegiance. My motivation will no longer come from fear over what seems like an impossible task but from love for a God that meticulously constructed every molecule in my frail human body.

The other day, I went to my Bible for encouragement. Before even opening the covers, I pleaded with God to speak with my heart, because I was [am] weary and afraid.
Tears streamed down my face as I read these precious words:

O Lord, you have searched me

and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;

you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;

you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue

you know it completely, O Lord.

You hem me in - behind and before;

You have laid your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from you presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you

are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me

and the light become night around me,"

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

the night will shine like the day,

for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and

wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths

of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me

were written in your book

before one of them came to be.

HOW PRECIOUS TO ME are your thoughts,

O God!!

How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,

they would outnumber the grains of sand,

When I awake,

I am still with you.

If only you would slay the wicked, O God!

Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!

They speak of you with evil intent;

your adversaries misuse your name.

Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord,

and abhor those who rise up against

you?

I have nothing but hatred for them;

I count them my enemies.

SEARCH ME, O GOD, and know my heart;

test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting.

In that moment, I was truly overwhelmed by God. There was nothing and no one else in my thoughts. Who is this God?! This God that has the cares of the world on his mind - billions of people crying out in the pain of their humanity - and yet still cares enough about me to direct my attention to this LOVE LETTER of peace found in the psalms that soothes my deepest anxieties. 

Will those responsibilities go away? No. Will that stress dissipate? Not likely. But I will not allow it to defeat me completely. I will not allow it to consume my life and become my master. I will carry the peace and presence of God in my heart, letting the joy and love of Christ bowl me over and dictate my actions.

Update:
It is now nearly a week after I wrote this post, and things have settled down slightly. I'm still as busy as ever, but I feel more peaceful and capable of completing the tasks laid out for me to do. I'm updating this because I was reading the Psalms again this morning and found this absolute gem, which reminded me of what I had written here last Friday:

Psalm 107:23-32

"Others went out on the sea in ships;

they were merchants on the mighty waters.

They saw the works of the LORD,

his wonderful deeds in the deep.

For he spoke and stirred up a tempest 

that lifted high the waves.

They mounted up to the heavens and

went down to the depths;

in their peril their courage melted away.

They reeled and staggered like drunken

men;

they were at their wits' end.

Then they cried out to the LORD in their 

trouble,

and he brought them out of their

distress.

He stilled the storm to a whisper;

the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm,

and he guided them to their desired

haven.

Let them give thanks to the LORD for his

unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for men.

Let them exalt him in the assembly of the 

people

and praise him in the council of the 

elders.

God. is. so. good.

Kickin' it in the Sunshine State

I can sit on the couch in my apartment with a blanket, socks, and hot mug of tea while the thermostat reads 75 and still manage to be cold.

It must be hereditary because my dad's brother is the same way.
Which is why he moved to Florida.

Guess who loved his niece enough to let her flee from the blustery cold of Michigan for a week and stay at his house in the land so aptly dubbed the "Sunshine State"? From the Saturday before Christmas until the Saturday following, I relished in the shining skies and balmy breezes of coastal Florida. It was a glorious vacation inside of a vacation as I relaxed with my family, read books, rode a bike near the beach, and didn't even think about coats or boots. That is, until my homegoing plane landed in northern Indiana and my paradisaical bubble of Floridian bliss was frozen over and shattered to pieces by the terrible snowstorm raging outside the airport. Welcome home! Why does this greeting for a home-bound traveler feel more like a slap in the face than a warm loving hug? It's okay, I guess. The Midwest is appealing in an acquired taste kind of way, and those of us who have lived here for our entire lives know better than to be offended at apparent insults.

The tropical climate of eastern Florida is the perfect place to lose your heart and fall in love.
My heart has no chance of ever finding its way back to my chest, as it was irrevocably and unmistakably stolen by a 16 month old little girl. My baby cousin is quite possibly the most beautiful and adorable miniature human on this planet. Of course I say this without any hint of bias. We had never met before, but by the end of the first day, she was calling me momma and almost exclusively wanted me to hold her. This became problematic when it was time for me to leave, but her despair upon parting with her new, honorary mother was quickly appeased with the lure of Goldfish snack crackers. At least now I know my true value is slightly less than a 1.5 ounce bag of processed bovine by-product in glibly smiling piscine shapes.
We all have those people in our lives. You know, "those people." The ones that shove pictures of their grandchildren or dogs or prize winning yachts in your face and expect you to ooh and ah over them until they are sufficiently satisfied with your reaction. Alas, I now understand what compels them to do so, as I have joined the ranks and sent a picture of my cousin to most of my close friends demanding that they tell me how cute she is. Well, now that my reputation is established, I might as well subject you to the same treatment.

I have always loved the beach, the ocean... really anything to do with water, ships, or pirate stories. If I up and turned into a mermaid one day, that would be just fine. Christmas Eve morning, my uncle and I biked out to the ocean and watched the sunrise over the water. My eyes filled with the myriad of golden morning colors straining against the bonds of their clever cloudy captors. My ears filled with the even progression of sound from the grumbling of the waves to the tinkling of the foam like so many thousands of tiny silver bells. And my heart filled with the beauty of the scene, overflowing and sweeping me along in wild fancies and nautical daydreams. Many people wish for a white Christmas to celebrate Jesus' birth, but I wouldn't mind having a Christmas just like this one every year - celebrating my Savior's birth through the glory of the sunrise on the ocean.

I've always loved the church service of carols and candlelight the night before Christmas morning. Singing is my favorite, old hymns are my favorite, and Christmas is my favorite, so the combination of the three is just great. My family that was down in Florida attended the Christmas Eve service at my aunt and uncle's small Methodist church that night, and their church had a terrific little orchestra section complementing the four-part choir that sang the carols. The whole orchestra was wonderful, but my attention was captured in particular by the first violinist. An exceedingly handsome youth who excited thoughts of romantic felicity in her mind whilst he coaxed his violin to song....whoops! I've been reading too many Jane Austen novels. Scouts honor, I tried to be attentive to the service, but it was a perfect "boy meets girl" setting and fostered my flights of fancy. He was directly down the aisle in my line of sight, we were surrounded by beautiful music and romantic candlelight, and my head was swimming with quotes from Persuasion. 
There were several logistical complications that didn't even cross my mind until afterward.
He could be married.
Or short.
Or, as I learned later, still in high school.
April's cougar tendencies strike again. Remind me to tell you that later about that time I had a crush on a sixth grader when I was seventeen years old.

In addition to babies, bike rides, and high-school-aged boys, I spent a lot of time shopping in town with my aunt and grandma, at the end of which I learned a very valuable life lesson – always leave room in your suitcase when you go somewhere because you will inevitably return with more stuff than you brought. My suitcase was lying on the floor sucking in its stomach to get the zipper closed when I started, and it gained its fair share of holiday weight over the week. There is a certain caliber of packing skills that only a college student can possess, and it took all of my packing proficiency to get that poor suitcase stuffed full and closed for the flight home. 

A great many of the stores through which we browsed were thrift stores. My love for thrifting must run in the family, because my grandmother and aunt are also well versed in the art of hunting for second-hand treasure. After all, who doesn't love buying a $70.00 brand-name shirt with the original tags still attached for only $5.50? However, every pro is usually followed by a con. For me, at least, shopping for shoes at thrift stores only serves to remind me again and again how depressingly large my feet are. Most people don't wear size Godzilla, and the rare person who does will not be quick to give up the cute shoes she can find in her size. 

As great as thrifting is, every girl loves to try on expensive clothes once in a while, so we found ourselves at the mall eventually. After strolling past window upon window of beautiful clothing designs and colors, we encountered a store front that displayed the most hideous shoes. In particular, one pair of seven inch stilettos covered in glittering punk rock spikes. My dear, sweet, 85-year-old grandmother looks me right in the eye and says in her slightly dampened New York City accent, "Why, those shoes would look lovely on you, April. I think you should get that pair."
Now I know where my sense of humor comes from. It would be an honor to be just like her when I grow old.

I love my family dearly. They are such warm, welcoming, and inviting people, and I couldn't have imagined a better way to spend my last Christmas vacation in college. Who knows? Maybe Christmas in Florida will become a yearly tradition now. Ah, one can dream...